If I could gather with you and become a constellation
If I could reach someone with a longing wish
I wonder if I can change, tracing the depths of the night
I'm like this, tracing the edge of the night
If I Could be a Constellation — Kessoku Band
—
Here is what Gotoh Hitori thinks.
Kita Ikuyo is the ideal high school girl. Pretty, popular, athletic. Then a master at everything relating to socialization. And after that, a rising rocker chick— Hitori is equally in awe and terrified at the speeds Kita learns because holy Hitori had to practice guitar six hours a day and seven days a week in a span of three years to actually become somewhat good at the instrument, and here is Kita the prodigy going from otherworldly levels of non-comprehension to being able to play and sing at the same time in a period not even a third of her and did she already mention that Kita sings, sings, and her voice drops an octave or two and Hitori feels like she’s floating up, up, up, until she’s in front of the gates to heaven and—
The bottom line is, Kita Ikuyo should be the farthest thing from Gotoh Hitori.
So lately, why does it feel like that is not the case?
Hitori stands in front of Kita’s classroom, back arched like a cat and fingers fiddling with the straps of her guitar bag as she watches Kita through her bangs, cheerily bidding farewell to her friends. Then she turns to her and smiles, and Hitori gets fully blasted by the too-bright aura that envelops them like a million fluorescent lights in a really dark room suddenly lighting up simultaneously.
“Should we go now, Gotoh-san?”
“Ah, eh, yes.”
And Hitori thinks that maybe it is her will to resist turning into dust the moment the ‘kit-aura’ activates that allows her to see it. To see the way Kita’s shoulders slump and her posture slackens just the tiniest bit, almost like an arching cat but not quite there yet. Or the way her white-knuckled grip on one of the straps of her guitar loosens just a fraction, like Hitori could blink and miss the motion entirely.
Or maybe, like with all the other times she had gotten caught up in her head and assumed things, this was entirely just her imagination playing tricks on her. Like that one time she thought everyone on the internet must be a bunch of introverts with social anxiety, like her. Or like how she almost got baited by Nijika and Ryo into believing the broke bassist is lonely, just like her. Or just about every other scenario where she thought there were real-life people out there wallowing in the same misery as her.
And it must be, right? Because Kita Ikuyo is the ideal high school girl, and the ideal high school girl is everything Gotoh Hitori is not.
So Hitori falls back a step, and another, until she is wrapped in the shadows Kita’s too-bright aura creates.
It is where she belongs, after all.
—
Gotoh Hitori feels bitter, sometimes.
… Actually, scratch that. She feels bitter most of the time. Like with that one comment on that one cover of hers. Or with that one perfect family at the park. Or with herself, as she cowers and plays inside a mango box during what should be her big band debut. Sometimes, she feels bitter because of others. Most times, it is because of her own shortcomings and mistakes.
This time, she is not sure which one it is.
It is an after-class practice session. Or it was one, earlier, before Hitori decided to take a page out of Nijika’s book and got Kita to take a break before she completely rendered her wrist unusable trying to perform a pretty complex maneuver for beginners that she saw in a video. And really, it would not have come to that scenario if Gotoh Hitori just had the ability to say no and stop turning to mush who is only capable of saying yes every time someone compliments her skill. But she does not, and one rare W at performing in front of a living, breathing human being after, Kita is hyped up and throwing herself into trying to imitate what she just did.
And she would rather not be complicit to self-harm and the loss of Kessoku band’s rhythm guitarist and lead singer, so she tries to imitate what Nijika would do in situations like this. Subtly direct the person in question— in this case, Kita Ikuyo— into another activity in the most natural progression possible.
And by that, she meant badly acting out a barely thought-out skit of her hand cramping up and feeling like it is going to fall off because she went too hard on the guitar.
But then Kita looks at her with watery eyes and a guilt-ridden expression as she begins to stand up to drag her to the nurse’s office, and Hitori drops the act faster than the chord switch-ups she just did moments ago.
Thinking back at it now, maybe she should have kept at it; guilt be damned. Because now the universe has balanced itself out, and Hitori is melting from the amount of seishun-ness raining down on her as Kita goes on about her summer break plans that include and is not limited to: trendy cafes, clothes shopping, swimming, festivals, fireworks, youth, youth, youth—
Must be nice, to be popular…
“… I don’t think I’m that popular, Gotoh-san…”
Eh?
Hitori blinks. Stares. Kita’s brows are furrowed and her smile is a little confused, then a little of something else she cannot quite grasp yet, and the context clues hit Hitori with the full force of a white truck hellbent on sending a poor guy to another world. She said that out loud. She. Said that. Out loud!
DAMAGE CONTROL! DAMAGE CONTROL!
