Title: Tenshi no Uta (Angel's song)
Author: Cali-chan! You are pleased to meet me. ^-^
E-mail: silver_elf@edsamail.com.ph
Rating: PG for now
Pairing: I'm not sure yet. O_O ... either NagixOmi or
AyaxOmi
Keywords: Omi, Aya, Nagi, castrati, composers, Rome,
17th century

Gah. Another fic spouted by me-self. It's still a
rough draft so if anyone has an opinion or idea go
ahead and throw it at me so I can make it decent... I
haven't even decided on a pairing yet. O_O ...
NagixOmi or AyaxOmi... that is the question. Saa~h!
*shrugs* We'll just have to see ne? This is an
entirely different world k? So I took liberty with the
characters. Aya seems a bit OOC. ^.^ I changed the
ages of some of the peeps:
Omi:15
Nagi:14
Botan: 24

Oh yeah, I don't own Weiß. I'm just playing with them
and messing their lives. This story is based on one of
Anne Rice's books: 'Cry to Heaven'. If you see
something familiar it's because I'm reading the book
while writing this. I love Anne Rice. I love this
book. It's got yaoi. ^O^-kyaa~aaaa!! 

Neway, onto the fiction!

Prologue:

Omi was six years of age when then took him.

He remembered clearly his past, that life of hunger
and cruelty he had endured before the finely dressed
men came and took him to study with the finest
master's of music in Naples.

Vague blurry memories best forgotten revealed he was
the youngest of three boys in a family born to
poverty. Of no use and showing signs of gaining
feminine features, it was only natural to expect he
would be sold.

He remembered numb silence when the perfumed hands
took him and brought him to a room where he was asked
to sing. Then pleased voices ringing out, men taking
him far away.

Till now he never knew where his 'home' was.

From that tiny hut that had been his world he was
taken to the city of Naples and into the one of the
finest schools of music. Then came the perfumed baths,
the same soft hands washing him clean. Where he had
only before known hunger and cruelty, everyone here
treated him like something marvelous and important.

Soon, as gentle hands massage his neck and the warm
water washed over him, he fell fast asleep.

When he awoke he was strapped down on a table. Then
hands reached and stroked him, sinful pleasure rising
as they touched his hair and cupped the sacks beneath
his manhood.

He was barely prepared for the first cut. A scream was
torn from his throat before one of the hands covered
it, a soft voice whispering against his ear, "Shhh...
young one. A sacrifice for your voice."

When he awoke, settled among white sheets that smelled
of flowers, he sat up as ignoring the slight pain
between his legs gazed into the mirror beside his bed.

He saw honey gold hair, large blue eyes as he touched
his face all over, marveling at the image before him.
It was the first time he had seen his own reflection. 

A man soon came and fed him with silver spoons and
forks, sweet juice touching his lips instead of water
when he was thirsty. He was given soft white clothing,
little shiny leather shoes and a tiny kitten he was to
call his own.

Yet they never let him out of the room again. It was
to be his cage till the time came for his voice to be
heard.

He didn't know what he was then. A castrati. Boys with
the voices of angels. Half-men. 

All that mattered was his voice.

~*~*~*~*
Tenshi no Uta
Chapter 1: ~A Song from a Gilded Cage~

It was the year 1715, Louis XIV, le roi soliel of
France, had just died. Peter the great was czar of
Russia.

Gentlemen covered their heads with great white wigs
when they went out; they carried swords, pinched snuff
from small jeweled boxes. They wore breeches buckled
at the knee, stockings, shoes with high heels; their
coats had enormous pockets. Ladies in ruffled corsets
fixed beauty marks to their cheeks. They danced the
minuet in hooped skirts; they held salons, fell in
love, committed adultery.

Italian opera conquered the world. The year would see
Alessandro Scarlatti's 'Il Tigrane' in Naples,
Vivaldi's 'Narone fatta Ceasar'. George Frederock
Handel was the most celebrated composer in London.

And the stars of the Italian opera, the castrati,
captured the heard of the opera with their voices.

~*~*~*~*~*~*

"I don't need one..."

"But Aya! No other kind would do grace to your music!"

Deep iris orbs gazed dispassionately up at his fellow
composer and childhood friend before once more
concentrating on his latest piece, "A woman will do
well enough Botan."

"They don't allow women to perform in Rome!", the
older man ran his hand through unruly jet black waves,
"A castrati will have to play the part of a woman. And
they are unusually popular as you should know... most
composers would scramble for a chance to have one!"

