By Jia Zhang

Act I

Agatsuma Soubi was not an ordinary man, and he never was. He had certain traits about him that made him more than the average man—his appreciation for beauty, his subtle wisdom, and this odd intellect that often stood out from behind his round spectacles. But no matter how brilliant he was, the first thought you'd have about Agatsuma Soubi was that he was weird.

But that was to be expected, because Soubi was not an ordinary man. His family always had high expectations for him, for him to become someone more than just mere human. He was special, that was what they said, that he had a keen eye, a gift from God that not many were able to touch. Ever since he was a young boy, Soubi had an odd fascination with art and beauty, which is probably where he received his acclaim as both a genius, and his queerness.

But Soubi had always heard this, so he had expected nothing more when he entered the Aoyagi Household, with all those eyes peering at him curiously.

He and Aoyagi Seimei had been childhood chums, who understood each other's thoughts and hearts, even. Seimei always tended to be a rather puzzling person to Soubi—quiet, reserved, non-chalant, but seeming as if he knew everything. When Seimei died, it had been a huge blow to the silver haired man. At the time, he had been away in Europe, traveling and painting. The young man was deeply troubled by his friend's death—Seimei the writer, who was enigmatic and rather immortal in all his forms. That was what disturbed Soubi the most, that such a person like Seimei, a figure of glory and power, could be taken down so easily by a mere illness.

However, only weeks after his dear friend's death, the Aoyagi family lawyer came knocking on his door. The Aoyagis had been one of the most powerful families in Japan. The Aoyagi seniors had tragically died on an airplane accident when Seimei was only in High School, leaving him and his younger brother orphans. But Seimei rose to the occasion, and worked to prosper his family's estate. His death had been a blow not only to his friends, but also his financial connections. Of course, with the older Aoyagi deceased, Soubi knew that it would be Seimei's younger brother who would have to take up the job.

Soubi had never met the younger Aoyagi sibling, but had heard stories of him from Seimei, who seemed to have adored his younger brother. Ritsuka was his name, if Soubi remembered correctly, whom Seimei described as a fragile and innocent butterfly. Soubi knew that Ritsuka had no force compared to his elder brother, thus knew the younger sibling would not be able to do well in a world such as theirs at his age. So Soubi was only half-surprised when the lawyer told him the conditions of Seimei's will.

In light of my death, I would like for Agatsuma Soubi to be the sole guardian of Aoyagi Ritsuka and the Aoyagi Estate till Ritsuka comes of age.

That was what the will said.

And that was why Soubi was now here in the Aoyagi House.

The artist gazed around at his surroundings as the head butler led him to his room to set his things down, amongst the whispers of the other servants. He couldn't help but stare at the magnificent estate—paintings, grandeur and beautiful, Romanesque, and some with an old Parisian feel, statues made of white marble, sparkling in the Angel rays that peaked through the crimson velvet curtains of the windows. For a moment, Soubi envied Seimei, and only for a moment, for such a place was an artist's dream, of works of art and passion that were long ago thought lost to the ages. But at the same time, Soubi pitied Seimei to be tied down to a life he never wanted in the first place, to do what you have to do, and not what you want. It was beautiful, the Aoyagi Estate, but Soubi knew, to Seimei, this was a prison of unbreakable walls.

The Amethyst-eyed man nodded in appreciation to the butler, as the older man left him in his quarters. This room had been especially chosen for Soubi, that was what he had said before he left, by the Master in case of his death for who should become younger Master Ritsuka's guardian. The room was Grande, as expected of something Seimei would have chosen. The walls were of a rich oak, with a silver leaf pattern adorning the walls. The ceiling lights sparkled brightly in contrast to the crimson red velvet curtains that shaded the windows. Soubi's bed was, like the rest of the house, beautiful. A large silver four-poster bed, the columns spiraling, and covered with white bed sheets, with a golden lining and bright gold pillows.

