Archive of Our Own

Yahata Umiri’s days are always very regimented. 

Every night before a school day, she sets her alarm for 6:45am. She gets up on the third set of rings on her alarm, brushes her teeth, drinks a protein shake, puts on her uniform, and applies some light makeup before grabbing her school bag and heading out the door no later than 7:20am. There is a 14 minute walk to Sangenjaya Station, where she will wait for her train which pulls in at 7:41am. At 8:01am, she exits the train at Kudanshita Station before walking to a different platform where she switches to a separate train whose doors close at 8:05am. 6 minutes later, she is walking onto the platform at Waseda Station from where she walks toward the other Waseda Station about a kilometer away. If she is minimally encumbered, she makes it to the school gates by 8:20am. School begins at 8:30am. Morning classes last until 12:30pm at which time she and Taki go to the vending machines and have some version of lunch. Class resumes at 1:15pm. The last class ends at 4pm. 

After this, her schedule becomes more varied depending on the day. Sometimes she will have practice, sometimes she will have interviews or other media appearances, sometimes she will need to head to the office for administrative work. Oftentimes, it’s multiple items one after the other on her agenda. There used to occasionally be an opening of a few hours on a Friday or Saturday evening, and she would use that time to go listen to the bands that were playing at RiNG or at a livehouse more local to her. (She hasn’t done this since Ave Mujica got back together. Nevermind the fame, her schedule simply doesn’t have those blocks of free time anymore.) Never does she go home right after school. 

Today so far had seemed like it was shaping up to be like any other Monday. She enters the classroom at 8:26am, sits, and begins to unpack her schoolbooks. The indistinct chatter of schoolmates recounting the events of their weekends hum in the background. 

Uika had another sumimi engagement this morning, so the seat behind her remains silent. Everyone starts to mill their way to their seats at 8:29am when the door behind her is thrown open with a loud clatter. 

*stomp stomp*

A whirlwind.

“Umiri! Great, you’re here!”

“Oh? So happy to see me first thing on Monday? I’m looking forward to starting this week from a high point.”

Putting on a sour look, Taki continues, “Gross, don’t think so highly of yourself, hey-”

*ding dong ding dong*

The school bell cuts her off, and the teacher ambles through the front door right as the bell rings. 

“Ah, damn. We’ll talk at lunch! I need to ask you for a favor,” Taki says as she dashes to her seat before the teacher could tell her off. 

Oh-ho. A favor. Umiri’s eyes light up a little upon hearing that. She loves favors. Not that she likes other people to be beholden to her, no, she doesn’t care about that. It actually turns out that Yahata Umiri is easy to please. And she is easy to please precisely because she is, above all, eager to please. Nothing makes her happier than the satisfaction of fulfilled expectations. She is a machine that turns wishes into reality. Years of hard work have built this reputation. 

And so, with bright eyes and an expectant heart, Umiri patiently waits for the lunch bell. 

Hours later, the bell finally rings, and Umiri watches Taki get up to exit the classroom, motioning with her eyes to follow her. They wind up at a familiar set of vending machines, and Taki buys two cans of coffee, handing one to her. 

“Is this up-front payment?”

Taki flatly replies, “Is your help worth that little?”

“I will help you for free, which suggests that it’s not worth anything at all.” Umiri pops open the can before taking a swig. “So, what’s going on?”

With an exasperated sigh, Taki turns around and leans back against the vending machine. “Soyo slipped on a patch of wet floor yesterday and landed on her right hand. Nothing’s broken, but she definitely sprained it, and she most certainly can’t play for a few weeks while it heals.”

Umiri can’t help but feel her ears perk up higher and higher as Taki continued. Soyo? Nagasaki-san the bassist? She’s gonna need a bassist!

“Anyways. Unfortunately, we have a live on Friday. I am now urgently scouring around for a replacement bassist who can practice and perform in short order. I wanted to just cancel, but Soyo wanted me to try to find someone to replace her, instead. And so…”

Taki glances over at Umiri. “...Do you know of anyone who has some pretty open availability this week and is willing to play bass on short notice? I can pay them extra. I’ll get Anon and Soyo to chip in, too.”

…

“...W-what?” Taki stammers awkwardly as she is met by Umiri’s disappointed face. 

After a pause, Umiri responds with her own exaggerated sigh. “And here, I thought you were going to ask me to fill in.”

Taki responds with a snort. “Didn’t you hear my requirements? I need someone who actually has the time to devote to learning the band and the setlist. You barely have time to come to school, much less suddenly drop hours and hours on MyGO.”

“So the only reason you didn’t ask me is because you thought I didn’t have the time to help?” 

Taki chuckles at nothing in particular. “What, you want to drop in and play?”

“Why not?”

“Hah, are you serious?”

Umiri stares at her in a way that Taki knows is 100% serious. 

“Are you fucking stupid? You can’t tell me that you have free time this week.”

“Are you okay with having me?”

“Wh-... I mean, you’re an excellent bassist. Who wouldn’t want to have you be a part of their band?”

“Great! I’ll be there.”

With brows furrowed, Taki annoyedly interrogates further, “Wait, how are you gonna find the time? I haven’t even told you our rehearsal schedule yet!”

“Well, send it to me already,” Umiri responds matter-of-factly. 

“We’re performing eight songs in four days. That’s not enough time.”

“Taki-san, do you know how long it takes to get to Nagoya?”

“Hah?” Taki blurts out, bewildered at the nonsequitur.

“It takes about an hour and 40 minutes. I only know this because I once got an urgent request to play an 8pm show there. Most of my practice time was on the shinkansen, miming out fingerings while trying to memorize some sheet music. Your gig is in 4 days. That might as well be an eternity away. Please put more faith in my skills.”

“You’re seriously… Oh my god…” Taki sighs once more before taking out her phone and forwarding the practice room reservation details to Umiri. “I can’t wait for Sakiko to send me a wall of angry text messages.”

Smirking, Umiri adds MyGO’s practice sessions to her calendar: Monday, Wednesday, and Thursday, with the live being on Friday. With each addition, alerts pop up to indicate schedule conflicts. Some of these can be moved, but others will just have to be cancelled. That’s a lot of emails she has to send, but despite the looming inconvenience, she feels her heart grow lighter. 

