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Nearby, Mutsumi was dealing with the finishing touches on her makeup. Nyamu was quietly repeating lines to herself into her vanity mirror, trying different line readings. Sakiko was talking with stage technicians about the finer details about how the show should be lit. Uika was drinking tea and warming up her voice. Umiri was standing off to one side, seemingly not doing anything of importance, but clearly caring a lot about it.
And then there was Sodachi. Even after all this time, Sodachi still had no idea what to do with herself before shows.
She wasn’t the greatest actor. Of course, neither was Umiri or Sakiko, so she didn’t feel like she dragged the group down… but she would still rank herself last. She was capable of memorizing her lines, but she didn’t like how they sounded when they were read on stage.
She was confident in her playing abilities, but there was nothing she could do to warm up at this stage. That’s what practice sessions and playing at home was for. By the time the sound check was over, there wasn’t anything for her to do to prepare for her performance. She didn’t even have her violin anymore. All the instruments were on stage already.
Should she just stand around like Umiri? She did look kinda cool doing that, and Sodachi was the perpetually lamest member of Ave Mujica, so maybe she needed to start taking notes from her bandmates. She couldn’t sing like Uika or act like Mutsumi, she wasn’t gorgeous like Nyamu or rich like Sakiko, but if all Umiri was doing was standing there… Sodachi could do that.
Would she look as cool? That was hard to say. Maybe what separated Sodachi from Umiri was that Umiri could look cool just standing there.
In the end, while the others prepared for the show, the way that Sodachi spent her time was simply ruminating.
Eventually, it was time. The six of them headed out to the stage for the show. As they approached, Sodachi could hear the roar of the crowd. Ave Mujica had never played for a crowd that was less than thousands… and Sodachi still was not used to it.
She had gotten used to playing in small venues during her time as a session musician. With those bands, they were unsuccessful at the best of times. Any audience they got was either because the venue itself drew a crowd or because the other girls had families who were attending. To go from that to a national tour in just a few months was intoxicating. Sodachi couldn’t imagine a world in which she got used to that.
The lights went out. The positions on the floor were marked with dimly glowing tape. They had practiced this beforehand, so Sodachi knew where to go. She found her place with relative ease, then waited. After this, the lights would turn on and the play would begin.
Sodachi didn’t know how the others felt at times like this, but this is when she was most nervous. The moment between preparing and beginning. There was nothing to do but stand there.
Finally, Sakiko began to speak. Or rather, she was now Oblivionis. Her voice boomed throughout the arena.
“Hark, the moon rises over our gentle castle.” The first spotlight clicked on, illuminating her at the center of the stage. “Tonight, under its light, five dolls find themselves questioning their purpose. They find themselves questioning the very basic facts of life. Can a doll live? In order to answer that question, there are other things which must first be answered. What does it mean for a doll to live for itself, freed from its strings?” She chuckled a sinister chuckle. “Tonight, under the loft moon, we shall find our answers.” The spotlight turned off, leaving the stage in darkness once more.
Sodachi had no idea how Sakiko came up with these things. She sometimes saw her reading old foreign books, but with something this high-concept, there had to be a lot.
Sodachi would have never been able to do something like that. She was suited towards practical studies, like math. Literature was never her thing.
Instrumental music began to play over the arena’s speakers. It was a light little piece, something that Sakiko had composed in her spare time for scenes like these.
Again, how did she do it? Sakiko wasn’t any older than Sodachi. They were both first years.
Sodachi couldn’t keep ruminating on this, though. The show was about to begin properly. She had to be ready.
The loud click announced another spotlight turning on. Someone new stood in the center stage spot. Nyamu, or rather, Amori, basked in the limelight. After a few moments of stretching, she began to pace around with a small bounce in her step. She was quite lively.
“What does it mean for a doll to live free from its strings?” Amoris laughed. “What a stupid question. If a doll is a doll, then it will always have an owner. For a doll to only have itself means that it has been tossed aside. It’s a kindness to grab a doll’s strings and to do with it what you want.”
