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In the light, anything can appear dazzling.
The most debased garbage smells like spring. The ugliest of sounds lightens like air. The most hideous sight becomes more splendid than a painting.
That is the power of that brilliance.
But it’s not about having the right stage equipment or anything like that. “The light” isn’t literal illumination or anything stupidly straightforward like that.
No – it’s an inner power, something that leaves the space around you sparkling and iridescent.
A strength that people like Rinku Aimoto possess. And not just overbearing stars like her… genius artists, charismatic jokers, people who have a shape beyond just ‘normal.’
But hey, when have I ever had that kinda pull? You think I’m a politician or somethin’? I may suck, but not THAT bad. Gimme a little credit!
Nah. That clear, direct, shining path ain’t cut out for a mutt who’s been draggin’ her tail through the dirt all her life. But if you grow up in the mud, you learn how to fight dirty. No mangy hound’s gonna fight a lion head on. Instead…
“I have a secret plan!”
Eimi’s voice echoes throughout the emptyish Doghouse, only the half-attentive ears of her bandmates on hand to listen. “For what?” asks Shika. “You just said that unprompted.”
“I-I was thinking for a whole minute or two about it!” Eimi leans back against the counter, yawning with unearned exhaustion. “We gotta get our groove back somehow!”
“Ah jeez…” Bell stops sweeping the floor to nurse her temple. “Here we go again.”
“We’re doing just fine,” Shika protests, scrubbing a nearby chair. “Besides, I thought you hated hard work.”
“Have some respect for me!” Eimi whines. “We beat Happy Around just last month because of my skills, right, paisen?”
“Ultimate victory.” Date-chan flashes double peace signs. “No more mountains to climb. Yaaaay.”
Date-chan returns to cooking sugar in a metal spoon over a lighter. Why does she have baking soda out too…? Don’t give the kids at home the wrong idea! She’s just… making candy rocks. Yeah, that’s it. What she’ll do with those candy rocks… you can probably guess.
“It wouldn’t be terrible to get back to songmaking, though,” notes Bell, hand on chin. “With a light hand for production costs… residuals on single royalties… oh, and a licensing fee for any would-be samplers that we sneak in the terms and service!”
“Bell, your eyes are doing that glowy thing again.” Shika sighs, tossing her dirty cleaning rag aside. “But if you want to, Eimi, I’m not opposed or anything.”
“Oi oi, cut it out with the too-cool attitude, you poser,” Eimi barks. “I see you mess around with those turntables every day. You’re just itching to get recording again.”
“Huh?” Shika arches an eyebrow. “Doodling around on the turntable and composing a studio track aren’t the same thing at all. That’s like saying daydreaming about Kyoko Yamate’s face and shaking Kyoko Yamate’s hand are basically the same thing.”
“Why did you suddenly make it about your demigod…?”
“Demigod? You would consider her so lowly?”
Eimi crosses her arms in disbelief. “Doesn’t matter. We’ll prove ourselves even greater than her with this tactic.”
“Impossible,” says Shika. “It’s hubristic of you to even suggest that.”
Eimi smirks weakly. “I’m amazed you even know what hubris is.”
“‘Tis the folly of man... Pride cometh before a fall.” Date-chan puts the crystals she had cooked in a pipe and flicks on her lighter.
“Hey, no smoking in the Doghouse!” Bell snaps, pointing to a sign.
Date-chan looks heartbroken. “But… if I do it on the street… I’ll get arrested again… even though it’s legal…”
“In what reality is putting white rocks in a pipe and smoking them not suspicious, paisen?!” Eimi asks. “And can we stop with the half-baked comedy routine?! I haven’t been able to announce a thing!”
“I’m not sure it’s half-baked – I think Date-chan cooked it all the way through…” Bell mutters.
Yes, this is the life of a loser. Four of them, to be exact.
For a brief, dreamlike moment in time we commanded the spotlight. But nothing gold can stay. We should resign ourselves to a peaceful, unbothered life…
…Just kidding! Who’s only ever satisfied with one taste of glory? Get real.
“So what is this scheme of yours?” asks Shika.
Eimi chuckles deeply. “What we seek is conquest. Already have we been satiated on the flavor of a popular victory, relishing in the adoration of the masses.”
“Yeah, and we can’t make lightning strike twice,” says Bell, shaking her head. “We had the momentum of an underdog story. But once an underdog wins they’re just… an overdog.”
“Wow. Five-star phrase. Want me to clap for that?” Eimi’s voice is poisonously sweet, not unlike the substance Date-chan rolled around in her hands at that moment. “I know this already, Lieutenant Bell. But we need not thunder for our success. For you see… there are multiple kinds of victory.”
“Meaning…?” asks Shika.
“Murder, I’m guessing,” murmurs Date-chan, a pleasant smile on her face.
“The hell? Never!” Eimi rummages a hand through her bleached highlights. “Do you think I’m really that much of a sicko?”
The silence lingers just a little too long.
“Well screw you guys!” Eimi hocks a loogie into a nearby trash can. “I’d kill you before Rinku Aimoto, that’s for sure.”
“You wouldn’t be able to,” Shika scoffs.
“Have the will of a paperclip,” Bell sighs.
“You’d die first every time,” Date-chan states.
“........I hate all of you.”
“Well what other kind of victory could you mean?” asks Shika.
“Easy.” Eimi snaps her fingers and points. “A moral one.”
“Moral…?” asks Bell, shoulders slumping. “Do you think Happy Around embezzles money to produce their activities or something?”
“Tsk tsk! It’s not about some sort of shady financing – it’s about the art.” Eimi makes a pleading face and prayer hands. “How pure and sweet and lovely that sound is… so warm and idealistic… and you know what that makes it? Fake.”
“Reality is in the eye of the beholder,” Date-chan notes. “That’s why I can see The Shoe Man when others can’t.”
“Who… is that?” asks Bell, looking worried. “But I think she’s right. They project such genuine warmth that I think a lot of people don’t doubt their sincerity. We’re not gonna win just by being ‘honest.’”
“Not honest – real!” Eimi thumped her chest. “Because who loves realness? Snooty art snobs who gatekeep what they find worthy or not!”
