Chapter Text
Drip drip drip. Drip drip drip. Drip drip drip. Little drip drip drips in threes, an unrelenting rhythm in leaks. Kyoshi thought it was charming, and started a little melodic hum to the beat. She set her backpack on the train bench beside her, allowing the hum in her chest to rise within hearing range.
Night in Tokyo’s spring time. A little chilly, a lot damp, and almost no bounds to how the night could go. Usually Kyoshi’s nights were not particularly interesting–tonight was a little different.
Where is he? She lifted her head up from her backpack and scanned the station. Not here yet. He has less than 5 minutes . She brought her attention back to her backpack. Better to keep attention elsewhere, rather than stress about who does what when. Especially Yun.
She found what she was looking for, and let out a breath in relief. Her new camera. The newest, 1982 release. Its boxiness felt nice, comforting, even though it was a little small in her hands. She raised it up to her face, looking through the viewfinder. Just double-checking that everything was in working order. She felt her head turn naturally, seeking out a nicely formed image in the station–the concrete made for some interesting framing. She stopped at a spot with movement.
Yun. His dark hair was long, wrapped in a high ponytail, flyaways all over. Green henley, jeans, a flannel tied around his waist. A big bass-guitar-shaped bag slung across his back. Sigh. Even concrete looks good with him. She felt her finger unconsciously push down, snapping a polaroid of him sauntering over. A grin spread across his face. The picture finished ejecting and she tucked it in her pocket.
“Save your photos for tonight! I know I look good but imagine this,” he gestured to his body, “On stage. It’ll be so much better.” He stood right next to her, smiling down like a sun-bathed mountain top.
Kyoshi felt her breath hitch. “Yeah, I know. But, uh, I’m not exactly a professional photographer. I’m just someone with a camera.”
Yun tsked tsked tsked. “Now, don’t sell yourself short. You’re a tall friend with a camera. At a concert that’s like striking gold. You’re one-of-a-kind.”
Kyoshi felt herself blushing even though it wasn’t really a compliment. “You’re in a good mood. No nerves?”
Yun shook his head emphatically, “Nope. I’m looking forward to it. If I stay excited about it and not nervous I’ll play better so don’t get me too riled up.”
“Ok, whatever you want Mr. Soon-to-be-famous.” The train pulled up, and the two proceeded inside, Kyoshi with her camera and Yun with his bass.
The train was never particularly long but this one felt a little agonizing. Yun stood, beaming up at Kyoshi with not a sliver of a thought on how that might make her feel. Kyoshi stood, looking down at him and feeling confused, concerned, all the things that one could feel when a heartache was so close but reality hadn’t been tested hard enough to make it real.
They stood mostly in silence, until Kyoshi remembered the picture. She took it out, admiring how the subtle greens and grays in the architecture complemented Yun’s strong, yet slender figure. She flipped it over to show him.
“Ah man, I gotta redo my hair.” Kyoshi laughed in response, but he didn’t seem to think it was very funny.
“I think your hair looks good.”
“Well, yeah, you’re my friend, you have to think my hair looks good.” He adjusted his arms, pulling his hair tie off and reforming the ponytail.
Kyoshi felt her eyebrows knit, watching the concentration in his face as he felt for the stray hairs around his head. How does he make even the most mundane thing attractive?
“Whatcha looking at?” He said, tilting his head in a question.
She felt her body tense, felt the overreaction bubbling up inside her, and was about to spit out a ‘NOTHING!’ or a ‘WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?!’ until their station was announced, and the doors opened. Yun basically pushed her out of the train and started rushing toward the exit.
“Come on! I’m late!”
Kyoshi followed behind, trying to keep up. “What?! You told me to meet you when you knew you’d be late?!”
He called back, even further ahead, “Yeah, it’s hotter for me to be laaaate!”
She lost sight of him on the street, but knew where he was going. Should just be a few blocks away.
This street was always busy–cars lined up to let people out, get people in, take them to the next party. It didn’t even need street lights; headlights and neon signs were enough to light up the night even better than the day.
Kyoshi had never been to the Neon Tsungi before- it was actually called ‘Tsungi Horn’ but to find it, you had to look for its easily-missed alleyway neon sign and so everybody started calling it ‘Neon Tsungi’. The adapted name conjured up images of colored lines resembling a yellow french-hornish shape, a blue stone lantern, a little green moss shape. During the day, lifeless–a collection of dirt and brass and wood tubes–and at night, an electrifying display of underground Japanese funk music.
