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The brightness of the sun stung his eyes. Rubbing them, irritated and resisting the need to sneeze, kept his gaze downcast as he walked the familiar market street. Shoes scuffing against the pavement, shoulders hunched halfway to his ears and hands stuffed into his pockets. The weight of his guitar case felt heavier. His book bag was pinching his shoulder, the surface of his skin burned - the need to scratch.
Perhaps his mood was swayed by his wish to sleep an extra hour, annoyed that his phone wasn’t plugged into the charger last night, the street noise was no louder than usual. It crawled across his body, from the neck to his feet. Pressing his shoes harder into the concrete to itch that unbearable needle that pressed into him.
So annoying…
Maybe this was why he fell for that kid’s taunts, he hopelessly told himself.
A yankee delinquent with flashy accessories and bright hair. The declaration of a challenge. An unwanted arm breaching his personal space, pressing up against him and jousting his lunch. Piercing voice that sounded like nails and skipping chalk against the blackboard. The intense smell of something terrible and sweet that his teeth ached something fierce.
He was dragged this way and that through the hallways, resisting the pull at every chance.
A pompous upperclassman forced his hand. The brush of his fist knocked against his bandaged forearm. The burn underneath ignited hotter, teeth clenched as he avoided the next blow. Sunset eyes met with putrid green.
He always did hate the North.
Although, he did feel sympathy for the sick man leaning against the hallway corridor, to think he led the South, unbelievable. Even more unbelievable that the haughty kid that pushed his lunch out of his hands was a leader.
The final destination, a courtyard where bountiful cosmos bloomed, threatened to pour with oncoming showers. The air damp with dew, the rolling thunder overhead and a brisk wind cooled his back.
In hindsight, as he was instructed to stand in line before the school principal, he should have walked away. Yasu was not one to sniff out a fight, but the incessant buzzing next to his ear coaxed the flame in his chest white hot.
A self-confident sneer to his left and a bloody declare at his right, it was self-defense, he reasoned.
That preservation resulted with a threat of expulsion.
How annoying…
“How do you play that cord again?”
“Are you serious? We’re doomed if you don’t remember something that elementary.”
“Shut up! All you have to do is beat a stick around!!” The yankee, Hachin, yelled. “I don’t wanna hear anything from you, got it?!”
“Hah! If you think that’s all that goes into drumming then you really are a simpleton.”
“Fah? The hell did you say?!”
Joe finally cuts in, coughing into his glove. “Both of you zip it, we’re not getting anywhere!” He gestured for the two to break apart, a fruitless endeavor given how small their practice studio was, but at least they weren’t breathing down each other’s necks. Joe placed a hand over Sojun’s shoulder, his grip steady and firm. “Yasu, can you help Hachin with his chord practice?”
“What? Why me?” Grumbling under his breath, “Why don’t you do it?”
With the patience of a near saint, the phoenix explained. “Base and guitar are slightly different and I don’t use the same number of strings.” Pointing to Yasu with a gloved finger, “ ‘Sides, I thought you two were friends.”
“We aren’t” Yasu quickly shut down. A scoff, “Whatever.. Come on, we’re going to the lobby.” He calls, stunning the flashy bee beside him.
“R-right!”
“Your fingers are too stiff, you’re gonna’ cramp your wrist like that.” Yasu corrected, rolling his eyes before going over the same motions on his own guitar once more. “One more time, so loosen up.”
An hour had passed, surprisingly productive, as Yasu sight read through the sheets while tutoring Hachin. The loud yankee boy, for that entire hour, surprisingly kept quiet. Hachin kept his responses short, observing Yasu’s fingers and mimicking what he saw. It didn’t take much direction, Yasu was thankful for that. Hachin picked up on things quickly if he had something to reference.
The sound of unplugged guitars filled the front lobby of the studio house. Clumsy notes and untimed chords. Gradually improving with practice and keeping better tempo after keeping note of the measures. The master didn’t have any qualms about them taking up space in his lobby, if anything he seemed blissed to watch two beginning musicians practice.
Tch, how annoying.
“ ‘Ya know..” Hachin suddenly uttered, azure eyes focused on Yasu’s fingers as he matched chords. “You’re really good at this.”
“Hmph.”
“I mean it!” He snapped, before hiding back into himself to practice the same finger motions over the frets. “You’re good at this. And stuff- like, I’m kind of dumb, ‘ya know,” That’s pretty obvious, he thought, keeping his mouth shut. “So, uh, thanks.. I’m-!”
