Chapter Text
There's a small crowd, no more than a handful of folks. At a glance, it's about the same size as what Suisei sports whenever she performs late at her usual spot. Most of that though is attributed to her regulars. Here, where a single street lined with small businesses divides the suburban from urban, it's nothing but raccoon-eyed businessmen, cram school students, and the occasional shady figure to ignore like a celebrity on the streets walking past her fan club.
Suisei continues to watch from a distance, taken in by the lyrics. She never heard this song before and is disappointed that she hasn't, as if she lived under a rock in fear of the rain and missed a brilliant, sparkling rainbow. Every shimmering, colorful note resonates with spirit and regrets.
That powerfully tender voice leaves her truly speechless. Thoughts buried out of sight, always reaching out, giving a hundred tries if need be even when passion alone won't convey it all, quitting no longer being an option, hopes of finding something to treasure — all these sentiments are sung with the weight of multiple restless nights.
The song ends right as she finds solid ground for her drifting soul. Already, the crowd has started to disperse. Somehow the singer finds her through them all and waves her over.
She's listened to her sing more than a few times on TV so Suisei had an idea of who it was already.
And not just that, she realizes. They've actually met before.
Suisei approaches with a bounce in her step. Just for the heck of it.
The girl seems happy to see her. "You were that guitarist from last week, right? Hoshimachi Suisei? Do you remember me?"
A nod, then a toothy smirk. "Hard to forget a voice like that. Good to see you again, Tsunomaki Watame."
She starts giggling, a shy hue coloring her face. "Wow! I didn't expect to be found out so quickly. Should I buy a new disguise?"
She still wears that pink knit cap over her soft blonde hair. From the bright signs around, Suisei notices the brown earmuffs are actually earflaps. There's an uncanniness in how they resemble the horns of a ram.
"You're just missing a big neon red arrow sign over your head. But, in fairness, I only put it together earlier so it ain't that bad," Suisei reassures. "The voice is kind of a giveaway like I said. More shame on myself that I didn't notice before. My nephews really love your show, so I'm basically a fan by proxy."
"Aw, really? Well, all support is appreciated, big or small! Give the little ones my personal thanks. Do you wanna take a picture for them?"
Suisei fishes for her phone and holds it up. "If you're offering then sure."
They shuffle close to fit into the frame. Watame pokes her cheeks with her index fingers, emphasizing the way they squish and her effortless ear-to-ear smile. Suisei puts on her best look of shock. Her hand half-covers her agape mouth.
She doesn't know when she'll see the boys again. She's barely heard anything about them these days. Chances are that they don't watch Watame anymore and this will sit in her storage without any purpose. Suisei will have to delete this if she gets into another gacha game or when she upgrades to a new phone.
She hopes not. She likes it. It'll be a fun thing to brag about. Aqua would probably freak out at least. In fact, her whole class would. Even Miko. Miko would really flip out. Her eyes would bug out and she would do that weird tea kettle sound between a laugh and a gasp. And hey, speaking of Miko, the way Watame beams in the picture almost looks like—
Suisei curses under her breath. Why is she like this? She wants to move on already but her legs are growing weak again. Nostalgia continues gnawing at her ankles. Shaking herself free, she leans on the wall next to Watame and looks up at the night.
"So what song was that? I caught up with your show recently, but I don't recognize it."
"Uh, actually it's not a song from there, or even made with it in mind," Watame sheepishly confesses, playing the first few notes. "It's just my song. A personal Tsunomaki Watame original!"
Suisei's brows fly up. "That's… incredible. You're incredible."
"No no! Not me! I got help with most of it!" She waves her hands in front of her face.
"But your voice is great, and whoever helped you definitely knows that too."
"No need to flatter me so much, really! I think you can make it sound great as well."
"Me?"
Imagining herself trying to sing the song herself, speaking the words made for Watame, it doesn't work. The vision goes to the winds. Even if Suisei can relate to the lyrics, it's not her song. There are songs that she can pull off with her eyes closed, ones that she can belt at a moment's notice. Then there are songs she can't picture with her style, her sound, her soul.
She isn't scared. It's that she doesn't feel confident with her range. If a dress was tailored for someone else, why should she wear it? Suisei does think it would be fun, but only when she's ready.
"Nah, I doubt I can do it justice. I'd rather wait to hear the real deal on stage first."
