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one
Maki wakes up to a banging on her window.
This isn’t unusual. She lives in halls where students returning from house parties think it’s funny to wake up people living there, and she had to move to the ground floor because there were no other rooms available when she learnt that she wasn’t going to graduate last year.
What is unusual, though, is that it’s still early, only nine, and the person banging on her window isn’t a stranger. It’s Yuuta.
She squints, just to make sure she can see clearly, and yep. That’s Okkoutsu Yuuta, banging on her window and trying to see through it, looking nervous like he thinks he’s going to get caught and get in trouble. Top of last year’s class, brilliant mind, best law student her lecturers have ever seen is banging on her window.
She gets up, and pulls the window open with a huff, and Yuuta yelps and jumps back, startled. “Hey, Maki,”
“What are you doing here?”
“Uh. Well–” Yuuta immediately gets sidetracked by Maki’s clothes, “you’re already in bed? Wasn’t the last final today?”
“Yes, and I’m exhausted.”
“I tried to text you,” Yuuta starts, “you wanna– you wanna come out with us? To celebrate, I mean.”
In truth, Maki hasn’t looked at her phone for weeks, too focussed on trying to pass the exams, on trying not to fail again so she doesn’t have to go back home and join the family firm like she said she’d never do. It’s been turned off all day. “Yuuta-”
“I haven’t seen you,” he says, grabbing onto the window frame like he knows Maki won’t shut it on his hands. Like if he just stays there he can convince her to go. “In ages. And a couple of our friends might play, later, so- if not, I’ll get you a drink. It’ll be good, I promise,”
Yuuta’s starting to fill out into the shape of his body, but his eyes are the same: wide, watery, pleading. He always looks a little like a kicked puppy, even when he’s happy, so when he’s pleading with Maki to come out drinking, it’s worse. When she leans forward, she can see Inumaki and Panda standing behind, and they both offer a little wave. God, she really can’t say no, now, can she?
“Let me change.” She sighs, “and I’ll come out,”
Yuuta nods, eyes sparkling. “Okay,”
Yuuta. The window. I need to close it,”
He steps back, like he forgot in the first place. She can’t help smiling as she closes it, locks it, and gestures for them to go round the front to meet her. Just last year, they were all living in the same halls, and now she’s alone, cooking instant noodles or going to ramen cafes to study. And everything’s still the same for her, really.
She pulls on a skirt, a vest top, her favourite jacket to cover up whilst they’re walking out on the street. Platform heels, because she knows they make her taller than both Yuuta and Inumaki and it’s funny to watch them stutter about it. They meet her at the front door, and Yuuta grins.
“Ready?”
“Ready,”
—
They walk for a while, to the outskirts of the city. Maki doesn’t really think to ask about where they’re going until they’re walking in an area where she feels the need to step a little more carefully, watching for broken glass under her feet, and looking over her shoulder as they cross into a little alleyway with fairy lights overhead.
“Here,” Yuuta says, ducking under a small doorway nestled in the wall, and promptly disappearing from view because the stairs drop away, leading underground. Maki hesitates out on the pavement as Yuuta hops down into the darkness, completely unbothered.
Inumaki follows him, because he’ll follow Yuuta anywhere, apparently, and it’s only Panda that turns around. “You okay, Maki?”
“Down– down there?” She finds herself saying, “I thought– I thought it would be–”
Panda laughs, deep from his belly. “It’s nicer inside,”
Maki takes a deep breath. It’s stupid to be scared of something like this, really, because what else is she doing with her life? She’s finished with law school, for the second time, probably having failed, and she’s going to have to go back to her family for them to tell her they told her so. She’s not really got a lot to lose, here.
Panda pats her heavily on the shoulder, keeping his big warm hands as a reassuring presence on her shoulders as they dip down to a second door at the base of the stairs. Maki pushes the door open herself, and immediately–
She’s never been anywhere like this before. The room is tiny, with a bar on one end covered in string lights and old road signs and a random traffic cone with googly eyes. It’s pretty packed already, and on the opposite side, there’s a band playing, with people jumping up and down in front of the stage, no barriers to separate them from the crowd whatsoever.
