Yo everyone! The Kuku here! So, I'm a FEW days late…I was going to write out the 6th chapter, but as I'm having a tad bit of writer's block and since I hit over 100 REVIEWS (You guys are freakin' awesome! ), I decided I'd do an Intermission over the beginning of Satoshi and Daisuke's relationship, because, you know, the next song is 'All I Ask of You'. And if you're familiar with Phantom of the Opera (which I'm assuming you are!), you know what's going to have to happen next. So, as a thank-you, I decided to put off on your Riku/Daisuke torture by doing a tiny bit of Satoshi/Daisuke. Well, if you could CALL it that, because at this point Satoshi is about in his late mid 20s, early 30s, and Daisuke is, like, 10 and thinks Satoshi is his father. But hey, if that's your kink! (XD I love PotO in 15 Minutes. Google it if you've lived under a rock and haven't read it. DO IT. It makes me laugh all ze time, and I have an excerpt from it on my icon on Xanga. )

Anyways, once again time for the Suck-Ups-and-Thankys! The cookies from the dark side go out to Angel Born of Darkness (Aww, really? That makes me happy, because that means I'm getting the emotions I want across! I'm glad you're able to get that involved in my stories! ), Mad-Vixxen (No, she's not Emiko. That's all I'll say about the mysterious new mother, because it's a se-cre-t! I'm really excited about writing intermissions now, because I have so many ideas for Satoshi intermissions! But that's bad, because I need main chapters too. o.o But I'm glad you continue to like my story! Thank you so much for your support!), Darkness'Creation (Damn, girl! You reviewed me, like, half a million times! …Okay, it was 7 times, but it felt like lots when I suddenly got all these emails in my inbox telling me I had all these new reviews. I'm so glad you like my story so much that you'd take the time after every chapter to review! AND your reviews put me over 100 reviews! You totally rock. ), and DevilintheAngel (I'm so glad that you get so involved in my stories! I'm really glad you enjoy this story so much!) You guys really rock! Over 100 reviews, man!

O-V-E-R 1-0-0! THIS IS A FIRST FOR THE KUKU!

Anyways, I'll shut up now and let you get to the intermission. Please enjoy!

Intermission 5

Normally in this situation, he would have cried. But his tears had all been cried, leaving his tiny body feeling completely void of everything. He had cried beside his papa's beside as the sickness began to take him. He had cried as he watched the once lively, joyful face of his papa become sunken with the illness as it ravaged his insides. He cried as his papa whispered his last comforting words to him, wiped his tears, and closed his eyes for the last time, his hand dropping to the side of the bed. He cried enough tears while his father was alive, and the tiny boy found that he could cry no more after his death.

"Papa," the boy whispered to the darkness as he turned to his side and held his heavy blanket to his chest, knowing full well that the darkness would not answer. It never did answer him, even in this room full of sleeping boys. The hour was late when the small boy had come to the opera house, and everyone in his dormitory was fast asleep. The stern-looking woman who had told him to call her 'Madame Emiko' had lead him here and to his bed, telling him that he should get some sleep. But he could not. Despite that he knew the darkness would not answer, he whispered once more, his voice even smaller this time, knowing the call of his heart to the person he so dearly wanted to see would be ignored.

"Papa."

As soon as he had uttered these hopeless words, he felt his torso sit up and his legs swing over the edge of the bed, as if the movements were mechanical. His feet walked him silently to the door, his bare feet making barely a sound as they touched the ground. He carefully turned the knob just so that he would not wake anyone up, and walked in silence out the gateway of this room of nothingness, this room void of the tears he had lost. He walked down the hall has if he knew where he was going, and yet he did not. His feet lead him, not knowing where they would take him. The corridors all looked the same to him as the candles had all been put out by this hour of night, and the only light came through the small windows on the south wall. His feet lead him to a door. It was a simple door, no different then any others he had seen in this new home of his. Its wood was a deep brown, its markings kept to a bare minimum so it was not completely naked but was far from elaborate. His hand rose to the door knob, his mind seeming to be shrouded in a fog and only made slight agreements to his actions. He twisted the knob and allowed the door to swing open.