Her face falls into a defeated smile that never fails to deflate Suisei's mood when seeing it. It's as if they're staring into an endless void, firmly rooted to the edge.
Watame hoists her guitar up — a pristine DM model vaguely similar to her dad's — and starts packing it away. "This… might be as 'real' as it gets."
Suisei doesn't understand. Her sound of acknowledgment is hollow and goes up into the air.
Watame adjusts the straps of her guitar bag. "You've seen my show before, right? As fun as it is, this kinda song wouldn't fit. I never wanted to make it for the corner. My boss said it would be fine but I still declined."
They look at the sky watching them. No stars are there, yet the blinding skyline of dense skyscraper clusters to the right gives the illusion of a beautifully illuminated night.
"I… don't know where to take my music, or rather, where my music should take me."
"I feel you. Sometimes, it feels like I'm at the mercy of the songs I play, even though I'm the one who decides what they are. It's weird," Suisei coughs and winces at her drying throat. She forgot about the drinks she had earlier. "Always ends up with the same question too: what're you doing this for?"
Watame glances at her and snorts as if she noticed something but won't tell Suisei. Does her breath reek? Something on her cheek? It's too ambiguous of a sign to tell.
After adjusting her bag again, she pushes off the wall and onto the sidewalk. As if to ask, Watame tilts her head to the left, pointing down the path. What a coincidence. Suisei nods and follows her as they walk together in that direction.
"Well, if you ask me, I'll say I wanna reach my audience properly. The songs I make for my show, the songs I perform outside of that — they're both parts of that goal," Watame answers. "So I can't choose. My girlfriend told me that I should do both, that my feelings are more than enough, but it's easier said than done."
The mention of a girlfriend catches Suisei off-guard, but not intensely. Being a children's TV star shouldn't strip Watame of her right to live her life. She just assumed companies and entertainers normally would be quite strict about it. Watame nonchalantly mentioned it like Suisei has been in on the secret forever, like she already trusted her with this and her newborn child.
"Balance is hard. I might get too invested in my solo career and I'll lose everything else. Or maybe it'll fade away like nothing happened and I'm stuck with kid's channel TV roles forever, not that I hate it but…"
She nods to Watame's unspoken admission. There are some things she understands by merely looking at someone, and some things she'll never get but pretends to. It's a bit of both, always is. Suisei doesn't know what Watame was gonna say, but she would vaguely agree anyways. A response is slightly better than no response.
If only they were as capable as the world forces them to be. Reading minds and being everywhere all at once sounds like a paradise. On paper at least.
"She and I got into a little fight, and that's why I was outside in the rain that day. Listening to you helped clear my head and we managed to make up right after," she admits with a cheeky laugh at the end.
Suisei shakes her head. "I'm sure it would've turned out fine with or without meeting me."
She shrugs, strained by the weight on her back. "I don't think so. It's why I've taken this as a new hobby."
"Even though it's almost the same as your job?"
Watame smiles. "Of course! It's different when I take a load off and just… sing."
Sing. Just sing.
Suisei thought she forgot how. It's been so long. Has she figured out how again? Or maybe she never really forgot? She doesn't want to think that she forgot how to sing. She'll hold onto singing for the rest of her life. It's too important to leave in the ashes of her past.
Sure, up until now, she's singing in a literal sense, regardless of what her snobby middle school vocal teacher said about her technique… That uptight blowhard.
But a large part of her years of singing was while being acutely aware of how heavy her guitar is, the weight of on-lookers' expectations born at a momentary glance, and the burdens from her past. Singing with shackles can't be called singing. That's a plea for help.
But it isn't like that lately: she can play, feel it all, and still smile. Suisei can sing. She's really been singing.
Suddenly, the night doesn't seem so dark.
Watame locks up before slapping her forehead. "Ohh, but what am I doing? I must sound so pretentious for complaining—"
"Nah, you didn't do anything wrong." Suisei rolls her neck. "It might be possible, if not now, then someday. As long as we keep singing."
They come up on splitting paths. To the left is the way to the apartments just outside of the main city, where Suisei lives. Watame points straight ahead to where the train station stands. The crosswalk flashes red.
Suisei stops at the bend and decides to be honest. There's no guarantee they'll see each other again after all. Liquid courage and all that too.
