Chapter Text
I opened my eyes.
In a second, I thought someone had placed thick, greyish blindfold into my eyes because, despite the fact I was already wide awake, nothing could be seen besides thick clouds.
I slowly and gawkily roamed my hands on the nightstand on the left side of my bed. There should be some glasses placed in a segmented box which I intentionally storage on the nightstand, just in case I wake up having bad eyesight like here and now. These eyes were so bad thus I couldn’t even distinguish which is the lamp and which is the roof.
“Glasses…” I murmured—and ended up being shocked hearing my own voice. I thought my voice will be a heavy, elder-like voice one since these eyes were so bad. But it was not. This voice—my voice was high-pitched and light, female’s voice.
I sighed and kept moving my hands tracing every segment toward the furthest one. “Gotcha,” I hurriedly wore the thickest glasses and soon, I could distinguish the lamp—although still a bit blurry. Then, I grabbed a mirror beside the segmented box and looked in my reflection.
Today, I was a girl, quite young, but impossible to be younger than thirties. She had a thick accent of plainness with boring eyes. Her hair was boring as well: black, shoulder-length, with no style even a bit. Her skin was pale, included in an unhealthy group that lacks vitamin D. It seemed like she was a bookworm, yet a freak one, not the clever.
I sighed again. Today will be a full day in-home.
I stepped my feet on the floor, coming down from the most comfortable place in the world, and walked toward a door near to the main door of my bedroom. The place behind the door was another room, not a toilet, but a walk-in closet which size is twofold from my bedroom. In that room, in the walk-in closet, I spent most of my morning-time there, picking clothes.
The door was now fully opened. Soon, there lied approximately hundreds of clothes hanged in a with-no-door cabinet. Underneath the hung clothes, boxes of shoes were placed while in the center of the closet, a set of making-your-own-glasses was placed on a table there, along with the machine that can read how thick the lenses I should wear—with many type and size of frames. Actually, all of that, clothes, shoes, socks, underwear, frames, cloaks, wristwatches, were served in every size and for both genders.
I am indeed quite wealthy, but it wasn’t like I'm a collector or a fashion-head person. I just an ordinary person, I meant it, a very much ordinary person you could find in the street. I just had a little bit different from all of people lived in this world and passed the street. That is: my body kept on changing—from man to woman, even transgender, from excited kid to fragile elder, from white skin to tan, from people with normal eyesight to blind, from normal ear to deaf—every time I fall asleep. I kept on changing thus I forgot my own body, face, and everything about my original body.
My original identity which I could remember precisely was only my name, Yamashita Toru.
“That’s not good, Toru.” Kohama Ryota—the one and only person in this wide world that accidentally knows my condition—sighed. Yes, accidentally.
Seven years was the age of our relationship. That time, seven years ago, the agency where I work for was facing bankruptcy. I worked as a music producer for their singers, a job where my appearance wasn’t needed and important. I lived by the money I earn from that—my only job—so when that agency was about to bankrupt, I also was about to be jobless. Finding a job these days was already hard for normal people, let alone with the condition of mine.
Got stressed by that, I went to a bar, got wasted from drinking heavily, and foolishly fell asleep right there in the bar, which was owned by Kohama Ryota. I woke up in the morning with heavy hangover. My head hurts and I couldn't walk straight. That time, I was terribly suffered so I thought no one ever experiences more than that besides me. Apparently not, I was completely wrong. The Ryota who was surprised because the person who slept in his bar last night turning into another person in the morning must be much more suffered from confusion. I bet he couldn't even believe his mind that time and thinking about to be crazy. I was seeing no other way of being not suspicious. Therefore, I spilled everything to him. From losing my job to my condition.
Lucky me, Ryota in fact was working in another music agency and he offered a producer position since their old one had just retired. From that time until now, I worked there with him, under a fake name made by Ryota, Tottoro.