She looks directly at Shika as she says it, who glowers in response. “So you think if one or two respected critics likes it that’s all that matters?”
“Something like that!” Eimi replies. “We just have to make something high-concept and esoteric that seems super deep. I mean, actually being super deep would be cool too.”
“Hold on.” Bell’s gaze narrows. “Didn’t we have a whole fight about our music needing to be more commercially friendly before?”
“That was then, this is now~!” Eimi chimes. “Your dear EimiP is switching gears in order to drum up a small, impassioned group of diehards as opposed to tasteless normies. Hold your applause, I know I’m amazing and all…”
“Unbelievable.” Shika looks somewhere between flabbergasted and pissed off. “So what? You want me to go back to making tracks as indulgent as possible?”
“In a way.” Eimi pats her on the shoulder. “You just gotta be more… artsy. Don’t give a crap about all that pop stuff, just let loose with the weirdest ideas you got. Money?”
Shika pushes her hand away. “You really suck at this.”
“Hey, at least try it before telling me I’m awful!” Eimi retorts. “Or are you just a coward?”
“We cannot run from confrontation,” Date-chan notes. “Conflict is how we grow as a species. Challenges become surmounted. This is the basics of dialectics. Date-chanalectics. Yaaay.”
“It really does seem callous of you.” Bell’s stare is ten times more withering than Shika’s.
“It’s not about regression,” Eimi insists. “Don’t just throw together what you like willy-nilly. Think about what makes it the most refined. What would win an award.”
Shika sighs. “Well, I’ll see what I can do. Just don’t half-ass your own work.”
“Me? Never.”
Three glares.
“Rough crowd.” Eimi yawns and stretches. “Gonna head home if we got nothing else today. Good work, thank you.”
Bell and Shika halfheartedly mutter the same in response as she leaves.
A producer needs vision, acumen, critical thinking. The ability to envision a path forward through uncharted waters.
Cooler heads prevail. But I’m not known for having one of those. After all, at the end of the day, I’m more stuck up than any of them.
…
Could they imagine the real reason I’m doing this?
I’m barely cognizant of it myself.
But feeling that person’s hand brush mine away with long, supple fingertips… fingertips that form and remix a world beyond anything I can envision…
I remember.
That she is one of those brilliant people, whether cognizant of it or not.
It’s blinding.
And yet I can’t help but want to stare longer, until my retinas singe to nothing.
People like to undersell how many truths are in this world.
It’s easy to throw your hands up in this postmodern reality and claim everything is constructed, and nothing is consistent. Even the sun that rises in the east and sets in the west will one day burn out, but not before engulfing our long-dead earth.
I would long to blaze in such a way myself. But I know I’m no star. I’m the darkness that surrounds one.
Yet that position gives me a better view of the light. Of truth itself. Which is why I know some things are irrefutable. Like that people are selfish, or not all your hard work will pay off in the end.
But… the biggest truth in all the universe… one that is absolutely unassailable beyond question…
“...Are you just going to linger here?” Bell shakes her head with a resigned smile. “That’s what a friendless freeloader would do, I guess.”
…There is no force in this universe more frightening than a mother-in-law.
Maybe I’m a bit hasty in calling her that. I already said she was like a mother dog, protecting her puppies, but… am I really wedded to one?
Do dogs have weddings? Am I myself a dog?
…Well, I do like wearing a collar. I can never say that out loud, though.
“Eimi-chan,” says Date-chan gently. “You’re staring into space again.”
“I am…?” Eimi mutters. “Crap!”
“It’s always so easy to tell when you’re monologuing,” Bell sighs.
“Who does that?” asks Shika, craning her head from her computer chair. “Do you fantasize about turning your life’s work into an autobiography or something?”
“N-Not all the time!” Eimi yelps. “Right now I was just thinking about dogs.”
“I know a convention nearby you might like,” says Date-chan, her typical vacant smile wide on her face. “They’re selling full dog suits there.”
“They are? I mean, uh, sounds kinda weird,” adds Eimi hastily, eyes darting away. “Only freaks would do that kinda thing.”
“And you’re normal?” asks Shika.
“Ten minutes ago you were repeating Kyoko Yamate’s phrases in front of a mirror like a prayer while slathering yourself in burger juice!”
“Don’t disrespect my religion. Rituals are important if I want to get accepted to the holy land one day.”
“The holy land…? You mean the next Peaky concert?”
“The lottery’s been shit to me in the past.”
There are some moments where it hits you that THIS is the person your sense of ego orbits around.
“Can we actually talk about what we came here for?” asks Bell, hugging a pillow. “My room is cramped for four people.”
“What, you don’t like getting nice and cozy?” asks Date-chan. “Huddling for warmth helps you save on the electric bill.”
Bell rubs her chin in thought, other hand twitching towards the thermostat. “You have a point–”
“Oi, paisen! Don’t give the mangy miser ideas, or she’ll start skipping meals to save cash!” Eimi exhales. “Honestly… I feel like the only one around here with common sense sometimes.”
“What was that, third-rate scammer?” asks Shika.
“Repeat that again, Ms. Delusions of Grandeur,” shoots Bell.
“You can lie better than that, garbage woman,” deadpans Date-chan.
“Yeesh!” Eimi recoils back. “Do you all hate me or something… are you gonna up and abandon me for the next cool awesome beautiful producer that crosses your midst…”
“...’Next’?” Bell repeats.
“Wow. I couldn’t believe a single word reflected back could be so much like a bullet. I think I’m bleeding right now.”
“Are you here to mess around, or did you want to listen to the demo?” asks Shika.
Mouths shut themselves up in moments. Shika taps the spacebar on her keyboard.
…It’s a very ‘her’ sound. You would need at least three words to describe the genre. The groove never lasts long before changing keys, time signature, or both.
There’s an undeniable allure to her vision, that shimmering splendor her fingertips always bring. And yet…
“Something’s missing.”
“What is?” asks Shika.
“Uh…” Eimi’s eyes trace towards the ceilings. “Y’know. That real ‘bang pow zoom’ factor.”
“That’s not exactly a concrete criticism.” Shika slumps back in the chair, eyebrow arched. “Explain it properly.”