“It’s nothing.” Yasu feels flushed under the collar, cutting in just to stop the bee from saying anything else. “Your.. It’s- Whatever. You’re not bad.. I guess.”
Hachin meets Yasu’s eyes with a flat stare, “You guess..?”
“Yes, dammit-.. You’re fine. You learn.. Fine.” He grits his teeth, “Now, stop talking and play the next line.”
The first show was a disaster, cut and dry.
A complete and utter shit show.
“We’re going to be expelled at this rate!!” Yasu yells, frustrated. His blood thrummed under his fingers, running hot and burning at the tips, just below the fingernail. “What the fuck was that Sojun, unplugging the amps- are you a child?!”
He turns into Hachin, visible eye strained. The setting sun behind his eyes blazed fiercely. “And you-!” The bee flinched visibly. “What was running through your head pushing me on stage?!”
Hachin growls deep from the diaphragm, stepping into Yasu’s space. The yatagarasu’s tail feathers bristle, muscles tensing in response. “I was just trying to-!”
“That’s enough!” Joe steps in pushing Hachin’s face away, earning an indignant yelp in surprise. A hand is pressed to yasu’s chest, “You guys fucked up, now we gotta’ deal, so knock it off!”
“Don’t talk like you weren’t shit either!” Sojun barks, the thick yellow curls of his tail puffed up behind him, “What were you doing curled up on the floor! It was pitiful!”
“You know exactly why-!”
“Don’t yell at Joe! Everything went to shit when you started fucking with the microphones!”
“As if the audience wanted to hear your annoying voice, I was doing them a favor.” Sojun scoffs, “Honestly, why do we ever let a shimp like you on stage!”
“Fah!! You take that back!”
“Hachin, stop before you break something!”
The heat under his skin burned, spreading from his chest to his hands. Feet blistering with a phantom pain. His throat threatened to scream, not with words, something primal. Inhale, exhale.
The fluorescent lights of their greenroom stung his eyes, sniffing his nose. His bandages felt too tight and too loose all at once, shaking his head. “Unbelievable..” he muttered, grabbing his guitar case from the back wall, roughly slinging it over his shoulder. Then, reaching the exit door, throwing it open and slamming it shut behind him without a goodbye.
A statement for those idiots to chew on.
So, fucking annoying.
Another day, like clockwork, face down on his desk at school.
The white noise was stifling. Students chatting, some roughhousing, it was grating on his nerve ends.
“Hey,” A foot kicked his desk leg, jostling him just slightly. “Yasu.”
“What do you want, Hachin.” He grumbled into his arms, too tired. Too restless, grinding the toe of his shoe into the floor.
“Rooftop.” A small pause. “.. Please?”
Yasu could decline.
He should ignore that buzzing yankee. He should go to principle Yudas and accept his expulsion letter with his head down. His time was wasted that night, his trust and hopes. He should be mad, rightfully so.
“.. Fine.” He accepts.
Hachin, out of his line of sight, softened his features. Remorseful, thankful. Then steeled himself, jerking his head to the classroom door with indifference.
The rooftop was closed off, police tape stealing off the staircase.
They pushed forward despite that. Hachin picked the lock with a bent wire, cheering to himself when it clicked open. An arm thrust back, pressed to his side and a self-satisfied snicker.
Yasu rolled his eyes.
The cracked concrete of the school’s roof sprouted weeds, the unwashed remains of graffiti tags and discarded desks and chairs that were no longer in use were crammed into the corners and ledges. The protective wire gate that caged the rooftop was in desperate need of repairs. It was caked in rust, growing holes within the untwined iron knitting. It might be better to just replace the mesh entirely.
Their mismatched group often spent their free time on the roof. Quiet and undisturbed by the population of thugs and delinquents that lingered downstairs.
“So, what’s up,” The yatagarasu penciled in with the click of his tongue, “better be good, Hachin.”
Taking up a square tabletop as his perch, the metal legs didn’t give way under the bee’s weight. “Feh, just wanted to say some stuff without a bunch of guys around.” Thin fingers ruffled stripped blond hair, the usual coat of nail polish was in need of care. “So, about the other day..”
“Uh.. huh?” Hachin fell short of words, biting the inside of his cheek. A nervous tick. Yasu sighed, becoming irritable as his bandmate buzzed uselessly.
He finally bows his head, improperly, still sitting on the desktop. At least there was a slight bend of the waist, having pulled both legs up and resting his heels over the edge of his seat. “I’m sorry.”
