The next morning found Toushirou driving a barely alert Rangiku Matsumoto to the studio. He hadn't considered that mornings may not be her thing and he somewhat regretted it. Regardless, he passed her a cup of coffee and continued down the road, keeping his iPod on his "Chillout" playlist and maintaining the volume at a low level. The Jetta moved smoothly through traffic and Toushirou drove slowly so as to avoid jolting the young woman too much and spilling her coffee.
It just wouldn't do to bring in a new talent on his day off and have to find clothes for her. That would be… embarrassing, to say the least. Toushirou hadn't brought in a new female talent in a long time. Bringing one in and demanding new clothes for her would definitely raise eyebrows. It didn't matter that nobody had any reason to think inappropriate things about him; he knew they would. It was the way the music industry was and though he hated it, he still had to deal with it. Better to work around the structure than try to fight against it, or so he figured.
Neither of them had said a word since she'd gotten into the car and he'd passed her the coffee. As they pulled into the Kuchiki Records' parking lot and he parked, they still didn't say anything. He was out and at her door before she could even think of reaching for the handle. He opened it for her and stepped aside, shutting it and locking the car when she was out. Soundlessly he led her through the double doors into the main office.
Directly in front of the doors was what looked to be a waiting room, with chairs, chaises, and couches placed neatly in the empty space. In the middle was a vast circular desk, with a single, small woman behind it. She looked up as Toushirou approached, pulling her head back in surprise and furrowing her brow delicately. She dropped her pen and pulled off her glasses to glare at him.
"Mr. Kuchiki's going to have a fit when he finds out you've brought in another one on your day off."
Toushirou shrugged. "I can't help it. I just don't seem to find any when he sends me scouting. It's always when I'm not looking for them that they crop up."
The woman replaced her glasses and rolled her eyes. "Where'd you find her? At a bar singing Shania karaoke?" Toushirou heard an indignant "Hey!" behind him. He chuckled.
"As a matter of fact, it was at Fait Accompli. And yes, it was karaoke."
She smirked. "What? No men this time? I told you what I wanted you to bring back the last time you went scouting!" She handed him a small piece of paper.
The corner of his mouth turned up as he extended his hand to Rangiku, motioning her forward. "I'll be sure to let Mr. Shunsui know what it is you're looking for."
She spluttered. "B-b-but! Toushirou you wouldn't! Would you?" Her eyes were wide. Toushirou continued to smirk, his eyes sparkling in his otherwise stoic face.
"Thank you, Nanao," he said, and he led Rangiku behind the desk and into an elevator. The redhead continued to sip the coffee he had given her. He decided that she obviously didn't like it black and made a mental note. After a moment or so, she spoke. "So what did she mean when she said, 'you've brought in another one on your day off'?"
He shrugged. "Exactly what she said." Rangiku gave him a confused look. He sighed. "I have a bad habit of finding talent on my days off, as opposed to my scheduled scouting times. It's frustrating, to say the least. I could easily just get someone's information and then call them a day later, but I like to take every opportunity I can."
She tilted her head in curiosity. "Have you had someone get signed before you could get in touch with them before?"
He frowned, his white brows pulling inward over his turquoise eyes. His thick lashes fluttered as he blinked. "Something like that."
Rangiku could tell by his tone that she wasn't getting anything else out of him, so she settled on watching him in the reflective surface of the elevator's doors. He was tall – taller than her, which was saying something – and lean. His simple black polo hugged his chest and loosened at the waist, the white lion of Express emblazoned on the front. His jeans were a distressed wash, regular fit and boot cut. They hung low on his hips, barely held in place by a black belt. Black Converse All Stars betrayed his less than professional taste. His white hair hung in his face constantly, with a disheveled, just out of bed look. She found she rather liked it, and was surprised. She usually preferred more clean-cut, professional men – smooth, straight lines and sleek perfection. It seemed that Toushirou was the opposite of that, at least outwardly. She had a feeling, though, that he was a no nonsense kind of guy. She realized she'd been caught staring when he spoke.