“You’re a real idiot, you know that?”

Umiri looks up from her phone and smiles, “Yes, you tell me that all the time.”

* * *

Monday’s practice session was scheduled at 5pm at RiNG. It takes about 20 minutes to get there from Hanasakigawa, so the two spend the time right after class glued to their phones doing assorted tasks. Taki busies herself pulling tabs and charts off her online storage drive and asks Soyo to bring over any of her own notes. Meanwhile, Umiri composes email after email, moving a meeting with a venue organizer, canceling her appearance at a meeting with sponsors, changing the radio live appearance to a pre-recorded one, canceling a meeting with a different venue organizer, apologizing and pleading and thanking and apologizing more for the sudden change in plans. 

They walk to the station and into RiNG, fully engrossed in these other tasks. When Umiri enters through the double doors, a few excited whispers sound out. She used to be a fairly permanent fixture of RiNG with all the bands she was in, but that hasn’t been the case for some time now.

As she crosses the threshold, the cool air of the A/C shocks her back to the situation at hand. 

“I don’t have my bass.”

The two pause in the lobby and look Umiri over up and down. Indeed, she is not carrying her bass.

“It’s not a practice day, so I left it at home,” Umiri groans. “But that’ll be okay, I’ll just go rent one just for today. I’ll meet you in the practice room.”

Walking over to the equipment section, Umiri coughs to get Ririko’s attention. 

“Hello, welco-oh! It’s Umiri-chan. Long time no see. What can I help you with?”

“Good afternoon, Matsugi-san. I am here to help out a band on short notice, but I did not bring my bass. Are there any available for rental today?”

“Hmmm? Helping out? Are you moonlighting with other bands again?” Ririko inquires as she looks through RiNG’s electronic inventory. 

“No, Ave Mujica is still home for me. This is just a special case.”

“It must be a very special case, then.” Ririko replies with a gentle smile. “Looks like we only have a few entry-level basses available to rent: a Squier and an Ibanez. Both 4-string, though. That okay?”

With a small wince, Umiri responds, “Well, I don’t have the time to be picky. Uh, I’ll take the Squier for today.” 

And so with her lightly used and abused rental in hand, Umiri trudges upstairs to MyGO’s assigned practice room. As she approaches the door, she remembers the last time this sequence of events occurred. Taki had asked for help, she cleared her schedule and showed up, and the entire thing lasted for about 5 minutes before disbanding. It was all rather awkward, if she had to tell the truth. She is used to feeling like the outsider but rarely did she walk into a situation where the band was actively unraveling in front of her noncommittal third-party eyes. She hopes that today will go better than the last time. 

She grabs hold of the door handle, turns it, and pushes in. 

“Oh dang, it’s actually Yahata-san!” A pink ball of energy bounced towards Umiri. “Welcome back!”

“Anon, can you not be so irritating for just one minute?” Taki exclaims tiredly as she pulls a white-haired guitarist away from the bag of candies in her bag. (Anon takes a quick selfie before sticking her tongue out at Taki and trudging back to her spot.) “Hey Umiri, we got you set up over here to my right.”

Umiri gives a quick bow of her head and says, “I am Yahata Umiri. Thank you for having me again.”

Tomori steps forward and smiles at her before stuttering out, “I-I, um… We met before but I couldn’t properly introduce myself back then. I’m really sorry about that… Takamatsu Tomori! That’s my name. Thanks for helping us out.” Her breath catches in her throat briefly before she adds, “And, um, thank you for rooting for me back then.” 

Umiri halts briefly and looks Tomori in the face. To be honest, MyGO is just a band. Technically, they’re not particularly special. The melodies are pleasant to listen to, but even though there’s some fun licks and turns, that’s not what drives people to show up to MyGO’s shows. No, people show up to MyGO shows for her. The story of how she got MyGO back together bit by bit with her ad hoc slam poetry-turned-midwest emo sessions is already the stuff of RiNG legend. Her lyrics pierce through you, and the timbre of her voice causes those words to reverberate through the cords of your heart. Her tuning and stamina are far from the best, but there is undeniably something very special about her. It is plenty clear to anyone that watches a MyGO show that Takamatsu Tomori is the beating heart of the band. 

“It makes me very happy to be of assistance.” And a pause. “I’m glad you were successful.”

Tomori beams briefly with a wide smile and nods. 

“Tomori, don’t listen to what that idiot has to say! Umiri, you leave Tomori alone!”

Raising an eyebrow at how quickly those complaints came hurling in, Umiri responds, “I’m just exchanging hellos, Taki-san. I am not committing any evil.”

“I’m not worried about evil; I’m worried about idiocy. Tomori, she didn’t say anything weird, did she?”

Tomori shakes her head lightly as Umiri walks by the white-haired guitarist who doesn’t pay her a single ounce of attention.

Umiri makes her way to the back corner to unpack her rental instrument when a taller brown-haired girl with a wrapped right wrist walks up. 

“And I am Nagasaki Soyo, the cause of the previous and current mess. Pleased to make your acquaintance,” Soyo said, bowing with a small serene smile. 

Umiri stands up to reply with another bow of her own. “Nagasaki-san, we finally meet. It’s alright, I welcome this as a precious opportunity to help out a friend and her band. I will do my best to fulfill your expectations.”

“Well, I apologize. I know you must be terribly busy, but we keep on pulling you into our emergencies, so thank you once again. For that matter, I have my pedalboard set up down here, and here’s my notes on the eight pieces in the setlist for Friday. We’ve made some changes over time, so there’s probably a fair bit different from the score Taki-chan has saved.”

Umiri respectfully accepts the folder. “Thank you, these will be invaluable to me. Will you be attending the rehearsals, too?”

“Of course. I may not physically be able to play, but I still know the songs inside and out, so I’ll be here to assist any way I can. Besides, I’m still a member of the band. If I don’t show up to practice, Taki-chan will get mad at me, won’t she?”

The drummer resignedly sighs from her stool. “If I’m going to get mad at you, it’s not for you not showing up when you’re injured. Work on your balance, jeez.”