“I-I dunno!” Eimi crosses her arms and leans against the wall. “It’s not a banger or a bop… but it’s not like, bad or anything either… it just is.”
“I don’t think you could give a vaguer description if you tried,” says Bell, looking exasperated. “Can you describe it as what it is, rather than what it isn’t?”
“I know. It’s music.” Date-chan flashes double peace signs. “We can all agree on that, right?”
“As genius as ever, paisen…” speaks Eimi with awe. “You say it so perfectly.”
“Eimi.” Shika’s voice is curt and pointed. “Tell me what’s wrong. Now.”
The directness of her voice is at once terrifying and thrilling. A part of me is tempted to string her along.
And yet, I know she deserves more than that. She deserves to have my thoughts put into words. But how could I?
The spectacle of her art exceeds the gutter-born vocabulary with which I’m endowed. Can you describe the feeling of stardust in your hair? The universe in your chest? The absence that eats away at your ribcage from the inside?
How much easier it is to describe the something than the nothing. And how often I’ve felt like the latter.
But it isn’t about my own emptiness. It’s about her brilliance. And I need to make it shine.
“...Right now, it’s eclectic for the sake of eclecticness.”
“Because that’s what you asked for,” says Shika.
“No. I asked for something artistic, not quirky.” Eimi does her best to sound thoughtful. “Think through all the turns and creative decisions. What are you trying to convey? What’s the message?”
“Funny.” Bell stares at Eimi’s eyes. “I never thought of you as moralistic.”
“Who, me?” Eimi laughs sheepishly. “I’m the paragon of virtue, don’t you know?”
“Her words ring true, in spite of the dishonesty of who speaks them,” says Date-chan (stinging Eimi’s ears). “Art is not merely the process of slathering a canvas on a whim. It’s a process of communication… the artist and the audience, understanding one another through chosen medium. What are you trying to convey?”
No reply.
“Yeah.” Eimi nods. “What are we trying to say?”
Shika is quiet. Her eyes turn back to the computer, glazed over with contemplation. She murmurs a ‘got it’ and returns to work.
I wonder if she knows my question is for myself, too. More than it’ll ever be for her.
Sunlight pours in upon youth.
Desks spaced evenly apart, streaked with old pencil markings from delinquents long graduated. That is youth. Students yapping about the inconsequential doldrums of their life, more precious than diamonds. That is youth. Love gossip spiraling through the air in hushed whispers, quieter than the cacophonous thump-thump of smitten hearts. That is youth.
I am young. But not youthful.
“Hey, did you see Ike-kun’s appearance on that variety show?”
“Talk about a dreamboat!”
“His humor is almost as smooth as his face…”
The vacuous ramblings of such-and-suchmori and what’s-her-namemoto play out in front of me, as taken with male celebrity as any young girl would be. Should be.
I wish I could claim to not care about such shallow fame… but oh, I do. It’s just handsome guys I don’t care for. A dime a dozen, really.
…Doesn’t everybody else see them as they are? Just another plastic face to flip to you for five thousand yen?
But I covet guys like that. Not their attention, or approval… just their status. That fortune. I bet I could find the right one to schmooze up and get a ticket straight to the ritziest high life in Ginza.
“...”
Such-and-suchmori catches my gaze, and her brow wrinkles just a centimeter. Can she read my glory-craving thoughts?
Let her judge. It’s not like she’s wrong.
A prod in the back. “Eimi-chan, you’ve got that glazed over look in your eye. What are you thinking about this time?”
“Eh?” Eimi bolts upright, putting on a fake smirk. “Just plotting our future domination as a group, that’s all…”
“You were locked in on that magazine they were holding,” Bell remarks. “I’d ask if you were taken with the boys there, but knowing you, you’re probably fantasizing about life as a gold digger.”
“What?! Stop projecting, you cheapskate chihuahua!”
“I’m not projecting! If anything, I was going to compliment you on your pragmatic acumen!” Bell’s eyes glow with moneylust. “Entertainment industry husbands call a little too much attention, though. You want an invisible suit in high finance to mooch off of.”
“I can’t help but wonder if we’re missing the point of true love…” Eimi mutters.
“But with enough money, you can buy infinite sugar,” says Date-chan. “Which is the same as true love.”
“Yeah sure, you and the white stuff really is my OTP, paisen.”
Date-chan nods happily. “I’ll invite you to the wedding.”
“Right.” Eimi discards the remark. “Anyway… we should consider how to attract more people to our next showing…”
“I thought you were all about the integrity of the music now,” says Bell. “Or is that just to Shii-chan?”
“Art means nothing without an audience. I think one of them philosophers talked about that once. Or something.”
Date-chan giggles. “That was meeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee.”
Eimi flexes an arm. “Point is, we gotta do our jobs while Shika does hers. Come to think of it, where is she?”
“Still in homeroom, presumably,” says Date-chan. “School is a system designed to mold young minds for the brutalities of capitalistic society, grinding them down with little chance to rest or act with autonomy. She may be seeking a brief moment of respite.”
“A little deep for me there, but she’s the kinda person to exhaust herself while making a track, so I get it.” Eimi stands up. “I’ll go check up on her if you two wanna stay here.”
“Hmmmm,” hums Bell, finger on her chin. “I wanted to talk to my dad about our retention strategy for the fall quarter, so I’ll go ahead to the Doghouse.”
“I have slides for it,” says Date-chan, giving a thumbs up.
“...Eimi-chan.” Bell looks at her imploringly. “Treat Shii-chan well.”
“Whaddya mean?”
She provides no answer before making for the doorway. I can’t make out either her expression or the tone in her voice. Date-chan spares me a knowing smile on the way out.
Good lord. I never know what anyone in this group is thinking. Least of all myself.
“Hehe!”
What’s-her-namemoto’s sharp giggle pierces the air. Somehow, it feels pointed straight at me.
Is it because it is? Or just because I wish they’d acknowledge my presence?
I don’t have time to navel-gaze about it. If there’s one place I can make them – make anyone – look at who I am, it’s on the stage.
And on the stage… I need her there.
…
The hallways also reek of youth. Empty squares of sunlight upon bulletin boards of faded fliers. The odd teacher passes through with stacks of papers. Or a gaggle of girls who walk hand in hand, without an ounce of love to be found between them. A daze of school days.
