Fresh cheers filled Club Kocchi Muite, both comforting and terrifying Gumi. They were different from any cheers she had ever heard at the Club before. They weren't cheering for Masked Bitch and her body. They weren't cheering for what they wanted to do to her. They were cheering for Gumi, the lead singer of The VocaLords.

They were cheering to hear her sing.

Bolstered, she devoted herself to her mission. The soft strains of He Was Gone poured from the club's sound system. It was the song she was most proud of having written with Miku and VioLinja. An extended bass riff was followed by a single long held note, marking the starting point of the lyrics. If Gumi's eyes had any tear ducts left, she would have cried profusely. It was Miku who had played that riff when the recording was made long ago, and as her bass guitar holding the long note, showcasing the point where Gumi was to sing.

Wasting a precious breath of powder to steady her frazzled nerves, she sang directly into a pair of cobalt steel blue eyes.

"He used to say he loved me.

"He held me close and warm.

"He used to hate to say good-bye,

"And couldn't wait for us to be once more."

Gumi's body swayed, methodical and erotic. The background noise in the club was less than one of her garbled whispers.

"No one sings songs by The VocaLords anymore."

"No one sings at all anymore. Not like Gumi does."

"Ever since the band broke up, the whole world's gone to Hell."

"Shh. The next line's coming."

"But then one day,

"A note, a train…

"By the time I reached the station, he was gone."

Gumi moved to the front of the stage. She kept her hands from shaking by clasping them at her waist. The man with the cobalt eyes sat up straight, realizing she was singing solely for his sake.

"Our nights were long, but starlight shone.

"He held me close,

"But now…

"He's gone.

"And the stars don't seem to shine so bright

"As I spend my nights alone."

The rest of the crowd faded from Gumi's mind. Through the tint of her red goggles, the man's gray uniform, his cerulean hair, his metal eyes—everything took on a purple hue.

"And all for what?

"A train, a note…

"By the time I reached the station, he was gone."

Holding her hands together wasn't keeping her from shaking. It travelled up her arms, reaching for her chest. It threatened to force its way inside, to rattle her vocal chords and make her lose the tune. To thwart the advance, she closed her eyes tight. Still, through her eyelids, she could see the man. She could feel his gaze upon her as she sang.

"My heavy heart drags slowly on.

"I spend my nights alone.

"Under a heartless, starless sky,

"I spend my nights alone."

Gumi forced her eyes to open. Slowly, with strength that came from deep within, she knelt onstage before the man. He stood up as she descended, bringing himself to stand directly in front of her. With his height and her kneeling, they were eye to eye.

"And all because

"A note, a train…

"By the time I reached the station, he was gone."

She performed a ceremonial shin bow, supplicating herself before him. With her face an inch from the stage, she sang the song's last lyric, loud and strong and powerful.

"By the time I reached the station, he was gone."

Miku's beautiful bass swelled from what was supposed to be the end of the song. Every fiber of Gumi's being worked to convince her that, if she just lifted her head from the floor, standing before her would not be the man in uniform with the steel blue eyes.

Standing before her would be sweet and tiny Miku, playing her guitar.

Gumi repeated the last lyric a final time, in honor of her lost friend.

"By the time I reached the station, he was gone."

Silence followed a minute later, as the melody travelled down a decrescendo. After several seconds, the man reached to touch her supine body.

"Gumi," he said to her, the moment before his hand was to meet her shoulder.

She ran from the stage before his hand landed, the crowd roaring its approval from behind.

In the safety of a dressing room she shared with other girls, Gumi worked her way past dancers, wardrobe assistants and sponsors. Few dared to glance at her, for they knew her as Masked Bitch, and not as Gumi. In the farthest part of the room, she hid behind as many racks, dressers, mirrors and warm bodies as she could. Further barricading herself into a corner, she moved the chair and vanity she chose to sit at to a position that offered the most privacy.

Seated, sad and as alone as she could make herself, Gumi's breathed in ragged gasps.

I've never let anyone know I was Gumi! Ever!