Kyoshi wasn’t generally one to go out at night, most of the time she just worked as a maid for Yun’s family, but since he’d invited her she made it a point to pretend like this was normal and easy for her.
It wasn’t. As she approached the sunken door to the venue she felt her hackles rise. What would happen if she went in there? Would Yun care if she didn’t go? Would she be arrested? Why is the door so hard to find if it wasn’t something bad? She felt her feet take her closer anyway. The camera was still in her hands. She felt her resolve harden, and took the plunge.
Hot. So hot and sweaty. Already at the entrance she was being jostled around and, despite her height, had a hard time seeing anything through the dim lights and constant movement.
There wasn’t even any music yet. Where is Yun? Kyoshi took a deep breath through the nose. It didn’t smell great either, which wasn’t helping with the anxiety seeping into her limbs, making them weak. Her recently acquired resolve started to soften. She turned around, looking for the exit again. Oh no. Where is it? The darkness and movement made it hard to see even the short distance back to the entrance.
Kyoshi closed her eyes, feeling her deep breaths become ragged, pained as her lungs pushed up against her tightening chest. She was spiraling. Her breaths quickened, her face pulled tight, her arms felt on the verge of uncontrollable.
Until…a riff. Six strings strummed so perfectly the room went silent almost instantaneously. Movement stopped. Kyoshi saw red light rise from behind her eyelids. The riff played again, a quick three chords on a crisp electric guitar. She forced her eyes open.
A girl? Stood dead center on the stage, backlit with red. Her half-up hair in a topknot helped trace the outline of her silhouette, completed with the guitar she held effortlessly in her hands. She played the riff again, and this time didn’t stop. Her hand slid up and down the guitar neck, playing chord after chord in rapid repetition.
All at once, the drums and bass joined in, followed closely by a synth and keys, spotlights hitting them just shy of on time.
Kyoshi glanced at the others as they played, noticing Yun on bass, but couldn’t help giving all of her attention to the guitarist. No longer backlit, her delicate features shone in what, for most other people, would be terrible lighting but just made her look more lovely. Sharp eyebrows lifted up, bronze eyes flitting between her guitar and her bandmates, her lips curled to one side in a smug smile, like everything was exactly as she intended. She was in a striped shirt, red and orange, with the sleeves cut off, showing off the toned contours of her arms. Her head bobbed precisely on beat, her feet rotating in parallel at the same time.
She couldn’t help but push herself closer to the front, angering the people behind her who couldn’t see but hey! She’s a photographer right? Gotta get a good spot. Kyoshi lifted the polaroid to her face and pointed it right at the guitarist. An angled photo, Kyoshi was around her knee height, but the backlighting and spotlight laid a gorgeous frame for her face–the contrast making it look like she walked out of a wall of bright red flame.
The photo ejected, the song ended. It felt quick, but then again it took Kyoshi a bit to collect herself. The crowd exploded in fervent applause and cheers. Yun approached the lone microphone on stage. Oh, right. The reason I’m here.
He also had beads of sweat on his face, the long sleeves of his shirt rolled up to just below his elbow. Still handsome. “Konnichiwa everyone! We’re The Benders! On to the next song.” The crowd cheered again, they obviously loved him.
This time, the synth/piano guy played a little something that led right to the drums and bass. It didn’t have the energy of the previous song, much slower, and Yun started to sing in a low tone. She couldn’t quite make out the lyrics, and didn’t really want to in case they made her pine even more for him. But he clearly enunciated, “Girl you have a tender beauty, a face that makes me wild,” and shot Kyoshi a wink. She felt her heart do a little jump, though not as much as she otherwise expected from that kind of behavior.
The little stunt may have cost him some chords on his bass–the guitarist shot him a pinched look as his fingers subtly fumbled. No one else would have noticed, but Kyoshi had heard him play the song enough times at his house to know. Seems like he has a hard time multitasking. Despite the screw up, he still looked good front-and-center on stage. Kyoshi lifted her camera and took a picture of him, though it certainly wasn’t as artfully composed as the other.