Amoris’s pacing brought her over to the corner where Umiri, or rather, Timoris, was standing. Together, they shared the spotlight. She ran her finger across Timoris’s jaw until she was satisfied. She grabbed and raised Timoris’s arm, then let it fall.
“This doll is without an owner, so I shall take it for my own.”
Amoris spun on her heel and began walking away. The spotlight followed her across the stage until she came across Uika, or rather, Doloris.
Once again, Amoris made her ownership known. She spun around the doll, pinching and grabbing her in every little place.
“This doll, too, is without an owner, so I shall take it for my own.”
Then she left Doloris alone and strode across the stage once more. This time, she stopped in front of Sodachi, or rather, Solitudinis. She grimaced as Amoris placed a single finger under her chin and lifted it up. Her other arm was wrapped around the doll into a tight embrace. Amoris leaned forward, lips sticking out. She was playing this affection for everyone in the crowd, all the way into the cheap seats.
Sodachi didn’t want her first kiss to be on stage. Thankfully, before their lips touched, Amoris pulled away. She let go of Solitudinis, then turned away, with only her fingertips lingering on the doll’s arm.
“Yet another doll, without an owner. Once again, I shall take it for my own.”
Then she left. One last time, she made her way across the stage, until she stopped in front of Mutsumi, or rather, Mortis. She grabbed the girl, the one of them most like a doll, by both of her wrists. She pulled her close, puppeteering her. After a moment, Amoris spun her around in a sort of pirouette.
“One last doll, without an owner. One last time, I shall take it for my own.”
Amoris let go of Morits and walked back to the center of the stage. “All these dolls, left without owners. What would become of them if I were not here?” She let out a haughty laugh. “Nothing. Nothing would happen to them. They would simply be left here to rot for all time. Their so-called freedom means nothing. They would waste it.”
A second spotlight clicked on. Standing atop the stairs behind her, Oblivionis bowed. “You say they need their owners, but what about you, Amoris? You are a doll, the same as them? What distinguishes you from them? Why do you deserve their freedom, but not them?”
Amoris spun on her heels to face Oblivionis. “What a silly question. It’s my own personal superiority. Would any of them, if left on their own, have the drive to do the things I have done? No. That’s why they were here. They need me. Dolls need an owner.”
“Dolls need an owner, so who is yours?”
Amoris let out a frustrated humph. “I am my own owner.”
“Where is the line between you and them drawn?” Oblivionis held her head high. She stopped on the second step up, leaving herself slightly taller than Amoris. “Would it be such a crime for them to have free will?”
Amoris didn’t answer that. Instead, she turned around again. Then, she raised both her arms. It was a grand gesture, and in time with it, more lights clicked on; four spotlights highlighted the four dolls she had taken ownership of. Then she raised her arms, sweeping them down and inwards. Accordingly, the dolls approached, until they surrounded her. Two hung off her shoulders and two hung off her arms. It was a veritable harem.
Sodachi was one of the ones hanging off her arms. She was on the right side; across from her was Mutsumi.
It was such a stunning lack of dignity that she couldn’t bear to imagine how it looked to the audience. Then again, though, based on the feedback she had heard, people liked these segments. Sodachi tried to avoid seeing anything about Ave Mujica online, but at the very least, it seemed like it didn’t make people think less of her for it.
The role Sakiko had cast Sodachi in for this night didn’t help. Sakiko always cast herself in cool or impressive roles. She was the star of the band and she made sure everyone knew it. In comparison, Sodachi was a bit player.
Amoris laughed. “See? Isn’t it better for these dolls to serve me? Is this not a more pleasant experience?”
Oblivionis stepped down the last few steps, then approached Amoris. Once she was close, she began gesturing, as if to say that the dolls could leave her side. They each did, accordingly, stepping a few feet away.
“You say all these things, but that’s just your own beliefs. Do you think it’s fair for you to put your words in their mouths?”
Once again, Amoris humphed. She knew that Oblivionis was correct. She turned away from the dolls, away from Oblivionis, away from the audience, then waved from behind.