I round the corner into Shika’s classroom.
The sun is still here, but softer, illuminating a patch of afternoon in the center, right where she sits: where she lies. Her head is cradled in one hand, her other arm splayed out and dangling over the edge of her desk. As I get close, the sound of gentle breathing enters my ears. The day outlines her silhouette, white streaks in her hair alight, like an angel on earth with the face of a death god. The red around her eyes glows brighter than a flame.
“...”
I should nudge her awake. Tell her it’s time to go to work. But could you smear a canvas with your blurry fingerprints? It’d be an affront to good taste. All I can do is admire what’s before me.
…No. The compulsion is too great. My eyes track down to her fingers hanging off the desk edge, long and slender, sculpted with the gentlest of curves. I hold them as if they were made of dust and dreams. These very hands, that shape the sound of my life… are more valuable than all of the crude words in my layabout head.
I bend down towards the tips of her fingers, and…
Shika lets out a soft groan and stirred. “What’s…”
She raises her head to see Eimi, lips puckered, mouth centimeters from her hand.
“WOAH!” Shika yanks her hand back, red. “Gross! What the hell!”
“I–It is not gross! It’s romantic! …Right?” Eimi is just as flush. “If you saw Kyoko Yamate like that, you’d do the same thing!”
“No I wouldn’t,” Shika scoffs. “If I touched Kyoko Yamate I would vaporize into light and ash immediately.”
“Your conception of her is… so…” Eimi shakes her head. “Nevermind. You exhausted?”
“What do you think?” Shika stifles a yawn. “Was up late trying to appease your ridiculous demands.”
“Ridiculous?” asks Eimi. “I’m one of the most sensible people you know!”
“Maybe Top 5. If I’m being generous.”
Eimi, stunned to be ranked so high, grows bashful. “Would Top 3 work…?”
“Oh, stop it.” Shika scoots her chair back. “We should get to work.”
“Eh?” Eimi’s heart slows. “Why not enjoy this moment of pure quiet together?”
My true desire leaks out. I’m afraid she’ll snap at me for messing around.
Instead she’s just as silent as I am. For a moment, her eyes lock with mine.
Then, they trace somewhere else. Somewhere distant.
I should be looking somewhere distant, too. But I’m stuck on the warmth her hand had in mine. I can’t forget it so soon.
That’s why all this started. That’s why I have to keep it going. To feel that hand in mine again. To stroke its contours. To trace its palm lines. To curl its fingers.
How selfishly decadent.
…
“I… also like this song. It’s one of my favorites.”
“...”
There isn’t a note in the air. And yet I can hear it. Thrumming louder than the turning world below my feet. Than all the cheap and petty desires that rattle around my skull.
Perhaps I have youth after all.
“...I can’t understand you.”
Eimi blinks. “Me?”
“You’re more capricious than a cat made of wind,” says Shika. “I feel like I could turn around tomorrow with a perfect track when you’ve suddenly changed your mind looking for something else.”
“I’m nothing if not consistent.” Eimi motioned to herself. “Believe me, I know what I want.”
“And what is that?”
The words tighten in my throat at the thought of speaking it aloud.
How easy it would be, to instead admire the plastic boys in those magazines.
Instead… I’m entranced by the gaze of this pallid reaper.
I have youth. But not the same youth as anyone else.
Fortunately, there’s never just one truth.
“I want… brilliance.” Eimi clutches the edge of the desk. “To let my voice echo from here to the end of the milky way, to outdo Rinku Aimoto and all the others, even if only for a moment… that’s what I want.”
“You already did, for a moment.” Shika leans forward. “Is another so essential?”
“When you string moments together, you end up with days, and then months, and before you know it, a lifetime.” Eimi laughs confidently. “Well?”
“You stole that from someone else, didn’t you?” Shika glares with the intensity of a razor. “That cutesy sentimentality isn’t your style.”
Crap, how does she know? Am I that easy to read?
…Maybe I just wanted to feel youthful, however unbecoming of me it is.
“Be honest,” says Shika. “Be selfish. Talk about how you want to hog glory. For people to chant your name. To be loved.”
“Who wouldn’t want that?” asks Eimi. “Do you think you’re above it all, you hipster recluse? Like pop songs are worthless in your ears?”
“After you asked me to be more ‘artsy.’” Shika shakes her head. “Honestly, you’re somehow both lowbrow and pretentious.”
“Oh, like wanting to be artsy for attention is any worse than your own inflated sense of ego,” Eimi bites back. “We’re in the same doghouse, you and I.”
“Don’t I know it.”
“You should!”
Beat.
“Eimi.” Shika’s eyes simmer with quiet fire. “What’s the brightest star in the sky?”
“The brightest…?” Eimi looks up in thought for a moment. “Sirius, right? The dog star? Why do they call it that?”
“Beats me. But…”
“Hey hey, I know what you’re trying to do.” If Eimi had a tail, it’d be wagging. “You’re saying I’m as bright as that.”
“Th-That’s not…” Shika put a hand in front of her face. “Are you insane?!”
“What? I thought we were being all metaphorical! You think I’m pretty, don’t you?” Eimi grins. “Heh… you don’t need to play hard to get. Tell me how bright and awesome I am!”
I wonder if that’s the error.
Either way, when her hands meet my sternum, pushing me back against another desk… I can’t claim surprise.
“You’re disgusting!”
The pounding of her footsteps fade down the hall. Her shout lingers in the empty classroom. No one else is there to hear it.
The only one who can cringe at the size of my egotism is me. The dog days of summer beat on outside.
The orange of my narrow bedroom is at once comforting and oppressive.
Sunset dyes me in melancholy. I don’t like being alone. It’s not due to some meager lack of self-esteem or worry of wayward thoughts… I just don’t feel like I can be myself.
But what does make me myself, then? Is it someone else?
If it is… then that someone else is who knocks right now.
“Bell, are you there?”
A voice I hear every day. But it’s usually mightier than this. Here it shows its true timbre, weak and quaking, like my heart when I realize who it is.
“Shii-chan?” Bell hops off her bed and opens the door. “What’s—”
Shika falls into her, husky mass boring upon her small frame.