Yuuta catches her eye, waving wildly from the far side of the bar, the one with the traffic cone. Panda’s already disappeared into the crowd, so Maki goes, and Yuuta grins. “I’ll buy, what’d you want?”
Maki squints at the lines of spirits on the back of the bar, before getting interrupted by the slap of skin on skin beside her– a hearty-looking handshake, by the looks of it. There’s a boy behind the bar, about their age, grinning wild against his shock of pink hair. “I didn’t think you were coming!”
Yuuta has the uncanny ability to look bewildered even as he’s smiling, and this is no exception. He smiles, “just had to convince–”
“Oh, Mai, it’s been a while,” the boy says, and of course he has dimples, and of course he looks like he belongs here even as he sticks out like a sore thumb, “I like your hair, when’d you cut it?”
Yuuta looks exasperated, “dude,”
“I’m Maki,” Maki says, swallowing around the words. “We’re twins.”
The kid doesn’t look even slightly put off by the mistaken identity. He doesn’t miss a beat. “Oh, right! You look the same, so– do you want a drink? I can get you both one for free, probably,”
“You owe me one anyway!” Yuuta snorts, and the bartender rubs the back of his neck.
“Your usual?”
The fact Yuuta has a usual, or that he’s here often enough to accept a handshake from an overenthused bartender is– Maki is still squinting at the two of them, to be honest.
Pink Hair disappears as he ducks below the bar, and suddenly Maki is face-to-face with a girl.
She’s pretty, unfortunately, because Maki’s been swearing off women since the last one threatened to out her to her parents and she had to block her on everything. She’s got piercings everywhere, a septum with spikes, and pretty lips, and she’s pouting.
Late, too late for Maki to really do anything about it, the girl’s reaching a hand out, brushing away a strand of hair from her cheek. Maki lurches backwards, but the girl is still staring. So she lets herself stare back.
Short ginger-ish hair, pale skin, wide eyes that look to be brown, but she can’t quite tell in the light. She’s wearing makeup: winged eyeliner, blush across the bridge of her nose. Freckles that may or may not be fake.
“You cut your hair?” The girl’s saying, and Maki swallows, kicking herself back into gear, “I liked it longer,”
“Nobara–” Yuuta appears, behind her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders, “this is Maki. She’s Mai’s sister.”
Nobara blinks a couple of times, and takes a step back. “Oh, shit, sorry, I thought-” she coughs, awkward. “Um. What’d you want?”
Maki takes a moment to catch up. So she knows Mai, and she knows her well. Great. “Rum and coke,”
“Yuuji said to put it on his tab,” Yuuta says, “just so–”
“Yeah, okay,” she waves over her shoulder as she pours the liquor into a laughably small glass, almost filling it halfway before topping it up with coke Maki swallows.
“When are you on?” Yuuta says, then.
“On?”
“She’s in a band, with Yuuji,” Yuuta says, easy about it like he is with most things. Like he doesn’t realise that maybe this is something he should’ve led with.
“What instrument do you play?” Maki finds herself asking. She doesn’t– she shouldn’t care, not really, it’s not like she’s coming back here, but-
“I- uh– on stage, I just sing,” she says, then, with her shoulders up to her ears.
“Inumaki’s playing the drums for them,” Yuuta supplies, rather unhelpfully, because Nobara is so clearly dressed to be on stage, despite the haphazard way that her staff shirt has been pulled over the rest of it. Short denim skirt, long socks, platform shoes. “But they need someone permanent,”
“Do you play?” Nobara looks hopeful. Her eyebrows are creased in the middle, her cheek pulled inbetween her teeth.
“Used to.” Maki says, “I stopped when I was sixteen, so I’m not very good anymore,”
Face falling slightly, Nobara shrugs, “can’t be worse than Toge,”
“Inumaki’s good-” Yuuta starts, but Nobara waves a hand at him.
“He can’t come on tour, so. That’s what I mean.” She puts Maki’s drink down in front of her. “You’re staying for the show, right?”
