RECORDING
Chapter Twenty-One
Gambling
Mio reacted immediately. "I knew it!" she cried, enthusiastically punching the air above her. She fearfully fell quiet as Chiharu's solemn green eyes flicked toward her; she had been louder than she thought. The keyboardist's curious gaze remained fixed upon Mio, and that intimidated the bassist quite a bit. Then she looked back at her keyboards, ready to play Terror Firma's last song for the night.
"What's your deal?" Ritsu asked, beguiled by her girlfriend's sudden enthusiasm.
"That girl, that keyboardist," Mio babbled. "She was in our first grade class! Remember?"
The drummer reached up to affectionately touch Mio's vibrant face. "All I remember about first grade was you." The bassist's pearlescent eyes swam, and she tenderly grasped Ritsu's hand, holding it to her face. Rritsu, feeling slightly embarrassed, added, "You running across the playground, crying, 'I don't want to play Red Rover!'"
Mio groaned. She put Red Rover on the same plane as Bloody Knuckles: the cruelest forms of child's-play. Always she wound up playing Red Rover, and Ritsu always called her over. Remembering that game made Mio's warm fuzzy chill over; she released the drummer's hand.
"I want to take my bet off the table," she decided after a few moments' thought. "There's no way Chiharu-chan's rich."
Ritsu raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure? What makes you think that?"
Mio held out her hands plaintively. "Come on, Ricchan. She went to Torimizu Primary just like you and me. Iif she was rich she would have gone to…to Chilton Academy or something!"
The drummer snickered and made her wise eyes. "Mio's afraid she's going to lose the bet," she sang.
"Oi! I'm calling off the bet for your sake! You're not going to win it!"
"I'm so confident I'll win this that I'm doubling the stakes. Two thousand yen!"
"Ricchan, do you even have the funds to cover that bet?"
Ritsu flinched at the loftiness of that question. Then she retorted, "The question is do you have the funds to cover that bet?"
Mio looked similarly uncomfortable at the idea of owing someone two thousand yen. She decided she would bluff. Then she queried, "How are you so sure Chiharu-chan's rich?"
"Sawa-chan-sensei said she comes from the Sakura district. So, if she's not rich like you say she is, why isn't she attending Sakura High School?"
That was a good point. Mio actually didn't know how to counter that. Now it seemed she should take her bet off the table for her own sake. "Maybe she's a dropout," she gulped.
Ritsu shrugged. "Maybe. We'll find out."
Jun, leaning against a brick wall, watched Ui shiver and turn her coat collar up to warm her ears. A plume of her breath burst from between her full lips as she sighed.
They had left Hair at Jun's request, abandoning its boisterous warmth for the cold reality of a November night. The two of them stood in an alleyway betwixt the bar and the pizza place nextdoor. It reeked slightly from the overflowing Dumpster, but the frigid air subdued its smell. Above them hung the fire escape for Asumi's apartment over her bar. Even higher above them spread the great heavens, the stars like silver dust cast upon the sable sky. The constellation Aquila glittered directly overhead, bringing the forceful nature that is common to those born under the sign Scorpio (the sign now transcending the sun). Jun had read about the Eagle; if Aquila could outstare the sun, then Jun could tell Ui how she felt (the bassist was, after all, a Scorpio).
"Are you," she started, but her throat rasped. She cleared it and tried again: "Are you still mad about Yui-chan and Azusa-chan?"
Ui stared at Jun from the opposite end of the alley, but her face blanked as she considered the question. In the span of time it took for her to formulate a response a brown mouse darted by, squeaking. In the Dumpster a black stray cat raised its head in interest, green eyes glowing.
"Perhaps," Ui said uncertainly. Then she said, "Azusa-chan seems to have it her way all the time between them."
"You don't know that for sure." Ui blinked, surprised by the uncharacteristic harshness in Jun's voice. "Yui-chan looks happy, doesn't she?"
The ponytailed girl glared. "She looked happy in primary school when a creepy old man told her he had candy in the back of his car. Were you not listening to me in Tokyo? She doesn't have common sense!"
The two of them fell into miserable silence. Jun sighed, knowing this was not going as she had hoped. I don't think Ui-chan would be happy with me anyways. A virtual shadow fell over her eyes.
With a squeak, the brown mouse skittered by again. The black cat, now completely intrigued, jumped down from the Dumpster and silently trotted after it.
"You can't," Jun said quietly, "compare Azusa-chan to a pedophile." She added, "How much about their relationship do you know for sure?"
"How much do you?"
The bassist's hand clenched into a fist which she knocked against the wall. Ui, gleaning enough from her silence, turned her attention to the black cat and the mouse. It's not my fault my confession turned into a battle royale with the one I love, Jun told herself. She had never been in love before, had no experience even identifying these emotions, let alone professing them to someone. A crash-course in the ways of love would be an excellent addition to Sakura's course selection.
Regarding Jun once more, Ui hypothesized, "I think you're deflecting the real problem on to something else."
The pigtailed girl looked at her in interest. She's right. Absolutely right. Obaa-chan's told me that's one of my nasty habits. Now Jun knew this was hopeless. How could she ask Ui to return her desire to know her better than anyone else when she hardly knew herself?