For a moment, I can sense it all. The smell of her hair. The texture of her hoodie. The weight of her sorrow. I don’t worry at all about whether my muscles or bones can stand strong; it’s my spirit that crumbles.
“D-Did something happen?” Bell struggles to remain upright, twisting to sit Shika down on the bed. “I haven’t seen you like this before… or at least not since…”
“I… I’m fine.” Shika cradles her head. “Just tired.”
Don’t lie, Shii-chan. You’re so terrible at it.
Eimi-chan’s fibs may be just as flimsy, but at least their hot air makes them look bigger. She says them with her full chest, as if trying to convince herself, too, that they’re real.
Yours, though… just stab like needles.
“...Eimi-chan?” guessed Bell.
Shika’s hand tightened upon her skirt hem. “It’s not her. She’s too stupid and vain to worry about. It’s me… it’s me.”
“What do you mean?”
Shika pulled her knees up, burying herself in them. “I… I never cared what anybody thought about my music before. I was content to indulge in my tastes. Even after you told me it wasn’t enough to be commercially viable, I was still able to just let the music flow in me… but it’s so frustrating…” She lifted her head. “That stupid, calculating smirk… it won’t leave my mind.”
“...So it is Eimi-chan.” Bell isn’t sure how to move her body in the moment. “What happened with her?”
“Just a normal, everyday conversation.” Shika lolled her head to the side. “But then… I don’t know. She was pissing me off. And then I said things I didn’t mean to say.”
“Like…?”
Words go unanswered. I understand. You’re too fragile to repeat them.
You always were the most delicate creature I know.
How many times did I wish for this scene in my head? Of you stumbling into my arms like a lost puppy?
I hate it. I hate how badly I wanted it, like cream just beyond my lips that I have to reach my tongue out to lick clean. And now that it’s here, I can’t…
“Bell?” Her hand cupped Shika’s face.
I want to hold her forever. To tell her she doesn’t have to do a thing. That I’ll take care of it, and nothing will change. She and Eimi can make music, simple and purely, without worrying about anyone else.
That fantasy is playing out before my eyes right now. I could seal it with lips, a daydream burned into my mind forever.
But…
To make her stay as she is… would be denying her the freedom to move forward. I can’t leash her like that.
So all I’m left to do… is stare into her eyes, and wonder what is reflected in them.
“Are you… okay?”
My hand falls limp. Is this prudence, resignation, cowardice? I don’t know the difference.
My skin is numb. I’m caught between what I should do and what I want to do. And the longer that Shii-chan stares into my eyes, the harder it is for breath to escape my throat.
In the end… I can’t manage resolute pushing, or comforting stillness. Only meager ambivalence.
“It’s alright.”
Shika blinks. “What is?”
That’s right. I’m… I’m not the one who’s there for Shii-chan… for Shika anymore.
“You…” Bell takes her hand more roughly than intended. “You don’t need to do anything. Eimi-chan understands. She’ll know that you—”
Shika growls. “Does she? Or is she too self-absorbed?”
“Wh…” Anger flares within. “Why are you so preoccupied with what she thinks, anyway?! I’m right here!”
“Are you? And what do you think?”
“I don’t know! You didn’t tell me what happened!”
Words strike like lightning. Before I realize it, we’re both shaking.
Why… when usually everything between us is so smooth…
“God…” Tears hit Shika’s lap. “I’m an idiot.”
Next thing Bell knows she’s on her feet. “Shii-chan!!”
My plea goes unanswered. Her feet trundle down the stairs at rapid speeds. Next thing I know I’m chasing after her.
I don’t even have time to bid farewell to Date-chan in the lobby. I burst out the door after Shii-chan, crying out for her to wait.
Why.
Why?
Why is she always so far ahead of me?
Cars pass by, illuminating all parts of the road that aren’t me. That annoying voice in my brain wonders for no reason what it’d be like to wander into traffic. “The call of the void,” as it’s known.
I’d rather be among the cars than the other people on the sidewalk, at least. Every sideways glance, no matter how innocuous, feels like a stray bullet aimed my way. It’s not like I’m even dressed or acting weird. Just the act of being is enough to feel out of place.
My ego is a balloon, falling apart at the slightest prick. Where there was energy and direction this morning, I only find an abyss I want to shut myself inside of.
Am I afraid of people? Or do I just hate them?
…There’s at least one person I don’t hate.
But the fact that she might hate me… makes me hate myself all the more.
This is the part where a real protagonist would slap herself on the cheeks, say it’s not good to be down in the dumps, get raring and get going. That kind of saccharine shit.
But I’m not bright enough for that, you know.
My head’s sunken as I shuffle into the Doghouse. The fact that I could move my legs there in the first place is telling of something. What, I don’t know.
All the words I could say, the ones I grappled with in my head… leave my chest as I realize how empty it is inside. The only person there is…
“Eimi-chan.” Date-chan doesn’t smile; her only action is to swivel on her barstool. “I wonder if you’d show up today.”
She expected me to flake work? … She knows me better than I’d ever say out loud.
I’m not even sure why I’m here myself. Did I want to apologize to Shika? What for, exactly?
…For pretending like I could ever be better than her?
“Are they…” The words leave Eimi’s throat like sand. “In Bell’s room?”
Date-chan shakes her head. “They ran out a few minutes ago.”
“Eh?” Eimi’s despondency morphs into shock. “Wait, ran ?”
“For a club, the walls in here are awfully thin.” Date-chan motions towards Bell’s room. “I heard everything.”
“What do you mean?” Eimi can’t look her in the eye. “Did something happen?”
“That’s my question,” Date-chan replies. “Shika-chan saw you before she came here, didn’t she?”
“Wh-What do I say to that?” Eimi grips her elbow. “Nothing… happened. It was totally nothing. I… I can’t even remember how…”
How I hurt her.
Because that’s what happened, isn’t it?
I tried to connect, or chat, or flirt… and just by trying to stand at her side… pain radiates down both of us.
On stage, you stand above people. You don’t have to worry about bumping shoulders, or others’ trails kicking dust into your lungs. You can shout over them. Staring out into their grim darkness, the only light in sight being their fawning admiration of you.
