Chapter Text
Kakyoin sat in his dressing room, priming his voice with a warm-up before rehearsal. This was the night he would meet his counterpart in the opera. Kakyoin wasn’t one for gossip, he came to the opera house to do the job he loved, and left without complaints. But even he, someone who thought himself above the whispers of nosy singers, couldn’t escape the spidery fingers of curiosity. At lunch, he had overheard two sopranos talking about the tenor singer that had been hired to fill in the spot left vacant by the previous tenor. According to them - which was also according to the girl from makeup that told them, who heard it from someone in costuming, which “found out” from someone from set design - the new tenor was a mysterious figure. Supposedly, he had been fired from a different production because of an affair he had with the wife of the director, who just so happened to be the lead singer in the production.
“I heard he’s a womanizer, but I can’t be sure.” He recalled hearing the first girl speak.
“Well, we’ll see. Someone told me he’s slept around with the whole orchestra before, men and women.” The second girl said.
“No way! I wonder if his looks match the myth.” The first girl responded.
But Kakyoin didn’t care. He snapped out of his memory and came back to his dressing room. He stared at himself in the mirror, and made sure to enunciate his words clearly and project from his diaphragm, and above everything, not to scream his notes.
“Sing your notes, I know it’s easy to slip into a scream but that will damage your voice, your tone, your fluidity, and it just doesn’t sound good.” His voice coach had beaten that into his mind.
“Pro-ject, Pro-ject, Pro-ject! You can’t project without breathing!” He heard his coach say from the back of his mind, “Sing for the seats in the back!”
Kakyoin’s breath went deeper, feeling it fill his lungs and reach every inch of his body, and the muscles of his lungs, his diaphragm, his throat, palette, tongue and lips fell into a sync that came to him like second nature, and a clear, ringing note beamed from his mouth like sunlight.
Kakyoin smiled to himself in the mirror, pleased, and took his score with him out into the rehearsal room.
It was a wide space, akin to a warehouse, where the incomplete set was standing like a set of unassembled bones, waiting for someone to form it into a skeleton. But the flesh and skin would be added later, as set design was still working on the decor and painting. Kakyoin walked past a few beams and unrisen walls, and made it to the spot marked out in tape. The tape outlined where the walls would stand and where they would come in for their cues.
He was always the first to arrive, aside from the accompanist and the director. They were chatting by the piano, talking about what scenes they were going to go over in the rehearsal.
But there was a third figure, a man who was massively tall. His body was strong, Kakyoin could see the way the fabric of his shirt pressed up against his muscles. He wasn’t facing Kakyoin, but he knew this man was of high class and manners.
“Ah, Kakyoin! On time, as always.” The director said, her black hair cut short under her ears.
“It’s good to see you, Phillipa.” Kakyoin responded, shaking her hand.
Phillipa pushed up her thick, blocky glasses on her thin nose and gestured for him to sit next to her on some stools.
“I’m sure you’ve heard the whispers among your colleagues, about the new tenor,” Phillipa said, “I present to you, Mr. Jotaro Kujo.”
The man stepped forward, facing Kakyoin with a stoic expression on his face. Jotaro’s eyes were piercingly blue, hooded by a pair of thick rectangular eyebrows.
Kakyoin held his blush back, seeing the man’s strong, arrow-straight nose that pointed down towards his cupid's bow, which curved into his elegant and lucious lips.
The man seemed rather cold, but offered a friendly hand for Kakyoin to shake.
He took it and the man said, “Nice to meet you. You can call me Jotaro.”
“Noriaki Kakyoin.” He responded, “It’s nice to meet you too.”
“You also have a Japanese name.” Jotaro commented.
“I do. I grew up there.” Kakyoin said, adjusting the shirt under his sweater.
Jotaro let out a soft chuckle, “I guess we have that in common.”
“Mr. Kujo, Kakyoin here is our sole countertenor. He’s very talented. I hope you find that working with him is quite easy.” Phillipa said, gesturing between them with her boney hands.
“I’ll look forward to it.” Jotaro said with a nod towards Kakyoin.