"Like you?", olive green eyes flashed in hurt. Aya
sighed tiredly and rested his chin on his hand before
making his decision, "Look. Send in one of ... _them_,
then I'll see if it will do."

"Castrati are _he's_ not it's!", Botan shook his head,
"Just because Takatori is one of them doesn't means
they're to be treated prejudicially. You think
everything that man associates himself with is evil...
I suggest you think before-" [1]

"That's why I letting you bring one of them in."

"Good! He'll be here tomorrow!"

Aya's head lifted in surprise, "What?"

Botan suddenly looked guilty, "Well... you see you got
a letter from the music school 'Mechaus' a few months
ago offering you one of their prized castrati for this
season. They were impressed by your last play and
compositions.", Aya's glare never wavered, "What could
I do! It's the Mechaus school for Christ's sake!!"

The redhead pored over this. Perhaps the large crowds
he had drew with his latest accomplishment had not
gone unnoticed. Mechaus was famous for spawning
talented musicians... and from he knew of them..., "I
know for a fact they do not train castrati Botan."

Botan's expression suddenly turned into one of
satisfaction and excitement, "They don't train
ordinary castrati but key castrati. What do you think
of that my friend?"

Aya fought an inner battle of pride over revealing his
ignorance of the term, and curiosity that started to
rise. The latter won over, "Key?"

"Castrati that are kept locked within their rooms,
their voices all that they are taught to use. A
castrati's voice may be his world but a Key castrati's
voice is what he is. It is only when they reach
puberty that they are let out. [2]", Botan grinned and
flopped down onto a nearby chair, "I had to agree! And
since you're so prejudiced about them because of what
Takatori did to your family, I wrote as you agreeing
to his being sent here... are you furious with me?",
he suddenly looked worried, eyebrows furrowing.

"Annoyed. You should have told me.", Aya sat up and
went back to his compositions, "I wish to be alone."

Botan understood and sauntered off pleased with
himself. He had better prepare.

~*~*~*~*~* 

"We are nearly there Omi."

Large nearly owlish cerulean eyes peered up at his
Maestro. From a face pale from nine years of
imprisonment, they stood out along with pale pink
lips. The lithe boy was wrapped in numerous amounts of
clothing to protect his soft skin from the sun's harsh
rays, if he felt the heat he said nothing of it. When
he spoke, the voice that came forth was sweet, lilting
and unusually soft, "The world is beautiful."

"And it is yours to conquer with your voice. You will
win their praise and admiration.", Persia stroked the
honey-gold bangs, marveling at their downy softness,
"And I will bet their hearts as well."

The smile that played on the youths lips was angelic,
"Surely you jest Maestro.", his hand moved to stroke
the small white Persian cat settled on his lap.

"A pale angel fallen from his gilded cage into the
arms of the admiring public. What freedom you have
now!"

Omi's face became, if possible, paler. He turned once
more to take in the large buildings and crowds of
people that were a part of the world outside. Never
had he been allowed out of his room, his entire world
had been those tiny quarters. The window had revealed
but a small view of what he thought he'd never venture
out to, and now that they had sent him into it... he
was lost in this greatness.

"Mrrr~ow.", Omi smiled and buried his face in Tot's
fur. [3] She would always be there for him, even if
the others would leave. The Persian purred, bright
green eyes fixed on him.

"We are here.", Omi's heart twisted at those simple
words. Reaching out and grabbing Maestro Persia's
sleeve he stepped out of the carriage, Tot following
at his heels as he blinked up at the bright sun. He
kept his hold on his Maestro's clothing lest the
immense world reach out and swallow him.

Persia almost immediately pried his hands from his
sleeve, "That won't do Omi. You'll be living away from
me and in this world for the time being. You'll have
to grow used to this and grow at least a little
independent. Now come. We are scheduled to meet the
composer Fujimiya in a few minutes. Don't lag behind.
And leave the cat here for Christ's sake!"

As one of his servants came and took Tot away, one
word echoed in his mind. Fujimiya. The name of the man
who was to be his master for the months allotted. He's
heard but praises for the man's work, but the remarks
about his character were less flattering. Cold,
silent, and anti-social, he seemed to be oblivious to
his attained fame.

Omi followed closely behind as they entered one of
Rome's many theater's. This certain one was seemed
quite new, one of the only theater's which provided
reserved seats and carpeted floors. It was unusually
packed and Omi soon felt himself being pushed away
from Persia by the crowds flow.