Inside was a sort of prayer room. This room was much like its door- it had the makings of a prayer room, and what decorations it had were kept at a minimum to prevent the room from lacking a soul. A light-wooded cross hung on the east wall, illuminated by four blood-red candles propped up next to it by brass holders placed within the stonework of the wall. Underneath the cross was a small statue of the Virgin Mary that was placed on a small stand made of the same light wood as the cross. On the stand were also four pure white candles. The light the candles emitted was a dim one- someone had obviously neglected to extinguish the candles at the day's end. In fact, most of this room was in various states of neglect. There were layers of dust on the cross, on the stand, on the Virgin Mary, yet the candles were trimmed well as if the care-taker of this room had only the time to light and keep care of the candles, yet not enough to keep care of the rest of the room. The fact of the matter was that a local church had received a generous expansion to its grounds and the good Christians in the opera house did their practices within the walls of the House of God instead of within the walls of a tiny prayer room within the Opera Populaire. The only one who truly came to this tiny room of prayer was a chorus girl who had committed sins of the night to pay for her bread and butter before entering the opera house, so she felt inadequate to approach the holy building of God. Thus, to atone for her sins and not 'taint' in her opinion the walls of the Church, she approached the Holy One within the walls of a prayer room in which no one went to. She did not keep care of anything except the candles because she did not feel clean enough to touch them, but this is another story that is not mine to elaborate on, and must be left for another day and another time.

As the small boy continued to look around the small room, he noticed that on the north wall was a small stained-glass window depicting a kind-looking Jesus in a pleasing palette of gentle colors. In his left hand he held a shepard's staff and his right arm was outstretched to his scared and wandering flock that was all of humanity. The grass behind him was lush and green, and the small boy's imagination went wild, as he imagined from the mere glass panels how tender and springy the grass it must have felt to the touch. The sun shone in a tender manner and the blue sky was the most pleasing shade of joy. The entire scene was one of beauty and paradise in the purist form. But, what made the stained glass so comforting, so like paradise, was the smile on the Shepard's face- it comforting, as if to say to his sheep, to humanity, Come, my child. All is all right. Follow me to the warm embrace of the Father. All is all right.

The small boy walked to the kind-looking Jesus and fell abruptly to his knees, tears beginning to spring to his eyes, the smile of the Shepard tearing at his small heart. Papa was religious. Papa loved Jesus. Jesus loved Papa, so Papa had gone to Jesus. Jesus loved Papa so much he took Papa away from him. Jesus is selfish. Because of Jesus, all is not all right. Jesus took Papa into His arms. It's all His fault…the small boy began to sob.

It is hard to accept death as an event without blame when there truly is no one to blame, for without blame there is no graspable explanation of why such an event happens. At least, that is how it was for this poor child. With this discovery of a new source of blame, the boy found his tears welling within the ducts of his eyes as hatred and pain filled his fragile frame. The disease was what killed Papa, so he cried. Jesus was the one who took Papa, so he cried.

"Child, why do you cry?" came a soft voice from all around him. The boy's head slowly looked around, tears still falling from his tiny eyes. He saw nothing.

"I cry because Jesus took Papa away from me," the small boy said, his voice quivering with the sobs he held in his throat. It did not occur to him to be afraid. He was too full of pain and confusion to feel much else.

"Your papa was Kosuke Niwa, was he not?" came once more the soft voice from everywhere and nowhere. At the mention of his papa's name, the boy's tears dried and his sobs quieted.

"How…how do you know Papa? Are you…" said the boy, pausing. Papa was religious. Papa told him after he died, he would ask Jesus to send him back to earth as the Angel of Music to protect and guide him. It was, the boy thought, the least Jesus could do for being so selfish as to take Papa away from him.

"Am I what, Daisuke Niwa?" came the voice from everywhere and nowhere. The small boy grew excited, his sobs disappearing now. He almost felt certain this was him.

"Are you the Angel of Music?" the small boy asked with baited breath. He heard the voice from everywhere and nowhere chuckle in a gentle fashion.

"It depends on whom I am speaking to. Can you sing, Daisuke?" asked the voice. Daisuke nodded feverently, excited that his papa had come back to him so quickly.