"Frankly, I envy you, Watame. Being able to think about your path so freely is amazing. I don't even know what I sing for yet. I wanna express something, sure, but things haven't worked out, it's a mess. So I roll with whatever, hoping it untangles itself."
After a thoughtful pause, Watame pats her shoulder. "That's pretty amazing too. Doing as you see fit in the moment is as free as you can get."
"Think so?"
She skips forward, twirls on her heel, and illuminates the night with joy. "Isn't that what street performing is?"
Suisei can't compare to her. She doesn't need to.
A smirk pulls at her lips. "Thanks, Watame."
As if embarrassed, she scratches her cheek. Watame offers her other hand to Suisei. "Let's both do our best!"
"Yeah, go kick ass."
Suisei swings her arm and returns the gesture. They exchange a hearty handshake and determined glints as goodbyes. The light turns green and Watame runs off and away. She watches her form shrink and disappear, then walks away from the intersection.
No wonder Miko is such a fan.
The path home is long but the way Suisei takes every night is shorter. Walking through alleyways is never ideal, which is why she found the ones that were wide enough to feel safe. But she must still be inebriated. She can't find the path. She's too lazy to spend the whole night searching, so she goes the long way for the first time in a while.
It's surprisingly nice. Maybe because it's semi-new, unrecognizable enough to be fresh on her eyes. There's a yakiniku place she never knew about. A few months back, there was a shabby convenience store right on that spot. She didn't like that it always had expired snacks and attracted a bad crowd. So Suisei welcomed this change wholeheartedly.
She keeps walking with Watame's song in her breath, mumbling the lyrics off the top of her head. It keeps her upright and light, something pleasant to latch onto instead of having her hands fidget restlessly in her pockets.
Strange. Suisei said she wouldn't try to sing it, but she wants to practice the lyrics. Well, she always learned better by doing instead of reading. This was her way to honor Watame's ambitions embedded into catchy melodies. Nothing more.
Coming home feels nice. Not as exhilarating as it would be if she worked a nine-to-five job and had someone waiting, but still nice. She takes a long hot shower. With a towel, Suisei runs it through her hair for a few minutes before she got tired. No wonder, when it's worn and littered with loose threads.
She sits cross-legged on her bed. Her guitar already rests in her lap. There are some notes she has to take for class. Suisei has missed a lot lately, even though she only has one to juggle. Heck, she can't even remember what was on the syllabus. The possibility of failing a test, however, hardly fazes her.
Should she even bother anymore?
She stares at her desk across the room, counts her hours of work, weighs the rewards, comparing and comparing and wondering where she's gonna go from here on out. When she picked out the Yamaha in her lap, Suisei did the exact same. She hefted Gibsons, posed with Telecasters, and test-played every Fender in the store.
Even then, she still didn't know what to do. Suisei decided on a vibe and frankly, she hasn't regretted it since.
On a whim, her fingers danced over the six strings. Watame's song plays again, awkward but decent enough for an off-the-cuff play. Suisei loosely searches for right notes. Cradled in a sea of pulsing lights behind her closed eyes, she drifts on and on. The crashing waves simulate a symphony of her own shallow sentiments.
Sure, the universe doesn't revolve around her feelings. Suisei does, however. All that has already come and gone, all that's been happening in her now — she chose this path, this guitar. She wants to see where else it'll take her.
Her phone on her bed buzzes. Suisei sets her guitar aside and wonders who else aside from her could be up at this time. It's an email, and the account name of the sender makes her stiff. She swipes to open the message with a shaky thumb and skims the response quickly.
A sharp gasp. The words knock out the little strength left in her exhausted body. Suisei falls back on her bed, bewildered, reading it over and over again to be sure it's not a dream.
"…I actually got the interview?"
Miko wakes up frazzled, disoriented, and with a pounding headache. She fumbles around to find her footing, only to greet hardwood planks. With her face. The thumping worsens.
"Stupid stupid stupid! Stupid floor!"
She rocks from side to side, clutching her reddening nose as she lets out only the most dignified wails. Eventually, Miko rises and spews curses for not grabbing that carpet she saw in the dump last week.
Then again, she didn't expect to wake up in her living room so soon. A thin blanket slips off her shoulders and settles onto the couch she just fell off of.
Waking up in a different room than her bedroom, fuzzy recollections, stuck with the scrambled version of the order of events, left with nothing but memories slipping from her fingertips — this is why Miko doesn't like drinking out.
