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Legacy	By : hayri2011 Category: J-Rock/J-Pop & K-Pop > X Japan Views: 1432 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I don't know Yoshiki or Hide. I only own the original characters. The events in this story are not true and never happened. This fictional story is soley for entertainment purposes and I make no profit off this.

Chapter List
- 3
- 4
- 5
I picked up the newly developed photograph with tongs, gently shaking it so it wouldn't drip water all over the place. I hung it up on the clothesline strung across my darkroom. I was finally finished developing one of my more boring assignments. Twenty pictures of apple orchards for some home and garden magazine. Not my favorite subject. Oh well, it puts food on the table, right?
Metallica's latest album was blasting in the stereo next to me. Have you ever noticed how work, especially if it's boring work, goes faster if good music is playing? Not that I'm complaining. I had been a free-lance photographer for about seven years now, and I loved every second of it. There's something amazing about freezing a moment in time and transferring it to paper to be kept forever. Sure, it didn't pay much, but it was enough so I didn't starve to death and could get an apartment that wasn't infested with cockroaches.
As the song faded, I noticed that the phone was ringing. I left my darkroom, closing the door quickly behind me so the pictures wouldn't be exposed to light and across the kitchen to pick up the phone hanging on the wall. "Hello?"
"Oh good, you're home. I was starting to think you were out or something." He didn't have to say who it was for me to know. The accent revealed everything.
"Hi, Hide. Sorry, I was working and didn't hear the phone." I could feel a smile crawling across my face and my heartbeat sped up. God, what a dork I was.
"I didn't interrupt you, did I?"
"No, it's all good. I was done anyway."
"Oh. Well, you know how you wanted me to call you if my band was playing?"
"Hmmm..." I pretended to think. "I seem to vaguely remember saying that."
Hide laughed. "Well, we don't have an official gig or anything, but we're getting together to practice later. You want to come watch?"
"I'd love to."
"Great!" Hide proceeded to give me directions to where they were going to practice. From what I could tell, it sounded like it was about half an hour away from my place.
"When do you want me to show up?"
"Any time that's good for you. We usually end up just sitting around doing nothing for at least an hour anyway before we even start."
"Okay. Give me about....an hour or so. In case traffic's bad or something."
"Alright. See you, then."
After we hung up, I looked down at myself. I was wearing a red long-sleeved tee with tiny skulls-and-crossbones scattered all over it, which was cut to bare one shoulder, and faded jeans with a large rip across one of my thighs (which I admit to purposely ripping). Then I cursed myself for wondering whether these clothes were good enough. Of course they were. It's not like I was going anywhere fancy. And since when did I care what I wore? I quickly ran to the bathroom to brush my teeth before grabbing my keys and heading out the door, slipping on a pair of black sandals as I went.
My apartment was in the basement of an old colonial house, so my front door was buried into the ground at the bottom of a set of concrete stairs. I thought that was pretty cool, and the outside entrance was one of the main reasons I had bought the apartment in the first place. I walked to my car, a blue '91 Audi Quattro, and got in. An old cassette tape of MC Hammer was sticking out of the stereo, which I pushed in as I started the car and pulled out of the space. I may prefer rock music, but hip-hop is the only music to drive to; the heavier the bass, the better. Who doesn't like to turn their car into their own personal boombox?
Forty minutes later, I turned onto a narrow suburban street. Hide's directions, which I had been checking constantly throughout the drive, had led me to the outskirts of L.A. According to them, my destination was the fifth house on the left. I pulled up to a white ranch-style house and parked on the street in front of the mailbox, since the driveway was already filled with cars. I got out, not bothering to lock my car (who'd steal it, anyway?) and maneuvered around the cars to get to the door. How they fit all those cars into the tiny driveway I had no idea. I rang the bell and waited, looking around at the street. It seemed like a nice enough neighborhood, a typical suburban setting. It was a nice, sunny day, filled with typical late spring noises: lawn mowers running, kids shouting, a dog barking.
I heard a click and turned to see the front door opening, and Hide was revealed to me. His face lit up when he saw me. "You made it!" he said, ushering me in. "I was afraid my directions were a little confusing."