“They can say what they wish. It won’t change a thing.”
Oblivionis nodded. “Then let them speak.”
The lights on Oblivionis and Amoris clicked off. Then, one by one, the lights on each of the dolls turned off in the same manner, until only one light was left. Solitudinis remained in the spotlight; it was her turn to speak.
From the darkness, Oblivionis addressed her. “You, doll, what do you think of freedom? Do you wish for it or are you content to remain as you are, or do you wish for something else?”
Sodachi gulped. It was her turn. No matter how much stage fright she had, she would do this.
“I do not wish for free will.”
Why did Sakiko put her in this role?
“There is comfort in being a doll. There is comfort in simply being the possession of another. To have an owner means I don’t need to be alone. I would rather cast aside my free will than cast aside companionship.”
“Is giving up your free will the only way to find companionship?”
“It’s the only way to be certain.”
The spotlight turned off. Her argument was done.
Light returned, this time on Moris.
Once again, Oblivionis addressed her. “What do you think of freedom?”
“I fear free will.” Mortis’s voice was soft and monotone. There was no passion in her words. “I fear free will in the same way I fear death. But the two are the same even beyond that.”
“Eh?” Amoris was incredulous. “What do you mean by that?”
“When we ask what it is to live, we must ask why free will is not a part of that? I yearn to be free so I can confront life like I have confronted death. A lack of free will is the same thing as death. I would no sooner want to give up my freedom than give up my life; if I cannot live, I cannot live, no matter the cause.”
“That’s nonsense. If you’re alive, you’re alive. It’s a simple fact!”
Oblivionis refuted her. “Amoris, that is this doll feelings. That’s what we’re looking for. It’s not your place right now to argue.”
Amoris wasn’t satisfied, but still, she let the point die. Once again, the spotlight on Mortis died, signaling the end of her argument.
When the light had returned, Doloris was illuminated. Unlike Mortis, who had held her head high, Doloris let her head sag. She was, it was clear, not entirely sure of herself.
“I cannot say that the ownership of a doll is not a nice thing. When a doll is owned, it cannot be sad. A life without sadness… Many would strive for that, would they not? A life without tears or grief… I yearn for that. It’s for this reason that a part of me wishes to be a doll…” Doloris posed dramatically.
“Yet… as much as I yearn for a world without sadness, I know that it would not be enough. Living without sadness dulls everything. The life of a doll who is owned by another is a life with only one state. When one is happy all the time, it means nothing. You cannot truly laugh if you have not cried. I would not want to live a life where all my feelings are dictated by the one who owns me. The feelings of a doll are the feeling of being played with. I do not want that. I want to experience multitudes. I want to laugh, but I want to cry!”
Amoris didn’t respond normally. She didn’t try to refute what Doloris had said. Instead, she just barreled over, laughing. She did such for nearly half a minute. Eventually, though, she recovered.
Wiping away a tear, she said, “That has to be the stupidest thing I have ever heard. You want to laugh and cry? What bullshit.” She stopped to laugh some more. “What good is feeling sad? In my ideal life, I would only feel happy, and I would appreciate it! Maybe you’re so obsessed with sadness that you can’t appreciate anything else, but I have no such issue! Perhaps you need an owner just so you can learn to appreciate happiness.”
“That’s untrue.” Doloris turned away, stubborn. Shortly after she said that, the spotlight on her clicked off, signaling the end of her argument.
The last doll, Timoris, came into the spotlight next. After a polite bow, she began her argument.
“The others argued from their own emotions, but instead, I want to argue from a different point,” she said, looking Amoris right in the eyes. Amoris sneered, not enjoying the disrespect, even before Timoris continued.
“If we are to be controlled by you, that would include every element, right? Our every action? Our every feeling?”
Amoris laughed. “Of course! It was silly to even ask this!”
“Even our love?”
“Eh?” Amoris was taken aback by this. “Even love…? Of course that includes love. If I was your owner, I would ensure that all of you are loved and that you are all able to find love of your own.”