I stopped the music played by the speaker, though it was only just its first minute. I did not like that song either. “I know,” said I with this boring lady’s voice. “I run out of ideas these days,” I added with lies. Yes, it wasn't my drained ideas that caused my regression. It was because I didn’t like the singer’s voice that would be singing my songs. His voice was good though, yet still wasn't my cup of tea. He lacks something I myself did not know what it was. To be honest and rude, no singers suits my taste, not even a single singer in the agency. I lost my joy making song since a long time ago. However, at the same time, I did need money to live on. So, here I am.
“The deadline is within two weeks, Toru…” Ryota desperately sighed. Of course,he was the one who feels the most desperate one, he was in charge making sure my song arrives the agency right in time and safely.
“I know it okay?” I said, too, desperately. Hearing my today's voice, I frowned. We sounded like old married couple fighting over children’s intuition. Damned this body.
Ryota stared at me from the uppermost to my feet.
Since my today’s body was a female, it was uneasy being analyzed like that, by a male. “What?” I asked harshly.
“You're too gloomy today, Toru,” said he, “just take some rest today.”
“Are you sure it isn't because of this gloomy body?”
“Well,” he shrugged, “that can be, but just take a day off today, I'm giving you a holiday and I hope you can restart your about to explode brain and therefore we already have the melodies by tomorrow.”
I said nothing, maybe that was the one I needed the most today after all.
In the present, music coming in my ears wasn’t the one made by me, instead a louder one, an adrenaline-triggering one, but seductive. In front of me, a glass of cocktail was there tantalizing me to drink it down, along with two already emptied glasses. But not of those glasses I paid my attention at, yet the male barista that kept glaring at me with excoriation. I did as I had done since this morning again—cursing at this boring body and face. Gosh.
“Hey, you! Do your work properly!” abruptly, the owner of the bar yelled at the barista. It wasn’t Ryota, his bar had been closed since his wife gets pregnant, and now they were blessed with a cute and lovely daughter. Since then, I changed my regular bar to this one, owned by a curly haired man that its color almost different each day. “What can I do for you, Sanada-san?” asked him to an officer-like old man.
“Ah, Tomoya, give me the usual one,” answered that Sanada-san. That owner, Tomoya, seemed to know his customers and their usual drinks—seeing how he confidentially starts mixing ingredients. I bet he won’t recognize me no matter how often I come to his bar, nor my usual orders though it will be always cocktail.
I screeched at that man—for being jealous. I wanted to do that as well, saying as usual and waiting patiently. Sometimes it was tiring for saying the menu every time I come here, exactly the same menu.
So… why didn’t I change it since ordering the same one is tiring?
“Hey, give me vodka,” I ordered, the barista nodded half-heartedly. Ryota said today was my holiday, I could drink as much and heavy as I want, right? There wouldn’t be a matter of getting problems in a while, forgetting how the night became darker and how the moon started walking its track further and further and being unaware of the number of singers that had sung on the stage.
Before I came with all my senses how many glasses of vodka I had washed off, my body already slumped on the counter, with reddish tone spread all over my face due to alcohol influence.
SLAP!
Pain stung my right cheek hard. The heat was spread from the center to the peripheral area in which I just slapped my cheek. I couldn’t sleep here unless I wanted someone besides Ryota to know my condition and the arrival of researchers from around the world in Japan only to open me up would be just a matter of time. Oh, I didn’t even want to think about that possibility.
I shook my head as hard as possible, as long as it was enough to make me a bit sober until I could halt a taxi and reach my sweet home.
I observed the stage. It was not too far, five meters length from which I was sitting. I could tell there was someone who was climbing the stage through the stairs in the left side. That person was young, with his short-cut hair sticking at every direction against gravity. He was bringing his broken-white guitar on his back. I could also describe his face clearly. His skin was pale but healthy, his eyes are round and pitch-black colored, and sharp nose with reddish tip.
Ah, I got sober enough—it was proven since I could see the boy’s two moles under his right eye and a mole near his left ear. Well, let’s go home. No more drink.