Maki hadn’t really been planning on staying long. “Yeah,”
Nobara beams. “Cool,”
—
two
Maki goes again, without having to be dragged out again, this time. She doesn’t trip down the stairs this time, and Yuuta is already excitedly chittering away about a new song that Yuuji apparently said they’d play for the first time tonight.
Nobara’s not disappointed, when the bartender is a tall white man who is clearly not trained in anything, who fumbles around the bar a bit like a baby deer. Yuuta looks like he wants to climb over and make his drink himself, at one point.
Just like the first time, the music is good. The bar is full, wall-to-wall, and this time, Maki finds herself not really minding that she’s being jostled around, happy to watch the four of them on stage, get lost in it a little. She missed this kind of thing, when she was busy studying. Mai used to try and get her to come to a bunch of gigs in their first year, before it became clear Maki really needed to focus if she wanted top grades.
On her way out, she gets tugged to the side by Yuuji in the stairwell. He’s got the same smile stuck on his face, hair still ruffled and glitter smudged all over his cheeks from being on stage. “Hey, I wanted to talk to you.”
Maki swallows. “Okay?”
Instead of elaborating like a normal person, Yuuji shoves a CD into her hands. Alright.
“Do I- I have to pay for this, right?”
Yuuji shakes his head at the speed of sound. “No, no, um. Nobara said you drum? And like, Yuuta too, but he only bought it up after she did,”
Maki hates the thought of other people sitting and talking about her, but- “I don’t, really. I play violin and piano, and– I taught myself drums. I’m really not that good.”
“Yuuta says he thinks you’re being modest,” Yuuji grins, “so like, you should listen to us and see if the drums are easy enough for you. There’s nothing complicated in any of our songs, I don’t think.”
“I–”
“Nobara plays all the fancy instruments too,” Yuuji steamrolls on, “like, she went to a proper music school, so you have that in common, you should talk to her,”
“I thought she– you all work here, right?”
To be honest, it’s kind of inappropriate, how much they’re talking about Nobara behind her back, how much information Yuuji just seems willing to give out for free. She knows they know Mai, but Maki’s still practically a stranger. Still, she– what’s taking advantage of it a little? Yuuji’s offering. She’s not asking for anything.
“Just me and Nobara,” Yuuji nods, “Megs– he doesn’t really need to work, ‘cause he lives with Gojo still-”
“Gojo?”
“Oh, the guy with the white hair on the bar tonight.”
“Right,”
“Yeah. So we just– to make ends meet, y’know?”
“When does Nobara finish music school?”
“Oh. She doesn’t, she dropped out,” Yuuji shrugs, like it’s easy to say, like it’s something Nobara wouldn’t mind him telling her.
There’s a pause. Maki swallows. “Uh. Sorry,”
“No, it’s fine. Um, take the CD. Think about it. We really need a drummer, so.”
“I don’t–” she wants to say nobody has CD players anymore, but that seems mean, so– “I don’t have a CD player.”
“We have a spotify, too, if you want,” Yuuji grins, all teeth.
—
three
“Maki!”
Maki looks up at the unfamiliar voice. She shouldn’t have.
Gojo is waving, big and bright, and Megumi, behind him, looks like he sort of wants to die, his cheeks red and eyebrows pulled into a scowl.
Maki knows how to be polite. She pulls out one headphone, looks up at Gojo and half-smiles. “Hello.”
Gojo, evidently, does not. He sits down at the table without asking, sprawls himself across a chair and looks at Maki with his cheeks pressed into his palms. Megumi, meanwhile, hovers, fingers twitching at his sides. Gojo snorts. “Sit down, Megs,”
Megumi gripes about it under his breath, but he sits. Steamrolling on, Gojo grins, “Yuuji was telling me about you,”
“Um. I’m Maki,” Maki says, rather dumb. She doesn’t know if Gojo knows who he’s talking to, is the thing. People mix them up all the time, and Yuuji and Nobara definitely know Mai.
“I know,” Gojo says.