“But isn’t it better for people to find love with those that they like? To let you decide that, is that any better than an arranged marriage? I want to love someone who I fall in love with, not someone who was chosen for me.”
Amoris growled. She had nothing more to say.
For the first time in a while, Oblivionis chimed in. “I believe the matter has been decided. These dolls have made their arguments for freedom and Amoris has been unable to refute them.”
Sodachi breathed a sigh of relief. The first act was nearly done. All the lights except the one on Sakiko had turned off, giving the rest of the band time to prepare for the performance.
“Now that the group has chosen their freedom, it will be granted. For good and for ill, for love and for sadness, these dolls will be allowed to walk free. And now… let the show begin.”
The final light clicked off. Sodachi heard Sakiko rushing past her to get from center stage to her keyboard. In a few moments, the lights would turn on again and it would be time for them to play.
Sodachi was immensely less nervous about that. She knew how to play violin. She had played with the band so many times that she had lost count. It would go fine.
If she dreaded anything, it was the second act.
But she didn't need to worry about that right then. She rested her violin in place, then prepared for the lights to come back on. When they did, the band immediately went into their first song.
A bit over a half hour later, they stopped. They had played several songs, so now it was time for more theatrics.
This time, there was only one light. That light shined on Sodachi. It was her turn at the center.
She was incredibly nervous. She had no idea what she was doing here.
It was time to stop being Sodachi Oikura. It was time to become Solitudinis.
As she became illuminated, Solitudinis hung her head. “What good is freedom if one does not want it? Why should I be forced to be freed just because that's what the others wanted? If desire or love are the basis for freedom, then shouldn't a desire for control be good enough? Why did the other dolls get what they wanted, while I'm left scorned?”
Sodachi did her best to put emotion in her voice, but it sounded incredibly cheap to her. She was a violinist, not an actor. She didn't deserve to stand on stage with people like Mutsumi or Nyamu. Uika wasn't a professional actor in the same way, but her passion and the conviction she was able to put into her words made up for that. Sakiko, too, was not an actor, but as the one writing the scripts, she had the confidence to make herself perfect.
Umiri was the only one comparable to Sodachi. They were both former session musicians. But even then, Umiri had a better ability to go with the flow of concerts. She could figure out a mood and match it. Sodachi couldn't do that.
“I didn't want to become free, but what I wanted was disregarded.” Solitudinis turned to look at the staircase where Oblivionis had stood. “If you stand for your ideals, then you should answer my pleas! Tell me why the others had their wishes granted, but not me.”
Suddenly, Oblivionis appeared atop the staircase. She had a troubled expression on her face.
“Dear doll… I didn't wish to cause you harm. I only wished to free you so that you could live a life of your own. But if you are unable to do so… I can take you. I can become your owner. Surely, I will become a kinder owner than Amoris would have been.”
“Hypocrite,” Amoris sneered. She was shrouded in darkness when she first spoke. Only after did the light turn on. “If you're going to take control of that doll, then what was the point of this? Are you really so shallow that you would compromise on your ideals without a second thought?”
Oblivionis sighed. “It's certainly not without a second thought that I make this choice. I see it as the only way that Solitudinis could be happy, if what this doll says is true.”
“So why should this doll come under your control? I was the one who claimed her. You stole this doll from me. If you say that Solitudinis needs an owner, then why can’t it be me?” Amoris turned away on her heel. “It’s simple finders keepers, is it not?”
“If I take this doll in, that’s a charity case. For you, it’s an act of cruelty. You are not to be trusted.”
“Ehhh?” Amoris screeched. “That’s nonsense. If this doll should have an owner, and it can’t be me by right, then shouldn’t we let the doll decide?”
Sodachi had been standing, illuminated by the spotlight, saying nothing. It was a nerve wracking position to be in. Thin beads of sweat, brought about from the heavy lights, began to appear on her forehead. In this sense, it was almost a blessing that it was her turn to speak once more.