Pekora and Marine insist that Miko drinking alone in her place is "depressing" and "no fun" but she'd rather that over this feeling of waking up from a bad dream. Not the nightmare kind that terrifies kids into phobias. The bad dreams that are plain icky. They're that gross sensation that leaves her wishing and pining and regretting, curling up for any form of comfort.
She should have said no this time… is what she tells herself every time. But it was especially hard yesterday! Suisei was practically begging with those big ol' eyes. So really, she shouldn't blame herself for last night.
"Too clingy with my past, huh…" Miko drops herself back onto the couch and stares at the TV. "That Usada is so nosy."
The conversation barely seems real. Trying to recall who said what while her face was buried into the counter and very sloshed borders on a nigh impossible task.
She knew that Marine was telling that same old story to Suisei. Her pirate voice always leaves a lasting impression. She knew Pekora and Suisei were getting heated. Of course they would fight. Those two blue women are so snippy. She knew Toko was easing the air. All because Suisei was talking about… about…
No. None of that. Forget it. She was drunk and almost asleep. Miko slaps her cheeks and drops down back on her creaking couch. She picks up the remote and flicks through the channels.
The news has never been good. Weather? She can look outside for that. That game show host seems as sane as the people trying to sell a "highly efficient vegetable slicer" she passively watched earlier. At this point, she needs a distraction from her search for distractions. Just processing the layers to this stupidness hurts.
Why does each and every little thing have to be so exhausting? It's a pain to muster the energy. And what's the point even?
"Everyone! Let's sing together now!"
She perks up at the familiar voice, a small spark of light returning to her dull eyes.
It doesn't take long for Miko to realize that she's seen this episode already. Rerun or not, however, Watame appears like a beacon in her dark hours, whether she feels down or just needs a good kickstart to her day.
Hearing the jingle to "Watame did Borderline Nothing Wrong!" before the titular girl was shown poking a lion girl awake with a stick warms Miko's chest. She giggles as the lion wakes up abruptly before chasing Watame to stage left, knowing that the lion gives up before trying and slumps over the large stump for another nap.
Wouldn't it be nice if she could be a part of this? Not necessarily the show but rather the world it takes place in.
Sure, on the surface it is nothing more than a long stretch of flowery plains with no housing or rules or governing powers. But as it turns out, analyzing the dialogue implies that their items of modern conveniences were born of an old world now in ruins. A popular theory is that the animal-human fusion characters in the show represent the regrets of a previous generation and the strive to prosper in an unbound world. This patch of grass, completely free of industrialization and societal expectations, allows every creature to have a role suited to their individuality, and that, more than talking sheep, is what makes it a fantasy. Miko wouldn't mind living in fiction. Fantasy is an escape for a reason.
…Plus, it's cute and fun. What more could she want?
As Watame drapes a fluffy wool blanket over the snoozing lion, Miko mimics the screen wipe sound effect with her mouth. Night has fallen in the plains and Watame sits on a different log, cloudy harp in hand. Miko opens her mouth and sings along—
Her phone flashes on with a strained bzzt rumbling on the couch. Miko hiccups, before glaring at the offending device, mainly because of the wallpaper she hasn't changed yet. Haato and her— no, not Haato.
The messages come in from Haachama.
She freezes up.
[ then would it be easier to meet irl??? at toko's izakaya since its more empty and i kinda miss going there · 5s ]
[ i also rlly miss talking to you · 1s ]
"Why bother saying that?"
Miko slouches and slumps into herself. She lays down on her side, vacantly staring at the bright screens at the same time until her eyes hurt. Two other messages came in while she was asleep, one from Pekora and the other from Marine, both asking her to let them know she's alright. With the bare minimum, she replies to both and shoves the phone underneath her cat pillow.
Watame still sings.
Everything was fine. Not amazing, but fine. That's more than she could ask for during a hangover. But no, she couldn't have mundanity either. Instead, she has to spend the rest of her Saturday moping and dreading and remembering her stupid crush.
No. The crushing wasn't stupid, not when the girl on the receiving end more than deserved it. Funny, cheerful, clumsy, cute Akai Haato — that's someone anyone can fall for. Even if she's biased, she's just amazing in ways Miko could never be.