"No, it was fine. I didn't get lost once," I said.
"Great. Well, come on down and meet the guys." Hide started to lead me through the house, which was a typical bachelor pad. Old, mismatched furniture, dishes in the kitchen sink, a lack of decorations adorning the walls. When we walked by the bathroom the door was open and I saw that the toilet seat was up. Yep, a man definitely lived here.
"Is this your place?" I asked as he led me to a closed door.
"Nope. It's Ray's house. You'll meet him in a minute." Hide opened the door, where a flight of unfinished wooden stairs lay. He started walking down, shouting, "She's here!"
A chorus of male voices shouted their approval and I followed Hide down the stairs.
Most of the basement was taken up by a complete band set: set of drums, microphone stands, guitars, speakers. The little space left was filled by an old green couch that looked like it would collapse at any minute. Among the equipment stood four men, who I recognized as the four other guys who were with Hide in the bar the night we met.
Hide introduced them to me, pointing to each in turn. "This is Paul-"
"Yo!" Paul was the one with the blond mohawk, and now that I saw his face, a goatee. He had a dark green bass guitar slung around his neck and a can of beer in his hand, which he raised to me in greeting.
"Steve-"
"How you doin'?" Steve, the other mohawk guy, gave me a quick look-over. I became overly conscious of my bare shoulder, and regretted not changing my shirt before I came.
"Ray-"
This was the guy with the buzz-cut, who looked up and nodded before bending over his guitar and continuing to adjust the strings.
"And Joey."
"What's up?" The drummer, the one with the green dreads, waved at me from where he was seated behind his drums.
"Guys, this is Amanda. Do you remember her from that bar last week?"
"Dude, I don't even remember what I had for lunch today," Paul said, finishing off his beer. I was surprised to hear a British accent.
"She was that smoking hot blond talking to you, right?" Steve said, staring at me. I raised an eyebrow at him and met his stare until he looked away.
"Um..." Hide glanced at me, uncomfortable.
"Now that she's here, can we get going? I gotta be somewhere later," Joey impatiently fiddled with his drumsticks.
"Bullshit," Hide said, walking over to stand behind a microphone. "You never do anything."
Joey flipped Hide the bird, but laughed.
I sat gingerly on the edge of the couch, but it held. Apparently it was sturdier than it looked, though it smelled like many beers had been spilled on it throughout its life. Ew.
Hide adjusted his microphone, then looked around the room. "Are you guys ready?" His glance fell on me as he spoke.
I nodded. "Whenever you are."
"Okay guys. We're doing 'Doubt', okay?"
"Got it!" the other men said together. Joey counted off the beat with his sticks, and they began to play.
The acoustics in the basement were pretty terrible, plus there was so much noise in such a small space, that I was hit by a wall of sound. Luckily, I've been to more than a few rock concerts in my life, so it wasn't nearly as overwhelming as it could've been. Unfortunately, it was really hard to hear the individual instruments. All I could really tell was that is was fast and hard.
But when Hide started singing, I forgot all about the music. How can I describe his voice? It was nasally, but not in that irritating mosquito-buzz way; there was a smoothness to it that negated that. It was high-pitched, but powerful. His accent made the lyrics sort of meld together, so they weren't just words, they were music unto themselves. I couldn't even really tell if he was singing in English. What I was certain of was that I had never heard a voice quite like his, and probably never would again.
When the song ended, the last chord echoed around the room for a moment before fading. My ears were ringing.
"So," Hide said, looking at me expectantly. "What did you think?"
I said nothing, just continued staring at him, my mouth slightly open.
Paul shook his head. "She thinks we suck, man."
I blinked at his words and came back to myself. "No, I don't! That was really good! It's just..." I scrambled for an excuse for my reaction. "Just that the acoustics in here are kind of weird, so it's hard to fully hear the song, you know? But what I could hear was great."
The guys beamed, but Hide was frowning.
"Something isn't quite right with it, though," he said. "Ray, give me your guitar."
Ray took the guitar from around his neck and handed it to Hide, who walked over and sat on a speaker and started to play the song they had just performed. His head was cocked slightly to one side, listening. He played the first few chords of the song, then stopped, muttering to himself. He started to play again, but this time the notes were slightly higher. Then he stopped again, started again.
