Chapter Text
Kujou Sara wasn’t accustomed to having fans. No matter who, or how many people came up and said something along the lines of “I love your music!! Will you sign my appendage?” Sara couldn’t quite shake the idea that it was all a dream.
A cool breeze welcomed Sara to autumn’s morning embrace as they headed out the door. They had an afternoon gig at a combination bookstore/coffee shop. The plan was for Sara to get there first; their agent had flown Sara in for PR purposes, leaving the other bandmates to drive up in the van. It’d be cutting it close - the rest of the band had a few hours to travel, but it wasn’t anything they hadn’t encountered before.
An afternoon performance and Q&A session with fans felt nice, but the thought of being recognized -- and, not just that, but celebrated -- felt downright surreal.
Guitar case in tow, Sara made it to the venue. Immediately upon stepping inside, Sara was greeted with the comforting aroma of vanilla and cinnamon; a chilled breeze rushed at Sara’s back, the shivers propelling Sara forward into the warmth of the building.
What appeared to be the manager of the coffeeshop walked up to Sara; one blink-and-you-miss-it glance down to the guitar case resulted in a smile and handshake.
“Good morning! Welcome to Narnes & Boble, Miss Kujou Sara.”
Sara shifted in place. “Actually, it’s just Sara.” Their discomfort was not missed by the manager, who nodded in acknowledgement.
“Let me show you around, come with me.”
The manager led them down a hallway and into a small, but secure, white-bricked employees’ room. Stepping aside, she watched as Sara went over and laid the case on the well-worn couch, unlatched the case, and gingerly pulled out an acoustic guitar. She couldn’t believe it.
“Um, excuse me… your set isn’t for five hours.”
Without looking up, Sara pulled out a tuning fork, struck it once against the ground, and pressed the end of the handle to the body of the guitar. The pitch resonated, loud enough for the manager to hear it, and Sara matched the pitch with their own hum.
“I know,” Sara said, tuning the A string first. “But it’s good practice to prepare early.”
As Sara started tuning the higher strings in ascending order, the manager responded, “I would agree, although five hours is quite a big chunk of time.”
“Mm.”
The low E string was tuned last; Sara plucked the high E for the reference pitch. A few strums of some chords and Sara looked up with a smile.
“You want to get acoustic instruments out of the cold and into the venue space as soon as possible to acclimate to changes in humidity,” Sara said, setting the guitar back in the case with the lid open.
A vaguely interested, but mostly blank expression stared back, causing Sara to chuckle.
“Plus, I’ve never been too good at calming nerves before a show.”
The manager nodded - that was something she could latch onto. “Ah, I see.” She paused, then narrowed her eyes. “Are you going to be a fainting hazard today? Your agent didn’t--”
“Ah! No, no,” Sara said, raising their hands in a placating gesture. “I don’t faint.”
A loud sigh. “That’s a relief, I was wondering if--”
“...Anymore.”
The manager blinked, then narrowed her eyes. “Let’s talk about logistics over coffee,” she said. “Feel free to stick around until the show, just make sure to be back in here 30 minutes before, got it?”
Sara nodded.
“Good,” she said, then walked away, muttering something under her breath (Sara caught the words ‘liability’ and ‘waiver’).
--
Having coffee with the manager proved productive: Sara learned that her name was Jean, and that she’s working at the coffee shop full-time while she goes to law school. After signing a non-liability waiver, they parted ways and Sara was left to their own devices until the show.
When Sara walked out of Jean’s office, the coffee shop wasn’t particularly busy; a few patrons were scattered around, some of them typing away on laptops, while others read books. It was a quiet, cozy atmosphere. Sara just wished they weren’t quite so alone.
Then, Sara heard a loud noise - it sounded like a spit-take.
“Kujou Sara?!”
Sara swiveled around, alarmed at the loud incredulity. “Yes?”
The fan gawked for a moment, then answered, “I can’t believe it…” After adjusting her glasses, she gasped. “It really is you…!”
In her excitement, she almost knocked over her coffee mug, which then rattled the table and displaced her papers. She quickly attempted to grab (what Sara assumed to be) her school notes and her laptop, while attempting to keep her drink from spilling. Her twitching green ears contrasted nicely with the redness that spread across her face.
Sara blinked. And stared. The other girl stared back. Neither of them said anything. Realizing this, they both attempted to start a conversation at the same time.
“Oh, uh--”
“Sorry, I--!”
They then stopped, mirroring the other’s expression mimicking a deer in several headlights.
“I-I’m… uh! Sorry to d-disturb you, Miss… Sara?” the fan said, grimacing.
Sara breathed out. “It’s alright. It’s just Sara, though.” They offered a polite smile and a nod. This seemed to do the opposite effect than intended, as the fan nearly squeaked.
“O-oh! Y-yes, sorry!”
“It’s okay,” Sara said, then gestured to the door. “I gotta step out.” They needed air, they didn’t anticipate anyone knowing them so early from the show. Just as they opened the door, they heard the same anxious voice call out to them:
“I… I love your songs…!”
Sara paused in the doorway. How do they respond to that? ‘Thank you, but also I’m leaving, bye forever please buy some merch’?
In their hesitation, the fan called out again, “O-oh, um. I shouldn’t be bothering you…” Her voice tapered away into an ashamed mumble.
“It’s okay,” Sara said, muffled by the door. “Thank you!”
“...Y-you too!”
Sara paused for another second and left the building; a quick glance through the window resulted in a confirmation that the fan was still staring at them, her face noticeably more crestfallen; they both locked eyes for a brief moment, and Sara flinched away.
They shook their head and started to walk down the sidewalk, unsure of what to make of the interaction. Mostly, unsure if they responded the correct way.
A familiar ringtone snapped them out of their thoughts.
“Hello?”
“Sara, it’s me. Listen,” came the voice of their agent. She sounded stressed, and maybe a bit exasperated. “I’ve got good and bad news for you.”
Pausing to brace themself, Sara responded, “Okay. Hit me with it.”
“Well, the good news is that I finally got to level 69 in Bonkai Bimpact 69th.”
“Nice.” Sara knew this was the proper response as modeled repetitiously by their bandmates. “What about the bad news?”
The strained sigh on the other end didn’t give Sara much hope. “Well…”
“Is everything alright?”
A pause. “Sara, are you bracing yourself?"
"Yes. What happened?"
"Well... The van broke down.”