Soubi sat down on a near by love seat and sighed deeply as he smiled to himself. What had you gotten me into, that was what he asked in his mind to his old friend. The truth was, nothing in the world, not even Seimei's deathbed wish could have made Soubi take the position as the younger Aoyagi's guardian. He was an artist, like Seimei was, and he couldn't be tied down to anything or anyone—Soubi's sole goal in life was to find that ultimate beauty, that one thing that would be the closest to God.

He wanted to capture that beauty in his art—but he never found it.

Est-ce que une telle beauté existe?

Which is why it led him here to the estate. Soubi believed that it was time for him to take a long deserved rest, to refresh himself before going into the search again. This would be a good time, that was what he believed—his decision to go on a temporary hiatus from the art world unfortunately coincided with his friend's death. And now he was left with the responsibility of a child.

The butler had informed Soubi that the young master Ritsuka had been in the gardens, reading one of the many books of the many libraries in the House. The artist thought that it was right time to meet the youth; after all, he was now his guardian, responsible for his well being and growth. The silver-haired man wandered aimlessly around the gardens, the flowers being watered by the sprinklers.

Soubi enjoyed looking at the flowers—the different hues and colours, the tulips, lilies, carnations, roses, were all a spectacular mixture for the eyes. They had such a simple beauty to them, but certainly not the beauty Soubi was searching for. The man had come to believe, rather, that he might never find that single spark of beauty he had always been searching deep within the crevices of this unholy Earth.

Before him, a butterfly flew up suddenly, its wings of a gleaming blue and black. It flew past his eyes, and shaded his vision only for a moment, and when it passed, Soubi felt a rush of blood run through him.

There laid before him the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

Une beauté n'aiment aucun autre, un papillon noir et bleu.

He was no older than thirteen; Soubi was sure, maybe even younger. He lay carelessly on the perfect grassy ground, reading a book rather absent-mindedly. He lay on his stomach, his eyes staring intently at the pages and the words. His skin was like porcelain, smooth, with a light touch of pink. His rich black hair shined, wet from the sprinklers he chose not to hide from. He wore a simple white dress-shirt that seemed to be much too large for him, and pair of pale beige shorts that ran up to his thighs. They were wet from the water, and rather transparent, leaving little to the imagination. The clothes stuck to his body firmly, curving around him rather protectively. His feet dangled in the air, moving casually up and down. He seemed so innocent, so pure, so fragile like a doll that if Soubi would've touched him, he'd shatter into a million little pieces.

And Soubi's heart burst with love, adoration and affection for this thing that lay before him.

Mon papillon précieux, mon lolita aimé.

Suddenly, the boy turned his head, having felt Soubi's presence and gaze. And Soubi saw his eyes—his magnificent, bright, wide mauve eyes that reflected the Sun and the Sky, that were nothing in comparison to his beautiful eyes. The boy seemed unaffected by Soubi's appearance, yet curiosity lit up on his face. But Soubi couldn't bear to turn away from him, this beautiful boy.

The butterfly decided to turn back, all of a sudden, and land on the boy's shoulders. His mauve eyes turned slightly to gaze at the blue and black butterfly, fluttering its wings lightly upon his shoulder. And suddenly, he smiled, so softly, gently, as if it were merely a whisper of words.

Aoyagi Ritsuka smiled at the little butterfly, and took Soubi's breath away.

Mon papillon.

End Act I

Author's Note:

This is by far one of the most bizarre stories I've ever written. This fic is actually inspired and partially based on a movie called , about a man who was unable to control his feelings for a twelve-year-old girl. I loosely based this fic off of that movie, which was brilliant, yet highly disturbing because it border into the realm of pedophilia. I actually am really disturbed by pedophilia, but writing this fic came quite naturally. Weird. I'm sure you've noticed the amount of obligatory French that has been littered through this fic— does have a strong French reference, and I used a bit of the directing style when writing this fic. Trying something new, I am. Hopefully, will be no longer than five acts. The storyline also gets racier as it goes on, with much sexual references and other suggestive matter.

I'm already done Act II, and that will be posted on my Live Journal account in around a week.

Review please, and don't eat me!

Jia Zhang

© August, 2005 by Jia Zhang. All rights reserved.