With her vocalizer empty, she ripped it from her face. Hanging her head low, she cast her eyes down to keep from seeing her ghastly reflection in the mirror.

Why did I do that? Why?

In her heart, she knew all too well why she did what she did. She scolded herself with the answer.

I'm so alone!

By removing her porcelain mask and donning her vocalizer, hundreds of people now knew who Masked Bitch was. Soon, that number would swell to the thousands. Maybe even the millions. In a fit of anger, Gumi brushed her vocalizer and mask off the top of the vanity, along with various make-up and hair care products. They scattered across the floor. She buried her face in her arms, pressing what was left of it to the slick, caked surface of the vanity. Her shoulders shook, and then her whole body. Unable to produce tears, she drooled as she cried.

I've been alone so long!

It had been foolish, brash, perhaps even dangerous to have revealed herself as she did. Evil rampaged throughout the world, with Hell set loose by her own hand. Even worse, VioLinja roamed the countryside with impunity, obliterating anyone she so chose. If she still searched for Gumi, she would soon know where to find her. In her quest for feeling wanted, one of the few safe havens left for souls who were good might now be destroyed.

Gumi sobbed only long enough to gather her resolve. She peeked up from the vanity's surface to gaze into her hazel eyes staring back at her from the mirror.

"You have to leave," she told them in a garbled, drooling whisper. "Now."

She thought about where her personal belongings might be in the jumbled mess that was backstage at Club Kocchi Muite. She then sensed a dangerous presence. Soon the presence starting making sounds, bumping up against clutter and bodies.

Someone's coming!

Disbelieving whispers danced inside her ears, with words of conviction spoken louder. They gathered in volume every time they were repeated.

"That's her," the words said. "That's Gumi."

They're coming!

"Nah. That can't be her," the whispers said. "She's such a bitch."

Gumi looked both this way and that. Boxes of props, dressers and clothes racks were all that she could see. They filled all the available space, offering nowhere to hide. She thought about taking off at a dead run in some random direction, forever living in fear over what she had done just now, and for having set Hell on the world so long ago. The whispered began speaking in more normal tones, and the words came near the threshold of shouting, as dancers and bouncers and sponsors who had witnessed Gumi's performance came backstage to tell those who had not seen it what happened.

Snide remarks were sprinkled into the mix.

"Without her band, she's nothing."

"Ha! She's worse than nothing! She's stuck here with us!"

Gumi rose in preparation of packing her belongings to leave. She tore off her desert rat khakis, leaving on just her combat boots. She roughly folded these items, placing them on the vanity with her goggles on top. She then donned an oversized, red hooded jacket. As she turned to contemplate what to grab next, her snow white cheeks burned with crimson fire.

There, having pushed aside a rack of costumes she had positioned to help her hide, was the cerulean man.

He's here!

Again, Gumi looked both this way and that. Lost in the mess on the floor were her porcelain mask and vocalizer. Panicked and embarrassed, she hid her ravaged face by cowering in a corner, pulling the hood of her jacket entirely over her head.

"Gumi," the man said again.

The sound of her name made her whole body shudder. "Go away!" she tried to say, making snorts and clicks instead of words.

The man drew close and crouched, reaching to touch her back. She scrambled away to another corner before his hand could land, sending brushes and lipsticks and bottles of hairspray spinning across the floor.

The man remained crouched where Gumi had last been. "You've no reason to fear me," he said.

Gumi scrabbled about in her corner, not knowing what to do. She found a sheet of cardstock and a stick of mascara. Using the mascara as a pen, she scribbled with great fervor on the cardstock as the man spoke again.

"What you did tonight was the right thing to do."

Gumi held her makeshift sign high over her head, facing it backwards so the man could read it as she hid her face from him.

She shook so hard in fear that the sign could hardly be read. Hottoite! it said. Go away!

The man spoke in soothing tones. "I know the reason why you sang for me. I knew it was you behind your mask all along."

How could you have knowm? No one's seen my face in years!

Gumi flipped over her piece of cardstock and scribbled anew.

