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Yoji Iwata poked at the old, hand-me-down CD player hooked at his belt that could barely spin discs and tugged the old, hand-me-down headphones over his ears. If he pulled a little too hard, they’d probably tear apart. And if it weren’t for his ‘fro, they’d slip right off.
But they worked for him!
So he kept his eyes closed, knowing the straightway sidewalk in front of TOWER RECORDS like the back of his hand. Yeah, he was feeling the groove in his bones, that twitch in his muscles, as the funk vibed against his brainy parts. Couldn’t help but shake his shoulders and bounce his hips to the old-style calling in his ears. Yeah, he danced his way down.
The crowd actually stepped around him, their feet on a monotonous-beat, letting him pass on by and—hey! That good ol’ bump in the sidewalk he’d tripped over on his way for his first day on the job. Not falling for that old trick~
When he schmooved over to the crossing, Yoji opened his eyes. He’d passed through this spot so many times on his way to see his big bro, but he couldn’t predict the jams other people danced to. Some people looked at him strangely for the way his knee bounced to his own tune, some mouthing “weirdo” at him. Not like he cared very much.
They all could think what they wanted to think. He’d just do him. That’s what his big bro always did.
Yoji stepped over to Dogenzaka, seeing his big bro’s secondhand shop a little ways down the sidewalk.
“...Hmm?” Shinta hummed in his abrasive way as Yoji opened the door, scraping a bit against the floor carpet. His bro seriously needed to get it fixed. “Oh, it’s just you, little bro.”
Yoji waved and clicked the sticky volume button down on his old CD player. “How’s it going today?”
“Oh, you know, same old, same old.” Shinta tossed some textiles into another pile, adding to the overall...zany collection of trinkets and doodahs all over the place. A few tins of pins here, a couple of shirts arbitrarily organized much to the dismay of the customers who actually thought some of these used threads looked alright. Yoji could remember the day his other big bro found some old medicine hidden among the jewelry. Was that even legal?
It was a mess, at least compared to TOWER RECORDS’ easily labeled and organized sections. Easy for the music lover to enjoy, but Shinta was always telling Yoji he knew where everything was at so quit buggin’ me.
Shinta sat down onto a squeaky chair. Unlike the tacky-flowered button-up shirt, the two-tone tea, or the necklaces draped over the back, the chair itself wasn’t for sale. “Caught me in the middle of reorganizing.”
Yoji looked across the shop’s shelves on the left wall, seeing one row’s mixture of faux-fur and silk fabric beside...old pairs of mis-matched sneakers. And the row with Showa-era electronics and—was that a bowl of pudding? “...Reorganizing. Right.”
“What brings you down my side of town, little bro? Haven’t seen ya in a while.” Shinta leaned back and kicked his feet up onto what Yoji could only assume to be the checkout counter, covered with a variety of perfumes, colognes, lip balms, and nail polish. There was a nice, open spot for his feet to rest, though.
If Yoji had to pick just one trait to admire anything about his brother, it was that air of freedom! Shinta did what he wanted, handled his business how he wanted, kept a pet gator in the back room just because he wanted. And if anyone got bent out of shape about the chaotic organization of his wares he’d just calmly ‘em in the eye and say, “Yeah, that’s what a Heisei baby would say.”
Shinta would just be and everyone had to deal with it.
Unhooking the CD player, Yoji held it up. “Hey, you got any more? Mine’s startin’ to crap out.”
“A little wear and tear is good for personality.” Shinta leaned back in his seat. Despite what appeared to be a precarious balance on the back legs of the chair, Yoji could tell Shinta was in full control. He’d done it ever since they were young, even when their pops got on his case for it. It seemed as natural to him as blinking.
“Yeah, yeah, I know that’s what you like to say, but I really gotta get a workin’ one for my reviews! How can I spread the good word if I can’t even listen to any new releases?” Yoji bowed. “Come on, I’ll even pay full price for it! No family discounts this time!” By ‘family discount,’ he meant ‘taking for free.’
“What, need a new pair of ‘phones too?”
Tapping on the right ‘phone, Yoji heard the quiet audio blip out briefly. “Uh, no, these are working fine.”
Shinta let out a comically long sigh as he glanced over at a small basket filled with portable electronics in the corner of the room. “Pick somethin’ with a nice vibe. Don’t worry about payin’.”
Yoji grinned.
Shinta returned with a tired smile. “Hurry it up, before I change my mind on that discount.”
Carefully avoiding any underfoot merchandise—hello random snowglobe collection!—Yoji leaned down to look through the basket: some old tape recorders and instant cameras mixed together with some more modern tech like phone chargers and TV cables. Yoji dug past a boombox to two CD players with a lot of personality to them.
Yoji pulled them both out, one bright baby blue and the other in D+B-like sexy hot pink. He clicked the ‘open tray’ button on them both; the baby-blue opened smoothly, while the sexy-pink jittered. Worth taking it for a spin. Literally. He plopped a Def Märch CD in the blue.
...Didn’t even play. Yoji scratched his soul-patch as he moved the CD to the hot pink one, shutting its tray closed only for it to pop open. He gave it a little oomph the second time, just to have it jitter open once again. Humming in thought, he took a quick look around the shop.