"Yes! You know I can!"

"Then prove it to me," the voice said softly. If Daisuke found this request odd, being that this must have truly been his Angel, his Papa, he did not show it. He opened his small mouth and began to sing. There were no words to this song, as there are songs in this world that do not require the art of language to communicate emotion and beauty. His papa would play this particular song after Riku and her father had gone to bed following one of those sun-soaked days in the white house by the beach and when neither Daisuke nor Papa could sleep. His papa would take out his violin and play as the moon's light illuminated everything around them in a comforting glow, creating their own little world of perfection. Nothing could touch them as Papa played on those moonlit-soaked nights during the summer of their lives. Nothing could touch them as Daisuke sang on this candle-lit night during the winter of their lives. As Daisuke finished, he heard no sound from the voice from everywhere and nowhere, his Angel, his Papa. He held his breath, waiting, praying he had not been deserted. After a pause, the voice finally spoke.

"I am the Angel of Music, for I can hear IT in your voice," the voice from everywhere and nowhere said in a whisper, and if Daisuke was older, he might have noticed inside his words were a hint of the voice of a touched man, but this tiny version of our hero had not the life experience to know this. "I hear potential, greatness, perfection and so I have decided- I shall teach you the grand art of vocalization- you will be my student, and I your master. I shall make you into the finest artist of sound ever heard. And," his voice grew gentler, "I want you to fear nothing, my child, for I will protect you in this new home. Even when you do not hear me or see my shadow, I am there, for it is the duty of Angel of Music to protect those he guides."

Daisuke did not reply. A smile graced his lips before he fainted from exhaustion. Before his tiny body could hit the cold, stone ground, an arm cloaked in black from out the shadows caught his figure and pulled the frail, childish frame into his arms. The red-headed boy's head fell over into the black figure's chest. The young child had, like most young children, the sleeping face of a small angel. As the cloaked figure held the small boy, the glowing light from the stained glass fell upon Daisuke, giving him almost an unearthly glow and completing the image of an angel in the black figure's arms. A tiny smile fell upon the cloaked figure as he brushed the tiny strands of red that had fallen onto his face as he slept.

"You call me an angel, but you appear far more like an angel then I," whispered the black figure as, with a whisk of his cloak, they disappeared into the shadows.

End of Intermission 5

So, now it's over, I'd like to discuss a small theme in this fanfiction that may piss off some of my readers unless they try to understand where I'm coming from, and that's the issue of religion. In this Intermission, little Daisuke goes all Jesus-sucks, and he never truly gets over these feelings of resentment towards Jesus and God of the Christian religion. This is VERY IMPORTANT, I feel, about understanding Daisuke's mindset. Kosuke was, as this intermission reveals, a religious man, thus installing in Daisuke a strong sense of right and wrong (hence the reason he's such a good boy!). But, Daisuke blames religion for his father's death, so he has these conflicting feelings inside of him. Because of these conflicting emotions, Daisuke later starts to acknowledge his homosexual feelings toward Satoshi and yet rejects them at the same time, as a sort of anti-homosexual stance was in place in the Church during this time (and still is. ). So, accepting yet rejecting his feelings at the same time is akin to the inner conflict he has religion, as to accept his feelings is to acknowledge he disagrees with his father's religion and sort of let go of that part of him, but to reject it is to deny the part of him that still can't accept religion because of the 'scarring' it 'put' him through.

Short version- I write this from Daisuke's point of view, and I don't hold these feelings against Christianity as Daisuke does, so don't get angry at me.

I doubt that anyone will get THAT mad- I mean, this is a shonen-ai! I doubt I have some serious Bible-thumpin' fans- but just in case. I also like to ramble like that to get the AP English student out of my system. I think I've been in there a LITTLE too long. I see the words 'rhetorical devices' in my sleep.

Anyways, hopefully next update will be Chapter 6! Please don't hate me for it, 'coz you should know by now I'm a drama ho, so I WILL be making solid the love triangle and really developing the Riku/Daisuke side of the triangle. So please, no tomatoes, no rotten school food, no horse heads under my blankets. I love you guys, so no hurty the authoress!