He fought vainly to keep up, long neck craning for but
a glimpse of Maestro Persia's head, but his small body
was swept away by the many bodies hurrying to acquire
tickets. His master was nowhere in sight.

Soon Omi found himself in the left side of the room
and watched in awe at the sight of all the people. He
then decided to move towards an abandoned part of the
theater to watch the spectacle more closely and less
intimately. Finally he reached a more or less
unoccupied part of the main entrance and turned
around, only to bump into something hard and
unyielding. He nearly stumbled but a strong arms
reached out and pulled him up.

"What's this?", long red hair tickled Omi's cheek.

"I-I'm sorry!", Omi blushed, pink dappling his
unusually pale cheeks. He had bumped into a man's
chest! He started to move away but the man's arm
wrapped around his waist and pulled him back.

"Why so scared little one? Let me have a look at
you.", a long elegant finger tipped his chin, forcing
Omi to gaze up into the man's face. Green eyes the
same color as Tot's widened as they devoured the key
castrati's features. From the whiteness of his skin to
his bundled up state Omi knew he stood out as unusual.
The man's nasal voice was a whisper as a hand reached
out to cup his cheek, "What are you?" [4]

"Aya's _Key_ castrati if you must know.", Omi suddenly
felt himself scooped up and held against another warm
chest. His face turned beet red and he struggled to
hide his face behind his sleeve. He didn't entirely
enjoy being carried like a child but he was too
frightened to speak out. Instead he kept silent as his
feet dangled off the floor, "Keep your distance
Shulderich. You know being Takatori's dog you are not
welcome here in the theater while Aya is currently
using it."

"Oh?", the man tilted his head as he smirked, long red
hair spilling over his shoulders, "I don't remember
you owning this place Bo-tan."

"Leave or I may have to cut off some of that long red
hair your so proud of."

The young man laughed, "Then you'll end up a eunuch
when Brad's done with you!", chuckling softly he threw
a wink in Omi's direction, "Be seeing you love."

"Don't you dare-", but Shulderich was already
sauntering off so Botan allowed his sentence trail
away before peering down into Omi's face. 

The small boy sighed as he was once more stared at
openly before he managed to speak, his voice
plaintive, "May I be let down? Please? I don't mind
really but I'd be more comfortable if you-"

The man blinked in surprise before finally breaking
into laughter, "Don't start fretting! Here.", he set
the small youth on his feet, "I'll have you meet Aya."

Omi hesitated as the large hand took his, "But I'm
here to see the composer Fujimiya."

Botan chuckled softly and Omi decided it was a
pleasant sound, "That's Aya's last name! Didn't they
even tell you that!"

Omi tightened his hold on the older man's hand and
allowed himself to be led away.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

<What's keeping the both of them...>, Aya ignored the
thread of worry that wove through his thoughts. It
seemed this man seated in front of him was more than
incapable. To lose his charge revealed utter
stupidity. And from what he'd heard from Botan, Key
castrati never leave their quarters until they reach
puberty.

"They're fine. Omi couldn't have strayed far. Knowing
him he's hiding in a corner.", The bearded man
murmured as if reading his thoughts. He took a sip
from his wine and smiled slowly as the composer's
glare heightened.

"You lost him."

"He lost himself."

"Aren't you trained enough to look after a child?"

"He's already 15."

"A child nonetheless."

"Look Fujimiya, Omi is like a son to me and I
practically raised him. I know what's best for the
boy."

"Does it include losing him?"

"You talk too much. Not the Fujimiya I heard from the
rumors."

"I am annoyed."

Persia smiled wryly, "I've noticed. Look, Omi has to
get used to being independent. He has reached puberty
and will be forced to leave his room when his voice is
needed. I have to wean him from his tendency to be
dependent on everyone."

Aya's face was cold, "Whose fault was his dependency."

A full-fledged argument would have erupted if Botan
hadn't chosen that moment to appear, "I've found our
little missing castrati. Come in child."

As the youth came into view Aya felt his breath catch.
He seemed almost ethereal in his paleness, skin even
whiter than his own. Wide blue eyes were fixed on him
as soft pink lips turned up into a bright smile. He
glided in almost gracefully, taking the seat offered
to him and suddenly the blue eyes turned away from him
and fixed them on the wine jug almost longingly.

Aya instinctively reached out and poured the boy a
glass. The composer watched transfixed as the boy
placed it on his lips, a tiny bit of wine spilled down
his the corner of his lips only to be licked up
daintily. Finishing the glass the youth placed it on
the table and used a finger to wipe his wine stained
lips.