"I can be a friend," the man said as she wrote with the mascara. "Do you even have friends anymore?"

Gumi presented her second sign. Fear and nerves made her shake even harder as she held it high, so much so she thought she might pee on the floor. To cover for that fact, she shook her sign on purpose, making the cardstock shudder.

Ero jī it read. Gumi had purposely drawn the kanji for 'Old Man' to look like 'Masturbation.'

The man crouching on the floor with her laughed. "Is that why you think I'm here? You think I followed you backstage here because I want to have sex?"

Gumi tried mustering the courage she needed to seek truth in his eyes, but she couldn't force herself to turn and look at his face. So she nodded instead.

The man laughed heartily. "No! I'm not here for sex! I am here to help!"

To that, Gumi shook her head 'No' with vigor. The man rose to stand up straight, and towered over crouching Gumi. With a voice firmer than any he had ever yet used, he boomed words at her.

"I know why you loosed Hell upon the world—to escape it and stop VioLinja. But she still obliterates without performing the Winnowing. And without using the Powder of God."

Gumi stopped shaking, frozen into a stupor. She stopped breathing, unable to command a single muscle to perform. Her heart may have stopped as well, perhaps for as long as a second.

VioLinja? Winnowing? The Powder of God? I haven't heard those words in years!

"VioLinja must be stopped," the cerulean man said. "Obliteration is only meant for those who are truly evil."

Slowly, with more effort than it took to move rusted gears, Gumi turned her head. She looked up and over her shoulder, higher and higher and higher.

Until her red-rimmed eyes met cobalt blue steel. Now when Gumi's heart skipped and fluttered, it was for a very different reason.

The cerulean man was beautiful. His presence drove so much passion into Gumi that even though her nose didn't work, she still knew how he must smell.

Ravenous. Delightful. Consuming.

A blob of spit yellowed with snot formed on the part of Gumi's lower lip that still existed. The man's eyes melted at its sight. He swayed slightly, much as she had done when she sang to him on stage. He opened his mouth to stifle a gasp as she gave him the best smile she could manage. Her pretty eyes shone bright behind her sadness, above cheeks apple red, and set on skin as white as snow.

It was a pitiful smile. I'm hideous!

Carefully, with compassion, the man slowly stepped forward, crouching again as he approached. Gumi's shoulders heaved from silent sobs wracking her whole body. She remained still and kept smiling as best as she could.

A frightful, toothsome smile.

"Help me," she whispered as loud as she could when the man had drawn near enough to hear.

"Oh, Gumi," the man said sadly, pulling a silk kerchief from his breast pocket. He dabbed away the spit that clung on Gumi's lip, then handed her the cloth. "Have you been living like this ever since The VocaLords broke up?"

Gumi sniffled while nodding.

Still crouching, still melted, still filled with compassion, the man spoke again in firm tones.

"My name is T.O.P. Come with me and let me help you."

Before she even knew what she was doing, she threw herself into the man's arms. Their bodies met with so much force that she staggered him. Now safe and warm and close to him, he spoke in a whisper that was softer than hers.

"I've used the Powder of God myself, but… I couldn't do it. I couldn't take the pain. I couldn't bear its burden, even for a moment."

He stroked Gumi's soft green hair as she sought comfort for her rotted face in the silk foam of his shirt.

"Come with me," he said. "I know what the Powder of God does to a person. I know how to relieve it."

"Help me!" Gumi whispered again, into his soft ruffles. "I'm dying!"

"I command a ship moored at port. Once far from land, with peace and quiet, the sun and salt air will revive you."

Gumi's body stiffened. Sail away? Far from land? She had never ventured away from shore. When travel over the ocean was required as a member of The VocaLords, she always flew on a plane.

Now all Gumi did was hide inside Club Kocchi Muite.

What little there was left of her nose sensed sea salt on the linen of T.O.P.'s jacket. She could smell it. She could taste it. It was invigorating.

Gumi pulled her face from the man's ruffles, to stare deeply into his pools of liquid blue cobalt steel.

"Come with me," T.O.P. said again, to which Gumi nodded.