Chapter Text
I think you were the first person to actually seek me out—and you were the first person I didn’t run away from.
Sharp metal cords dug into Kita’s fingers as she played, each movement she made across the fretboard felt like knives slicing into her fingers despite the calluses she’s built over the past months.
Her mind was absent as she played on autopilot, strumming the rhythm she’d hammered into her mind thousands of times, trying not to think about her plight.
The words of the song sat in her throat like a rock; each breath she took felt difficult. A spark of pain ripped through Kita’s fingers as she pressed down harder on the strings.
“Hey, you two– Oh, it’s just you, Kita-chan?” The chord she was playing buzzed out pitifully, and a grimace crossed her face. One little distraction was all it took for me to screw up?
A golden haired girl stood at the door, startling Kita from her daze—Nijika Ijichi—her brain helpfully offered as it rebooted itself, “Where’s Bocchi-chan?”
A flinch peeled her fingers away from the fretboard for the first time since she had entered the studio, the cold air stung against the raw skin as she was reminded of why she was in this state.
“I…” Kita started, forming the word out slowly, her aura dimmer than usual, “Don’t know. She’s been avoiding me all day.”
“Eh?!” Nijika exclaimed as she fully walked into the studio, “That doesn’t sound like her at all!”
“Yeah…” She chewed at her lip, “I don’t know what I could have done wrong.”
“She spent the whole weekend at your place, right?” At Kita’s nod she continued, “Maybe she just needed a break from your Kitaura. It’s a bit much, even for me!” Nijika said with a giggle.
Was Nijika right? Was she too much? She knew she could be overbearing at times, but she always tried to respect Hitori’s boundaries, especially after what happened during the Culture Festival.
Nijika sucked in a sharp breath when she heard Kita’s whimper and tried to backtrack, “S-Sorry, bad joke.”
It’s fine. Kita wanted to say, but kept silent; she wasn’t sure she’d be able to talk without bursting into tears.
“She’s avoiding you intentionally?” Nijika asked softly, placing a comforting hand on Kita’s shoulder, before continuing at her nod, “Okay… Well, if she’s not here with you now, then she’ll be here soon. I could ask her why?”
Kita shook her head, “N-No, it's alright, I’ll try and–”
Two thunks came from the other side of the door, the only warning they had before it swung open, and a blue head of hair peeked in, “Bocchi’s here.”
A faint hope sparked in Kita’s heart before her pessimistic side snuffed it out, ‘She’ll keep avoiding me.’
The door closed again, Ryo making her entrance and exit quickly, how Ryo.
“Kita-chan,” The hand on her shoulder gave her a quick shake, “It’ll be okay, just ask her what’s going on.”
She’d like to try, Nijika, but she isn’t sure if she can pull through. But she has to get up anyway.
“Let’s go.”
I just can’t stand it.
I have to stay away from you.
It’s selfish, it’ll hurt you, it’ll hurt the band, but I can’t take the way you look at Ryo anymore.
I love you, I really do.
That’s why I can’t stay with you anymore.
They moved in silence as they worked—Kita and Hitori, at least. Hitori tried to keep her distance, much to Kita’s dismay. Each time Kita tried to approach the other girl, she would back away under the guise of cleaning another table.
“H-Hitori-chan?” A quiet squeak, the sound of a near empty bottle of cleaning liquid clattering to the ground, “Why h–”
“I’ll go grab a b-broom!” By the time Kita had turned around, all she saw was a flash of pink hair retreating down the hallway leading to the supply closet.
Saying that her heart dropped to her feet would be an understatement. It would be more accurate to say that her heart dropped through the floor, shot underground, flying past the core of the earth, and shot out of the crust on the opposite side of the planet.
“O-Okay…” She whispered to no one, her voice cracking embarrassingly. Kita tried her hardest to ignore the pitying stare burning into the back of her head, courtesy of Nijika. Tears burned in her eyes as she wiped another table down, trying to keep herself together; she can’t break down here.
Why was this affecting her so much? She’s had people avoid her before, but she could usually brush it off just fine, so why did this hurt so much? Was it because she admired the girl so much?
