Chapter Text
Maybe it's them she misses, Shiho considers.
It would explain a lot of things. The unbridled eagerness with which she always finds herself agreeing to all of Saki's wild demands to "hang out" outside of their school and practice time. The cold mass in her chest whenever her conversations with Honami drift towards their dreams and futures. The quick nods Ichika shares with her as they pass in the hallway, which wouldn't look out of place in a dark backstage as the crowd roars their band's name. That last one — for a moment, she can almost see it.
What a dream. Their band, the one they were in when they were five, performing for as many fans as Shiho does now. The four of them on stage: Saki on keyboard, Honami on drums, Ichika on guitar, her on bass. Though, maybe they wouldn't have the unique advantage of a double bassist core. No matter; they'd make it work somehow. Ichika would be the leader, of course, and they'd conquer the world together.
A hint of a smile creeps onto her lips. A crazy, fantastic dream. But there's no time for dreaming. At least not now, a month before their next live. Always more work to be done, always more—
Shiho yawns.
—always more songs to write, music to make. The five of them would do it together. This is what she wanted, after all. She can't let it go now.
Trapping her gaze like a crystal ball, on a reclining couch at the far side of the office, is an old acoustic guitar. The G-string is broken.
"Shiho. Shiho?"
She hears papers ruffling. "Oi, Hinomori. You still with us?" There's a moment as Shiho pieces her thoughts back together, like picking up a cat that's turned into a puddle on the ground.
"Sorry. Been awake for 19 hours."
"Oh." If Shiho was more conscious, she'd catch a hint of pity in Mio's voice. She sets down the sheet music in her hands. "Should we call it here, then?"
"No," Shiho raises an arm in protest. "I'm fine. There's work to be done, might as well do it now."
"Yeah, and it's going to be bad work and be bad, because both my bassists have been awake for 19 hours." Iori's fingers knead at her forehead, then she turns to Mio. "Let's call it here. We should probably bring Erina into this discussion anyway; they're playing with you two in this part."
"Mm. Okay." Shiho leans back into the low sofa, feeling her eyelids begin to slip shut as she lets the other two members of her band become only their voices in the darkness. Iori, who even in light conversation still carries hints of that vibrant melodic tone. Mio, more mellow by contrast, yet occasionally entering that teasing lilt, just as full of life.
"We're still on track for the live. After we settle this, songs will be locked and we can start increasing practice."
"Is the schedule same as last time? Adding Tuesdays and Thursdays?"
Someone sits on the other side of the couch and when the voice comes, it's Iori. "Ideally, yes. We'll fly it by everyone tomorrow, then book the studio. This is going to be a big one, so I want everything squared away by a week before, if possible."
"We could do Wednesday as well." Shiho opens her eyes as she speaks; the expression Mio greets her with is unreadable. "I can make time for a month."
Mio sits down in between them. "We'll... discuss it. I'm not sure if something's come up with the other two. You know how they are." She puts a finger to her smiling lips.
"And what's that supposed to mean?" Iori smirks back at her. "Surely not the way they stare into each other's eyes all break, or the way Aya keeps playing with Eri's hair, or all the... cuddling. What do you think, Shiho?" She asks, almost as an afterthought.
Shiho deadpans. "Kissing? Gross."
"Deplorable, both of you," Mio stifles a laugh, gently rapping her knuckles against Iori's wrist in mock punishment. "What's wrong with young love?"
What's wrong with young love, Shiho?
None of them answer for a moment. Iori clears her throat.
"Nothing. But, we should check with them. Not in that way, but, um—"
"I know, Iori. I'll handle it with everyone tomorrow. Band first, after all. I'm sure they know that too." Mio's voice is more reserved now, her words starting hollow before she seems to realize, painting them back into her usual colors. Iori utters her thanks, and Mio takes her hand into hers.