"Like something you see?" he murmured. She looked up at his face but he wasn't looking at her. Rather, his impassive gaze was focused expectantly on the numbers lighting up above the door.
Before she could respond with even a blush the elevator rang and the doors slid open. A disembodied voice sounded soothingly overhead. "Sixth floor. Recording Studio Two."
The faint sounds of music exuded through the hallway, different genres mingling behind sound-proof doors. Steadily they approached one with a "Recording in Progress" light lit above it. Toushirou stopped in front of it and waited patiently, staring up at the sign. After what seemed like ages to Rangiku it went out and Toushirou opened the door.
Inside was a large group of people lounging in a large, cool, tiled white room in front of a window. On a platform in front was a recording panel, filled with countless knobs and switches and buttons that Rangiku had never seen before. There were two computer monitors on the platform, and two more in the room. Opposite the window were a couch and several chairs, on which various people lounged about. A white board on the wall was covered in nonsense that Rangiku couldn't decipher. As she looked through the window she saw the microphones and instruments on the other side.
There was a guy on the other side of the window, muttering into the microphone as they stepped in the door. "How was that?"
A man in a dress shirt and slacks sighed and stepped forward. "Take five. Come back here when you're finished." The guy behind the window nodded and removed his headphones, walking out a door on the other side. The man turned to them.
"Ah! Toushirou. Nanao told me that you would likely be stopping by." The man's dark gaze moved from Toushirou to Rangiku. "And who is this beautiful young lady?"
Toushirou motioned to Rangiku. "Miss Matsumoto, this is Kyouraku Shunsui, one of the other producers here at Kuchiki Records. Kyouraku, this is Miss Rangiku Matsumoto."
She extended her hand to the bigger man. "It's nice to meet you," she said, blushing.
Kyouraku was older and slightly more clean-cut than Toushirou. His wavy hair was pulled back into a tail at the base of his neck and a short cropped beard graced his chin and lip. He gripped her hand firmly. "I assure you, Miss Matsumoto, that the pleasure is all mine."
Toushirou crossed his arms. "Shall I go get Nanao, or will a cup of ice water do?"
The older man laughed. "Now, now, Toushirou. Don't get all defensive now. Surely Miss Matsumoto should have the last say in which one of us she likes best, hmm?" He turned to her, winking and Toushirou scowled.
Rangiku laughed. "Well, I must say that you're a much better conversationalist than Toushirou. It gives you points in my book."
Toushirou's scowl deepened. "I hope to god it's not a little black one, because if it is we're all in trouble."
Kyouraku laughed heartily and the others in the room joined him, watching the exchange quietly. This seemed to bring Toushirou back to himself and he uncrossed his arms.
"Rangiku, I should introduce you to the others."
As Toushirou named off each one they nodded or acknowledged her in some way. Rangiku smiled in return.
There were seven in all, aside from Toushirou, Kyouraku, and Rangiku. Kira Izuru, a lean figure leaning against the wall; Renji Abarai, a big man sprawled out on a random chaise lounge; Ikkaku Madarame, an imposing bald guy sitting backwards in a rolling chair and fiddling with one of the two computers in the room; Yumichika Ayasegawa, a rather metro sexual man with immaculate fashion sense perched delicately in an armchair; Ichigo Kurosaki, a tall, very fit man with the same shade of red hair as her, stretched out on the couch; Rukia Kuchiki, a small girl with black hair and petite features, snuggling into Ichigo's chest. Apparently she was the sister to the CEO and label owner, Byakuya Kuchiki. Finally there was Ganju Kaien, a scruffy man that Toushirou called a "lump of oaf", who was manning the recording machinery.
Before they could move on to anything besides introductions, the man who had been recording when Toushirou and Rangiku arrived returned, resuming his place at the microphone, headphones positioned over his ears. Toushirou instructed her to take a seat. He didn't seat himself, but rather stood behind Ganju with his arms crossed. Kyouraku sat down in a rolling chair beside Ganju and Ikkaku rolled up on his other side.