Falling for her gave Miko the courage to do silly things again. Going to eat weird foods for the heck of it, riding roller coasters back to back, laughing loudly at each other's jokes in public, that awkward yet childish freedom… she'd be lying if she said she didn't miss it.
The thing is that Miko was the only one dreaming of more, forever one-sided. Fantasies never last, but some hurts never seem to go away.
Nostalgic escapes work the best, but if she trips then the wounds will scar deep.
The lullaby from the TV lulls her into that dive. Miko lands in her headspace.
She dreams of high school. Miko was lonely, but the one to approach her who sat in the corner was Haato. They were both looking for friends and the rest came naturally. When Haato visited and found her collection of visual novels, she remembers how Haato laughed and made a joke about how the blonde girl on the cover almost looked like her. Miko couldn't stop smiling at everything she did after that.
Before her, Miko had two friends in middle school. Fubuki got her really into games, more than ever before. It was so much fun to play with others again. They hunted ghosts, tore down buildings, gambled virtual currency, and shared stories that led to hugs from her friend the next day at school. She liked Fubuki's hugs a lot.
Mio was introduced to her via Fubuki when they needed another player. She inspired her to become a teacher with warm invitations to volunteer together at a local preschool. If she could be half as kind as Mio was, Miko would want nothing more. For all the things she got hugs from Fubuki, she cried in Mio's arms the day before. Her body was tall and reliable.
And even further back, she met Korone when she first moved into the rural area. Her small and nervous self had her first push from Korone, literally. She was running after her pet dog and Miko ended up catching the little rascal with her whole body. They were fast friends despite the band-aids on her cheeks. Little Korone tried to kiss it better.
Suisei was her first idol. Miko could listen to her sing forever.
Few things last. Not all connections last through the ages. Everything changes.
After Miko's baby brother was born, she had less time to go outside. Then her little sister was born and she only saw Korone at school anymore. She got really good at caring for the kids and breaking promises. When they graduated from Primary School, Korone was long gone from her side, instead tied to the hip with another friend. A cute kind of handsome friend with a self-assuredness that was a world apart from Miko. It was a hushed send-off that died before she said another word, unaware that that would be the last time.
Fubuki and Mio hadn't gone to the local high school like her. Apparently, they promised to stick together no matter what and Fubuki wanted to go elsewhere. Miko — who only befriended them in the last year of middle school — was too late to try and give chase. Where was she gonna go anyways? They graduated and she could only wave them off as the cars went to another city.
Haato fell in love with someone right under Miko's nose. Shortly after going to university, she got the nickname Haachama and was overall just… different. She should've realized then that things were changing. Moving into the area and trying to stick close to her conversely pushed her away.
And Suisei was her first goodbye. That broken expression completely frozen in time still hurts to remember.
How many goodbyes does she have left in her? Every farewell fanfare leaves her feelings flat, motionless. She's watched everyone leave her behind.
But… out of everyone who went out of her reach, Suisei was the furthest away yet was the first to come rolling back. Or rather, the two of them rolled into each other, wondering where to go from here. They're at a stalemate. Suisei doesn't know what to do. Neither does Miko. She wants to close that last bit of distance yet she can't bring herself to.
Suisei's potential is big enough to brush against the edge of the milky way. She's known that since the beginning, that first somersault in her chest.
Inviting her back into her pathetic life, where she's done nothing but shackle Suisei to memories of misery and loss, where Miko has done the same to herself and is stuck wallowing in alcohol and clinging to childhood like her life depends on it… No, it's too embarrassing to even show herself around her, to talk and wear her sadness instead of hiding it.
At the same time, she doesn't want to let Suisei go again. No more of this. She's so tired and desperate that a new fire burns. She wants to keep listening to her sing.
Miko opens her eyes. The credits to Watame's Song Corner scroll on the screen and she turns it off. The room grows dark again. She could berate herself for wasting daylight, yet she doesn't. Her hand reaches for her phone. With both thumbs, she punches out a reply before throwing it onto the low table.
A minute later, it buzzes, white light glowing from the screen. In her twisted mind, it reminds her of a home planetarium. Miko turns to face the couch cushions. She closes her eyes again and a myriad of glistening constellations come to mind, wishing they'd coat her blank walls when she wakes up again.
Miko may have fallen a lot, but that makes her used to picking herself up over and over again.