Botan's hand on his shoulder and his best friends deep
husky chuckle broke him from his reverie, "Stop
staring Ayan."

The red head immediately composed himself and moved to
sit behind his desk. His thoughts tumbled about his
head, <These creatures... are they all so seductive?>

After a few moments of summoning up his lost dignity
in silence, he rested his head on his hands and peered
dispassionately at the castrati before him, "I
understand, that this youth is being offered to me for
my play this season?"

"Not offered any longer Fujimiya, given. You did agree
to the letter three months ago.", Persia curiously
noted the glare Aya flashed Botan's direction, "Omi is
yours for the next few months in which the play will
be running. And since you have already signed the
contract I think there is nothing more to discuss and
I best be on my way.", the large man stood slowly, "I
leave Omi in your capable hands."

Then Persia's gaze fell on Omi, "Your servant will
have to coming with me. During your stay here you must
rely entirely on Fujumiya. However your cat may stay."

The lost panicked look that flashed through the Key
castrati's face was not lost to Aya. Persia laid a
hand on the boy's forehead and ruffled it gently
before finally leaving.

"Cold bastard...", Botan muttered as he watched Aya
walk out from behind his desk, "Just leaving the poor
boy..."

"Omi.", the blue eyed boy face tilted to gaze up into
his new Maestro's face, "Let's go."

Omi stood and reached out tentatively to grasp Aya's
sleeve. The composer looked coldly down at it until
the boy slowly unclasped his hand, his eyes lowering
to gaze at his palms. [5]

Aya turned and walked briskly away, leaving his
companions to follow in his wake.

~*~*~*~*~*

"I cannot do it! He is too old!"

"He is not too old.", Nagi heard the voices ring out
from opposite sides. His eyes covered by a damp
smelling cloth, gagged, and severely beaten, it was
all he could do to turn his head to the sound.

"Yes you can and you will. Unless you want to end up
dead."

A soft cultured familiar voice rang out, one Nagi knew
was familiar to him, "I do not think this is wise. He
is a noble."

"He has a younger brother. It won't be an irreparable
loss. Besides, we'll be out of Venice before the
authorities catch even a whiff of this."

Nagi moaned and turned to his side, pulling his bound
legs to his chest as the voices caused his head to
pound. Where was he? Where was Farfello. Farfello was
supposed to be protecting him. Where-

"You're awake.", the voice pierced through his
thoughts. A warm hand undid the blindfold and amber
eye peering through spectacles came into view.

"Brad...?"

The dark haired man looked away, his long ponytail
sliding off his shoulders as he did so. Nagi had known
the man for merely three weeks. He was a frequent
bystander when he and his friends would walk about the
streets at night, singing to please the ladies up upon
their windowsills. Soon Nagi had been introduced and
he found the man quite agreeable, if not too stiff and
formal.

"I cannot do it! He's 14! I-"

"You will do it. Or you will be dead. Many others are
willing enough..", hearing the strange voice, Nagi
looked over Brad's shoulder to see a man past his
prime, large mustache dominating his face.

"But-"

"Now.", the timid young man sighed and moved out of
view, a rustling of cloth and the sound of a metal
object being picked up rang out.

Brad suddenly frowned and started to place the
blindfold once more on his eyes, hands shaking
slightly.

"Brad?", a hint of fright crept into the young boy's
voice. The man gave no answer. His footsteps moved
away and Nagi whimpered, his only solace abandoning
him. Then a soft blade pressed down on a part of him
he never had let anyone touch before.

After the first cut he knew what they were doing to
him. [6]

~*~*
[1] I always wanted to cut off Takatori's balls. ^-^
[2] I am _so_ making this up. ^_-_^
[3] Haha. She's the only Shreient girl I could stand
so she gets to be in the fic.... Ooka must die. Sakura
must die. Yuriko stay in Australia. Birman and Manx
are kyewl... cali is rambling. :P
[4] Oh me? A sexy bundle of boy. Wanna play?
Omi: I would _not_ say that!!!
Ken: *nosebleeds all over the floor and runs out*
[5] He's pissed cuz he wanted your hand somewhere
else. *Evil smile* Note the 'looking down' that means
he wanted it low-
Omi: Cali-chan hidoii! >.<
*Snicker*
[6] Nagi: I am going to kill you now. -_-
Cali: O_o ... Omi-kun save me?
Omi: *sniffs and walks away*
Cali: Shimatta. @_@