Chapter 09
Heaven and Hell
"Jirou."
She hears his voice, still monotonous but not emotionless (never had been) but it sounds so far away and muffled as if she is submerged underwater, even though he is standing right next to her. She couldn't turn her attention away from the van before her, once offwhite now charcoal black.
It had caught on fire. She doesn't know how, but she couldn't care less about it. She's more focused on the van's content.
She had sent the bass to a nearby shop for maintenance and upgrades (She had saved up to get herself a pair of Seymour Duncan pickups). It should've arrived today. The van even arrived by the UA's gate.
It being engulfed in flame isn't part of the plan.
Her bass is gone.
She feels hollow.
She only comes back to her sense when she feels his hand lands on her shoulder. Slowly, she looks up at her homeroom teacher who gazes down at her between his locks.
"I'm sorry. We tried to put it out as fast as we could. Nothing was salvageable."
"It's fine," she replies instant but hollowly. She turns away from him and from the van, staring at the tuff of grass right on the edge of concrete floor. "It's just a guitar."
But it hurt so much.
It feels stupid and illogical to get attached to a piece of wood that makes sounds. It feels stupid and illogical to be so distraught over the loss of an instrument when she has many in her room.
But she couldn't help herself to feel such things. That bass guitar isn't just any bass guitar to her. It's what kick-started her love for music, her first step to be a musician. It's her first ever real instrument.
She remembers staring at it through a window of a musical instrument store that gave her parents a lot of scare when they realized she wasn't with them. She remembers asking them what it was, and they proclaimed that it is a bass guitar.
She remembers being so fascinated by it. So she dove deeper and asked more and more questions. Soon enough, her parents bought her a miniature guitar to get her started.
Then she learned the difference between an electric guitar and a bass guitar. She wanted to play bass more than she wanted to play guitar, so her parents taught her everything they know on bass.
Then she learned the relationship between the bass guitar and the drums. She started to practice more and more to get her play on beat, assisted by her supportive parents.
Then one day, her dad came home carrying the bass guitar she saw in his hand and handed it to her.
She remembers how extremely happy she was when she got it in her hand. She remembers how giant it was in her tiny hands. She remembers how unwieldy it was when she tried to play it the first time. She remembers how extremely thick the strings were when compared to her miniature guitar.
She fell in love with it. Since then every composition she had made had started and stayed with that very same bass. She has gotten many other instruments after it, but she always returned back to it. She has multiple electric guitars, multiple sets for her drums, multiple keyboards and synthesizers.
But there is only one bass.
Because she only need that one bass.
And to lose it felt just… wrong.
She would trade every single instrument she has with her in her entire life just so she can get that bass guitar back.
"Kyouka."
She gasps, snapping from her deep thought and finds her vision is blocked by something black and her nose invaded by a particular smell. There's also a pressure around her shoulders. And her cheeks are wet.
Oh.
She's been crying.
And she has her face buried into Mr. Aizawa's chest.
"It's stupid," she whispers as she presses her face harder into his chest.
Mr. Aizawa stays silent.
"I shouldn't be so distraught over something that can be replaced," she continues as her hands slowly reaches up and grip the back of his shirt.
Mr. Aizawa's arm tightens slightly around her shoulders.
"But I am." She pushes down the urge to sob when it threatens to escape her throat. "I'm sorry, Mr. Aizawa…"
She doesn't really know why she apologizes to him. Maybe it's because it's illogical to get sad over an item, and Mr. Aizawa is a man who strive on logic.
Then again, apologizing to him seems illogical as well.
She then feels his arm loosen from her shoulders before placing a hand on her shoulder. She gives him one last squeeze, still not wanting to let go just yet before finally pulling away. She's about to wipe away her tears but Mr. Aizawa is one step ahead of her. She hears him sighs as he wipes her cheeks with one thumb.
"Come," he says gently, retracting his hand but keeps the one on her shoulder. Having no other choice, still feeling distraught for her loss, she nods her head. He starts leading her back to the dorm.
She finds herself standing right in front of Mr. Aizawa's room. She gives him a questioning look as he unlocks the door. He offers no answer as he opens the door and leads her inside.
Inside, almost nothing is changed, not even a single toy is out of place. She thinks Mr. Aizawa had been teaching Eri some manners. And Eri is missing too; she suspects the little girl is with the Big Three or with Mic, Midnight or Might.
He gestures her to sit on his bed (a nod of his head and a pat on her shoulder) before he walks to the walk-in closet and opens the door. Her confusion only doubles, still doesn't know what he is doing.
She startles a gasp when he takes out a bag. It's not just any bag…
It's a bass guitar gig bag.
Mr. Aizawa… plays bass?
He carefully places it on the floor right in front of her and starts unzipping the bag. Then, carefully, he takes out the content with one hand. She couldn't hold back the gasp of astonishment.
A Rickenbacker 4003 bass in walnut.
He stands up and holds it out towards her with one hand. She grabs it with careful hands, handling it like a fragile item. She places it on her lap, slowly running her hands up and down the instrument, feeling and taking in every little detail.
It's in pristine condition, zero scuffs and dent marks. The only problem is that the strings are dirty but they look like they are unused for a very long time. Overall...
It is a beautiful bass guitar.
It's Mr. Aizawa's bass guitar.
Somehow that makes it even more beautiful.
Mr. Aizawa plays bass.
"It's not your purple Fender Jazz," she hears Mr. Aizawa starts. She looks up at him, surprised that he knows the brand and her eyes widen as he places a bass amplifier right next to her.