"Can I see them?" Miu asks, to which Shiho pauses and gingerly reaches out her arm. Miu had only been learning guitar for a few days, by then. One by one, she presses their fingertips together, first from her index to her pinky, then her thumb. Her skin was still smooth, unmarred against Shiho's rough calluses from ceaseless practice. Miu's eyes never leave their joined fingers, gaze lit with intrigue. Shiho swallows.
"Hehe. They feel kinda weird." As she speaks, the wind on the rooftop blows strands of her hair across her face. She lifts her free hand to tuck them behind her ear.
"They're not weird. They're helpful. You'll have them too, soon."
The corners of her smile drop slightly. "If I can keep practicing, that is."
"Which you are."
"Which I am. And I will."
"So, about the live."
"Mm, Shiho? Oh, do you need extra tickets again?" Shiho nods. "We can ask, and I think Shindou'll see what he can do, but in a worst case you might've to buy them like you did last time. There are other bands performing at this event."
Shiho turns slightly to hide her grimace and makes a noise of understanding. VIP tickets aren't exactly cheap.
"We'll likely be able to secure early access for you, at least. Probably." Mio leans more of her weight back into the couch cushions. "God, I'm tired."
"Same here." Iori gently claps her hands together. "Right, let's settle it all tomorrow, then. Have a good rest, both of you." At that, Shiho finally lets out a breath she didn't know she'd been holding. Done for the day.
Shiho's always had mixed feelings about this time, the countdown leading up to a performance. The worry never goes away, the nightmares where she's in front of a roaring crowd as she forgets all her songs and Sumire turns back with a disappointed look and the audience wearing Saki's face screams her name like an accusation— That is, the fear of not being ready. The first time she'd been on stage, at the school festival standing alongside people she didn't really want to be performing with...
They weren't ready. But it still happened. And it still meant something to her. She supposes.
Shiho lets her eyes shut and the quiet night consume her. The weight of expectations laid upon her like a rock to be rolled up a mountain, just as much by herself as by others. Like an anchor, it settles comfortably into a space left in her heart just for it, pulling it down through her chest into her stomach. It, just like her, is where it belongs.
She opens an eye. Iori and Mio are staring at her.
"Surely you're not sleeping here." She points to a nearby cupboard. "We can hole you up under one of the desks with a sleeping bag, if you want."
"Absolutely not, Iori. I'm just resting for a bit. It's an hour's bus ride back home, and my sister knows I'm coming back late today."
"Oh, do you want us to get you a cab, then?" Shiho thinks about it, then shakes her head. "I still can't believe your sister is the Shizuku Hinomori," Mio mutters under her breath.
"Hey hey, don't you start now," Iori teases. "That's our colleague you're talking about. And we're all family here. Right?"
Shiho rolls her eyes with a half-grin. "Let the record show that Shiho Hinomori is not comfortable with this language." Mio, a full 19-year-old, sticks out her tongue and makes a face in response.
Iori leans forward and knocks against the wooden coffee table, mimicking a judge's gavel. "Witness testifies. Mio Kitakaze, how do you plead?"
"I... I never meant for any of this to happen. I guess..." Mio stands up. She clutches both hands tight to her chest, then extends an arm in a dramatic flourish. "This is what it means... to go pro."
On either side of her, both politely applaud. "Yeah, getting sued. I'm sure we'll have lots of that in our future." Iori allows her head to loll back against the cushion as Mio collapses next to her. "But anyways, it is pretty crazy. Your sister being an idol and all that."
"Mm." Shiho shrugs helplessly. "She's... an idol. It's always been like that, since we were kids. Nothing crazy about it."
"I guess not. Grand Prix, Cheerful Days, and now MORE MORE JUMP." As Mio says this, Iori elbows her side, and Mio mimes throwing something back at her.
"Yeah. I think she's a lot happier now." The Hinomori sisters, sailing twin paths through their own oceans. Shiho doesn't mind the sound of that.
A lull falls between them, yet none of the three move to get up from the sticky comfort of the couch. It's long into night outside, as the cold air in the office becomes ever more noticeable. Shiho grabs a nearby throw pillow, clutching it tight to her chest with both arms as she feels movement next to her.