“Hey!” I called the barista while placing some money on the counter, “keep the change, asshole.” As receiving another contemptuous gaze from the barista—though he always seduces me whenever I get the good ones. After that, I tipsily got up and fished my cloak right when the singer started greeting the audiences.
“Uh… hello everyone, I’m Taka, I’m new here, so… please enjoy.”
I turned around and saw him setting his white guitar on his laps, ready to sing a song. I decided to pay no heed for that boy and wore my cloak; it was a bit difficult to button up under alcohol influence. After the buttons were all tightly wrapping my body, I wobbly walked towards the entrance with chairs lined on the counter as supporters.
But, as time passed, my eyes became heavier and heavier. With difficulties, I tried to keep sober.
Just three chairs left, and I would be outside.
“This song is very special, I made this for my friend who got married last month.” That boy hadn’t sung yet apparently, he explained the story behind the song while plucking his guitar slowly, making the story more dramatic.
Well, I don’t care. Just two chairs left. Just two fucking chairs I had to pass and a taxi will be there bringing me home.
Just another one—
“I’m telling you, uh…”
And that was the time around me passed much slower—almost completely stopped—as my steps went frozen abruptly. Intentions to pass the last chair and halt a taxi were all evaporated into some gas and gone. I stood there, with the second last chair as my supporter to stand, with ears opened widely listening to that boy singing. His voice somehow sent shivers down to my spine, giving some electric current into all of my nerves. As if I were a doll that’s forgotten to lubricate, I gawkily turned around facing the stage where the black-haired boy kept singing with all his might.
“Wherever you are, I always make you smile…”
I was astonished.
That boy, whose nose doesn’t even reach the microphone in mic-stand, had a rare voice, extremely rare. It was high and clear as if it were owned by a girl, but also husky and sharp, which obviously stated that the owner is a man with no more doubt. How old is he? Eighteen? No, this bar is 21-or-older only. So, 21 then?
Still astonished by his rare voice, I listened to it while standing, without being able to move a muscle. Something inside me screamed that I want him, screamed the sudden urge to make his voice mine, to make his voice sings my songs.
“Thank you,” said he as the closing of his performance. He bowed and walked towards the stairs.
I blinked my dull eyes behind my oh-very-thick glasses. Was that all? Was that over? Since when?
I shook my head hard. I could think that later. The most important one in the present was him that started to go away, disappear from the audience, from the bar, from me. No, no, no, I couldn’t let him go that easily, I should make him sing my songs, or even only a song. With adrenaline streamed through all blood vessels inside my body, with my heart beats its cage like crazy as if it were to go outside, I walked forward, about to reach him—
—and tripped my other leg. Alcohol sometimes is an enemy.
In such a way that the suffers I get wasn’t enough, my very-thick glasses fell off, gone from my eyesight. Hastily, I ran my hands over the cold floor like a spider. But no matter how far I lengthened my arms, I couldn’t find that glasses. I glanced at the stage anxiously. It was too blur, I couldn’t see that boy though his guitar was quite flashy. I cursed at my body. If and only if it was not because of this body, maybe I could already offer him with dozens of appealing deals that would surely make him be my singer and live happily ever after.
Desperately, with very much little hope, I still seek for that shitty glasses that ruin my one and only chance to meet that boy. I kept and kept on seeking until a hand came into my eyesight with my glasses on it.
“Are you looking for it?” the owner of that hand spoke, and I was frozen.
I knew that voice.
It was the same voice with the voice that had closed his performance.
Slowly, with the time seemingly had been slowing down, I looked up, and saw that boy was right in front of me—so close that I could see him clearly—offering my precious-glasses.
Who was his name again?
Having me being silent, he waved his hand before my face, tried to attract my attention, and that was greatly successful.
Right, Taka. That's it.
“Ah…” I muttered, “thanks.”
With shaking hands, I grabbed my glasses from his palm and wore it. Just right when my vision became clearer, Taka was warmly smiling at me. “Be more careful, one-san,” said he, with a smile still perched on his lips.