The other guys were ignoring him. Paul had popped open another beer, and Ray had walked around behind the drums to talk to Joey. Steve was staring at me, but I ignored him, my attention entirely focused on Hide. He seemed completely unaware of what was going on around him, the guitar attracting his complete attention. A bomb could've gone off in the basement and he wouldn't have noticed. It was fascinating to watch.
After a few minutes, Hide stopped playing and stood up. " I got it. Let's do it again, but a little bit slower. Like this." Hide started to play that same piece of music, but slightly slower. He then handed back the guitar to Ray and walked back to his position behind the microphone. "Try playing a little softer, too, so we don't get so much of an echo."
Joey counted the beat again, matching the tempo to what Hide had played for them, and they started again. Since they played softer, it was easier to pick out the individual guitars, and I found myself smiling as I listened. It sounded a lot better, and just from that small change in tempo. How Hide had known that that a slower tempo would do the trick was beyond me, but then again, he was the musician.
When the song ended, I clapped enthusiastically. "That was awesome, guys! So much better!"
"Alright, we got a fan!" Paul shouted, giving me a thumbs-up.
"I agree. It does sound a lot better," Ray said.
"Let's do it again," Hide said, all business. But he smiled at me as they started, and I couldn't help but smile back.
The guys played for about an hour more. After playing through "Doubt" twice more, they had started on a song that they were currently working on, which meant a lot of starting and stopping and discussion of notes and beats and such, all of which flew right over my head. Hide was focused the whole time, getting annoyed quickly when Paul kept fooling around. I could see he was very serious about his music, and that the others respected him a lot, since they did whatever he said without question.
After a while, Joey said he really needed to leave, and practice was over. Hide handed him some sheets of music as he left, asking him to look over and memorize them. He also gave sheets to the other three guys, who were standing together talking.
Hide came over to me. "I need a cigarette. Want to come with me?" He stretched out his hand towards me.
I didn't smoke, but how could I refuse? I took his hand and he helped me up, then started to lead me up the stairs. We ended up on the back porch, looking out over Ray's small backyard. "
So, what did you think?" Hide asked me, lighting the cigarette that was hanging between his lips. He offered me the pack, which I refused with a shake of my head.
"Well, to be honest, I can't really give you an opinion yet," I said.
Hide's hopeful face fell slightly. "Oh."
"Not that I thought you guys were bad," I said quickly. "It's just that-" I paused, wondering if I should be honest. Well, if there's one thing I hated, it was a liar, and I couldn't lie to him. "I...I wasn't paying attention to the music, at least not as much as I should've been."
Hide gave me a quizzical look.
"I was too distracted by you." I blurted out. " I mean, your vocals were...amazing. Your voice was something I've never heard before, and it just blew me away. You were really, really...good." I finished lamely.
Hide laughed. "My voice is nothing special."
"No, it is," I insisted. "It's just so...right. It fits your music perfectly. It just works so completely. And your accent just made it that much cooler-" I broke off, embarrassed by my gushing. Now I probably sounded like one of his crazy groupies.
Hide just looked at me, blowing smoke out of his mouth. "Well, even though I don't agree, thank you for saying so."
I looked away, feeling my cheeks burn. I felt totally awkward, like a middle-school girl trying to impress her crush. Wait, where did that come from?
Hide finished his cigarette in silence. Though I wanted to, I couldn't bring myself to look at him again.
"Hey guys, are you hungry? We were going to make a burger run." Paul had come out on the porch.
I smiled at him, grateful to him for breaking the awkward silence. "Starving."
"As long as it's not McDonald's, I'm in," Hide said, walking past Paul and back into the house.
"Um...I didn't interrupt anything, did I?" Paul asked me.
"No...why?"
Paul looked at me, confused. "Didn't you see the way he was looking at you?"