“Whatever, is that all-”
“I’m sorry for messing up at the show. That wasn’t cool.” Hachin continues his nervous buzzing, “Feh, you’ll still never believe me, but I respect you. You got that! So, when you stormed off, I know I messed up.”
Yasu perked up, a slight tilt of his head so an uncovered eye could meet. That bright azure blazed, the sun shining and unclouded. It stung Yasu’s eyes a little from the intensity. “It wasn’t just you,” He relented, the heat from his eyes reached to his ears. “I messed up too.. So,”
Moving away from the wall of the stairwell, Yasu’s shoes scuffed against the pavement, unsure. Perhaps frustrated, why, he didn’t know. “It’s not your fault alone.”
Respect.. There may be a little truth behind those overbearing confessions after all. Hachin, with all his pomp and circumstance, wasn’t bad. Loud mouthed and touch happy, maybe, but he had his moments. Yasu had his moments too.
The bee snickered, delight turned lips up to grin, “You’re right. Joe and Sojun are just as bad. “
“You were by far the worst though.”
“Faah?! Sojun was at least even worse than me, and you know it!!”
The sun was insufferable, stifling and hot, making it impossible to step outside without sweating. His throat felt dry, rasp from a lack of water and usage during performances. Yasu hated how he felt during the heat. He also hated it when it was too cold, features fluffed up against his will, fingers stiff and red.
Playing the guitar during winter was hell.
Singing during summer was also hell.
The seasons could bite him.
“Fah.. Yasu.” When Hachin didn’t earn Yasu’s attention, his focus dedicated to his handheld game, he shoved his foot out and jostled his leg. “Yasu, it’s too hot.. I thought your place had AC..! Faaahh.. I think I’m going to melt.”
“If you melt, don’t stain anything.”
“Faah!!”
“Ugh, the air is on, it’s just too hot. Stop complaining, it’s making the heat worse..!”
Another long winded whine that only added more warmth to Yasu’s bedroom.
Midway into summer break and Northzawa was victim to one of the worst heat waves in decades. Hachin had called him a couple hours before complaining about his sisters hogging the plug-in fans and wanting to stay at his house for the day.
Below Yasu’s bedroom window, kids were braving the weather just to fry an egg on the sidewalk to upload a recording to Tik Tok. The street noise leaking into the walls of his room. A squeal from outside, pitched high and exaggerated, obviously a forced reaction for their hopeful viral upload. Yasu, even dressed down to his day off clothes, staying indoors with the air conditioner blasting, the heat prickled at his skin; his bandages scratched terribly against his arm and fingers.
Even with the needling pinch against his skin, it didn’t hurt. He’s become familiar with that feeling. It simmered under the surface, but not overwhelming. The buzzing beside his ear, white noise, narrowing his focus.
Inhale, exhale.
So here they sat. Yasu took up his desk chair with his legs thrown up over his desk, a foot resting over some textbook he’s never opened yet this year and his remaining lower limb crossed over a bent knee. Hachin resided on the floor, limbs spread eagle to vent as much heat as possible, quoting that ‘heat rises’ or something else along those lines that were obviously fake.
How can heat rise if the heat comes from the sun. Wouldn’t it sink down?
What a dumbass.
“If you keep complaining I’m gonna kick you out,” Yasu groaned out, clicking his tongue irritably. “.. So annoying.”
“Fah, what the hell man, you want me to die outside?” He whined, unaffected by Yasu’s sharp quips. The yatagarasu wasn’t serious. He could tell by now.
“Yeah, get out and die quietly.”
“Asshole.” The buzzing settled down, pulling his phone out from the pocket of bright neon gym shorts. “Feh..Wanna’ do anythin’? I’m bored..”
“With the guys?” Yasu continued to tap his pen against the touch pad, refocusing on his game. “I thought Joe was at the hospital for blood work again.”
“No, just us.” A beat, the yatagarasu refusing to acknowledge that confession. Hachin added a second later, like hindsight, “Plus, Sojun is a fucking ass, he’ll just bitch all day about his hair matting under the sweat.”
“Pfft-”
“It’s true!”
“Yeah, sounds like him..”
Turning his head to look at Yasu better, bending his neck at an angle, “So, you game, or what?”
Clear blue met the peeking sunset, worryingly familiar, Yasu nodded his head. Averting his eyes after a brief glance, “Sure.” He shut his game closed, setting it onto his desk and pushing his legs off his study desk. “What do you have in mind?”
The smile that rewarded him shined brighter than the sun outside his bedroom window.