Chapter Text
No one knows her name. No one has heard her voice. No one has even seen her eyes.
A pale woman who's always wearing a track suit. Her hair is unkempt and wicked. Her uneven bangs completely cover her eyes. Some say she is a vengeful spirit of rock n' roll that crawled out of the static of a TV to haunt those who look down on rock. Only her mouth and nose are ever visible. Her lips are always chapped, and always curled downwards into a frown.
She haunts the streets of Shimokitazawa in the dead of night, wielding nothing but her Gibson electric guitar and a cheap spider practice amp. The paint on the instrument is chipped and scratched all to hell, as if it was dug up from a grave somewhere.Her hands move across the fretboard as if possessed. Some say her otherworldly playing is so good, it can summon demons. With just her skills, a cheap amp, and without even saying a word, she gathers crowds by the dozens.
Of course, the police haven’t taken kindly to the commotion. Each night, without fail, they rush into the crowd that have gathered around the rogue musician to try and apprehend her for disturbing the piece. And each night without fail, she disappears into the crowd before they can even get to her.
Only to come back the next night and do it all over again. This, more so than her appearance, has earned her the title “The Ghost of Shimokitazawa.”
The passenger explained an urban legend to Nijika, who was half paying attention, half trying to focus on the road ahead of her. Then, finally she got the passenger to their destination. He stepped out and thanked her.
He didn’t tip.
It was a quarter past 2. Time to call it a night.
At the very least, she made enough money today.
She lived in a 2 bedroom apartment with her older sister. It was in a nice part of town, so the rent was on the pricier side. But it was worth every cent, because after all, It was the apartment she lived in most of her life. Her home. The one right above Starry. Or, what used to be Starry.
Walking past the abandoned live house everyday was a bittersweet feeling. She couldn’t hear the heartbeat of music resonating through the air as she walked by, the soul of the young indie scene alive beneath her feet. Once, that place was filled to the brim with youthful hopes and dreams. Those dreams were long since evicted.
But still. Because it was still vacant, there was hope that she could get it back. That’s why she had to go home and practice. If she only got a little better at the drums, if only she saved a little more money… if only she could meet a few more people.
Oh well. Maybe one day. She sighed to herself.
One day at a time.
She was about to walk past the staircase that once led to starry, just as she'd done thousands of times over the years.
But then she realized something.
The door was open.
Someone broke into Starry.
Nijika moved without thinking. Down the steps, her hand slid down the cold metal guard rail.
And she peaked her head through the door.
She saw, in the corner of the room, a shady figure, slightly illuminated by what appeared to be a dim light from a cell phone. She couldn’t quite make out what they looked like, but it was clearly a person.
They seem to have noticed that they were spotted. Because they gasped, and then quickly turned off the phone.
Finally, Nijika spoke.
“Hey, umm. You know you're trespassing, right?”
No response.
Nijika flipped on the lightswitch, which still worked for some reason.
She saw it. Or, her.
The figure was a woman in a musty tracksuit, with frizzy hair. It was clearly a homeless woman. The girl was startled and threw up her arms, as if she was a vampire in the sunlight. She was backed into a corner. Around her were various articles of clothing, trash, and what looked to be a guitar case. She had a sleeping bag at least.
Nijika suddenly felt really guilty.
She didn’t know what to do. Should she call the cops and report her? Well, she wasn’t really hurting anyone. But still, this was against the law… and having such a sketchy character so close to home might be dangerous.
But that was an awful thing to assume of someone. She was torn.
Wait, wait, wait. Guitar?!
Unkempt hair? Track suit?
Nijika excitedly kneeled down beside the ghastly girl. “Are you her?”
The girl looked up. Nijika couldn’t see her eyes, but she could tell that she was startled.
“The Ghost of Shimokitazawa”
There was a long pause of silence again…
Until the very faintest, cracked voice could be heard
“...yes”
“Wow! No way! Can you play something for me!!”
“...okay”
Nijika heard the girl take a deep breath. Her head was tilted down, her hair hung down, and it obscured what her hand was doing. The guitar was already plugged in to the crusty looking practice amp.
Then she started playing.
The ghost of Shimokitazawa was a virtuoso. She played a rock song that was really new and popular right now. But she didn’t just play it like everyone else did. She turned it into an intricate, technically proficient, ballad. She didn’t sing, but Nijika heard what she was saying loud and clear. It was beautiful, and pathetic…
The ghost reminded her of… That woman.
Honestly. She didn’t want to admit it. But that woman used to be her hero. Before everything happened… That woman was many things, a monster, a selfish arrogant prick, and a traitor. But she was the greatest musician she’d ever known. Her hero. Her friend.
But this ghost lady. She wasn’t far off from that woman's skill. Well, she was no where near as good, but she was closer than anyone else was.
The solo ceased.
It was the first time in ages since a guitar gave Nijika goose bumps like that.
Nijika started clapping like an idiot. “You really are as good as they say you are”
She could kind of hear a gross, prideful snicker beneath the jungle of hair of her new guitarist friend.
“Ah that’s right! I should tip you!” Nijika dug through the pockets of her jeans, but only finding lint.
“Crap, i’m broke… No that won’t do.”
It was morally wrong to have a homeless woman perform for free… Nijika knew she had to repay her somehow.
Then Nijika had the perfect idea.
“How about instead of cash, I let you sleep on my couch tonight! I’ll make you dinner, and let you use my shower!”
The girl seemed happy. “...thanks”
Nijika grabbed her by the hands, for the first time feeling as excited as she was when she was a teenager, and said
“Well, let’s go!
-Yuurei-chan!”