We ended up at a local burger place. The guys were all talking animatedly over their plates, but I was quiet, pretending to be really interested in my burger. I kept going over what Paul had said. What had Hide been looking at me like? Keeping my head down, I surreptitiously looked up at Hide. He and Steve were fighting over a salt shaker, trying to over-salt each other's fries. Acting like typical guys. But with Hide, it seemed less lame then with anyone else. Which was completely ridiculous, of course. Why would Hide acting like a complete idiot be any less stupid? Despite that, I couldn't help smiling as I watched him.
Hide let out a shout of triumph as the top of the salt shaker fell off, dumping salt all over Steve's plate.
"Fucker!" Steve shouted.
"Open up!" Hide said, picking up a now salt-covered fry and shoving it towards Steve's face. Steve slapped at his hand, grabbing another fry and trying to shove it in Hide's laughing mouth.
Everyone was laughing, and I couldn't help but join in. The sound of my laughter made Hide look at me, and Steve took the opportunity to stick the fry in his mouth. Hide spluttered and spit it out unceremoniously onto his plate.
"Nasty!" he said, pulling a face.
Since we had all shared a laugh together, the atmosphere in the car on the way back to Ray's house was a lot more relaxed, and the guys had an easier time bringing me into the conversation. They were all impressed when I revealed to them that I was a photographer.
"That's sounds like fun," Ray said, looking into the rearview mirror at me. "More than my job. I work at a car dealership."
"Ray lies for a living," Paul said.
"I do not! I'm probably the only honest car salesman out there...which is probably why I don't sell too many cars."
I laughed. "Aw, poor thing."
"Hey, maybe she could be our official photographer when we hit it big," Steve said from his seat next to me. I was not happy with the seating arrangement, as he had taken the opportunity to sit as close to me as possible, pressing our thighs together. I would've scooted over if there was room, but Paul was on my other side. "Because we totally will, right Hide?"
"Of course," Hide said from the front seat. "You've got me as your front man."
Steve reached over and punched him in the shoulder. "Not arrogant at all, this one."
"Anyway," Hide continued, ignoring Steve."I could never be a photographer. I tend to break every camera I touch. I prefer posing for pictures."
Paul turned to me. "This guy's under the impression that he's good-looking."
I cleared my throat. He wasn't the only one who thought that.
"Shut up, Paul." Hide said. "Or next time I'll mix hair remover into your hair dye."
"Good, I need a new haircut. This mohawk is starting to annoy me." Paul touched his hair.
"What, Hide did your hair?" I asked.
"Yeah, he did all of ours," Steve said. "Because he's a-" Steve put on a high voice. "beautician."
"That's it, Steve, no more free hairstylings for you!" Hide turned his head to look at me. "I have a license, but I'm not practicing. I need to make sure I don't lose my skills, though. And don't you dare say that I'm gay," Hide added, pointing at Paul, who had opened his mouth. "Just because I can do hair and makeup doesn't mean I'm gay. It was very useful in my old band."
"You should see the pictures," Ray said. "Their hair was INSANE."
"We gave all your little 'hair metal' bands a run for their money," Hide said, laughing. "I'll have to show you some time, Amanda."
" I still think your hair was made out of cardboard," Paul said.
The image of cardboard hair was pretty amusing. I laughed as we pulled into Ray's driveway.
As I got out of the car, I noticed that the sun had started to sink into the west, turning orange. It was later than I thought.
"This has been fun, you guys, but I got to go. I have to deliver my pictures early tomorrow."
"NOOOO!!" Paul fell to the ground, pretending to be overwhelmed with grief.
I laughed. "Dude, I totally need to get drunk with you sometime."
"Hell yeah!" Paul jumped up. "You definitely need to go drinking with us."
"Amanda, before you go, I have something for you," Hide said. He walked over to Paul's car and opened the door, taking something from the front seat. He came back and I saw that he held two CDs. "I told you I had CDs." He handed them to me. "This one is Dahlia, the last CD my old band X Japan made," he said, pointing to the CD that pictured some guy sitting in the street on a pile of flowers. "And this is one with just me. I'm the vocalist on that."
I looked at the CD. It was titled "Hide Your Face" and had a picture of a man with a spiked mask covering his entire face, except for one eye. I was guessing that was Hide.
"'Hide Your Face', huh?" I said, looking up at him. "Clever."
"I thought so," Hide said.