Meanwhile, Umiri sets to flipping through Soyo’s personal sheet music. Shoushinshoumei, Kokyuu, Silhouette Dance, Egakumirai, Silent, Kaisou, Kokoro, and Sasurai, all titled in kanji. Japanese was never her strongest subject, but the names were read in ways that Umiri couldn’t have ever guessed without Taki deciphering them for her ahead of time. She told her that Tomori comes up with the song titles. That makes sense. It was incredibly literary, poetic even. Umiri takes out her iPad and carefully centers the pages in her camera before taking pictures and carefully filing them away to her digital folder of scores. 

She gets up, picks up the rental bass from the case, and plugs it into Soyo’s pedalboard. Grabbing a music stand, she puts her iPad on it and opens up the music for Shoushinshoumei. She confirms string tuning with Soyo, tunes by ear, and nods once to Taki, signaling her readiness to play. 

The first day’s practice goes well. Umiri spends most of it staring at the sheet music, trying to commit the notes to memory as fast as she could. Occasionally, she’d jot down some stylistic notes offered by Soyo. Sometimes, Taki would stop and describe how a particular lead-in works or where she’d cue in the band. The two-hour practice session passes by in a flash, and to be honest, she thinks it was one of the better practice sessions she’s had with a new band. While packing up, Anon comes back over to make some more small talk with Umiri and very unsubtly implies that she would love some Ave Mujica merch (signed preferably). Soyo puts on a worn look of annoyance while Umiri diplomatically confirms that she’ll do what she can. 

Thankfully, Taki soon comes to shoo Anon away.

“Goddamn pest. Can’t even treat a guest right for a few hours.”

Umiri laughs. “It’s fine. She’s just excited that I’ll be playing with all of you. I take it as a compliment.”

“Well, yes, of course. You’re sorta a celebrity and all,” Taki says, lightly blushing. “So anyways! How did it go from your standpoint?”

“I’ll survive. I’ll get the songs memorized by Wednesday, Thursday at the latest.”

“That’s good to hear,” Taki replied but continued, “Actually, I wanted to hear about what you thought about our rehearsal. Like, MyGO rehearsing.”

“Hmmm. Honestly? Loose, somewhat sloppy. But it seems like you’re all having fun and it all seems to come together in the end, so it’s okay.”

Taki grimaces. “Did you hear that, Anon? You’re sloppy!”

And shouting from the other side of the room, “I try, Rikki! It’s not my fault Raana-chan just runs off in the middle of rehearsal for a snack break!”

“There’s no need to be so harsh, Taki-san,” Umiri replies, smiling still. “It’s not like you’re doing this as a job or as a career or anything, right? You have your own standards and you have plenty of fans. So if this is what it’s typically like, then clearly you’ll be okay.”

Taki gives another big sigh. (Umiri notices that she sighs a lot around MyGO.) “I just want them to take it a bit more seriously.” She looks around to find Tomori milling near the door, giving Raana headpats. “Well, it’s about time for me to go. Thanks for coming, Umiri. I really appreciate it.” Before Umiri could say “you’re welcome”, Taki finishes, “I gotta go walk Tomori home now. See you at school in the morning?”

A little part of her had hoped that maybe they could’ve walked to the station together, but no matter, this seems to be part of the MyGO practice ritual, too. “Oh, yeah, see you tomorrow.”

She zips up the soft case the Squier came in as she watches Taki and Tomori leave through the door.

“She’s been doing that even before the band had fully formed.”

Umiri had not expected commentary. “Hmm? I’m sorry, what was that?”

Soyo repeats herself gently. “Taki-chan has been walking Tomori-chan home every single day after practice. No one’s ever asked her to do it, and she never complains about it, either.”

“...I see. It’s not a bad thing to want to see your people home safe. Doing good things unbidden is a sign of integrity and leadership. Trustworthy behavior, if you will.”

“Hmm~”

* * *

Tuesday is not a MyGO practice day but is one for Ave Mujica. So Umiri and Uika are bundled in the back of a cab heading to Mutsumi’s house when Uika catches Umiri engrossed in some mystery sheet music. 

“Lonely…Prison Destruction…?”

“Apparently it’s pronounced ‘Kokoro’.”

“...Huh. That’s a new one, Umiri-chan,” Uika says as she readjusts herself in her seat. “What is that?”

Umiri looks up and briefly stares into nothing, contemplating what she should say before deciding that the honest truth is the most straightforward answer. “MyGO’s bassist is out of action for a few weeks. I’m helping them out with a live this week.”

“MyGO?” Uika sits up. “That’s their chart? Taki-chan asked you for help?”

“Well,” Umiri thinks it over, “Something like that, at least.”

“It’s nice of you to help out. Is it going to interfere with Mujica’s activities at all?”

“...Unfortunately, yes.”

“Oh? Have you told Saki-chan yet?”

“...I plan to today.”

Uika giggles a bit. “Rare to see you do something without getting the okay from all involved parties first.”

Umiri looks over, looking a little despondent. “Are you mad at me?”

“What, me? Why would I be mad at you?” Uika looks a bit incredulous. “I don’t show up to a good chunk of the practices because I’m doing sumimi things. It’s hardly unusual for one of us to be absent from any given practice.”

“That’s different. That’s for work.”

“It’s still practice with an incomplete band but we survive. It’s fine. Relax,” Uika says with contentment. “It’s just odd. You’re behaving differently.”

Umiri doesn’t like to behave differently. She has expectations of others, and she has expectations of herself. She has built an ego on being predictable, on being reliable.

“...It’s just a one-off opportunity to help.”

“Don’t stress yourself out over it. It’s a good thing, Umiri-chan.”

Umiri grumbles, hoping that’s true.

Ave Mujica’s practice similarly goes well. Umiri asks Sakiko for a few minutes of her time after they’re done, and the two of them head up to the Wakaba family living room for a chat. 

Sakiko puts her elbows on her knees, leans forward, and lays her chin on the back of her hand. “Is everything going okay? Did something come up?”

“Yes…and yes,” Umiri responds as she sits down on the adjacent sofa. 

“What is it this time? Another needy sponsor? Or did another venue flake on what they promised?”