A Fender Rumble 25 bass amp. Small enough for bedroom practice but enough power for a small gig.
Mr. Aizawa had played bass in a gig?
"I hope it is enough for you." Before she even realizes it, her mind still trying to grasp at so many new details all at once, the amp is powered up and she is plugged in. The silent room is now filled with the hum coming from the amp.
Somehow, plucking the low E string seems a lot for her to bear. It's not her bass but Mr. Aizawa's, and it is absolutely beautiful too. Steeling her resolve, she places a finger on the thickest string and plucks.
The entire room vibrates from the shear low ends coming from the speaker.
It's also out of tune. Thankfully, she has great knowledge in bass that she can tune by ears.
"I didn't know you play bass, Mr. Aizawa," she couldn't help but comments as she tunes the bass to its correct pitches.
"I first saw one when I was a kid." She freezes from her doing. She snaps her head up and gazes at her homeroom teacher, who is currently sitting at his desk and boots up his computer.
Is... Is she going to get deep into his personal life?
"I didn't know what it was back then, too large and too different to be a guitar. I only got my hand on one after graduating UA. Mic gave a Sandberg California TSBS bass as a birthday gift." He starts putting on his glasses once the setup is complete.
'Sandberg? Mic must be loaded to gift him such premium instrument.'
"So you had been playing for twelve years?" Jirou asks curiously, trying not to let the disbelief shown in her voice. She couldn't believe her ears that she is listening to such personal details.
"Yes," he answers, already starts playing with the mouse and clicking on stuff. From the light glare she couldn't clearly see what he is doing. "I took the first year learning the instrument all by myself. I'm not creative enough to make original composition, so I mainly do covers."
They both play bass almost the same amount of time.
"Why did you play bass?"
"Even heroes like me do need to unwind at times. Bass is surprisingly effective for me."
Jirou feels… extremely happy that it shocks her. Not even fifteen minutes earlier, she was extremely distraught over the loss of her greatest instrument.
And here she is now, holding onto a beautiful bass that belongs to her teacher, her hero.
She's not that much different than Mr. Aizawa.
"Have you ever played any gigs?" she asks as she resumes tuning the bass at hand. The conversation is getting easier to bear.
"Only a handful, I'm not a big fan of attention." She suppresses a snort but rolls her eyes. "The only reason I do went to those gigs was because Mic wouldn't stop pestering me for two months straight, on each gig."
She splutters a laugh and covers her mouth with one hand, the other holding onto the bass to not let it fall.
"So what's this guy's story?" she asks as she makes one final check of the bass tuning. Then, she nods her head in satisfaction.
"I was patrolling on another city, saw that Rickenbacker at a window shop. I bought with little hesitation a little under two years ago, a few months before you problem children entered my class."
This time, she didn't hold back the snort but with a smile. Despite the accusatory tone, she knows he means well.
"When's the last time you played it, Mr. Aizawa? It looks like it is barely touched."
Mr. Aizawa pauses in his typing before continuing.
"A little over a year ago, the day you entered my class."
At first, Jirou is confused. Why did he stop playing at that time?
Then, she remembers USJ, his injuries, and everything that happened from then until now.
He is too busy protecting them, looking after them to have time for himself.
"I'm… sorry."
"Don't be."
"Do uuhh… You don't mind if I play some stuff?"
"I expect you to."
She smiles at his back, reading the signs that she can go wild with the bass, with reasonable boundaries of course. She starts messing about the EQ built into the amp, getting the desire sound before turning down the master volume to bearable amount.
Then, she starts messing about the bass. She is getting used to the new experience, feeling every single difference between her bass and Mr. Aizawa's. The Rickenbacker's neck is definitely wider comparing to the Fender Jazz. And the sound is also a major difference.
Then again, the Fender Jazz's neck is a bit thinner than most, though not as thin as Ibanez SR series. And Rickenbacker's bass pickups are rumored to be wound for guitar and not for bass.
It didn't take her very long to get used to the bass. She's somewhat feels her breath taken away. She is holding Mr. Aizawa's bass, something he had touched and played on, though not for very long.
She looks back at him, gazing at his back.
Then, she starts playing a certain song. It sounds a little bare without the guitar and drums, but it is still distinct enough to know which song it is. Nonetheless, she hums along to the bassline as harmony, then she start-
"Sing me a song, you're a singer."
She freezes.
"Do me a wrong, you're a bringer of evil."
She stares at Mr. Aizawa's back with wide shocked eyes. Then she hears him hum. It sounds displeased but in a teasing kind of way. Then he looks at her over his shoulder, his eyes are giving off a certain glitter behind his glasses.
"Why'd you stop? I was starting to get into it," he tells her. She realizes the glitter is mischievousness.
He's aware of what he had just done.
"Come on, Jirou. From the top."
She stutters out incoherent words as she fumbles her fingers over the fretboard and the strings. She takes a deep breath to calm her nerve and jitter that are coursing through her body.
She found it.
When she starts playing the bassline, Mr. Aizawa hums along with her in harmony. Then, when the vocal kicks in, she stays silent.
"Sing me a song, you're a singer."
His voice is quiet.
"Do me a wrong, you're a bringer of evil."
He is singing on key.
"The devil is never a maker."
His singing voice is pretty.
"The less that you give, you're a taker."
She is so goddamn happy.
"So it's on and on and on…"
She joins in along with him, even though she couldn't keep wobble from her voice due to how giddy she is.
She is singing with Mr. Aizawa!
"It's Heaven and Hell."
I have a major headcanon that Dadzawa is a bassist