The set carried on like that–the guitarist leading mostly vocal-less songs and Yun pulling up to occasionally sing something slower, sexier. The band was good, though there seemed to be some tension in their direction and tone. Kyoshi got the sense that the band was just…better?...when the guitarist took charge.
She took all of the pictures she could, trying to balance her obligation to Yun with her fascination with the guitarist. Luckily, her being at least a head taller than most of the people in the crowd made for some pretty gorgeous shots of just the stage and its contents.
The set ended, and a huge portion of the crowd moved outside for a smoke, while Yun and the band picked up their instruments and started packing up. The light din of the leftover crowd turned muted. Kyoshi’s feet stepped cautiously toward the stage, photos in hand.
The lighting was more normal now, and the guitarist looked to be putting her stuff away with exaggerated, frustrated movements. “Yun, you can’t sing and play bass. Stop pretending that you can.”
Yun seemed equally agitated, but more disappointed. “Rangi, I just need to keep practicing. I’m really close to cracking it, and besides, no one noticed.”
Rangi stood up straight then and turned to Yun, gesturing to Kyoshi. “She noticed.” And the guitarist noticed me. Kyoshi felt herself blush. What?
Yun carried on packing. “Of course she noticed, she’s my friend and she knows the songs.”
Rangi threw up her hands. “Then that makes it all better! You’re just as good as you always were, which isn’t good enough!” The drummer and pianist made faces to each other that said an uncomfortable ‘again.’
Yun ignored her, and made a ‘come hither’ motion to the photos in Kyoshi’s hands. She handed them over, and he scrubbed through them, picking out the ones that were of him. “Hey, thanks Kyoshi, most of these are pretty alright.” He tossed the ones of Rangi and the other band members to her side of the stage, letting them scatter. Rangi didn’t bother looking.
“Yeah, no problem. The lighting was pretty good. I took some of the band too. You all did such a good job.” She awkwardly stood by as the other bandmates looked down at the photos, noticing that, in fact, most of them were of Rangi. The drummer and pianist turned their bald heads up to her, their eyes shrewd, like they were on the verge of uncovering some kind of secret.
The drummer spoke first. “Rangi, there are some…really good photos of you.”
Rangi sighed, “Kelsang, why bother? I’m not looking for, like, headshots or anything.”
Kelsang picked one up and handed it to Rangi. Kyoshi crossed her arms casually, putting on an air of disinterest. At the very least, she didn’t want it to seem like she wanted to bury herself in the ground beneath her feet and never emerge again.
Rangi’s eyebrows furrowed. Her lips opened slightly. “This is… pretty good.” She turned to face Kyoshi, waving the photo. For someone so controlled in practice, she sure did wave her arms around. “Who are you again?”
Kyoshi’s breath caught, and whatever sense of fabricated, casual courage she had disintegrated as soon as Rangi addressed her directly. A few seconds passed.
Yun spoke for her, “Like I said, she’s my friend. Kyoshi. I asked her to come tonight to take pictures for posterity. And in case we get signed soon I want photos to remember the time before I was famous.”
Rangi rolled her eyes. “You’re not getting famous if tonight was anything to go off of.”
Yun had enough, it seemed. He finished packing up and left the stage in a huff, his bass bag smacking against him.
Kyoshi stood awkwardly, not knowing if the expectation was to follow him or just leave.
The pianist spoke up this time. “Hey, photo girl, Kyoshi? I’m Jinpa. We’re going to karaoke. You want to come?”
Rangi seemed to tense up at the invitation.
Kyoshi tried to dismiss it. “Uhhh, I mean, is Yun coming? I don’t want to leave him here since he brought me here and all.”
Jinpa chuckled. “You don’t have to worry about that. He gets upset, he leaves, he shows up at karaoke in an hour. Just come with us! It’ll be fun.” Kyoshi thought she noticed him give a quick glance to Rangi, who seemed ready to eject herself from the premises.
The three bandmates jumped off the stage, and led the way out the door. Kyoshi followed obediently.
Outside, Kelsang turned left. The others turned right. Kyoshi paused, and Jinpa turned around, walking backwards beside Rangi. He made it look so easy, like he was walking on air. “Kelsang has kids, he doesn’t stick around any later.”
Kyoshi nodded and followed the two of them. To karaoke!