“Uh, neither. It’s me this time,” Umiri replies, now sitting ramrod straight with her hands on her knees. 

Sakiko looks up, cocking her head quizzically. 

“I…am helping out MyGO this week. I will be leaving practice early tomorrow and Thursday and will be entirely absent on Friday. I am sorry about the short notice. Please forgive me.” Umiri ducks her head down in a seated bow, keeping her penitent pose until she suddenly hears laughter. She looks up to find Sakiko with amused eyes and a curious smirk.

“...Is the situation funny to you, Togawa-san?”

“Yes! Yes, it is,” Sakiko says as she relaxes and lays back into the seat. “You’re never like this. It was just amusing.”

Umiri responds a little dourly. “You’re the second person today to tell me that I’m not acting normal.”

“No. No no no, that’s the thing. You are acting normal. That’s what’s different,” Sakiko replies with a smile. “So. What happened with MyGO? Did Taki ask you for help?”

“More or less. Nagasaki-san hurt her wrist and can’t play their live this Friday. They had a sudden, urgent need for a bassist, so I offered my services. I had my first practice session with them yesterday.”

“Oh, so this isn’t really asking for permission, then. You’re just here to ask for forgiveness.”

Umiri shifts uncomfortably in her seat. “I understand that this is inconvenient for Ave Mujica’s activities. I have already made schedule changes to my other commitments in order to accommodate the time I’ll have to spend with MyGO. I promise you that I have taken all steps to minimize the impact to my responsibilities for Ave Mujica.”

“It’s fine, Umiri. You’re doing this for a friend. Don’t forget that I’m friends with a number of them, too.” 

“...You’re not upset?”

“Not really. Surprisingly, I’m quite okay with the whole thing. If anything, I think you’ve grown as a person.”

“Huh?” Umiri does not understand. 

“You’re always so professional. Aside from wanting the band to get together, you never communicate your wants. When I ask you to do something, you get it done. When I add another task to your docket, you never say ‘no’.” Sakiko looks softly into Umiri’s eyes and smiles. “You’ve been full of Ave Mujica’s needs. It’s refreshing to see you finally wanting something for yourself for once. It’s humanizing, it’s a good thing.”

“...It’s that easy, huh?”

“It doesn’t have to be hard, Umiri.”

Umiri chuckles to herself. “Thank you, Togawa-san. I will see you tomorrow.”

* * *

By the time of Wednesday’s practice session with MyGO, Umiri already had the bass part pretty much memorized. She gives a “Apologies for being late” as she makes her way into the practice room, lugging two basses-–her 5-string Schecter in her hand and her Fender J-Bass on her back-–one for each band. 

“Ah, shoot. I should’ve offered to take one here so you’re not having to cart around both to both bands. Sorry about that.”

“No worries. I try not to let my babies out of my sight, anyways.”

Umiri walks to the back where Soyo was waiting, so she doesn’t see Taki scrunch up her face and mouth “Babies?”

“Good evening, Nagasaki-san. Is your wrist healing well?”

Soyo gets up and goes to get a music stand. “Thank you for your attention. It’s going okay but unfortunately, it still looks like it will be a few weeks before it’ll be well enough for me to play again.” 

“Be careful not to overdo it in the meantime.” 

Soyo nods and that is the end of small talk. Umiri tunes and nods to Taki again. She was ready.

She is able to concentrate on the rest of the band a lot more during this second session. She boasted to Taki that she learned a show while in transit to Nagoya. Truth be told, her playing quality that night was barely passable, hardly a notch above sightreading. Ensemble practice was thrown by the wayside, replaced by the drummer hurriedly scrawling in cues and MC segments in the two minutes before they walked on stage. The show went okay, merely okay. The band was grateful, all the same, and their honest smiles of not having to cancel their live were gratifying. (Between expenses and rush fees, the amount she was paid that night was pretty gratifying, too.)

Still, there was no replacing ensemble practice. She’d listened to the songs they were going to play on loop for two solid days now, but live performance always presents a different experience. Today, in addition to focusing on the drummer, she also concentrates on the other members of the band. 

Firstly: the drummer. Taki is a good drummer. Not a technical virtuoso, but as the composer, she has a good grasp of what she wants the music to sound like, and she is able to put down clean rhythms and clean rolls with the occasional passable fill. From the perspective of a bassist, she is an easy drummer to follow.

After her: the rhythm guitarist. Anon is a skilled MC; she is a much less skilled guitarist. Thankfully, her part is mostly relegated to chords, and she seems to have a decent internal metronome and does a good job of staying on beat. Taki must have wisely composed the music to de-emphasize her weaker points, namely slow finger transitions and muddy attacks. 

Next: the lead guitarist. Raana seems to do whatever she wants. Each time they run through a piece, her solos seem to change a little bit. The girl is very obviously highly skilled, but doesn’t this drive Taki crazy? She looks over to the drummer during one of those half-improvised solos, only to find the face of a band leader who had very clearly given up. Well, no one seemed to make a fuss, so it was alright?

Finally: the singer. Her first impressions didn’t change. Not technically skilled but gifted with an incredible grasp over the power of poetry and the spoken word. Those breathy half-shouts linger and resonate, beckoning you to hear more of her. 

Wednesday’s rehearsal is another success. Umiri is able to lean into the musicality more, really able to focus on dynamics, phrasing, and the shape of her sound today. She is thankful for Soyo being there. Having the regular bassist there to help her interpret the music is extraordinarily useful. Go figure. 

“You’ll definitely be ready by Friday. Well done, Yahata-san.”

“I couldn’t do it without your guidance. Thank you for being here, once again.”

And once again, yelled from the door, “Thanks again for being here, Umiri. Tomori and I will be leaving now. Everyone, see you tomorrow.”

A chorus of “bye”s ushers them out the door. 

Umiri looks at the door with squinted eyes. “It really is every day, huh?”

“Yes.” 

“Does Takamatsu-san live somewhere seedy or something? Does she need an escort everywhere?”

“Oh heavens no.”

“Huh.”

“Does Taki-chan ever talk about Tomori-chan at school?” 

“Only inasmuch as she thinks her lyrics are amazing. And they are.”

“Taki-chan is a simple creature, Yahata-san.”