Ah! There it was—the crafts’ stuff. Yoji decided to make liberal use of his family discount and swiped a small roll of tape from a nearby shelf. He pushed down on the hot pink player’s tray until he heard the lock mechanism click ‘secured.’ Big air quotes. Then he taped the tray shut, extra ‘secured’ now.
“Nice.” Plugging in his headphones, he listened to the music come to life in his ears, sending that delectable funk right into his brain.
Really felt the impatient rhythm, like the melody could leave him stranded. But he stuck with it, could bop along. Yet the vocals, calm and wishful, kept his feet planted like he was relaxing in the eye of the storm. Yeah, this song always made him feel like taking a nap after, deep into a long dream.
Yeah...
Guess he was gonna have to go for the sexy hot pink and people were just gonna have to accept the splash of color over his neutral uniform.
The next song started before he had a chance to stop it; he just let the music sweep him away. Yoji could feel his heart pumping as drums kicked in, with the bass backing up the upbeat vocals that were loud over the instruments. The rockin’ guitar pulling into the station sent adrenaline rushin’ over him. He couldn’t help but sway side-to-side, his head bobbing to-and-fro to the feel-good, sure-kill rock hybrid. When the chorus ended, he could picture the sound waves vibrating from ear-to-ear, making his body shake as the bouncing tune sent tingles down the back of his neck.
As that song faded out, the next slid into his ears with its unique beat and two singers competed for the attention of his brain in lyrics stitched together from the band’s other hit singles. But Yoji liked to sing along to the do-do-do just loud enough to be heard behind the two MCs. The jam always made him bounce up and down, like the bouncy instrumental dipping in and out. The blips and boops of the old—classic was probably the word his brother would use—cell phone always made him chuckle. Such out-of-place artifacts in the modern era, used perfectly in the song.
Yoji phewed, needing a breath after gettin’ so funky. He grinned and fixed his glasses, slipping down from funkin’ too much. Nah, one could never funk too much. Even in his big bro’s shop, he was ready to go full throttle wildin’ to these light-speed acid jams delivered to him from the groove maestros themselves and—oh. Dissonant techno tunes bashed against a down and dirty bass. Suddenly they were drowned out by the beeps of—a pager? Or some kind of clicker and then the actual music started and the vocals just didn’t jive with the heavy drums and groovy guitar—
No.
Enough of that.
Yoji skipped to the next song. Seemed like the mini metal ‘master’ had a few more years of training before actually living up to the name.
Oh well, every band had a stinker or two. Guess they’d recorded that one on an emotional edge. But no biggie! They’d gone on to produce the rest of the album. What else could he say about the Shibuya that had Def Märch’s brilliance in it, except that it was a wonderful world?
In the lull between songs, Yoji heard: “You look like you’re having fun.”
He carefully shifted his left speaker to rest just behind his ear and looked up at his older brother. His other older brother, Shigemori. Still in his work uniform and with the smallest hint of tiredness around his eyes. “Whoa! Big bro numbah two, didn’t think you’d drop by to see Shinta too!”
“I was just planning on heading to a jam session with the rest of the band, but Tadafumi insisted I check out Cosmic Corner for any old—I mean, classic—Tin Pin Slammer merchandise.” Shigemori looked over at the CD player. “What’re you listening to? Is that a CD of my band’s stuff?”
Yoji chuckled, tapping a button on the player to turn it off. He struggled to think of a time when he listened to music and his big bro numbah two didn’t ask if he was listening to his band. “Uh, nah, just testing out the player. My old gear’s starting to go bad.”
Shigemori’s lips drooped a tad. Then he smiled. “Not so loud. Can’t let Shinta hear you say ‘old’ and ‘bad together.’”
“Can’t believe my own little bros can’t appreciate somethin’ being well-used.” Shinta quietly slid over to them, letting his shoes drag against the floor. He smirked knowingly. “You’ll figure it out when you both get older.”
“I feel like you say that all the time,” Shigemori said so smoothly it sounded rehearsed. Oh, and this was Yoji’s cue!
“Maybe you were born in the wrong generation, Shinta.” Yoji grinned, remembering this conversation play out...every time they met up?
“What generation is it up to now, Z? The world just ain’t baby-boom enough to appreciate a little rust.” Shinta adjusted his glasses. “‘Nyways, Yoji, you found something you can appreciate?”
“Oh, yeah—”
“Actually, hold on, Shinta, do you have any classic Tin Pin Slammer stuff? Tadafumi asked me to pop in and see if you nabbed any,” Shigemori interrupted, stepping in front of Yoji like he wanted to grasp all the attention he could from his big bro.
Yoji wasn’t even offended by Shigemori’s interjections anymore like he had been when they were small tots; it just made him chuckle now. Seeing that sparkle in Shigemori’s eyes whenever someone did give him that precious droplet of focus.
“Hmm?” Shinta didn’t physically react to Shigemori’s habit either, though, Yoji couldn’t think of a time when Shinta had reacted to Shigemori. “I throw all the kiddy stuff together. Think someone brought in some Tin Pin stuff a few days ago.”