“Ah, eh, uh, t-that’s not what I meant, Kita-san! I’m so sorry!” Hitori’s hands flail uselessly as she repeatedly bows her head, eyes going everywhere except on Kita. “You just— you— y-you’re like r-really nice and good—! Good at stuff— awesome! Right! You’re a-awesome and people like you and you have a nice smile and laugh and singing voice—! Your singing is really awesome and y-your singing draws people— me— people! People in! A-and t-that’s why—”
Kita giggles— something Hitori has already heard multiple times— and it is enough to calm her down a little until she hears it— because she is a musician and she has heard Kita’s laugh a ton of times already, enough to pick up on each individual note and probably do a decent-ish recreation of it on her guitar, but that is not the point. The point is that Kita giggles, and Hitori’s keen ears pick up on something that should not have been there, like plucking a string and accidentally snagging your finger against another one before immediately muting it, producing a note that barely lasts a second. It is a small, barely noticeable thing, but it sounds wrong all the same, and Hitori’s the reason it sounds wrong and what is she doing still glued to her chair and not on the ground prostrating herself—
“Ah, Gotoh-san wait! Seriously, it’s fine!” Hitori tries to throw herself on the ground, and Kita tries to stop her by holding onto her shoulders, and they engage in a pseudo tug-o-war that Hitori does not even stand the chance of winning, what with their vastly differing levels of fitness. So they end up right back where they started, on their chairs and Hitori hiding behind her bangs.
“As I was saying,” Kita starts again once they have both settled down. Outwardly that is. “I don’t think that I’m even po— that I’m that popular, Gotoh-san.”
Hitori wants to protest, but her eyes are drawn to Kita’s hands and the way they fiddle with the pink pick she is holding, calloused thumbs tracing the pick’s edge before turning it over and repeating the process all over again. And like one of those calming videos in O-Tube, the slow, absentminded motions lulls Hitori’s panicked brain into a sense of calm, then back to its usual functioning state.
“… I just like interacting with other people, that’s all.”
“Ah, but you have a lot of friends, Kita-san.”
“I… guess I do huh…?” The pick disappears into Kita’s hand as her fingers tighten, then loosen, then curl up, a bit of her skirt getting snagged in-between them, and Hitori does not know why that makes her head tilt up, aquamarine eyes finally meeting… nothing. Because Kita’s eyes are closed.
“I’m pretty lucky then I guess?”
And she smiles, head tilting to the side just a bit and bangs shifting to follow the motion. And Hitori finds that wrong, because the way her bangs cover her closed eyes reminds her just the tiniest bit of herself. And it should not. Because Kita Ikuyo is all too-bright and Gotoh Hitori finds solace in the shadows.
And if the light dims, how would she find where the shadows end and the dark begins?
—
Ijichi Nijika and Kita Ikuyo cheerily wave her goodbye, and Gotoh Hitori promptly collapses on the hardwood floors of their entryway the moment they are out of sight.
She is tired. Between not getting enough sleep from decorating and redecorating and getting lost in her own head once again, and getting thrust right into the space with more than three people at the same time— Jimihen not included— Hitori feels like she could close her eyes and fall asleep right where she is and not wake up for another hundred years. But that would not do, because their live is coming up in a few days, and she does not feel like giving her bandmates a headache because of a missing guitarist. Again.
And she could not do that anyway. Could not disappear. Could not run away. Not because her social anxiety prevents her, but because the warmth in her chest is something she does not want to disappear just yet. So Hitori lets out a breath and closes her eyes, not stopping the smile that blooms across her face, wide and genuine.
Ah, it was fun. I wish we could do this again, maybe with the whole band next time.
“Are they coming back?”
A child-like voice snaps her out of her silent introspection, and Hitori wants to curse the heavens for making it their mission to balance out everything in the universe. She cracks open an eye and deep aquamarine and pink fills her vision before it adjusts and forms the smiling face of the devil— Futari. She is looking down at her with that innocent smile she is sure must be reminiscent of the ruler of hell’s moments before they drag you down kicking and screaming. And Jimihen, as usual, stands beside her, beady black eyes not on her but on her blue and yellow hair tie, the corgi looking at it like it is food. And maybe a chew toy. But mostly food.
“Ah, yes.” Maybe. Hopefully? But what if they don’t? Oh god, worse, what if her abomination of a room creeped them out and now they don’t wanna come back and then they’ll avoid her during practice and then kick her out of the band and get a guitarist cooler than her— not that it’s hard— and she’ll end up a neet stuck in her closet reminiscing about the good times while watching the new Kessoku band live at the Budokan—
“Great! I wanna play with Kita nee-chan again!” Futari exclaims, and Hitori watches her bounce in excitement and draw Jimihen’s attention away from her hair tie.
Then she remembers Kita happily talking to her sister and Nijika absolutely taken by Jimihen and cannot help but feel jealous that her sister— years younger than her— and her dog— not even human— already have a better relationship with her bandmates than her, who has been with them for far longer— well, not that long, but still.