“Is that so?” Umiri responds. She doesn’t think so. The Taki that she hangs out with has a sharp moral clarity, but she also worries and worries and silently chews her thoughts in her head. She stutters and stammers and gets socially lost in the hullabaloo of Hanajo. They meet often by the vending machines or under the tree in the courtyard where words (mostly complaints) sometimes tumble out of Taki’s mouth like a brook surging over rapids. Other times, there is nary a word spoken as she retreats into her thoughts with only cryptic half-ideas of statements that dribble out. 

“Rikki dummy~” 

Both bassists turn to see Raana almost fully packed up. 

Umiri pastes a diplomatic smile on her face and responds, “Aren’t we all?”

“No, just Rikki,” she replies while leaving. But she pauses in the door, turns, and states, “No, wait. You too.” Walking away, the door clicks shut behind her.

* * *

Thursday is more of the same: Wake up, school, Ave Mujica practice, MyGO practice. 

The difference today was that Taki remembered to take Umiri’s J-Bass with her to RiNG, making Umiri’s after-school commutes from one practice to the next much more tolerable. 

Practice was really coming together now. Soyo had less to correct or suggest now and so spent much of the session sitting and observing everyone. 

During a bathroom break, Soyo comes up to her and comments, “I forgot to tell you what a lovely bass that is. Is it original?”

“Yes, mostly. I picked it up at a second-hand shop a few years back. I’ve had to replace much of the original hardware, sadly, but the body and neck are original, as is the binding. The inlays I had a luthier swap from black to white. Personal preference.”

“I’m surprised you left the bridge and pickup covers on. They’re quite eyecatching.” Soyo continues, “It didn’t quite seem to fit your vibe.”

Umiri looks up to meet Soyo’s eyes. Is this girl trying to read her? 

“Personal vibe or not, I still have a healthy respect for classic instruments. And I don’t think it looks right without the chromed covers.”

“It just makes it feel like you want to be seen, after all,” Soyo states, looking at her reflection in the bright shine of the pickup cover. 

“I don’t care to be seen. I just want to do a good job.”

“Are you sure about that?” Soyo smiles a guarded smile at her. 

Umiri now realizes that when she was assessing the MyGO members yesterday, she forgot one: their regular bassist. 

She obviously didn’t get a chance to see her play during these practice sessions, but she has seen MyGO’s shows, and from the audience, Soyo seems like a solid, dependable, staid bassist. Closer up, however, Nagasaki Soyo might actually be a pit viper–-coiled up, seemingly sleeping but actually fully awake and watching quietly the entire time, ready to deliver a lethal blow at any moment. A dangerous woman. Umiri can’t help but feel exposed around her. 

Anon and Taki returned from the bathroom at that moment, thankfully saving Umiri from struggling to formulate a response. 

As the band returns to their positions, Umiri feels Soyo’s eyes burning through her. 

Is there someone I want to be seen by?

In her heart of hearts, she knows the answer already. She looks to Taki who returns her gaze. 

“Ready?”

“Yeah.” 

And with that, Taki breaks off eye contact, counts off, and starts the second half of their practice session. 

Umiri is slower to look away. And in being slower to look away, her mind finally processes something she’s been increasingly aware of the past few days. Usually, drummers (of bands who actually try) are looking around, signaling and receiving cues from the others. Sometimes it’s the bassist, sometimes it’s the vocalist, oftentimes it’s the lead guitarist. They’d make eye contact and almost physically lean into the cue with the person they’re looking at. 

Not quite with Taki. She would cue with her eyes, but mostly at the last moment. The rest of the time, her eyes seem to be locked firmly on Tomori. Some instrumentalists keep their gaze on some neutral point in space when they play. It seems that Taki’s neutral center is the gray blazer and gray locks of the singer in front of her. 

It doesn’t seem like she’s aware of it. Nor is she aware of how placid her face looks when the drums and guitars fall out, making room for Tomori’s voice to soar and reverberate through the practice room. 

This is a new look on Taki, one Umiri had never seen before. She’s seen laughing, bored, annoyed (lots of annoyed), tired (even more tired), angry, and blank. She’s never seen reverent up until now. 

Unwittingly, amidst the members of MyGO, Umiri suddenly feels very alone.

[…]

“Well that’s that. It’s a cobbled-together mess, but that’s the best it’s going to be.” Taki sighs with a tired smile before stretching her tired shoulders. “We go on stage at 7:30, so that means that I need everyone to be here no later than 6:30 THAT MEANS YOU, RAANA.” 

Umiri hears a soft “bye” as the door closes shut behind the shadow of the guitarist. 

She puts on a smile as she walks up to the irate band leader. 

“I swear to god, if she’s fucking late again…”

“Cats show up exactly when they need to be somewhere, Taki-san.”

“Cats can really stand to be a bit more considerate of others,” Taki spits out in response. 

“It’ll be fine, Taki-chan~” Soyo chimes in from her seat. “She always shows up in time” and in a more disgruntled tone “and shows up the rest of us.”

Sighing again, Taki swivels on her stool to face Umiri. 

“You ready?” 

Umiri starts to say something but catches herself to instead ask, “What’s your judgement?”

“You sound great.” And in a slightly louder voice, “It’s been awesome to not get unsolicited sass from the bassist for a few days.” Soyo sits in her chair and smiles wider at Taki. 

It’s Soyo who continues. “You’re going to do great. As expected of a professional.”

Taki by now has stowed her stickbag away and is walking towards Tomori who was waiting at the door. “We’re going to put on a great show, guys. Look forward to it.”

The room was once again empty except for the two bassists. 

“Anon wants to check out a cafe after practice, but her guitar strap is getting loose, so she’s downstairs getting a new one right now. I shouldn’t keep her waiting.” Soyo states, despite not making any movement for the door. 

“Oh, please go on ahead.”

Soyo continues to stand in place.

“By now you must have realized how she looks at her.”

Umiri looks up at her from her case with a quickening heartbeat. She puts on her best attempt at an oblivious face. “...Who?”

Soyo responds with a dispassionate sigh. “Taki-chan and Tomori-chan, of course.”

“Taki-san is very devoted to her.”

