Chapter Text
Every breath Ichika takes before the final concert begins feels like it’s packed with poison.
She doesn’t know whether it’s the stage lights next to their equipment glaring in her eyes brighter than usual, or the eager hum of the crowd managing to make things seem worse than they really are. Usually she’d put it down to pre-show nerves (or at least that’s what she’s done for every other show, anyway, to stop her from dropping dead live on stage) but tonight feels… strange. Almost as if something is a little off, and the mere thought of it feels like it’s eating her away from the inside out.
Whatever it is, it’s taking an unusually long amount of time for the stage techs to set up today.
Ichika grimaces as subtly as she can, before shooting a nervous glance over at Shiho on the other side of the stage. Yet another light is in the way between them, but somehow she still notices the gesture pretty quick. It’s not the first time, after all. She mouths a few silent words to her guitarist and smiles slightly, adjusting the bass strap on her shoulder after she finishes.
You’re gonna do great.
Or at least, that’s what Ichika thinks she says.
But she doesn’t really get much time to check, because another stage technician adjusts the light further back, and Shiho is gone behind it, and she’s left alone in her little spot in the centre of the livehouse for everyone to see. It’s almost as if she can feel every movement in the building. Sure as hell, she can feel her heart threatening to burst right out of her chest at any second.
Any other day, any other less important venue and she’d be enjoying this feeling. The twisted sense of foreboding thumping through her mind refuses to leave her alone, though.
A thumbs up from a guy dressed in all black, presumably the bouncer. Ichika grabs the mic off the stand. Before she knows it, all she can hear is her own voice filling the hall.
“We are Leo/need!”
And after that, cheering and applause. The crowd almost manages to drown out the speakers themselves.
Ichika smiles. She waves to a few familiar faces in the crowd, before clearing her throat and gripping her guitar’s fretboard just a little tighter with her left hand.
She’s having to forcefully ignore the burning in her throat at this point.
Still, she steels herself and keeps talking. The audience seems to be listening, which is reassuring; Ichika reminds herself of the shows where they didn’t at all and suddenly she’s feeling much better. A great start. Then accompanied by Honami’s steady rhythm she introduces her friends – bandmates , even, and the entire building lights up with roars of anticipation and applause. They’re expecting big things from her tonight.
Who wouldn’t? Everyone loves an underdog story. More specifically, everyone loves them . And now the stage is set, and she’s shouting out the name of the first song on their set, and the lights dim.
Leo/need. A band formed by four childhood friends, a band born in the heart of Shibuya from one girl’s determination and another girl’s dream.
And this?
Their final show before the gates to stardom open wide before them.
The whole routine is so well rehearsed. Every little detail; the subtle gesture to Honami to count them in, the exact position her plectrum rests over the pickups of her trusty guitar; every single thing has been practised, again and again and again. She knows Shiho wouldn’t let her live with herself if she didn’t, what with her brutal training regimes. Sometimes she even finds herself playing through the riffs and chords as a way to relax herself.
So when the pressure in her skull feels like it’s going to burst, and despite every bone in her body begging her not to take the first step forward, she strums, and there’s no sound apart from a sickening thud , and that’s when Ichika looks up and sees all those little perfect details crumble apart right in front of her eyes.
…
……
A few seconds pass. She tries strumming again, an act of desperation. Nothing but static.
The lights obscure Shiho from view. Saki is so far back she can’t subtly turn to see her without drawing the crowd’s attention to her even more, and Honami? Honami’s even further away .
In the centre of the livehouse, for everyone to see.
That’s where Ichika is stood as her ‘homecoming’ show crashes and burns.
She watches as the crowd all turn to look at her, talking amongst themselves. She watches as the tech guys from before rush back to the stage to tamper with their equipment once again, talking to Shiho once they get there, looking over at Ichika briefly with concerned side-eyes while they think she doesn’t notice. She watches herself in the reflection of her mic as the tears start to slowly form in her eyes, but luckily, before they get the chance to get anywhere, she bats them away with the sleeve of her shirt.
Her arm swings back down to her side after she clears up the mess, and a hand suddenly grabs her shoulder from behind, shaking her slightly to get her attention. It takes her a moment to notice, but it isn’t long before she finds herself meeting emerald green eyes.
“Ichika,” says Shiho, her tone stone-cold and as composed as she can manage to get it, even over the ever-increasing shouts of the people in the crowd. “Do you need a minute outside?”