“Ah, just Kita-san? But what about Nijika-san?”
“Nijika nee-chan’s cool and fun to play with too,” Jimihen yips, as if to agree. “But Kita nee-chan’s more fun!”
Ah, the ‘kit-aura’ doesn’t discriminate huh…
“After all, Kita nee-chan and nee-chan are really alike!”
… Eh? Wait, what?
And Hitori stares, dumbfounded, as Futari runs back to the living room with Jimihen in tow as if she had not just thrown the biggest curveball in existence and smacked her right in the face with it. Multiple times.
Kita-san and… me?
—
Kita Ikuyo sings, and Gotoh Hitori does not get swept away to the gates of heaven.
And that is the biggest offender, Hitori thinks. Not the ladies talking smack while on their phones in the back nor her listless-looking fans in the front. Not Manager-san looking at them critically nor the barely opened eyes of the bassist-san she still does not know the name of. Not even Nijika’s obviously downcast mood as she goes off-beat in the worst way possible or Ryo’s struggle in trying to fill in for the more obvious mistakes and keep them on the right track.
It is Kita Ikuyo, the ideal high school girl— peppy, popular, smart. It is Kita Ikuyo, the rising rocker chick prodigy with the heavenly voice. It is Kita Ikuyo, who is none of those things right now as she sings wonky— emphasis and melody in all the wrong places— and goes off-key and falters and misses notes. Her too-bright light dims and her back starts to arch like a cat, eyes wide and unsure as she looks towards the indifferent crowd.
It is Kita Ikuyo, everything that Gotoh Hitori is not, looking like the perfect reflection of her, right in front of a crowd.
Ah, that won’t do. That won’t do at all. Hitori’s thumb traces the edges of her pick, first absentmindedly, then with much more force, as if doing that would lessen the familiar feelings of frustration settling in her gut. Don’t dim.
“Gotoh-san!” Kita’s too-bright aura nearly blinds Hitori as she enters after her in their practice room— a more fancy word for a cramped storage room. “I saw a really cool guitar video yesterday. Do you want to watch and try it?”
“Ah— eh— I’m not really an expert at playing the guitar, I might mess—” Kita dashes any hope of Hitori making an early escape by thrusting her phone right in her face, a ten-second clip of someone shredding a guitar playing in full screen. Hitori blinks. Watches. It looked… surprisingly easy. But many things are easy when Hitori is playing inside her closet. Alone. So the assessment does not really help.
“Ah— I d-dunno… It looks a little—”
“But you’re really, really good at guitar Gotoh-san, I think you could pull this off!” Kita cuts her off. And between the stars shining in Kita’s eyes, the ‘kit-aura’ blasting her full force and point black, the praising of her guitar-playing skills, and her social anxiety not taking a ‘no’ for an answer, Hitori is sold. Hook, line, and sinker.
Don’t match them. Her left hand tightens on the neck of her guitar, calloused fingers digging on steel strings. Don’t match me.
“The next is another one of our original songs, and it’s one we just wrote…”
The last notes echo throughout the small space of their room and Hitori cracks open the eye she had subconsciously closed while playing. She listens to the notes fade into silence, and Hitori finds herself slowly hunching down as the seconds tick by and Kita stays silent. Oh god, what if she messed up and Kita won’t let her be her teacher anymore and the band will break up and—
“That was amazing Gotoh-san!” Kita’s voice suddenly booms, loud and full of joy, and before Hitori could even blink, Kita had tackled her, not unlike how she did back during auditions. “I knew you could do it!”
“Ah— eh— I— uh…” Hitori does not know where to look, or where to place her hands, or just what to do. “T-thank you… ?” Maybe she should start with imitating her. Yes. Right. Hands go on the—
Hitori blinks, and Kita is gone from her space, already getting her guitar out. Giddy and energetic. “That really hyped me up and you made it look so easy Gotoh-san! Maybe if I practice hard enough, I’ll be able to do that by the end of today too…”
And as Hitori defrosts from her spot and watches Kita go through warm-up drills way faster than normal, the thought sinks into her head that maybe, just maybe, playing what she just played was a bad— very bad— idea.
“Ah, wait, Kita-san slow down—”
Kita’s voice, small and unsure and worried. It’s wrong. Nijika and Ryo, not syncing with each other. It’s all wrong. Everything dull and lifeless, devoid of color, dim, uninteresting. And I know we still have ways to go, I know that. I know that.
But I—!
She flicks her wrist, and the strings reverberate under her fingertips before she lets them go. From her peripheral, she sees all the other members of Kessoku band startle and turn to her, and she thinks she hears the beginning of her name from Kita’s lips but she is not listening to that. Instead, she listens to the way the notes bounce and echo around the live house, sounding like the low rumbles that marked the beginning of Hitori’s morning today.