A barely audible sniffle came from the girl as she moved to the next table, her movements jerky and unsteady; she felt and probably looked like she would collapse at any second.
“All done!” Nijika cheered, snapping Kita from her mind, “Kita-chan, you done with the tables?”
Kita’s gaze swept across the room, realizing that she had wiped all the tables down while being mentally tormented, “Yeah.”
“Sweet, it’s practice time!” She could see Nijika skip towards the studio out of the corner of her vision, and for once, she had to force herself to move.
“Ikuyo,” Her entire body stiffened as if she had been electrocuted, “Are you alright?”
“Of course, senpai!” The lies felt like acid on her tongue, the cheer on her face carefully put together, a mere imitation of her usual self, one that her observant senpai probably noticed.
“Okay.” Kita could see a faint hint of worry in Ryo’s deadpan stare, a rare moment.
Why do I feel so normal?
Her heart rate stayed steady as she spoke with Ryo, something that rarely ever happened. Usually it wouldn’t skyrocket like how it used to, but more like a minor increase, just barely enough to notice it was there, but now it was absent.
Kita watched the back of Ryo’s head as she entered the studio—the room Hitori had been cleaning—and followed her in.
Ever since I met you, you felt out of reach.
We were polar opposites, you and I.
But you were the one I was closest to.
I didn’t recognize the feeling at first.
Now I wish I never had.
They sounded awful. Not Kessoku Band as a whole, but Hitori and Kita in particular. They weren’t great usually, not terrible by any means, but this was different.
Hitori’s timing was off. She’d rush ahead, then slow down too much, and the rest of them would overtake her, then she’d speed back up again. Ryo tried to adjust the pace, with Nijika and Kita following, but none of them could keep up with Hitori.
Kita wasn’t any better. She couldn’t hold a note to save her life, and her breath was leaving her faster than usual. Her fingers felt slow on the fretboard, her pick caught strings it wasn’t supposed to—a mistake she hadn’t made in months—and she just felt off.
She feels terrible. Guilty over the fact that she couldn’t play properly for the rest of the band.
“Well…” Kita looked away. She couldn’t bear the grimace on Nijika’s face, “That was–”
“Awful.” Ryo said bluntly, “What’s up with you two?”
Say something already.
“Don’t be rude, Ryo!” Nijika squawked, “But… Ugh, it can’t be helped.” She said as she set her drumsticks down, “Let’s call it quits for today.”
“I-I can keep playing!” Hitori shouted, voice cracking with desperation, “I’m s-sorry, I’ll be b-better.”
“It’s not your fault, Bocchi-chan.” Nijika’s right. It’s Kita’s fault. She shouldn’t have pushed Hitori so hard or made her uncomfortable, whatever she did. She regrets it. So much. “We’ll come back tomorrow, hopefully everyone will be back on point.”
Kita turned away from the group, trying to tune out whatever was happening behind her as she packed her guitar up with trembling hands. She could hear the sound of two other zippers; Ryo and Hitori must be packing up, too.
‘We usually walk home together.’ Her mind provided, and a faint spark of hope flickered in her chest, ‘I should try and ask her.’
“Hit—” The door to the studio slammed closed, a blur of pink being the only reason Kita realized she was the one who left, “---ori-chan?”
The studio was empty now; Nijika and Ryo must have left while Kita was in her daze, which left just her and Hitori. That was her chance, and she blew it. Now Hitori was gone.
She left the studio silently; the quiet ambiance of the live house caused her ears to ring. A spike of pain shot through her head, a headache she’s been feeling since they started playing.
The only people left were her and the manager, with the older woman typing away at her laptop at the bar. Ah, speaking of which, she should probably tell her she’s leaving.
“I’m headed out, Manager.” Her voice lacked its usual cheer as she trudged forward, “Have a good night.”
She could see Seika giving her a thumbs up without looking away from her laptop, “Get home safe.”
Kita muttered a thanks as she reached the staircase, “Hold up a second.” She turned back to the manager; her request felt like an order. “Are you alright?”
“Yeah, why do you ask?” She tried her hardest to put on her usual cheery face, but it felt like it would shatter at the faintest touch.