That’s it. I never wanted to stand with her. I wanted to stand above her, just like all the rest. Even though she was the only reason I could stand on that stage in the first place.
The selfish star cares not for the orbits that formed it in the first place.
But… I’ve always been below her, haven’t I?
“That’s how communication goes.”
Eimi looks towards her. Date-chan is pensive.
“No man is an island. And yet we’re all separate minds writing our own stories, desperately throwing out SOSes in hopes that someone will notice.” Date-chan speaks with quiet surety. “We speak a common language, and yet what we see between the lines can be the difference between night and day.”
“As if I’m good with lines in the first place,” Eimi scoffs. “Reading… writing… I’m just stumbling around in the dark, looking for a light.”
“...So is she.”
A beat.
“Eimi-chan.” Date-chan smiles softly. “If you’re also in that dark… then maybe you can go through it together.”
“Together?” Eimi looks away, voice cracking. “As if. She’s… too… how could I put anything into words…”
“In one sense, you two are yin and yang, sides of the same coin. But no matter how different the breed… all dogs are dogs at the end of the day.”
“All dogs are dogs…” Eimi rolls the words over in her head. “Are you saying… I’m the only one who can help her?”
“Of course not. Bell-chan is already chasing her.”
“N-No.” Eimi tightens her hand. “Say it anyway.”
“You are not the only one who can be there for Shika-chan. If anything, you’d be there for yourself first.” Date-chan nods. “But that may be why you’re the best suited to help her. The best suited to speak to her.”
“As if I could talk, after what happened earlier.” Eimi nearly collapses onto one of the tables. “There’s too much going on in my head.”
“Then do what you’re made for.”
From the bar, she grabs a mic and holds it out to me.
Eimi balks. “You... you can’t mean…”
“Remember.” Date-chan looks straight through her. “Eimi-chan is the best suited in the world for this.”
The whole world? In all its starving and huddled masses? The thought of my pain superceding theirs… is so pleasurable.
I bite back the desire to have her repeat it. The only person I want to see sing my praises right now… to acknowledge what and who I am… is a husky greyhound.
I take the mic from Date-chan’s hand, smirking confidently.
“Let loose the dogs of war.”
Date-chan’s smile disappears. “You’ll have to do better than that.”
…So much for being the best in the world.
A hop, skip, and jump later, I’m out the door. Knowing what I have to do. What I want to do.
I don’t know how long ago I lost track of Shii-chan.
It only makes sense. Her legs are longer than mine. Neither of us have much stamina, but hers is greater.
I have to prop myself up against the wall of a dingy back alley just to catch my breath. The gulps of air I swallow are rotten with the stench of garbage. Fitting for my state of mind.
Honestly… what am I even doing? What was I planning to say to her?
…That we could go back to the way things were before?
That delicate inertia I’d maintained for so many years, protecting her from the forces of the world… and now, she’s left to face them on her own.
No, not on her own… I’m still with her… but… but…
Nothing is as it was.
Is that what I long for? Those times when I was foremost in her heart and mind?
…Did those days exist? Or did I only wish they did?
Maybe I just wanted to justify my penny-pinching. A mongrel who dreamed of being a pig.
And pigs love the filth. That’s why I don’t care that my shoes are half buried in unidentified puddles of liquid, or that the smell of trash makes me want to throw up, or that the sky is overcast. I’m where I was going to inevitably end up.
…
“B-Bell?”
I turn, heart imploding in my chest upon the sound of her voice.
Of course. No matter how far ahead Shii-chan runs, the former track team member could catch up more easily than anyone else.
She’s carrying a plastic bag with something unseen in it. I want to blithely guess it’s dogshit, but I’m not in the mood to be flippant.
“Did Shika go this way?” Eimi looks down the alleyway.
“...Somewhere.” Bell pushes herself to stand up straight. “I think she’s going to the beach.”
“The beach…?” Eimi’s brow furrows. “Well, should we go, then?”
Something inside me hitches. It’s not my breath, or my blood. Maybe it’s just myself.
“...Bell?”
Suddenly I’m standing in front of her. Blocking the way to Shii-chan. Doing the same thing as last time. Lesson unlearned.
I really can’t let go, can I?
“...What are you going to say to her?” asks Bell, weariness dripping from her mouth. “Whatever happened between the two of you… a simple sorry won’t cut it.”
“Well…”
“You think you can say or do whatever you’d like. Because you’re the producer. The lead MC. The star. Is that it?” Bell’s voice cracks like glass. “Shii-chan isn’t some toy for you to play with! Not some prize to be won! You can’t just keep stringing her along, not letting her spread her wings and fly…!”
Look at that bewildered look on her face. She must wonder where I’m getting this from.
If only she knew it was the murmurs of my own heart.
When I get home tonight… I’m sure my pillow cover will become stained with my shame.
All I wanted was to protect her. Now that I can’t do that, I just cling feebly to the ghost of that role, unable to move forward.
“...None of us have wings.”
Bell whips her head up. “Huh?”
“That’s why we’re all in the gutter.” Eimi’s eyes track to the side. “If I could fly away towards the sun… I would in a heartbeat.”
Bell stares for a moment before bursting out in laughter.
“H-Hey!”
“Just like Eimi-chan, to evoke the image of Icarus like that’s something to aspire to…” Bell can’t contain her giggles. “But… I understand. Like moths to flame, we are.”
“...You are too?”
“Even I have my depths.”
“In your wallet, maybe.”
“I wish.” Bell slumps over. “Then I could buy my way out of the gutter.”
“Well, money can’t buy happiness. Or talent. Or charisma.” Eimi thumps her chest, winking. “And if you’re worried about Shika… fret not. I have a secret plan.”
Bell, completely emotionless, gazes into her.
“Wh-What?” Eimi shrinks back. “Do you doubt my abilities! Don’t look at me like a disappointed mother waiting for her daughter to eat peas! I’ll wither away into atoms!”
Bell sighs. “I don’t know what I expect from you.”
But… maybe it’s the fact that she can act so brazen… that Shii-chan values so much.
I’ll never be able to ask her about it. But it’s clear… which one of us would be able to speak to her heart right now.