Ui continued, "I don't think oneechan or Azusa-chan have anything to do with what's bothering you…Unless…" She was interrupted by an abrupt squeal from the darkest depths of the alley. The cat trotted by with a regal bearing, the brown mouse thrashing in its jaws. Ui narrowed her eyes. If Azusa-chan's a cat, oneechan's the mouse underneath her paw. "Unless…Erm…" She glanced aside at Jun. "Jun-chan…you don't…love Azusa-chan, do you?"
Me? Love Azusa-chan? Jun refrained from laughing, but she could not suppress the humorous smile on her face. She and Azusa got along great as friends, but as lovers…their relationship would probably be an unstable one with a low ignition point. More suited to an arena than hearth and home. Jun could picture it if she tried: a coupla pigtailed gals out to see the hottest chick flick. New Moon, would you do Kristin Stewart, and all that. Nakano Azusa and Suzuki Jun, the two twin-tailed tribadists. Jun fell against the wall, helpless with laughter. Ui cocked her head, not understanding the reason for her friend's mirth. She took it as an affirmative — there was nothing condescending or haughty about Jun's laugh.
"Uh, interesting." Ui's face registered blank confusion. "And very sweet," she added meaningfully. "How long have you liked her for?"
The only response she got was more howling peals of laughter from Jun. Her ribs and cheeks strained so much the bassist feared they would crack. "Too…long!…I…can't…stop!" she gasped, actually referring to her laugh attack. Ui didn't know this, though. Smiling softly, she crouched and placed a hand upon Jun's shaking shoulders. "Well, I'm sure if Azusa-chan knew, she couldn't stop loving you."
This made Jun laugh harder. This was pitiful. Her fretted-over confession had steered itself into the completely opposite direction. Jun had led Ui out here to confess her love — she inadvertently ended up telling her she loved Azusa. It was either the funniest thing or the saddest thing.
Back inside the snug, less assuming atmosphere of Hair, Terror Firma's performance finally came to its conclusion after their epic cover of 'Aijou no Katamari.' Some girls hung around to get one last drink, a bottle of beer perhaps, something they could take out with them. But most of the girls cleared out, rowdy but more than satisfied by the concert they had seen. They left behind them quite a handsome mess which Konoka and Setsuna now busied themselves cleaning. Asumi also took the necessary preparations for closing her bar. Being that Hair also served as her home, the bartender opened and closed it as she pleased. Tonight it had closed later than usual.
Sawako hung around the bar, her hand semi-casually exploring Mugi's waist. It was much too late for her to head back to her apartment; she'd get more sleep if she just crashed here at Hair. In a farther corner Nodoka chatted with Yui and Azusa. The kaichou seemed anxious to leave — she threw apologetic glances at Konoka and Setsuna, feeling as though she was imposing. Ritsu and Mio had made tracks for the backstage area to talk with Terror Firma.
Asumi sighed as she dragged her smudgy rag almost dazedly across the bar. She looked up to see the last stragglers approaching. Her topaz eyes widened at the pigtailed child they brought with them. How the hell did a kid get in here?
Judging by her height and her face, Asumi put this kid somewhere around ten years old. She had such a confident bearing, though, one that suggested that her intellect and emotions had matured beyond her years. That, or she has Turner's Syndrome. The bartender refrained from shaking her head in wonder, wore her professional smile, and greeted, "What'll y'all be havin' tonight?"
The eldest of the group spoke up — Asumi put her somewhere around Sawako's age. She had short, wispy bangs and raven curls cascading down her back. "We wan' a Shirley Temple…on the rocks! With vodka."
A sweet, juvenile drink. Asumi surely hoped this spiked Shirley Temple wasn't for curly-locks, whose flushed face and swaying stance suggested that she was drunkity-drunk-drunk. The bartender's hazel eyes fell upon the kid. Flicking a thumb at her, Asumi growled, "It ain't for the kid there, is it?"
"Chiyo-chan?" Curly-locks phrased it as if Asumi was an idiot. She laughed humorlessly. "Oh, no. No, no, no, no, no." Turning her vehement glare at the quailing Chiyo, she snarled, "Chiyo-chan thinks she's too damn good to have a drink with us!"
"I-I'm underage, Yukari-sensei," Chiyo whimpered frightfully.
"Are you outta your mind?" her spark plug of a friend piped up. She was a high school-aged girl, like the majority of Hair's customers, but of shorter than average height with wild black hair that fanned out in the back. She reminded Sawako of Ritsu. "That gem of a bartender's sellin' that stuff to anybody who's got the money! And I know you got the money, Chiyo-chan."
"Just because I can doesn't mean I should, Tomo-chan."
I would probably draw the line at serving an anklebiter alcohol anyways, Asumi thought as she blearily prepared a Shirley Temple for Yukari. She really wanted to just go to bed.
"So," Asumi sighed conversationally, throwing in a dash of grenadine with the ginger ale, "this your first time here?"
"It sure is!" Tomo exclaimed. "This bar is freakin' amazing! I'm coming here every weekend!"