“Ah, sure, sure…” I nodded, followed by Taka—who bowed politely. He should think that I’m much older, well, he wasn’t at fault though, or maybe perfectly right. After that, he turned around, making his way home perhaps.
Did I want to let him go?
No. I didn’t want that. Hurriedly, I fetched his sleeve, halting him to go any further.
Seconds passed and I found myself cursing to not think before doing something. It wasn’t like I have prepared sweet words to persuade him. Stupid me.
“Can I help you with something?” he asked softly.
I could feel the cold sweat on my forehead, trailing down my skin. I was nervous. And because of that, I couldn’t think straight. “Uh… that was a good song,” finally I said, randomly picking words from my head, “will you play again? In this bar?”
Taka took seconds for being silent, then smiled again, “Well, actually yes. I just got offered to play every night, would you like to come?”
Excitedly, I nodded.
“Yes! I promise!”
“That was what I’ve said, yet what I should do now…” I cried with frustration with my face was buried on a pillow.
Today, my body was a man, a big, and muscular one with a bald head. My skin was tan and had yakuza-like face with a scar crosses from the right eyebrow to the near of the mouth. This face was scary. If this face met the yesterday’s face, maybe they will have a robber-victim relationship. Gosh… Taka would surely be frightened by the time he sees me! Gone were my chances and I would be acknowledged as a liar by him. Such a good way to live, sigh!
“Just try sleeping and see whether you will have a better face,” said Ryota giving an advice. He indeed came again to check my progression. Poor him that he had the dilemma yakuza-like man rather than well progress. “Besides, aren’t you supposed to prioritize your own singer in the agency more than this bar singer, what’s his name again? Take?”
“It’s Taka you stupid,” I groaned, the sound was terrifying, loud and harsh. “But I’ll make sure he has my words, I’m still going.”
Ryota looked at me with disbelief, “It’s not even your day off, you know.”
“I will just sit, drink a glass or two, and listen to his singing, to fulfill my promise.”
By the time I arrived, the bar was as usual, crowded, filled with sweaty aroma, and loud music was played making everyone dancing like there was no tomorrow. From my favorite seat on the counter, I glanced over and over again at the stage. It was already the twelfth minutes I have been here, yet Taka’s presence hadn’t been detected, four singers had shown, and none of them was Taka. Was his shift at midnight? Or was it me who comes too late?
“Hey, you!” I shouted, calling the barista, the same person as yesterday. I could see him flinched. Geez, such a coward.
Without any disgraceful eyes, he shifted towards me fearfully. “Ye-yes, sir, what can I do to help you?” said he almost like a tiny mouse cornered by an enormous cat.
“Did a singer named Taka has sung?”
“As-as far as I remember, not yet, sir,” said he.
“Good, you may go back, thanks,” I nodded, and he almost flew back happily to the opposite side of the counter, making distance as far as possible from me.
I ordered another glass of the usual cocktail. Today, tonight, I had to meet him. I would say that in place of my ‘little sister’, I came here, offering him to be my singer. Yeah, I would say that.
Time passed, singers that sing on the stage kept on changing from one to another so I had lost my count before I realize, was it twelve? I don't fucking know, I'm tired and he kept making me wait!
I glanced over my wristwatch, it was already two in the morning. Did he plan to play minutes before the bar’s closed?
I sighed. Somehow, the strong will to make Taka sings at least a song of mine overwhelmed my own self. It felt like I've deeply fallen in love with his voice, trapped with that alluring voice. That voice was like tobacco, once you try listening to it, you'll fall into a mighty one making sure you'll be there forever without any way to get out.
Again, I ordered another more, two glasses this time. I made a bet. If Taka still didn't show up after I dug in these two cocktails, I'll go home forgetting all about him, about his voice and doing my usual boring days with unsatisfying singers and songs. Yeah, well done, me. Then, shall we start?
I grabbed the first glass and slowly gulped that liquid, very slowly—
“Hi, I'm Taka.”