“As do I.”
Jotaro excused himself and left the room, the sound of his shoes tapping against the floors echoing out, as the rest of the singers started to clamor into the room.
“Oh my, was that the new tenor?” A voice said behind Kakyoin, “How was he, Nori?”
“Huh? Oh it’s you.” Kakyoin turned over his shoulder and saw his friend, Marina, “He was nice, I guess.”
“Just nice? What did he look like? Sound like? Smell like?” She asked, tossing her thick braid over her shoulder.
Kakyoin sighed and rolled his eyes, “Marina, I didn’t stroll up to him and take a whiff.”
“Ugh, you’re no help. Phillipa, how’s the new tenor?” She asked, lightly pushing her friend.
“You’ll meet him soon enough, Marina.” Phillipa said, she clapped her hands, “Now, everyone! Let’s start from the top.”
Everyone got in place, and hours flew by. Kakyoin lost himself in his voice, just singing and dancing across the stage, tossing his fellow singers around as the pianist ran her slender fingers over the ivories, making the instrument play the part of every instrument in the orchestra.
“Alright, that’s the first act done. You guys did fantastic!” Phillipa called, “Let’s break for lunch.”
Everyone dispersed, but most of the crowd stuck around in the wing with the dressing rooms, chatting in the hallway and sitting on the floors, sipping on water and snacking on various foods.
Kakyoin and Marina were in Kakyoin’s dressing room. He was sitting on the chair, which he had pulled up by the door where Marina was leaning up against its frame. She was peeling an orange, and throwing the scraps into the trash bin by the door.
“I still want to know what he’s like.” She smirked.
“If you bring him up, everyone’s going to flock here to know.” Kakyoin whispered.
Marina leaned in close, her amber eyes glittering, “If that’s what’ll get you to tell me, I might just do it.”
Her mischievous joy showed across her face on her child-like smile.
Kakyoin groaned, “He was nice. He was tall and… well… he was nice.”
“Tall, and nice?” She asked, sounding disappointed, “That’s all?”
“I mean, there wasn’t much to him. He didn’t say too much. He’s also Japanese, if that matters.” Kakyoin said, running a hand through his hair and leaning back in his chair.
Kakyoin sipped on his water and took a bite into his sandwich.
Marina poised her mouth to speak, but before she could, the whole hallway fell silent to hear a single voice echoing out through the space. It ricocheted off the walls and everyone turned to face the lone room at the end of the hall. Kakyoin peeked his head out the door, and listened.
Jotaro’s voice was like thunder, it cracked down on everyone who could hear it and shook them with an awe that left mouths agape. The power, the clarity, even through the thick walls, was undeniably amazing. They heard him jump up and down his scales, reaching the highest he could go and dipping down to the lowest.
“That was four octaves.” Marina said, a look of surprise on her face.
“Damn.” Kakyoin responded, staring at the backs of everyone’s heads as they all were turned to hear Jotaro.
Jotaro practiced his part, singing up and down long passages with ease that made even the most experienced singers jealous. Kakyoin couldn’t help but wonder who this guy was, surprised to hear a voice of such quality in a town like his that bore little importance in the operatic world. Sure, this town had fantastic singers, but if you said “Mantegna Opera House” to anyone who knew anything about opera, they’d probably not recognize the name.
Jotaro’s voice faded, and soon, the stunned looks and shocked faces composed themselves and returned to pleasant conversations.
Then they returned to rehearsal for the second act of the opera. At this point in the story, Jotaro’s character would be entering for the first time. When everyone filed in, he was standing there, score in arm, and an expressionless face waiting. His eyes were looking away, towards an odd corner of the room.
“Everyone, this is our new tenor.” Phillipa spoke, “Would you like to introduce yourself?”
“My name is Jotaro. I’m excited to work with you all.” And that was all he said.
The crowd gave their pleasant greetings as everyone got into their places, including Jotaro. He was a professional, sticking to the sides as he came to understand how the production worked. He took Phillipa’s direction like it was gospel, following her instructions to a T, melding with the production as if he was there since the beginning.