Her bespectacled friend cast a wearied eye upon her. All the way to Yokohama? her gaze seemed to say. Yomi was used to her childhood friend Tomo dragging her to random places — that is, unless she fell ill (then Tomo would go, call her on the phone, and give her the planned activities, blow by blow) — but this liberal bar for lesbians really took the cake (the music was good, though). The word "meganekko" had snapped all around Yomi that night like sparks on a wire. Tomo had seriously loved this place? "The horny girls here really pulled at your heartstrings, eh? I had no idea you went that way."
Tomo blushed right up to her ears. For once she was completely speechless. Then, forcing a laugh that sounded more like a bark, she waved off the comment as though it was a silly joke. "Ba-hah! Oh, you would love that, wouldn't you, Yomi? I saw you flirting with that girl in the Rolling Stones shirt. No wonder you weren't eager to leave this place!"
The tip of Yomi's nose pinkened. Tomo was mistaken, of course. The girl was flirting with Yomi, not the other way around. She had used one of the worst pick-up lines the brunette had ever heard, too — "You are like a candy bar too me, half sweet and half nuts." Yomi attempted a grim smile at her friend: "It's okay if you're a lesbian. I'll still be your friend."
"Don't say that like you feel sorry for me!…And I'm not gay!"
"'Ey, c'mon, girl," a ditzy girl with shoulder-length black hair spoke. "Don't be hatin'. Besides, it's just rude to bring crap like this up, isn't it? Like we say in Osaka: 'Don't ask, don't sell.'"
The group fell silent at Osaka from Osaka's air-headed remark. Chiyo, Yukari, Minamo, Kagura, Sakaki, and Kaorin sweat-dropped whilst Yomi and Tomo continued glaring. The bespectacled girl broke the glaring contest to raise an eyebrow at Osaka. That was when Tomo noticed Mugi; she shrieked and flew back.
"Waauugghh? Foreigner!"
Mugi cocked her head, her beryl eyes wide and blank with confusion. "Eh? I'm no foreigner. I was born in Hokkaido."
"Phony!" Tomo accused, jabbing a finger at the flinching ojou. "Don't think you can fool me! You have blonde hair and blue eyes, and where I come from, that screams 'for' to the…the, uh, '-eigner.'"
"For Christ's sake, Tomo," Yomi sighed. "She speaks Japanese. What more do you want?"
"My mother's from Switzerland," Mugi supplied.
Osaka nodded, coming to the blonde keyboardist's defense. "Yeah, 'n you know, foreigness always skips a generation."
Awkward silence again, save for when Asumi dropped the cherry into Yukari's drink. She quickly passed it to the English teacher, eager to get them all out of here so she could shut down and go to sleep. Yukari and the gang were just about to leave when Sawako stopped her.
"They call you 'sensei,'" she observed. "Are you their teacher?"
"That I am," Yukari said proudly, standing tall.
Asumi cast her cousin a withering glance.
Sawako smiled at Yukari. "I teach as well, at Sakura High School. Yamanaka Sawako." She offered her hand, but shot it forward a little too eagerly. Yukari backed away a little as Sawako's hand nearly struck her chest.
"Quite brave, aren't you?" The English teacher shook a reprimanding finger at Sawako. "Don't be mistaken. I may have a comely face and a great body, but I don't play for that team—uwaagahh!" she cried as Minamo, her friend who also taught, jerked at the collar of her jacket.
"Don't flatter yourself," she growled. "You just made yourself look stupid to a stranger."
"Call me stupid, will you?" Yukari snapped beligerently as Minamo dragged her out of Hair. "At least I don't teach P.E.! Where'd you get your teaching degree? From the back of a cereal box?"
"Should Yukari-sensei be driving like this?" Chiyo queried fearfully.
"Her car's probably been towed by now," Kagura hypothesized.
The bar was finally totally silent once they had departed. Yawning, Asumi leaned against the bar and rubbed her sore eyes. Sawako remained sitting at the bar, her hand still extended, her face blank. "What…just…happened there?" she muttered.
Mugi scowled and folded her arms across her chest. "Blonde hair and blue eyes. Huh! What a stereotype!"
Once Konoka and Setsuna finished sweeping the last of Hair's wood floors, they approached Asumi, requesting to clock out. Konoka looked absolutely drained as she murmured, "I have to get up early to fix breakfast for my room mate and teacher."
The bartender nodded. She had heard of this before. Though she was pardoning the brune ojou to leave, she inquired, "Why can't Asuna-san make her own breakfast?"
Konoka and Setsuna hesitated at the doorway. The latter of the two sweat-dropped. The former giggled good-naturedly. "Well, she did try once when we were first years, but…"
DEPART FROM YOUR DORMS IMMEDIATELY! the intercom rasped as the girls of Mahora Academy grouped about the exit. Their eyes watered from the stinging smoke. GET AT LEAST ONE HUNDRED FEET AWAY FROM THE BUILDING. REPEAT, THERE IS A FIRE IN THE DORMS! THIS IS NOT A DRILL!
Asumi nodded understandingly. Setsuna itched an eyebrow and wondered, What was up with that random flashback? I sure hope we're not turning into Family Guy!