Bell steps aside. “Go, then.”
“Eh? You sure?” Eimi looks legitimately surprised. “Don’t you want to join me? To… potentially be the bearer of any bad news?”
“My place was once in front of Shii-chan, guarding her from any predators who’d swallow her whole.” Bell’s gaze tracks up towards a moonless sky. “Now I can’t even stay at her side. To be chasing after her tail… isn’t the sort of thing I should consign myself to.”
“I’m not sure I get it.” Eimi makes something between a fist pump and a flex. “If there was a tail in front of me, I’d chase it no matter what!”
Bell pinches her nose and shakes her head. “Classic Eimi-chan. Then go get some tail already.”
“Haha—wait I think you said that wrong.”
“Did I?”
A moment of silence. Eimi takes a step forward before stopping herself. “Bell, the brightest star in the sky is Sirius, right?”
“Hm? That’s correct. Why?”
“Shika asked me… what the brightest star in the sky was. My answer… seemed to be what upset her.”
Shii-chan has that side to her? I never knew. Another precious aspect.
She’s always been… the brightest star in my sky, after all.
…
Shii-chan… is that what you meant? Is that what you were looking for?
“Eimi-chan, do you know what kind of star Sirius is?”
“Huh?” Eimi scratches her cheek. “Er, a really bright one?”
“Sirius is a binary star,” Bell explains. “It looks like a single brilliant dot to us… but it’s actually two different stars, locked in perpetual orbit around one another. And those two stars’ brightness… has been the greatest shine in the sky for millennia.”
“Oh, that so…” Eimi nods. “And…?”
Bell deflates. “Nevermind. Go ahead and go.”
“Oh, okay.” Eimi looks suspicious, but accepting. “Then, er, see you later?”
“Goodbye.”
She traipses off with only a half-glance behind her. Always moving forward, even when she gets stuck…
Honestly… how is she able to do it?
Every dog has its day. Right now isn’t mine.
But not every dog got famous for chasing, either. For some, it was just the opposite.
So instead I look towards that distant beach, clear my bleary eyes, and wait.
I will always wait for you, Shii-chan. Until the day you don’t return to me.
The sand is pliant beneath my worn sneakers.
Smog from factories along the coastline choke out the sky. The night casts the sea in murky black.
In the daytime, it’d be no less ugly. At least now not every blemish is lit up for the world to gawk at.
I wondered if I would actually find her here. But there she is on the shore. Shoes to the side. Gazing out at the waves that lap at her feet.
I wonder how to approach. “Hey”? “Sorry”? “Sup”? Well… nothing to do but go for it.
“Yo yo yo, what’s crack-a-lackin?”
Shika turns, looks at Eimi, and says nothing.
“Wh-what?” Eimi cowers. “Was I too hip for you? Using new age slang you couldn’t possibly understand?”
“More like the tongue of the ancients.” It almost looks like Shika’s smiling. “That sort of language is from before you were even born.”
“Not cool with how funky fresh I can be, G?”
“Okay, you really need to stop.”
“Oh sure, everything I do upsets you all of a sudden.”
Eimi’s words linger in the air, unanswered.
Teeth and claws alike are borne without meaning to.
Blunter than a baseball bat. More direct than a line drive. I don’t know how to be subtle. Or cool. Or anything but a big, giant, raging loser.
I know that. But still I’m here. Why? Do I think I’m some hero? Trying to help out a friend?
I’m smarter than that. I’m just here for the sake of my own ego. As always.
I just can’t live with the knowledge that she thinks less of me.
“You…” Shika rubs her temple. “You really piss me off.”
Don’t worry. I piss me off too.
“Making such a show of yourself… always acting like the center of attention…”
Because if nobody looks at me, I can’t even know if I exist.
“And then when I try to make space, you barge in anyway.”
How else to draw your eyes my way?
“So why is it… that I want you so much?”
I don’t want me eith–wait, what?
“I should tell you to piss off and worry about your own work… say that I don’t need your approval for anything…” Tears well up in Shika’s eyes. “But you…! You’re the one who keeps pushing me forward! All for your own stupid sake!”
…
“I want to be at your side… but you always blaze the trail ahead of me.” Shika bites her lip so hard it nearly starts bleeding. “I would just live under my rock forever, feeding off my own self-indulgence, if it wasn’t for you… you… you…”
Self-indulgence. As if that’s something I’m lacking in.
“That’s why I asked that stupid question about stars… I mean…” Her eyes glimmer. “You’re the brightest thing in my sky…”
Says the star to the darkness. Or is it really the other way around? Can’t be.
It’s as if… we’re running circles around one another.
…Is that what Bell meant?
“Hey, say something already!” Shika’s fist hammers Eimi’s collarbone. “You’re always yappin your mouth off like no tomorrow, and now you give me the silent treatment? After I bare it all to you?! Come on!”
It’s true. Words are the one thing I’m most proficient at in this wasteful life.
So I tell myself, at least. But when they matter most, they fail me like all the rest.
They bubble in my stomach like fizzy cola. Making me on the verge of puking it all out. But I’m strong enough to keep it in.
…I’m a really bad liar, even to myself.
“Waves hop, heart stops, to the roll of the soul… beat drops, world bops, but I’m still stone cold…”
Shika stops her punching, staring up at Eimi’s quietly muttering face.
“Chips are down and out, drownin’ in the sound, music can’t be found, but still my cockles pound.”
Eimi lifts her head up, eyes laser-focused.
“Fog in my head, stars in my eyes, lungs full of dread, but I can’t realize why you shine so bright and light like the greatest of white dwarfs that dwell and swell all around in faraway space, let’s trace that face that always has a place in my mind, so refined and outlined, shinin’ greater than the sky!”
Shika takes a step back.
“People pain me grievously just to perceive me but you, punkass, pop my vision and please me! Who’s bigger? Who’s smaller? Who’s shorter? Who’s smaller? What matters?! Feelings scattered! I’m fed up! Just shut up!”
The waves almost sound in rhythm to her rhyme.
“You’re ahead? I’m behind! I lead? Don’t rewind! Be kind and find the orbit forward with me! Spin the track stalwart and seriously (and I’ll) spit the rhyme all snappy, Siriusly!”