The manager didn’t believe a word she was saying; her face was pinched in thinly veiled concern.
“I’ll be back to normal soon, Manager-san, don’t worry about me.” She offered what she hoped was a comforting smile. Nijika had told her that her sister was a real worrier under her tsundere act.
“Having one of my employees moping around wouldn’t be good for business,” Seika waved her off before pausing, “Bocchi-chan already left. Is she waiting for you outside?”
“...Probably not.” Her voice felt weak and shaky; she probably sounded like she was going to cry. Probably because she was going to cry.
“Oh,” Seika’s face turned from veiled concern to flat out worry, “Would you like me to walk you to the station?”
“I’m al—” Kita cuts herself off, she could really use some company, “Yes, please.”
Seika stood and closed her laptop, grabbed her coat from the bar, and put it on as she approached Kita, “Okay, let’s go.”
When Seika pulled the door open for her, the cool night air bit at her face. The two of them walked up the stairs to street level, before Seika turned to a vending machine, “Are you alright with cola?”
Normally, she would rather have a more trendy drink—one she could post on her Issta—but right now she just needed something simple, “That would be great, thanks.”
The older woman gave a hum in return, and Kita could hear the clinking of coins entering the machine, with the clatter of two colas following shortly after. Seika passed one of the colas to her.
Kita cracked open the can quickly and took a big sip, hoping that the artificial sugars would rid her tongue of the disgusting taste of failure.
“So, how was practice today?”
“Not good.” Her curt answer felt like spitting razorblades, giving someone who was just asking a question that rude answer? God, she’s terrible.
The two of them walked in silence for a few minutes, the only sound Kita could hear was the sound of their shoes scraping on the pavement.
“Did something happen between you and Bocchi-chan?” Seika asked softly, reminding Kita of the lead guitarist who had been unintentionally torturing her.
Part of her—the selfish part—wants to tell her. To tell her that Hitori’s avoiding her. To tell her how bad it hurts. To just scream and cry to the manager, letting all her feelings out before she snaps.
The other part of her begged her to stay silent, to not burden the older woman with another issue. To just stay quiet and accept the assistance she’d already given.
She stared at a droplet of condensation rolling down the can, then onto her hand, her mind suddenly provided that cola was Hitori’s favorite drink. Her stomach flipped, suddenly the cola wanted to come up.
She took another sip anyway.
“No,” She decided, “Nothing happened.”
They walked in silence after that; not a word was said between them until they reached the station.
The artificial lights hurt Kita’s eyes as they approached the tracks. The cola in her hand had long since gone warm, but she kept sipping at it anyway. The train was coming soon, she took a look at her phone—the first time she had in hours, something that never happened—it would be here any second now.
She took one last sip of her cola, emptying it. Crap, now what’s she going to do with the can?
“Here, I’ve got it,” Seika said, holding a hand out. Kita passed the can over with a quiet thank you, “It’s no problem.”
Right as she spoke, Kita’s train arrived. It was a relief that she could finally go home; the weight of the entire day had been destroying her mind.
She turned to the manager, intending to thank her for accompanying her, but Seika spoke first, “Listen, if you ever need anything from me, just ask, alright?”
Being stunned into silence rarely happened to Kita, but the manager had somehow managed it. She knew Seika cared for them—despite the act she put on—but Kita hadn’t expected the manager to just come out and say it.
“I-I will, Seika-san.” Kita fumbled over her words for a moment, “Thank you.”
“Of course, kid.” Seika gave her a soft smile as the train pulled in, the doors sliding open, “Get home safe.” She gave Kita a quick pat on the arm, spurring her to move before the doors closed on her.
There was a barely audible whirr as the doors closed behind her, the train car was nearly silent. She found a free seat and collapsed into it, both mentally and physically fatigued, and closed her eyes.
Kita couldn’t sleep.
When she got home, she skipped dinner, the food that had been left for her stayed in the fridge for the night as she immediately went to her room. Her bed was a comfort she never thought she’d feel again.
Sleep didn’t come for Kita that night.
I’m ruining everything.
Please, just make it all stop—this noise inside my head.
I don’t think I can take it anymore.