“Yes, that much is readily apparent. Neither of us needed to be told that.” Soyo pauses, swallows, and continues, “Did you know that you look at Taki-chan the same way she looks at Tomori-chan?”

Umiri feels her mind suddenly kick into 110% effort in willing all her facial muscles to not move a millimeter. 

After what felt like an eternity, she manages to squeeze out a “Is that so?”

“It’s okay, Taki-chan is an idiot who doesn’t realize. Anything, really.”

With face still largely frozen in place, Umiri nods absentmindedly and looks down, locked in so many thoughts she can’t pick out any from the cacophony. 

“Nagasaki-san, is this a warning?” 

“No. It’s just a word of caution for you and your…friendship.” Soyo takes a breath before continuing, “I didn’t know if I would like you. We briefly met at RiNG a few months ago. I’m sorry to say, but you didn’t exactly leave the best impression.”

Blushing at that embarrassing memory, Umiri interjects, “That was not my finest hour.”

“I thought that you were a self-centered, oblivious, absolutely ridiculous idiot. Maybe you are, actually, I don’t know,” Soyo says. “But after these past few days, it seems to me that you’re probably just earnest and awkward behind all your masks.”

Soyo looks Umiri in the eyes. “I hold no malice towards you. I have no reason to want to see you hurt. That’s all.”

“...Thank you.”

Soyo lifts her bag onto her shoulder and starts to walk away. 

“Take care, Yahata-san.”

That night, Umiri stands in front of her bathroom mirror and stares at herself, trying to gauge the content of her character. 

* * *

Friday evening comes. Umiri arrives to RiNG and walks back to MyGO’s green room, to find herself alone with Taki nervously bouncing her leg up and down.

“They’re going to be late,” she angrily exclaims. Umiri looks up at the wall. The clock reads 6:25. 

“They still have 5 minutes, Taki-san. There’s no need to make yourself angry.” Umiri sits down on the couch, drapes her arms over the back, and closes her eyes. 

Taki looks over to her. “Is this how you prepare before a live?”

“Yes.”

“So you retreat to your inner zen, huh?”

Typically. Not today, though. Her inner zen is under siege, and it takes all of her to keep her facade from crumbling. The previous night, she did not sleep well or much. It’s plainly obvious why. 

All this time, she’s told herself that she’s Taki’s friend, nothing more. All this time, she’s told herself that her devotion is a manifestation of their friendship, that even if she could be proud of nothing else in her relationships, she could take a measure of solace in being a good and trusted friend to at least one person in this world. 

Umiri doesn’t know when her lunchtime friendship with Taki morphed into something more selfish, more daydreamy. She doesn’t even know when she first realized she liked her that different way. Maybe it was even as late as yesterday. What she does know is that watching Taki be mesmerized by the swaying tips of Tomori’s hair grazing over her blazer’s collar hurt her chest in a way that completely caught her off-guard. So that was that. 

Three days ago, Sakiko told her that she was human for wanting. Now that want has to face reality. Is this a test of one’s humanity, too? 

Soyo enters at exactly 6:30. Anon and Tomori show up at 6:37. Taki looks as if she’s caught between wanting to be kind and wanting to yell, settling instead for a scowl and a grunt of disappointment. 6:45, 6:50, 7:00 comes and goes without any trace of Raana. Taki grows increasingly incensed and starts to angrily spam-text her guitarist. At 7:07, Raana enters the green room with crumbs all over her face. 

“Where were you?! I said 6:30!”

“I was here. I was down the hall getting snacks from the other bands.”

“...You–!”

“Taki-chan… It’s okay, we’re all here.”

Umiri opens her eyes at the sound of Tomori’s voice. She sees Taki’s features soften and her shoulders relax. 

“...I’m sorry for yelling.”

“It’s alright, Taki-chan. We wouldn’t be here without you. Thank you for everything you do.”

The tips of Taki’s ears blush as she stammers out some thanks. 

Of course. This was how it was always going to be.

Umiri closes her eyes once more, leans her head back, inhales deeply, and slowly tries to exhale all the tension and desires that threaten to twist her into knots. 

It’s human to want. It’s human to want. She should want. 

She just can’t want this. 

Anything but this.

That’s fine. 

Inhale.

It’s fine. 

Exhale.

Breathe.

Inhale.

This is what Taki wants. Was she really going to get in the way of that?

Exhale.

Of course not.

Inhale.

She thinks back to how Taki once raced out of class with a full smile after learning that the lyrics she was waiting on were finally done. She remembers how no one saw or noticed or cared, but Umiri was happy, unabashedly happy for her friend. Her friend.

That was a good thing. That was something to be proud of.

Exhale.

She wanted to play with her friend and share in their mutual passion for music at least once. She wanted to help her out with no secondary gain. The better part of her must win. This was not a mistake to come here. She must not let this be a mistake.  

She forces herself to smile and takes another deep breath before any tears threaten to rise to the surface. With another exhale, she gets up and claps her hands, jolting everyone out of whatever they were doing and focusing them on her.

“...I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to do that. But we’re all here now.” She turns to Taki. “Do we warm up, or are you gonna give a speech, or what do you guys do?”

“Oooh, a speech!” Anon eagerly exclaims. Raana’s mischievous eyes light up, too. “Speech! Speech speech speech speech!”

“--Guh! Shouldn’t Tomori be the one making the speech?” 

“No, I want a speech from Rikki!” Raana exclaims as she presses in closer. 

“Looks like you have no choice, Taki-chan,” Soyo states serenely, though she makes no effort to hide her bemused countenance. 

“Taki-chan, please, if you may…” Tomori beams at her. 

“Ugh… Fine.” Taki shifts uncomfortably on her feet before continuing, “Um, dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to celebrate another live which (god willing) will go off without a hitch. And please, no injuries tonight. Amen.”

“Ri~kki~, what the heck was that?” Anon laughs as she hounds Taki around the room. 

Umiri chuckles as she rocks back and forth on her heels, awaiting further instructions. Meanwhile, Tomori comes up to her holding what appears to be a bandaid. 

“This is for you.”

“Hmm? I don’t have a cut, though?”