“Not Mai.”
“I know. You two look really different, honestly.” Gojo shrugs, “especially in the light. Yuuji was saying you’re a drummer,”
“I–” Maki finds herself glancing at Megumi for help. He has none, just making a face that says he dragged me here, come on. “I don’t, really.”
“Yuuta was saying he heard you, back when you used to have a set in first year,” Gojo carries on, with no concern about pushing boundaries whatsoever.
“I don’t anymore, though,” Maki tries to insist, but Megumi finally sighs, pinches the bridge of his nose and cuts in.
“What he means is that we’re pretty desperate, and Nobara and Yuuji like you, and you’ve been a regular in the bar for a few months now,” he snaps, not unkindly, but not kindly, either. A third thing.
“I don’t play anymore,” Maki grits out, swallowing. Why is everyone trying to convince her to do this? The drum sections in the music are so easy, anyone could play them. She doesn’t know why they can’t find anyone.
“Gojo, don’t you have somewhere to be?”
Gojo, rather hilariously, twists his wrist, only for there not to be a watch there. He pulls out his phone, instead, and laughs, “you’re right, Megs, thank you,” and reaches over to ruffle his hair. Megumi grumps about it, but lets him as he stands up to leave. “I’ll see you around, Maki.”
They both wait for Gojo to leave, and he’s barely out of earshot when she looks at Megumi pointedly. “What does he have to do with the band?”
“He’s our manager. Technically.” Megumi sighs. “I don’t like you–”
“Thanks.”
“But we really need a drummer. And Yuuji and Nobara like you. And so does Yuuta and Panda and Inumaki, and they’re better judges of character than Yuuji is, so–”
“Really selling it here,”
“All I want is to hear you play,” Megumi finishes off, tilting his head to the side. His jaw is working as he looks at her.
It wouldn’t usually bother her, but Maki finds herself asking, “why don’t you like me?” Because they’ve barely talked. She’s exchanged maybe two or three words with him. She just thought he was quiet.
He looks her up and down like she should know already. “You’re a Zenin.”
“I haven’t been home in three years.” Maki says. The words come out of her mouth all in a rush: she’s not told anyone else. She lied to Yuuta last year and holed up in her dorm so no one would spot her and know she was alone during the holidays.
Megumi shrugs. “Good for you,”
“I’m–” Maki doesn’t know what to say, here. That she’s barely on speaking terms with her father? That she got caught texting a girl before she came to college and got threatened with not being able to leave at all? That she’s scared to go back? “Is this about Mai?”
“Mai’s–” Megumi wrinkles his nose. “Mai’s fine, I guess. I don’t like her, and she wasn’t good to Nobara, but– my last name. It’s Fushiguro,”
Maki blinks. Swallows. “Oh.”
Megumi seems to soften a little at that. “Yeah. You have to prove me wrong,”
He stands, and leaves her alone at the table.
—
four
Maki still has a silent drum set in her room. It was so expensive, and she bought it herself, so when she got rid of the rest of her instruments, she hadn’t had the heart to give it away, or to try and sell it.
She sits down, plays a bit. Warms up. The sticks feel good in her hands: a comforting weight.
There’s a bang on her door, after a moment. She opens it to find Inumaki standing there, headphones pulled down around his neck. He speaks, slowly and deliberately, signing with the words, “if you are going to make the walls vibrate and stop me studying, you should say yes.”
Silent drum sets are false advertising.
—
five
The bar is quieter than it usually is when Maki makes her way down the stairs. She’s a little earlier than she usually is, and Nobara is pretty much alone behind the bar. Still, she lights up, which is nice. Maki’s starting to think that they’re friends.
“Do you want the same?” She says, already moving to grab one of the glasses. Maki swallows.
“Surprise me, maybe?”
“God. You know that’s the worst thing you can say to a bartender, right?”
Maki scoffs and rolls her eyes. “I know, you’ve said-”
“Like, you’ve had one drink the entire time you’ve been coming here, I have no clue what you wanna drink. What if you hate it?”
“I won’t hate it.”