The world turned below their feet.
“But you and I ain’t huge halations of hydrogen and helium, we’re two mangy mutts so anxious we maw on valium! Born in the dirt! Dyed in our hurt! Feasting on air! Dyin’ on a dare! But canines in the same cage’ll have to learn to care!”
Her tempo slows.
“I can’t stand you. Can’t land you. Don’t even know how to hold hands with you. That glare got me scared of what my chest’s gotten snared into. But those fingers linger on the turntable of my heart and with a wicky wicky scratch kick off a brand new start. Rife with strife, sharp as a knife, not gonna make a great wife, but make no mistake, girl…”
Eimi shut her eyes tight and reached into her plastic bag.
“I’LL BE YOUR BITCH MY WHOLE LIFE!”
Eimi pops the item around her neck. It’s… a dog collar. Size L. Buckled. The waves crash like a mic drop.
Shika, who’s been watching in stunned silence, blinks.
Eimi pants, out of breath. She adjusts the collar like a dog scratching an itch. “Not my favorite color, but I didn’t have time to be picky.”
“Um.” Shika sounds more confused than anything. “Why did you do that?”
“Oh, this? It’s like a prop, you know?” Eimi’s eyes drift upwards in thought. “I want to get the dog tag engraved at some point. ‘Eimi – belongs to Shika.’ Oh, I’d like to find a padlock that fits too. You’d get the key, obviously.”
Shika is completely still.
“Something wrong?” Eimi rubs her head. “You uh, know what a bitch is, right? That’s kinda what the whole…”
“I know what a bitch is.”
“Cool. Yeah. Awesome.”
Waves break on the rocks.
“Hey Eimi?”
“Yeah?”
“Are you a sicko pervert?”
“I–” Eimi looks offended. “Why would you say that?!”
“WHY DID YOU THINK PUTTING ON A COLLAR AND CALLING YOURSELF MY BITCH WOULD HELP ANYTHING?”
“...Were you not listening to the previous bars?” Hand on chin. “Oh wait, I get it. You wanted a leash too, you freak.”
“WHY ARE YOU PINNING THAT ON ME?”
“WELL, IF IT HELPS THE WHOLE POINT OF THE VERSES WERE RECIPROCATION! SO YOU’RE MY BITCH TOO!”
“GEE, THANKS! DID YOU GET ME A COLLAR TOO, YOU LUNATIC?”
“OF COURSE I DID, IDIOT!” Eimi pulls out the other collar from the plastic bag.” I HAD TO PASS UP THE FULL DOG SUIT I WANTED JUST TO AFFORD IT! I FIGURED YOU’D HAVE ONE FROM WANTING TO BE KYOKO YAMATE’S DOG, BUT I JUST WANTED TO MAKE SURE!”
“How did you know I—THAT’S NOT THE POINT!” Shika is redder than the haze from the coastline factories. “God, you’re so…!”
“So what?” Eimi steps closer. “Say it! Straight to my face!”
“Stupid, selfish, narcissistic, perverted, and loserly!” Shika bellows.
“Yeah and you’re pretentious, meek, haughty, deranged, and just as loserly!” Eimi shouts even louder.
Their anger brims over, eyes locked upon one another in smoldering antagonism.
And then they start making out. Severely.
Many vaguely shaped thoughts enter their brains for the next several minutes. But later, Eimi would remember only one.
Man… dogs really do have slobbery tongues.
The next thing I know, Shika and I lie spread eagle on the beach, out of breath and facing the starless sky.
She’s put the collar on in the middle of that. How’d she do that? Freak.
“Heh…” Eimi wipes sweat off her chin. “You’re pretty good.”
Shika smirks. “Not so bad yourself.”
Deep exhales.
“The track.”
“Huh?”
“It’s good.”
“Is it?”
“It is. Better than good. Great. Wonderful. Fantastic. But that’s not good enough.”
Shika closes her eyes. “Yeah. Makes sense.” She rolls her head over. “But what does that make you?”
Eimi chuckles. “Mid at best.”
“So you do know new slang.”
“Course I do. Did I rizz you up?”
“Okay I need you to stop talking again.”
“Whaaaat?”
Shika sits up. “You can’t even see Sirius tonight. If the brightest star in the world is dark, what chance do we have?”
“That assumes we’re creatures of light.” Eimi sits right beside her. “But a sky like this is where we thrive.” Inhale. “I… thought you were brighter than me, and I wanted to jump at the chance for you to praise me. Because I thought… if a shining star thought I was bright… then I could be too. But then… I hurt you. I’m sorry.”
Shika snorts. “You say some corny shit. But apology accepted.”
“Hey, that was a good one!”
Shika hops to her feet. “You’ve had better. And worse.”
“Really?” Eimi swells with pride as she stands. “Tell me all my greatest hits.”
“You’re a real attention whore, you know that?”
“And you’re uh… uhhh….. a reclusive tryhard!”
“Says the person who doesn’t try in the first place.”
“Come on!”
Shika laughs. “We really do orbit each other.”
“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Eimi’s eyes light up with a scheme. “Retooling the group to be space themed… We can call it… Laika.”
“Well, it’d be a good track name, at least.” Shika sighs. “Do you hit the reset button in video games whenever you lose progress? Delete your save file and everything?”
“N… Noooooooo…t always…..”
“Thought so. Coward.”
“Who are you callin’ a coward?!”
We chase each other around the beach in oblong circles, water lapping at our ankles. It’s cold. Everything is cold and dark and far away.
And yet we’re here. And nowhere else.
We’ll go back… and with Bell and Date-chan, continue barking louder than our bite.
That’s just the lifestyle we have.
Maybe it’s not an ideal. The life of a loser can’t possibly compare to those shining presences above us. But each day, I find more and more in it.
Not complacency. I’ll never be happy with myself, I know that much… at least, not that easily. I’m gonna always keep clawing for that next soundstage, that next glittering presence to stomp beneath my feet.
But with her at my side… ahead of me… behind me… the path is clear, even in the dark.
One day, I’ll be able to shout it from the rooftops louder than any speaker or stereo, from the deepest chambers of our souls.
That this is my – our – story.