“I know that bass strings are thick, and if you’re not careful, you can develop a blister on your fingers… This is a rockhopper penguin! It’s one of my favorites. I’d like you to have it just in case. You never know.” She smiles an innocent smile, eyes lighting up as she introduces the penguins adorning the bandaid. Umiri had long ago developed enough calluses to make blisters ancient history. She figures the blister thing was just an excuse to give a gift.

Umiri smiles. Takamatsu Tomori is disappointingly easy to like.

“Thank you, Takamatsu-san.” 

“Mm!” 

Umiri looks at the bandaid sitting in the palm of her hand. She opens the packaging and sticks the bandaid on her polished bridge cover. 

“That’s a new aesthetic.” Umiri hears Soyo say from beside her. 

“...I’d just hate to not use an earnestly given gift.”

“Will you not hate your bass looking like that?”

“No,” Umiri emphatically declares. “It will remind me of my resolve.”

“Oh?” Soyo prods.

Umiri smiles. “Don’t worry, I won’t cause any problems for MyGO.” 

“...Are you giving up?”

There never was any other way.

“It’s just love given another form, that’s all.”

“Hmmm.”

“Alright, everyone. Five minutes until we take the stage, let’s go! Everyone out!”

Umiri puts her bass around her neck and picks up Soyo’s pedalboard case, lining up last to exit the door that Taki was holding open.

“Hey, Taki-san.” She pauses as she passes by.

“Yeah?”

“I’m rooting for you.”

“Hah?!” 

Umiri laughs as a confused Taki follows in her wake. 

* * *

Monday morning brings the start of another week. This week, Uika has no morning commitments, so she was the first of the trio to show up to the classroom. Umiri walks in again at 8:25am. Taki once again dashes in right before the bell, giving her two friends a brief wave before collapsing noisily into her seat. 

Come lunchtime, the three of them decide to eat in. Uika munches on her boxed lunch while the other two sip on coffee and protein drinks and debrief the events of last Friday. 

Anon had previously announced that they’d have a stand-in bassist for their live, but by Umiri’s request, her identity was left unrevealed until she actually walked onto the stage to hushed murmurs of “Timoris-sama?” rippling through the audience. Figuring that her presence would likely distract from the show if left unchecked, once everyone got to their spots, Taki immediately counted off the band into Shoushinshoumei. The first MC section didn’t occur until after the second song, and Umiri was simply introduced as “our stand-in bassist Yahata Umiri”. The show went by in a flash without any drama. After the live ended, Umiri exited RiNG from the backstage exit. MyGO always had a handful of fans wanting to give their greetings and congratulations, but with the surprise addition of Ave Mujica’s bassist, the fangirls were bound to be more numerous, and Umiri simply did not want to deal with that at that time. Thankfully, the MyGO members were understanding and committed themselves to delivering the bad news to the soon-to-be-disappointed Timoris fangirls. 

As such, Taki is currently detailing her travails in breaking the hearts of a small horde of girls. Umiri sits by her, smiles, and takes in the story. She apologizes every few minutes while not looking a single bit sorry. 

“Anyways,” Taki continues, “I owe you a whole bunch. Like, literally owe you. How much are your rates?”

Umiri stops sipping to look at Taki. “We never discussed rates. I have no intention of charging you.”

“Well, it was a huge inconvenience to you, yes?” Taki looks to Uika for support who just lightly shrugs her shoulders. “So at least let me do something for you.”

“I already have the perfect idea for what you can do for me,” Umiri responds as she rummages through her bag, taking out a white envelope and handing it to Taki. 

Taki takes it, looks inside, and looks up again. “They’re tickets to your next live. I don’t think you understand how this ‘returning a favor’ thing works.” 

“The tickets themselves are worth nothing to me. What I want you to do is to finally come to one of our lives.” Umiri sips thoughtfully at her drink while she continues, “It’s been how many months, I’ve invited you how many times, and you steadfastly refuse to go. What are we supposed to think about that?” Umiri looks back at Uika who nods in agreement. 

“Come on, Taki-chan. I promise you it won’t be terrible.”

“Well… Alright, I guess I have no choice, huh?”

“It’s not torture, Taki-san. But no, you have no choice. Plus, I know your band won’t be doing any significant group practices in the next few weeks.” Umiri says with a smirk. 

“But there’s two tickets in here. Did you want me to bring someone?”

“Yeah, bring a friend. You know plenty of people. Surely someone you know must be somewhat okay with going to a Mujica live?”

“Anon is crazy about you guys but fuck that,” Taki muses. “Soyo would refuse to go, and Raana just flat-out isn’t interested. I guess I could ask my sis-”

“Why don’t you ask Takamatsu-san?” Umiri interjects. Uika gives her a pointed glance. 

“Tomori? I don’t think your music is up her alley.” 

“Maybe not, but she has friends in our band, too. She hasn’t been to one of our lives either, right? I’m sure Togawa-san and Wakaba-san would be thrilled to have her come see them.” 

“I guess…”

“Just ask her, Taki-san. I don’t think she’ll say no.”

Taki stares down at the two tickets in her hand with a faint blush rising to her cheeks as she hypes herself up for the task at hand. “Alright! I’ll ask. Thanks, Umiri.”

“You’re very welcome. We’ll be looking forward to seeing the two of you there.” 

“I’m going downstairs to grab some curry bread. Let me at least get you lunch.” And with this, Taki jots off downstairs. 

As the sound of Taki’s footsteps fade away, Uika’s voice reaches Umiri. 

“That was a very noble thing you did there.”

Umiri turns around to face Uika with a neutral expression. “It’s just concert tickets. Nothing noble about it.”

Uika fixes her with knowing eyes. “Umiri. I’m sorry to tell you this, but you are extremely easy to read. Did you know that?”

Umiri’s eyes widen briefly before she sighs and turns away slightly with slumped shoulders. “If multiple people are telling me this, I guess it must be true.”

“Are you okay with this?” Uika gently asks.

Umiri looks at her briefly, flashes a bit of a sad smile, and replies, “There’s no ‘okay with it’ or anything. It just is what it is.”

A pregnant silence hangs over their conversation before Uika breaks it again.

“I would never be able to do that.”

“...Are you gloating?”