"Mio..."
"Sorry. Try being less warm next time."
"Yeah? And how would I be less warm?"
Mio tucks her legs in, curling up against Iori. "I'm not helping you with that~"
"Shiho? Help?" The strained plea in Iori's voice draws Shiho's attention; the look on her face tells her she absolutely doesn't want it.
"I don't know. You two look pretty comfortable."
"That's—" Iori splutters. "Ex-cuse me, we're not—"
"We?" Mio perks her head up ever so slightly. "Speak for yourself, leader."
"And I shall. Bass variation, vetoed." She makes a pitiful attempt for the sheet music on the table, evidently unwilling to disturb Mio whatsoever.
Shiho audibly sighs in faux disappointment. "I suppose we should have expected it. You're so famously against improvisation, after all."
"I'll kill you, Hinomori. In real life."
"Death threats, against a child? Not very becoming of our frontwoman..."
"Yes. I feel very threatened."
Mio tuts softly. "You see? You're creating a hostile work environment, Iori." She says this while still clutching Iori's arm like a koala to a tree branch.
"That was one time. And I apologized."
"Yeah, Eri just wanted to show you her new arrangement, and you said— what was it?" She places a finger on a her chin and pretends to think. "'Just play," her deepened voice is without affectation, in imitation of Iori's deadpan, "the fucking song.' How dare you. And then you made a little face. Like you were angry."
"I absolutely did not."
"I think she was crying," Shiho provides.
"She was fine! She was not crying."
"No, you weren't there. We all got ice cream afterwards without you." Shiho crosses her legs, folding her arms as she tries her best to remember what Saki looks like when she's being all pouty. "She was full-on crying."
Iori groans. "Fine! Fine. I'll... I'll get everyone ice cream tomorrow. We'll eat in the studio. Sounds good?"
The two bassists high-five. It's harder for Mio, who has to turn her upper torso away from the comforting warmth of Iori's side to reach Shiho's outstretched hand.
"...Was she actually crying?"
"No, she was totally fine with it. We just got ice cream without you for fun."
Iori pinches the bridge of her nose. "Riiiight. O—kay. At any rate, practice is about to get a lot more intense for the coming month, so it can't hurt to enjoy ourselves once in a while. As long as we stay on schedule."
Mio shifts to check her phone. "Ah, my ride's almost here. I'll wait in the lobby. Iori, are you sure you don't want to...?" Iori declines, and Shiho wonders if she's imagining the ethereal traces of disappointment she sees flickering across Mio's expression. "Very well. I'll, um... see you two tomorrow." They wave her off.
The room feels even colder with only two of them left, one on each end of a couch sized for three. Gingerly, Shiho places her pale, icy palms on each of her cheeks, feeling the warmth sucked right out of her as she breathes in and out, air coating her lungs in pinpricks. She hears and feels Iori run her nails along the sofa's fabric, creating a sound like clothes washing on a board, carried in the cold quiet.
"Are you not going home?" Iori asks. Shiho can feel her muscles turning to lead.
"Not yet."
"Well, we're gonna have to, soon. They're closing up around this time."
"Iori?" Shiho turns to face her, but no response comes. "Are you going to tell her?"
Iori opens her mouth, then closes it, then smiles broadly. She picks at the beds of her fingernails absently, the way Shiho's seen her do under the table during negotiations with the label.
"This again. Is this something you want to talk about now?"
"'Soon' is enough time, most likely."
"Right." Iori heaves a sigh. "There's not much to say. What do you want to hear?" Her gaze is blank and vacant, as if trapped in the middle distance; her voice is dead.
"You tell me. I was just wondering if you've thought about it, like you said."
"Of course I have. But the only thing that's changed is that we have to put on a live in a month. So now's hardly the time to be worrying about this."
"Mhm. We're only getting younger, right? And weren't you both telling me how I needed to enjoy things before it was too late?"