“You won’t tell me if you hate it,” Nobara corrects, but she’s already pulling out a different glass and some ice. “Don’t tell me if you hate it,”
“I won’t,” Maki says. She’s sure she’ll like the drink, though. Nobara’s a good bartender, looks good doing little tricks with the cocktail shakers and showing off.
The drink she makes is sweet, then a little sour. It slides down her throat all smooth, rich.
“This is good, what is it?”
“I’m not gonna tell you,” Nobara says. “Means you have to keep coming back,”
Maki will let it slide. “Are you that desperate for a drummer?”
Nobara’s nose wrinkles. She blinks, and frowns. “No.”
There’s a pause. Shuffling. Nobara looks down at her feet.
“Did you– Yuuji said you went to music school.”
“Yeah.”
“Why’d you stop? You still- you still make music,”
“Going to school for it is different. With Yuuji and Megumi, it’s like. It’s like. We do it together, you know? School is everyone against everyone else.”
“I–” there’s more truth to that than Maki’s willing to admit to Nobara– “yeah. I guess.”
“I– uh.” Nobara looks nervous suddenly, “we need- we need someone to help us out next weekend. Gojo got us a gig, but it’s ages away. We just need, like– a roadie, I guess?”
“I’m not strong.”
“You don’t have to be.” Nobara says, all in a rush. “You’re good.”
“Okay.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah, I’ll help.”
—
plus one
Nobara is flushed when she runs backstage, crashing into Yuuji and laughing. They’re on the other side of the city, a train ride away with all of their gear, courtesy of a favour from one of Gojo’s friends getting them driven here.
They’d changed the setlist that night, and none of them had to bartend like they usually do at home, Nobara actually getting a proper vocal warm up, sounding electric.
Her makeup is smudged and she’s grinning wide, hair ruffled from where it’s been grabbed by Megumi and Yuuji both, surrounding her. Inumaki is there too, but it’s not his music. This isn’t his band.
They’re not even headlining tonight. One of Gojo’s friends is, filling the venue to the rafters, but they played for them and the crowd loved them. Nobara looks over at Maki from their huddle and her eyes crinkle into a smile. “Come here.”
Maki goes. It’s long overdue, feet stumbling over one another. Nobara towers over her like she usually doesn’t, in her heels and her stage dress, skin shining with sweat. “Thanks for helping with everything,”
Maki gets pulled into the hug, mouth opening before she can help herself. “I’ll do it, if you still want.”
Yuuji whoops, and Megumi smiles (they’re growing on each other) and Nobara’s jaw drops. “Really?”
“I mean. I could be awful.” Maki says, breathless. “And you’d lose a roadie,”
“Shut up,”
Maki isn’t sure who says it, but she finds herself laughing all the same, as they break away from each other and Gojo appears, pulling out Megumi to his protests and letting Yuuji jump on him. Expecting her to go too, Maki steps back from Nobara, but finds herself being tugged back, fingers wrapped around her wrist.
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah.” Maki doesn’t have any words, really, for what they make her feel. Like part of a whole, a missing piece slotted in. Something she missed with her sister, with her family, with her lonely college experience sat studying.
Nobara squeezes Maki’s fingers between hers. “You’re gonna be good.”
“Are you sure?”
Nobara laughs, whispers, “you can tell me if I’m wrong,” and leans down and kisses her.
It’s a strange feeling, getting something and immediately wanting more of it. Nobara has to lean down because of her stage heels. Maki wants to kiss her again, off stage, in private, so Nobara has to lean up, see which feels more right.
She feels fingers at the nape of her neck, so gentle compared to the boisterous jumping against her bandmates from earlier. There’s a cheer from behind her which is either Yuuji or Gojo, but she doesn’t turn around to check.
She’s not doing a masters. She’s not going back to school at all. She’s starting new.
She breathes in, then out. “You’re not wrong,”
It’s whispered against Nobara’s mouth, soft. She laughs in return, swallowing the words whole. “I’m always right,”
She kisses her again. Maki closes her eyes.
--