“No, I’m serious. I’m far too selfish to give up that part of myself.”

“I don’t think that’s true. I think you judge yourself far too harshly, Misumi-san.” A few seconds pass before Umiri adds, “Besides, I’m honored that you think I’m doing this from some position of high-minded nobility.” 

Flatly, Umiri finishes, “I’m just a coward, Misumi-san.”

“A lot of people would consider putting your loved one before yourself to be a very brave act.”

“It’s easy to be brave when the outcome is already foregone. I’m just along for the ride.”

“My intrepid avarice versus your spineless selflessness–-which of us do you think has been made the better person, Umiri-chan?” 

Uika gets up and pats her on the shoulder as she heads for the bathroom.

“Try to see yourself in a better light sometime, Umiri-chan. You don’t need to beat yourself up so much for taking the high road.”

* * *

A few days later, Taki asks Umiri to meet her under their tree in the courtyard after school. Umiri arrives to find Taki waiting with a small plain box beside her. 

“Hey.” 

“Yo.” Taki was sucking away at a carton of almond jelly. “Sit.”

Dutifully, Umiri sits down beside her as Taki puts down her drink and picks up the box, handing it to her.

“This is for you.”

“...What’s the occasion?” Umiri receives it quizzically. 

Taki narrows her eyes. “What do you mean ‘what’s the occasion’? Look, just open it up.”

Umiri lifts the lid to find within…a tiny cactus in a glazed terracotta pot. 

“...Thank…you?” Umiri raises her no-less-confused gaze from the succulent to her friend. 

With a small blush painting her cheeks, Taki steals a glance before returning her gaze forward. 

“You know… You never ask for anything. It’s not like I haven’t noticed. I’ve asked you to drop everything else going on in your life to help with MyGO twice now. And you’ve never even asked for a single thing in return--” Taki suddenly catches herself. “Well, I guess you’ve finally now asked me to come to your live, but you’re right! I should have done that a long time ago. You shouldn’t have to waste a favor on that just to get me to see my friends perform…” Taki’s voice trails off guiltily. 

“In the almost-year I’ve known you, I’ve never heard you want something for yourself. And you never complain. I come to you and you just let me blab on and on and just sit there and listen. Even when your own band was falling apart, you kept all that to yourself.” Taki’s brow unfurrows a bit, appearing a little sad. “I know you get hurt. You must have frustrations inside.” Taki looks down at her feet as she lightly kicks at the dirt. “I would appreciate it if you’d share them with me if it would help you blow off steam. Well, rather--”

Taki groans in frustration as she rubs her neck.

“...Rather, I’d like you to be able to count on me. You’ve always been there for me. Let me be there for you sometimes.” Taki’s ears light up bright red in embarrassment at all this sentimentality.

Umiri was looking at Taki during her monologue. Once she stopped talking, her eyes briefly flick down to Taki’s well-worn palms lightly gripping the edge of the bench. A barely perceptible dry callus on the side of her index finger scarcely mars otherwise fine skin. Umiri returns her gaze ahead, staring at nothing at all once more. 

“...I’m not even sure what I want, Taki-san,” Umiri lies. 

“That’s fine. And if you ever want to talk about that, please come to me.” 

Umiri chuckles. “I will try.” Not about this, though. 

The two let the conversation fall into silence for a few seconds. 

“...Does it make you sad? How I don’t share much?”

“Some times more than others. I don’t wanna barge in on your privacy, but, y’know…” Taki shrugs. “I want to be relied on sometimes, too.” 

Taki-san is a good person. I’m blessed to have her as a friend.

She’d say this to herself enough times to fully believe it. 

“I will do my best to be more open with you in the future. I apologize for making you feel lonely.”

In response, Taki stammers, “I should be the one saying that! Ah, whatever…”

Umiri smiles and looks down at the box in her hands. “Um, I appreciate your sentiments, Taki-san, but I’m still a little confused as to…why a cactus?”

“Oh.” Taki is suddenly jolted out of the world of touchy-feely emotions. “Ah, well, I thought that maybe you just weren’t comfortable spilling your guts out to me, but everyone needs an outlet, right? So you could just take it home and tell it about all the things that are weighing on you. Good things, too! Cacti are non-judgmental.” Putting on a smirk, Taki continues, “And the prickly spines will remind you of me. So when you’re ready to upgrade from talking to a cactus, you’ll know who to find.” 

“What a surprisingly sentimental gift.”

“Look, you’re hard to buy for, alright? I didn’t want to just get you jewelry, and I know nothing about all your audiophile nonsense, so you get this sappy thing, instead.”

Umiri laughs out loud. Taki will never realize how much she appreciates the gift. At least a small part of Taki was a little hurt. Yet even if she couldn’t fulfill the role she wanted to, she wanted to make sure Umiri had at least this little companion in its little pot. It’s such a small thing, but Taki's consideration for her is priceless.

Frankly, Umiri’s never asked for anything from her because Taki’s very continual presence is a gift. Even when Taki was obviously incensed at her for abandoning Mutsumi, she herself never actually abandoned Umiri. When Taki walked away that day at the vending machines, part of Umiri worried that that was the last time she’d see her walk away. Yet the next day, Taki was back. A bit more terse, sure, but she was there. She didn’t leave. She didn’t abandon her. She was still by her side. That is a gift that Umiri can never buy. That is a wish that she could never voice. 

Umiri gently cradles the box in her hands. “Thank you, Taki-san. Thank you once again for always thinking of me.”

“Yeah, well, try not to kill it.” Taki deflected. “That’s another thing! It’s a cactus, so it would be hard to kill. You seem like someone who would be bad at taking care of plants.” Taki picks up her neglected drink again and starts to suck at the straw. “And lord knows your apartment could stand to use a splash of green.” 

Standing up, Taki picks up her bag. “Well, we’re going over to Anon’s today to work on some lyrics, so I should get going.” She turns to leave. “See you tomorrow as always?”

“Of course, as always.” Umiri sends her off with a small wave. 

Alone now, she leans back on the heels of her hands, throws her head back, and feels the dappled afternoon sun filter through the leaves and fall upon her face. 

As always, huh?

That’s something to look forward to. It won’t be so bad.