Once they came to the end of the second act, the singers had worked through the entirety of their score and all the scenes.
“Fantastic work! Now, next week we’re going to do this all in costume!” Phillipa shouted over the crowd of dancers, singers, and the choir.
“Costume fittings are Saturday, tomorrow, through Thursday! Dress rehearsal is at 8:30 am Friday morning!” She kept shouting, “Now scram!”
Everyone said their goodbyes, and as others made plans to get dinner or go over to each other’s places, Marina and Kakyoin walked to their respective dressing rooms, before meeting at the back doors of the opera house. They chatted for a moment as they walked out, but Marina turned to hold the door for someone walking up behind them.
“Thanks.” Jotaro said, walking out with his backpack in hand.
He slung it around his side, slipping both arms through the straps and walking ahead of the pair.
Marina smacked Kakyoin lightly on the arm, “He is so hot! I can’t believe you left that part out.”
“Whatever, it’s his voice that matters.” Kakyoin retorted.
Marina shrugged in agreement, “Which is pretty much perfect.”
“There must be something wrong then.” Kakyoin said, unlocking his car.
“Cuz if he’s so perfect, why’d he get fired?” Marina asked, saying what they were both thinking.
“Well, I’ve always heard that he sleeps around with everyone, but I’ve also heard he can be bad to work with.” Marina spoke, as Kakyoin started the car.
“Do you need me to give you a ride?” Kakyoin asked.
Marina nodded, “Yes, please. Michael is staying late at work so he can’t come get me.”
“I’ve been telling you, get a bus pass! It’s a four minute ride to your place from here.” Kakyoin reprimanded, as Marina got into the passenger seat.
She rolled her eyes, “Okay, okay! I will!”
Kakyoin smiled and shook his head, before the pair left the parking lot.
While soft pop played over the radio, Kakyoin thought to himself about everything going on.
“Do you think he’s going to bring in a bigger audience? I mean he’s from a pretty popular company.” Kakyoin said, one hand resting on the wheel while the other was holding up his head, elbow propped up by the window of his door.
“I wouldn’t be surprised. This production is our most popular one, and since he’s set to be THE heart throb of the opera house, it can only be expected that he does.” Marina answered, adjusting her hair and inspecting her nostrils in the mirror on the visor.
Kakyoin nodded, “I guess he’s just what we need. I can’t help but have a bad feeling about him though.”
Marina looked at him strangely, “What do you mean?”
“I don’t know. Something about him just doesn’t sit right with me, am I crazy?” He asked.
Marina chuckled, “I think we’re just too deep in gossip. Surprising that you’d fall for it, if you ask me.”
“Okay, maybe I indulged and eavesdropped a little in the cafeteria the other day after my lessons.” Kakyoin smiled.
“See? It’s kinda fun!” Marina chimed, gently pushing his shoulder.
“Don’t expect me to keep entertaining it though, I’m sure everyone’s infatuation with him will fade.” He said back, turning into the parking garage of Marina’s apartment building.
“See you later!” She said as she got out of the car, “Drive safe, and thanks for the ride!”
“No problem, and tell Michael I said hi!” Kakyoin called after her.
She waved as she walked away, and Kakyoin made his way home.
His apartment wasn’t anywhere near as nice as Marina’s. She had a husband, which meant a whole second stream of income, which allowed them to live somewhere nicer and closer to the opera house.
However, Kakyoin lived farther downtown in some old rickety buildings that had been around for over a hundred years. They were clean, but you could smell the age and see it in the outdated carpets and tacky wallpapers of the lobby. The stairs moaned under his feet as he climbed up eleven flights, the building too old to have an elevator added in.
When Kakyoin got to his apartment, he dumped his bags onto the floor by the door, and kicked off the sneakers from his aching feet. He caught his breath and went to his closet-sized kitchen and made himself a meal. When he finished cooking, he flipped through the text of the opera, making notes on his pronunciation of his shabby Italian. He then showered and got ready for bed, as Marina texted him about the new gossip she was picking up on about Jotaro. He put his phone on silent, and went off to sleep.