And when it fades, she flicks her wrist again and lets her fingers slide down all the frets before going back up. There, the beginning of a thunder’s roar.
The beginning of Gotoh Hitori’s roar.
I don’t want to let it end this way!
And later, when the thunderstorm passes, when Kita Ikuyo is back to being too-bright— like a star shining a bright beacon in the sky— and Gotoh Hitori is back to hiding in the shadows— finding solace in the way the light guides her to the shallow ends and steer her away from the deep ones, Hitori thinks that she understands what Futari means.
Just a little bit.
—
Kessoku band’s trip to Enoshima might be the biggest W Gotoh Hitori will ever receive in her youth.
It is not just because it is an outing planned by her bandmates on the fly just for her, for her— the notion makes Hitori want to melt into an unidentified happy pink blob but that won’t do, because she already died about three times today and she really does not want to add another to the list— but also because the band finally hung-out with the purpose of just, well, hanging out. No band practices, after-school teaching sessions, part-time jobs, post-live celebrations, or band planning stuff. Just four girls— friends, after today they are definitely friends, right? — hanging out before summer break ends.
So, if Kessoku Band selling out the Budokan one day is definitely the best W adult Hitori would be able to get, then this is probably the best W young Hitori will ever get— which says a lot about her expectations in life right now, but now is not the time to worry about that.
And even if it is not the best, it is probably the most memorable one. What with Yamada ‘cool, eccentric, and broke bassist’ Ryo finally joining Hitori in the ‘youth-freaking-sucks’ corner, then Ijichi ‘upbeat and pretty normal— compared to the rest of the band— drummer with a dorito for a cowlick’ Nijika getting a taste of the ‘Bocchi life’ when faced point-blank with otherworldly levels of the ‘kit-aura’.
And Kita. Kita ‘polite yes-man’ Ikuyo shouting at them from the top of her lungs at the steps of Enoshima shrine, then at the top of the observatory.
“You filthy indoor types!”
It was not the least bit of a compliment, but Hitori could not help but smile when remembering it all the same. Because it is something new. Something that is not polite Kita, shining ‘kit-aura’ beam Kita, Ryo’s yes-man Kita, or Kita on-stage starting to reflect all of Hitori’s bad sides.
It is Kita, extroverted and full of energy and frustrated at them. It is Kita, shouting and sighing and pushing for what she wants, dragging them all with her. It is Kita, in all bright, fiery, and genuine colors. It is Kita, clashing with others and standing out and shining so bright like, like—
A star, Hitori figures. The Kita Ikuyo back on their trip is like a star, a star shining so bright that people will no doubt notice it— be drawn to it. A star shining so bright that the shadows that linger in its wake disappear completely and all is revealed, even Hitori, who is hiding in its sweet embrace.
And Gotoh Hitori finds out that, well, being out of the shadows once in a while isn’t so bad after all.
—
Gotoh Hitori, finally, fully understands what her devil of a sister meant all those months ago.
Kita Ikuyo bows in front of her, deep and full of the regret she had just put into words moments ago, and Hitori finally gets a clear view of everything she had convinced herself was just her imagination playing tricks on her.
Her face hidden behind red locks. A knuckle-white grip on her guitar bag’s straps. The guitar’s weight digging into her shoulders and back as she completes a ninety degree bow. And their positions, the moon behind Hitori, and its soft glow casting Kita in shadow— her shadow. Kita is in her shadow, making herself small, small enough to fit— to hide.
Just like how Gotoh Hitori falls back steps and retreats in the shadows Kita Ikuyo’s brightness creates.
Ah, Hitori thinks, fingers tightening around her guitar bag’s strap, that won’t do— that won’t do at all Kita-san.
And Gotoh Hitori has never been good with words. She is good at lyrics, at writing down her thoughts on paper with fancy words and rhyming syllables and so— so much metaphors. But speaking them aloud is something that she cannot quite do. Not yet. Or maybe not ever.
But Hitori does not really need that skill right now, does she? She does not need fancy words or rhyming syllables or metaphors. The thoughts swirling in her mind, begging to be put on paper, could wait. Because after all, Hitori, despite all the social anxiety and overthinking and not thinking enough, is quite a simple person. And if her and Kita are really quite alike, then, well, the right words must be pretty simple too. Right?
So Gotoh Hitori shifts— moonlight bouncing off pink locks and the small smile tugging at the corners of her lips— and speaks.
“T-thank you. For doing it.”
And later, when everything is said and done, Hitori does not fall back. Instead, she catches up, taking one step, then another, and another, until her shoes are beside Kita’s and their strides match and—
Ah. Gotoh Hitori thinks— with a smile that widens just a tad bit when she glances at Kita Ikuyo and finds that her brightness is not as blinding anymore, but just warm. Bright and warm— like a star.
I could get used to this.