[The music starts again. Once more, Rinne chases him. He's quick to adapt to any song Takasugi throws at him, knowing when to match his pace, which progressions to play. He keeps his hands steady on the rhythm Takasugi lays down for him, but secretly, they itch to play something that will change their set entirely. He can't shake what Takasugi told him, see? Supporting his subjects is what a monarch is supposed to do. Takasugi does come out cooler for it. But Rinne's never had the support of someone older, and he can't decide if he should leave it or lean in. His gaze flickers towards the man, half-expecting a frown of critique, a smirk at his compliance, or worse, indifference.

But Takasugi isn't analyzing. He’s improvising. A quick tug lifts the corner of Takasugi's mouth—a smile.

Rinne snorts. What a show-off! But the brazen melody reawakens something within Rinne. Not permission—he doesn't give a damn about permission—but encouragement, he thinks. Takasugi is enjoying this, and Rinne can't help but smile back.

Then it happens.

Noise, they said?

It's been weeks since that concert. It was easier when the first stone cast was his own. It was a water bottle he'd positioned at just the right angle to fall on him when the time came. After that, the hate came pouring. He could accept that. All it did was confirm a truth he already knew. He was a deviant, a monster. Someone society could never take into the fold.

But when someone takes Takasugi's smile and tells him the same, Rinne's blue eyes flash red. The fire within him starts to burn.]

Gyahahaha! Look, Prez. We got haters already!

[Then, to the crowd:] Can't you just be happy we ain't fuckin' in the fields? Ya sick freaks! I don't care who died and made ya king of the park. We'll do as we damn please!

[Rinne flashes his middle finger at their audience. He expects shock, but what he doesn't anticipate is the fear. Their faces contort into horror as his hands transform into monstrous claws and show everyone the beast that has begun to take hold.]