“...How can I decide? It’s not my right. If I want another to control me,” Sodachi winced. Saying these things made her feel uncomfortable sometimes. She did her best to recover, before continuing, “then I want them to make that choice for me. If I make the choice, then it’s not the same.”
What kind of sick fetishes did Sakiko have? Sodachi would rather not know.
“See?” Amoris began pointing excitedly at Solitudinis. “See? I’m right. Give this doll to me now!”
Another spotlight clicked on suddenly. Everyone turned, shocked, to see who it was. Timoris, now, stood in the light. When she saw the others staring at her, she bowed. Then she said, “I believe that this doll does not truly want to be owned by another. I believe that, instead, it is scared of freedom. Shouldn’t you engage with that, instead, rather than argue about which of the two of you should control it?”
“It doesn’t want to choose! It doesn’t want those feelings!” Amoris, never the calmest, had totally lost her cool by now.
But she wasn’t alone. Oblivionis seemed upset by Timoris’ introjection. “This doll doesn’t seem scared. It desires another. Who are we to deny it this?”
“You’re no better than Amoris, aren’t you?” Such a scathing critique was offered with a deadpan tone. “You hide your attitude behind a veneer of kindness, but if you really wanted to help, you would fix the underlying issues. If you cared about this doll, you would be better than her.”
Oblivionis gritted her teeth. She wanted to argue with Timoris. She knew Timoris was wrong, deep down in her heart… but her heart wasn’t the sole arbiter of truth. When she examined herself holistically, she found it hard to argue with.
Timoris began walking across the stage in the direction of Solitudinis. Once their spotlights merged, she placed a hand on the doll’s shoulder. “I know that you fear being alone, but to denigrate yourself is not the answer.”
Solitudinis turned away. She didn’t want to meet Timoris’ eyes. She had nothing to say to the other doll.
“Not being owned doesn’t mean being alone. Live with other dolls, if you must. Find companionship in the world around you. It will be a more fulfilling life.”
Solitudinis grabbed her arm. “I don’t… know. I don’t know.”
“You don’t know, but isn’t that uncertainty better than giving up the choice altogether? You can learn. Your ignorance doesn’t need to be a trap.”
“I… suppose.”
“Even with free will, you can rely on others. You can ask us for help when you need it. You can ask us to make choices for you sometimes. What matters is that you face the world as much as you can. As a skill, you will get better, until one day you learn you can stand upright without help. Isn’t that better than being eternally trapped?”
“...Fine.” With a begrudging tone, Solitudinis admitted to it.
Nearby, Oblivions sighed. “The doll can go free. Let Solitudinis go on her own path. May she find her own reasons to keep moving. And in doing so… let the show continue.”
Sodachi breathed a sign of relief. It was time for the second set. Once that was over, they would play an encore, followed by a quick epilogue. She only had a few lines for that. Umiri and Sakiko would be doing the happy lifting.
Once again lifting her violin, she readied herself to play.
The better part of an hour later, Sodachi collapsed backstage. She fell into one of the seats in the changing room. She had gotten into the performance quite well, and it had been great in the moment, but already the soreness was setting in.
Hotel rooms were courtesy of Ave Mujica’s finances— that was to say, Sakiko. That meant that, come the morning, Sodachi could order room service and rest inside until it was time for their media appearances.
As Sakiko passed by, however, Sodachi spoke up. She was usually content to let Sakiko be the band leader she wanted to be, but this time, something had to be said.
“Sakiko… can you not cast me in such weird roles in the future? I don't enjoy being portrayed as so pathetic.”
With an innocent smile, Sakiko nodded. “I understand. I wasn't trying to make you look pathetic. I was simply just trying to portray a version of your personality as I see it. If you think I got you wrong, I'll keep that in mind for the future.”
As a response, it was worse than nothing. It told Sodachi that was how Sakiko thought of her.
Being a pervertess would have been preferable to that.
With a sigh, Sodachi let herself sink into her chair. If she sank deep enough, eventually she wouldn't have to deal with all this.