Because after all, it’s always Shiho who picks up whenever she feels on edge. It’s always Shiho who manages to see right through her, and it always has been, even since they were kids.
Still, Ichika keeps pushing, desperately scrambling for anything to keep herself onstage.
She has to make things right. She can’t kill their dream like this.
“...We have a show to finish, don’t we?”
Her voice is rigid. “Don’t be stupid. They’re telling me the guitar amp just went and fried itself on us. There’s no way we can play like this.”
“Right. Right, OK, then.” She taps her fingers against the body of her guitar. She closes her eyes in a weak attempt to block out the disappointed patrons of the venue yelling at her as she leaves.
Every insult that manages to get to her is like its own stab to the heart.
She hears Saki and Honami’s voices as they talk to the staff get further and further away (which makes her feel even more guilty for leaving them there), until a burst of cold air hits her right in the face. It smells of burnt-out cigarettes and solidified spray paint and it doesn’t exactly help the churning feeling in her stomach, but she simply holds Shiho’s hand a little tighter and lets the bassist take her away.
And when Ichika opens her eyes again, she’s in the back alley behind the livehouse, leaning against a graffitied brick wall as Shiho hugs her from the front and chokes out muffled sobs into her shirt.
Of course, she hugs her back, and cries even harder into her shoulder.
“Shit!” There’s a loud thud as Shiho kicks at the wall behind them, her facade from onstage fracturing the longer she tries to keep it up.
Fuck, she’s angry. At her? Ichika isn’t quite sure. “Shiho—”
“That was our last shot. Our last fucking shot to make it big any time soon, and— and this happens?!”
She pulls away, and even from across the alleyway Ichika is able to see the burning shame apparent in her expression. Her first instinct is to move closer again in order to comfort her but when she closes the gap between them Shiho simply steps back even further; her head buried in her hands as she curses quietly to herself and leans back against the opposite wall.
“We don’t deserve this, Ichika,” she mutters. “ You don’t deserve this.”
And she hates to admit it, but a small, more bitter part of her agrees.
Cars rush by the side streets and the constant hum of noise from the livehouse has almost completely ceased. While absentmindedly staring down at the road as an alternate distraction to her guitar left onstage, she notices a particular vehicle with a familiar logo.
Far, far too familiar; because it’s the talent scouts driving off back to their office to report the night’s failure. Tears well up in the corners of her eyes again. That’s it. There’s their chance at their dream; driving steadily further from them every second they stay out here in the cold of the alleyway.
Still, she presses on. For Shiho’s sake more than anyone else’s.
“There was nothing we could have done to save ourselves, though, was there?”
Shiho scoffs and keeps talking, but Ichika catches her clenching her fist slightly as if she’s holding things back. “I wish there was. I don’t even know if they’ll even want to try and fit us into their schedule again when all this is cleared up, Ichika. I know it’s not our fault, but fuck, it kind of is, I shouldn’t have rushed us into a massive show this early on—”
“We were ready.” Ichika stands up a little straighter, her tone becoming sharper than before. "Even I could see that."
“Maybe we were ready, but we were fucking careless, alright? It’s rough out here. We’ve played here before, we could have asked them to check the gear one more time. And whose job was that?”
“...”
“I did nothing. I did absolutely fucking nothing, Ichika. I stood and watched you cry on that stage.”
It’s exactly what she expected Shiho to say, but somehow it still hurts. She always takes responsibility for everything, after all. Ichika really, really wishes she didn’t.
There’s no guitar for her to tap anymore so Ichika resorts to the cold metal of a broken-down vending machine in the corner behind the door to distract her instead. It rattles as she drums her fingers against the surface. Her throat still hurts from while she was inside. She wishes the vending machine wasn't broken; because fuck, she needs a drink.
Meanwhile, Shiho’s voice falters as she realises how harsh her words came out sounding.
“Look,” she starts to break the tension once more, kicking off the wall (with less unnecessary force this time) and moving over to Ichika’s side, wrapping an arm loosely around her waist. “I care about you. I care about everyone, and it pains me to see us get held back like this.”
“Glad we can agree.” Ichika laughs quietly under her breath and to her surprise, Shiho laughs too.
“We just keep missing these opportunities.”
“I know.”