"Okay," the voice that passed through the speakers was rough. "Let's try this again. Whenever you're ready."
Kyouraku sighed. Ganju turned to him, an incredulous look on his face. The producer motioned for him to continue. Ganju proceeded to mutter things into his own mic, double checking setups and volume ranges. Toushirou glanced out of the corner of his eye at Kyouraku.
"What's wrong?"
The older man shook his head. "We're not really sure. Something's different. His singing isn't what it used to be."
"Yeah, no shit. It's because his attitude's changed. Guy's a total douche bag and it carries," Renji muttered.
Kyouraku sighed again. "Go ahead and start, Ganju. Let Toushirou try and pick it out."
The big man nodded and flipped a switch. Music filled the room and Rangiku was almost overwhelmed.
A fast hardcore riff struck her ears, followed by a second guitar, this one slower and deeper. The sound of distortion pedals grated pleasantly on her eardrums and she waited. After a few seconds the guy's voice filtered through the speakers. It was fine at first, but then the chorus started and his attempt at screaming the words came out all wrong. The pleasurable sounds of the drums and bass and guitars were interrupted by his voice. It was obvious he was trying too hard to sound grating and angry. She grimaced.
"Stop."
Toushirou's command was so quiet that she almost didn't hear it. Ganju nodded and pushed a button. The music stopped and the guy at the mic stopped too.
His voice, strained and scratchy from his singing, sounded irritated. "What now?"
Toushirou reached forward and pressed a button. "You're trying too hard. Take another break. I want to get someone else in there really quick. Come back here." He released it and stood up, waiting. The guy on the other side of the glass looked furious.
"Toushirou you bastard! It's your day off and my recording time! I don't know who you think you are, but you sure as hell won't get away with it! You wait until I tell—"
Toushirou leaned forward and cut him off. "I don't know who you think you are, Mr. Tetsuszaemon, but I know that I've explained to you more than once that insubordination is intolerable. Now I believe I told you to get back in here."
This made the dark haired, wiry man angrier. "What the fuck, Hitsugaya?! Insubordination? It's your day off –"
"It's also my recording studio. Now, get out." He stood up with a finality that made Rangiku realize that the argument was done. What was amazing was that Toushirou had maintained his cool demeanor the entire time. She would've snapped if someone had spoken to her that way.
Without turning to her he spoke to her. "Rangiku, if you wouldn't mind, I'd like you to take his place at the mic."
She nodded, even though he couldn't see it, and rose. "Sure." She made for the door and he turned his head towards her.
"You know how this works?"
She nodded again, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "I've made one or two demos with friends. Nothing serious, but I'm assuming it's the same concept. Just stand and wait, sing loud and clear, and stand away from the mic." He nodded, satisfied and as she was exiting the guy from the other side of the glass stepped in. He looked her up and down.
"Hey there, gorgeous." He smirked. Toushirou's nostrils flared.
"Drop it, Iba. Take a seat and shut your mouth." Iba glared at Toushirou and then winked at Rangiku, then moved away. Rangiku closed the door behind her and took a few steps down the hallway to the next door and opened it.
This side of the one way window was bigger and much more overwhelming than any of the studios she'd been in. She swallowed her nervousness and moved to the mic, picking up the headphones from the music stand in front of her. She put them on her head, adjusting them to fit her. A soft baritone met her ears and she stared into the mirror at herself, hoping she was looking at his turquoise eyes.
"Can you hear me?"
She nodded.
"Okay. Now, just relax and be natural. Don't try; just sing."
She nodded again. This time a different, gruffer voice spoke to her. "Alright, Miss Matsumoto, 'Grace' me."
She blinked. "I'm sorry?"
"He means 'Amazing Grace'. We usually ask new vocal talents to sing a range of common songs, in order to better gauge their vocal ranges and comforts. The first one is always 'Amazing Grace'. There will be music. Don't worry."
She nodded again, swallowing. "Okay. I'm ready."
In her ears the music started and when her cue came, Rangiku Matsumoto sang.