"Well thanks," I said. "I'll be sure to listen to them." I looked around and noticed that the others had disappeared into the house, leaving the two of us alone in the driveway. Gathering the courage I had been building up since dinner, I said, "Hide, have you ever been to a drive-in?"
"What's a drive-in?"
"I guess that answers my question. A drive-in is a movie theater, but it's outside and you sit in your car."
"That's weird," Hide said. "But sounds like fun."
"Wanna go sometime?"
Hide looked at me, an unreadable expression on his face, then he smiled. "Sure. But it'd have to be your car. I don't have one."
"That's fine. I'll find out what's playing next time I'm free, then I'll call you."
As soon as I got home, I popped 'Hide Your Face' into the stereo and stretched out onto my bed. I sighed and closed my eyes, letting the music wash over me. It didn't matter that the lyrics were in Japanese and I had no idea what he was saying. Hearing Hide's voice made a warm, tingly feeling spread slowly over my body, a feeling I hadn't felt in a long time, which was odd. I had never felt this way just from listening to someone before...
My eyes popped open. My God. I loved him. I was totally in love with Hide.
****
I'm sitting in Yoshiki's kitchen, a bowl of half-eaten cereal in front of me. I don't want to eat, but Yoshiki's forcing me to. In fact, he's standing on the other side of the kitchen island, hands pressed against the cool black marble of the countertop, glaring at me. If you've ever been on the receiving end of one of Yoshiki's death glares, you'd understand why I was eating against my will. He was not happy with me, basically because I had caused a scene at the hospital.
When the doctor had come in, I had told him that I wanted an abortion. Like Yoshiki, he had been shocked, and tried to convince me that I was just tired and ill, and didn't know what I was saying. Which is bullshit. I was completely aware of what I was saying and what I wanted. Then the doctor tried to change my mind by taking the morality route, talking about how abortion was murder, and how I would be denying a human being a chance at life, and blah blah blah. That just pissed me off more, and I had started shouting about how it was my body, and it was me carrying the baby, not anyone else, so it was my decision of what to do with it. Then the doctor had said that they didn't do abortions at the hospital anyway unless it was a medical emergency. I asked him to tell me who did, but he wouldn't, claiming he didn't know of any abortion clinics. Which was also complete bullshit.
Since I hate liars, I started screaming, saying I would just do it myself, and I had tried to get up and leave. Yoshiki had held me down, but as strong as he was, my anger made me stronger, and I had shoved him off of me, ripping my IV out of my arm in the process (which hurt like hell). The doctor was also shouting, threatening to sedate me unless I calmed down, and three nurses had magically appeared to grab me and try to steer me back to the bed. I knew that the threat of sedation was probably empty, because they probably didn't want to risk hurting the baby, so it didn't calm me down at all. I had kept struggling until Yoshiki, who had backed off once I shoved him, came forward and slapped me hard across the face. Not as hard as he could've, thank God. The strength in his arms that was a product of years of drumming would probably have spun my head completely around if he had. But it was enough to stun me into silence and let the nurses sit me back down again.
Once I had calmed down, the doctor and Yoshiki went out into the hallway together. When they had come back, the doctor told me I could go home, as long as I promised to think it over very, very carefully before I went through with an abortion. I lied and said that I would (I know, I'm a hypocrite), but I don't think he believed me, because he told me that Yoshiki had promised to keep an eye on me, and if it wasn't for him, I would be staying overnight in the hospital.
I kind of wish I was back in the hospital now, though, because then I wouldn't be sitting here being glared at like a naughty child. It was really getting on my nerves, which were already stretched really thin under all the stress I had been through today.
"Yoshiki, quit it," I say. "I don't think this is what the doctor had in mind when he said to keep an eye on me."
He says nothing, just keeps staring at me. Frustrated, I slam my spoon down on the counter with a clang.
"Goddammit, Yoshiki! Stop it! You're freaking me out!"
"Good," he says softly. His voice had that dangerous tone that, no matter how softly he spoke, you'd hear every word. "Maybe you'll listen to me then."
I push the bowl away from me, folding my arms across my chest. "You're not going to make me change my mind, Yoshiki."