—and threw up simultaneously, making that barista jumped a feet in surprise.
I hurriedly spun my head over the stage—ignoring the mess I just made—and found that black haired boy had already seated with his white guitar on his laps. I wasn’t drunk, right? He was there, Taka was there, with his oversized black sweater adjusting the mic-stand’s height, shining under the shimmering light.
“Good night everyone,” he greeted us, the audiences with a warm smile while his petite fingers started plucking the guitar and his mouth started to open, “You’re the light on the shadow when you sleep…”
His today’s singing was as good as yesterday's, the same voice that gives shivers down to my spines though with a different song. As my belief says, the one that makes someone's voice being amazing is not the song, but the voice is the one that makes some song great. This boy was really something. I could imagine how good my song would be under his voice. Ah… such a good, good dream.
“Oh yeah… little time not a moment wasted with you, uh…” I hold my breath. I wanted him badly now, even more. He really was the little piece of a puzzle I've been desperately seeking for a long time. Thanks to his performance, now I could no longer retain my patience to have him. I need to chase him, I need to make him mine.
Impatiently, I stood up harshly making the chair fell with a small thud, made my way to the backstage while keeping an eye on him—in case he would disappear into the thin air. But then, that amazing voice came out again, halting me from the third step I was about to make and silently listen to him instead.
“I sang that song especially to…” From where I was standing, it looked like he hesitated, but he still kept going, “um… to a person who has promised to watch me tonight, but seems like she can't make it… well, it's just… if you were really here, the yesterday's onee-san, please let me know. And… thank you all for listening to my performance, good night everyone.”
After that sorrowful closing, Taka stepped out of the stage, leaving me dumbfounded by his words. The thousands of steps I had planned a while ago was disappeared replaced into fat, perfect zero. He said he waits for me, he waits for the boring, thick-glasses yesterday's onee-san.
He was the first person who waits for me without knowing my real condition.
With that, this muscular, broad shoulder slumped. It was not like that boring lady doesn't want to meet him, it wasn't like that at all. That yesterday's lady actually did come, did watch him, and told him in his face that she did fulfill her promise. Yet, my legs didn't move a muscle. I still stood glancing over the now-empty stage. Taka was still near the stairs, smiled brightly, warmly, and my heart clutched in an uneasy way.
The air around me became heavier. My fist clenched in a hurt way. I hadn't come up with any decision yet, but Taka would be gone at any time. I was tired, tired of making songs for someone I don't even like his voice, of making song without listening to it after being published even once.
I want to enjoy my song-making time… with him.
“Um… ca-can I help you?”
Before I knew it, Taka was already in front of my face, nervously starred at me. I don't know when I started making steps, walking toward the backstage, didn't know whether I bumped into someone or spoiled someone’s drink, and didn't even know why Taka who should have gone from the backstage was still here, well I didn't even know whether it was me or him that walked approaching each other. I would think that later though. Now, the most important thing was to come up with some words, the sweetest ones to persuade Taka.
“Hello?” he asked again. His white guitar was already piggyback by Taka whose body looked like almost being engulfed with that gigantic guitar entirely.
Now, what should I say?
“If you have nothing to do with me, then… excuse me.” He walked past me, giving me a sudden panic attack.
Abruptly, I turned around, and with my surprise, I dared to grab his wrist and force him to pay attention to me, the me that still haven't found any words to say yet. “Ah…” anything, I should say something at least. “I like you! Come with me!”
I frowned at my own words. It sounded a bit different from what it is supposed to be. But nothing I could do whereas nervous storm was spinning my head greatly. My eyes couldn't focus on him or at anything. I wondered what he saw. An enormous, scary guy that confessed his love? He must be scared.
I tried calming my own mind and focus on him. It wasn't even two seconds after I could focus on him again, a white, huge, and rigid thing was flying above my head. All I could hear was a loud thud voice but not sure where it came from. Not too long after that terrifying sound, Taka in front of me became blurry again and slowly, he was replaced with complete pitch-black.
To be Continued