And then her voice goes quiet again, but softer this time. “Hey, Ichika. Don’t you think it’s unfair?”
It’s a stupid question, because of course she does, but for some reason she just can’t stop thinking it’s her own damn fault.
A lone motorbike drives past, the engine sputtering as it races down the shady street. The alley gets darker as the sun continues to set behind the livehouse. Ichika thinks to herself for a moment as she puts together the words. She stares at the brick wall opposite her, her eyes settling on a rather impressive piece of graffiti cleanly sketched out. The empty can of paint still remains on its side on the paved concrete beneath her feet, so the drawing must be pretty recent. The design is intricate. It’s colorful. It’s also illegal, she thinks to herself as she stares at the closer details.
If only she could have a fraction of the courage it took the artist to paint it.
Maybe she could have stood and faced the crowd as the sound cut out. Maybe the scouting agency would have stayed to hear them out after the gear was fixed.
Maybe Shiho wouldn’t have had to see her cry in the reflection of that goddamn microphone.
Fuck.
“Shiho, I’m so sorry.”
She scoffs, running a hand through her hair. “You couldn’t control anything that happened on that stage. It’s not your fault.”
“I couldn’t control it, I know, but I could have done something to help, right?” Ichika bites her lip slightly, diverting her gaze to the starry sky. Hypocrite , scream the voices in her head. “I mean, I stayed quiet. I could have said something to them; or fuck, the crowd, they were booing us on the way out, right? Shiho, the talent scouts might not have left us . We wouldn’t be here.”
“If it makes you feel any better, I don’t think I would have been able to say anything either.” Her tone is final and that’s what prompts Ichika to try and clear her mind. “It was a dick move to dump everything onto you as soon as we left, anyway. You feeling any calmer now? I should have asked that way earlier, shouldn’t I?”
“...Don’t worry, I’m alright now, I think. I’m just mad at myself for not speaking up at the time.”
I can actually kind of breathe, she wants to add. Thank you.
Shiho nods anyway, quietly holding her hand again and staring up at the sky with her. She kicks the spray paint can that was on the floor earlier down the alley, and it ends up in the middle of the main road. It’s very quickly crushed by a car, and she lets out a quiet sigh, running her thumb across Ichika’s hand.
“You know, I really hate how stubborn I am sometimes.”
And for once, Ichika doesn't exactly understand how, but she knows exactly what to say in return.
“That stubborn streak is why we’re here right now, Shiho.” Ichika smiles softly as she joins together the stars above them in her head. “You kept pushing us forward when we needed it most.”
“Maybe I did, but be honest, do you think I pushed you all too far, too early?” Another heavy exhale. Ichika feels the angle of their handhold tilt slightly as she leans back further against the wall. “I was so impatient to see our future that I wasn’t thinking enough about the present.”
“That’s alright.”
“I just don’t want to keep you all waiting any longer.”
Green eyes meet cyan, and for a moment she’s left speechless. Oh, how she wishes she had the courage to make promises like that right now.
Because the tone of her voice suggests to Ichika that she means it with every bone in her body.
She squeezes Shiho’s hand as reassurance and she directs her gaze back at the stars above them, grinning faintly. There’s a certain glint in her eyes that Ichika just can’t seem to place. Still, she feels that in a way, that’s her repayment for being around.
Their dream. Their future. That smile by her side, no matter how small it may be, is all she really needs to be able to chase it.
“We’ll come back even stronger,” Shiho muses. “They won’t know what hit them.”
“You say that after every show we play.”
She laughs. “Well, I’m not wrong. You three are improving so quickly.”
“Don’t fall back, then,” Ichika smirks. She lets go of Shiho’s hand to open her arms.
The smell of smoke and old spray paint disappears and is suddenly replaced by a wave of familiar cologne as her bassist embraces her.
And it’s all she could ever ask for.
Ichika ruffles Shiho’s hair and the girl curls up even further into her chest, laughing quietly under her breath.
“We need to go back inside and sort things out with Saki and Honami, don’t we?”
“Just a second longer. You’re being all cute.”
She looks up and into Ichika’s eyes, smiling softly. “Fine.”
And it might just be something in the air, but even despite the boundless warmth within her heart Ichika feels some unanswered questions left hanging in it too on her way back through the door to the livehouse.
She smiles regardless.
The worst of the fall is over now. They just have to build their way back up.