"Probably not," he answers. "I know you're stubborn. But I didn't get to where I am now by yielding to anyone, either."
"It's none of your business, anyway. It's my baby, not yours."
"It's not just yours. It's Hide's, too."
"Hide's dead, Yoshiki. He can't really lay claim to anything, can he?" It stung me to say it, but in my anger I don't really care.
Usually my bringing up the fact that Hide was dead would stop him in his tracks, tears filling his eyes. But the fact that I now carried Hide's baby had changed his attitude. He was coming back to himself, at least a little bit. He was turning back into the Yoshiki I knew, a hard, stubborn motherfucker. He didn't react to what I had just said, just shrugged it off.
"I'm not just doing this for him, I'm doing it for you," he says. "If you get rid of the baby, you're going to regret it."
"How do you know? How do you know what I would or wouldn't regret? If you want the baby so much, why don't you have it?" Did I really just say that? How stupid. I wait for Yoshiki to say something along the lines of 'I would if I could', but thankfully, he's not that weird.
Yoshiki sighs. "Really? That's all you have to say?" He shakes his head, giving me a look that clearly said he thought I was an idiot.
I can feel my face heat up as I get angry. I need to say something, anything to wipe that look from his face. I need to crush him and make him cry. There's no way he's getting the last word.
"Why do you care so much? Why do you want me to have this baby? Do you want to raise the kid to be just like him, so it's like he was never gone?" I know I'm just making shit up as I go, but I want to get a rise out of him. "What, were you in love with Hide or something?"
That does the trick. Yoshiki's eyes widen, and a look of shock comes over him. I smile coldly, glad to have gotten through. He turns and starts walking away, but I want one last jab. I want someone else to share my pain. "That's too bad, isn't it? Because he never loved you."
Yoshiki spins around and, before I can blink, is grabbing tightly onto my upper arms, his face inches from mine, teeth bared in anger.
"You want to hit me?" I say, that cold smile still on my face. "Go ahead. But aim for my stomach. Maybe I'll miscarry."
His eyes flash in anger, and for a second I think he actually is going to strike out. But then his eyes soften a little, and start to sparkle as tears fill them. He roughly lets go of me, shoving me a little in his effort to get away from me, and practically runs to the kitchen door. "Cold-hearted bitch," he manages to choke out, then goes into the dark hallway, vanishing from my sight.
I slump back down onto the stool I had been sitting on. I had won, but my victory had left me feeling worse, not better.
That night, as I have been every night since the 2nd of May, I had a nightmare. This one was different from the usual ones, in which Hide's death replays over and over again, or the one where he was still alive in his coffin, scrambling to get out before it's engulfed in flames at the crematorium (that one had been featured ever since I had found out that Hide was still alive as I held him in my arms that night, and didn't really die until he reached the hospital). No, this one was different, and I attribute it to my new knowledge of my pregnancy.
In this dream, I'm strapped in a hospital bed, my stomach huge with child. My legs are up in stirrups. Obviously I'm about to give birth. My body is overwhelmed with pain, and I'm straining to get the baby out of me. Sweat is pouring down my face, my hair drenched like I had been caught in the rain. It's strangely quiet. There's no beeping machines, no voices coaching me, telling me what to do. There aren't even any doctors around. I'm all alone. All I can do is push and push, trying to get it out without any help from anyone. Finally, there's a tearing sensation, and I can feel something huge spill from between my legs and fall to the floor with a sickening splat. I gather up enough strength to prop myself up on my elbows and look down between my knees. What I see makes the gorge rise in my mouth. There's no baby, but a adult-sized body writhing on the floor. And it's not just any body. It's Hide, and his body is rotten and decayed, with flesh falling off to show the bones underneath, his eye-sockets black and empty, covered in my blood. I open my mouth to vomit, but instead I scream and scream.
I'm still screaming as I wake up, drenched in sweat and twisted in my sheets. Yoshiki's pounding on my door, which I had locked to make him leave me alone, shouting for me. I start to shake as the image of Hide's rotten corpse flashes again before my eyes, and I swallow to keep from throwing up. Jesus Christ, I need to get rid of this thing.
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