“Oh, really?” Shigemori pulled his phone out and Yoji watched him swipe over to a list of Tadafumi’s collection, a few items missing. “It’ll be worth taking a look...”
Shrugging, Shinta jabbed his thumb towards a different shelf filled with various kids’ toys roughened up from overuse. They sat beside a few books on history. “I keep ‘em over there.”
“Sweet.” Shigemori lifted his leg hesitantly before stamping it softly into the carpet. “Can you, uh, help me look for anything on this list? I would, hm, appreciate it.”
Yoji stifled a giggle. Shigemori looked over his shoulder at him, his own small smile growing, like he was getting in on the joke. That little hint of uncertainty. What did it mean, for someone who always strode into the spotlight confidently? The guy who wanted attention, who got attention, and he was asking for it so carefully like a neighbor asking for a cup of sugar except his hands were shaking so much he threatened to drop the cup.
Shinta rolled his head around on his neck and gave Shigemori a shake-of-the-head, not out of rejection, Yoji could tell by the small smile on his face, but out of humor. Shinta never helped customers look for things. Gave them a point in the right direction, but said that the journey was just as important as the destination.
But his little bro wasn’t just a customer, right?
“All right, come on. No whining if you don’t find anything.”
Shigemori beamed. “Rock on!”
As Shigemori moved over to the shelf, Shinta looked over at Yoji, standing there with his tattered and battered headphones dangling around his neck and a ‘new’ sexy hot pink CD player hooked onto his belt, his old one clipped at his side to get rid of later.
“You good, little bro? Got everything you needed?”
Yoji nodded. “Everything’s groovin’.”
Shinta looked back at Shigemori, bent over a small bin of toys without any boxes.
Shigemori turned and met his big bro’s gaze and nodded.
Shinta rubbed his chin. “Come here, little bro. Shigemori could use all the help he can get to find these little pins.”
“You think so?” Yoji smiled.
“If you wanna.” Shinta offered.
Yoji pulled his headphones back over his ears and clicked the player’s tunes on. He clicked the volume low, barely a backing theme. “Yeah, I wanna help out my big bros.”
“It’s Shigemori who needs the help, actually—”
Walking around Shinta and bumping into Shigemori’s shoulder very much purposefully, Yoji started sifting toys around on the shelf. There wasn’t a speck of dust, he noticed.
“Good, now I’ll need to fix those.” Shinta pointed at the boxed collector’s toys that were in no particular order at first, were in no particular order after Yoji messed with them, but were apparently wrong.
“Oh, right, your organization method,” Shigemori said, snidely.
Shinta smirked and stood beside Yoji, reaching over at a few boxes full of miscellaneous items, like generic Tin Pin pins. “It works for me.”
Yoji looked up at Shinta. “As long as it works for you, that’s all that matters, right?”
Shinta patted Yoji’s back. “Now you’re gettin’ it, little bro.”
Shigemori shook his head and laughed. “Yeah, yeah, as long as we’re comfy with ourselves, right?”
Shinta nodded and looked over at Shigemori, Yoji following his gaze. “That’s right, however you wanna say it, little bro.”
A comfortable silence settled in as they got to searching, the only noise Yoji could hear coming from his quiet headphones beaming out a calm melody like a ray of light and Shigemori’s small mumblings: “Nope, not this one... He’s got this one too... Why is there just a pin box full of those no-value 500-yen pins?” Shinta stood there, though Yoji swore his big bro was only fixing the things they’d moved around, not even taking much effort to look. Though, that smile on his face... Shinta’s lips curled up higher than Yoji thought he could manage.
This was always how it was, right? The three of them, the Iwata bros, the Triple Threat. All of them had something that made people’s heads turn. Got them attention, sometimes good and sometimes bad. And when people got upset, bugged out at the way Shinta ran his shop, bugged out at Shigemori being bolder than them, bugged out at the way Yoji walked through Shibuya like it was a rhythm game, well...
They could go bug someone else.
Or, better yet, they could mind their own damn business.
None of the annoyed glares or the words silently spat as they walked by mattered. As long as they did what worked for them. As long as they were happy.
And standing here, between his big bros—a couple of his best friends—Yoji could say that he was happy.
“Hey, guys.” Yoji spoke up suddenly, breaking the silence. Shinta and Shigemori looked at him. “I love you guys.”
Shigemori grinned and threw an arm around Yoji’s shoulders, pulling him close. “Best big bros a guy could ask for, huh? Huh? Love you too, Yoji.”
The little bros looked up at the biggest bro, seeing his grin teetering from sincere to mischievous. Shinta shrugged. “Well, you two are my favorite little bros.”
Shigemori sighed. “We’re the only brothers you have.”
Shinta reached over and ruffled Yoji’s hair, just like he used to when they were younger. “Doesn’t make it any less true, though.”
Yoji laughed. He laughed. He laughed so hard. And then Shigemori laughed. And he could even see Shinta’s rare chuckles breaking through too.
Yoji knew, somehow, they wouldn’t stop laughing for a while. Of all the songs he loved, it was his shared chuckles with his bros that made his favorite melody.
And he knew that they’d keep playing that song as long as they could.