Iori laughs, her tone a little less hollow. "Don't go turning my words against me now. Plus, it's not the same."
"Yeah? How?" Shiho retorts, half-joking. Iori returns a smile that quickly fades, and doesn't respond.
Cherish your friends and your time as a student. Has Shiho been doing that? She talks, and hangs out, and watches meteor showers with them. What more could there been than that? Honami, Saki, Ichika — they're all her dear friends. She wouldn't lose them for the world.
Then why does something still feel wrong?
"Iori, I..." Shiho bites her lip, thinking how best to proceed. "I don't think she'd say no."
"That's what you said last time we talked." Iori rests her head in her hands. "And maybe you're right. But! It's not about what she would say." When Shiho remains silent, she continues. "STANDOUT... we're not in a bad spot, for sure. But it doesn't mean we can afford to be complacent."
"That has nothing to do with telling Mio."
Iori returns a sardonic grin. "And I supposed you'd want your leader to get into a messy relationship with her bandmate. That'd end well." She sighs. "Sorry. I just... can't. I'm not going to risk our dream over this."
"And what of Erina and Aya? Does 'risking our dream' apply to them?"
"Shiho, I'm not—" Iori turns to her. Her eyes are a faint red, and when she speaks, her tone is placid and resigned. "It's not my place to tell them how to live their lives. Just like you, and your high school life. I can't, and won't force anyone one way or another, to put more or less of themselves into this band. Your lives are your own. And in the same way, mine is mine."
"But Mio—"
"Hinomori." There is a sudden, almost desperate strain to her name. "As your leader, my word on this is final. I'd advise you not to speak about this again."
"I can't believe she said that!" Saki places a hand on her chest, affronted. "You were just trying to help, weren't you?"
"Saki!" Shiho hisses. "Please... don't be so loud."
"Ack, sorry."
"But I think she's right," Ichika interjects. "You're just trying to help them. And they're third-years, so it might be their last chance to play together. Shouldn't they make sure it counts?"
"I think so too. But I'm not sure if I can change their minds."
"What's in your sandwich?"
She looks across the table at Saki. "Umm... Chicken, egg and cucumber, I think."
"Can I try some?" Shiho breaks off a piece and hands it to her. Saki flashes her a smile.
"I might quit," Shiho muses. "Or they might kick me out. I think that... wouldn't be so bad. It's just a school festival, after all."
"Um, Shiho..." Honami speaks up. The others turn to her. "I agree that they're wrong. But, I think you should stay with them." She pauses for a moment, as if expecting a response. When they all keep staring at her, she startles and continues. "I-If you want to, of course. They're not as serious, and maybe you can't change their minds, but the experience of performing on stage, in front of people, could be good. Even if it's not..." Her gaze turns downwards for a moment. "...um, you know."
Shiho doesn't know. Or rather, she didn't. Shiho on the couch sitting next to Iori might have an inkling.
After a group silence, Saki is the first to speak. "I think I can see it. Plus, you'd look super cool, Shiho! Imagine the look on all their faces when you start playing something really awesome~!"
"Uh, it wouldn't be like that. I'd probably have to play along with what they want. It's more about the delivery."
"You're so mean sometimes, Shiho. Let a girl dream." Shiho rolls her eyes good-naturedly.
"It's up to you, of course. But I think the experience could be good." Ichika looks down at her interlaced fingers. "It would be nice to watch you perform, too."
Shiho shuts her eyes, midday glaring bright still seeping through her eyelids.
Under the table, she feels a hand grasp hers tightly.
"No matter what, we'll be here for you."
Shiho pauses, breath caught in her throat. Iori stares her down, forehead creased, until her eyes drop to the floor as her entire body seems to wilt.
"I'm sorry, Shiho." Her voice trembles. "I'm sorry. Please. Go home."
Silently, Shiho nods. She gathers her things, stands up from the couch and walks to the door. At the last moment, she looks back. Iori, now alone, has curled up into a ball, possibly for warmth.
"See you tomorrow, Iori."