A/N: I think I might not even bother with Fridays if I keep uploading early like this. :) I had this chapter ready a while back, figured it would be fair to post it early.
Next update might be early too, depending on how much I get done with the next chapter. For now, enjoy! See you next time!
9 / Cradle the Rock-n-Roll It
Papers lay scattered over Okoba's desk, a bottle of sake on the side, half empty, headache incoming.
Days ago, Okoba could fairly admit he was going insane. Insane for truth, insane for answers. He had been so determined to find something, anything about Franchouchou and its members.
What he had found out surprised him, confused him, made him grab the sake and down it in one gulp. An irrational part of him blamed the damn girls and the dead for the recent headaches and the large amounts of alcohol intake he had subjected himself to days ago.
It wasn't their fault.
He was drunk. He was irritable.
He was also sure that something was wrong.
Franchouchou was made out of doppelgangers of dead people. Dead people! Girls dancing and singing with faces of the dead and only he had noticed!
At least, he hoped.
He wouldn't have been surprised to find a topic, hidden among the hundreds that existed on those forums talking about Franchouchou, wondering, asking, theorizing on why those girls looked like famous people. They were probably drunk right now, like he was. Heh. That felt good to know. He probably wasn't the only one going insane out there.
(he would be truly disappointed, however...most of the fans in those forums hadn't really made a connection, and if they had, they had shrug it off or perhaps someone out there had noticed but didn't really care or perhaps they did, unsure of what to think but that wouldn't be a problem until months later)
But for now, he was nursing a headache and he still felt he had work to do. His little vacation was set to end by Monday, so he still had two days to work.
Okoba turned to the three remaining girls, Konno, Mizuno and Hoshikawa.
He drank the rest of the sake, opened a new bottle and got to work.
Takeo let out a laugh as he watched the television; it was one of Lily's old shows, about a group of friends that got into all sorts of adventures and that included a talking cat for some reason or the other. He had a whole stack of DVDs at the ready, all containing the shows and movies Lily had starred in, very few had some other shows, shows he and Lily used to watch when they had time. Those he hadn't had the heart to destroy, unlike the television. Those he kept, hidden, away from sight and mind. But now, he had pulled them out of the box, all of them, stacked them neatly next to the newly purchased television that was still smaller than he was tall.
Takeo chuckled.
He had been doing that a lot recently, smiling and watching tv.
Every day, after work, he would come home, put on a DVD, heat up some popcorn and start watching. It didn't matter if the show would get boring after a while, he went on watching, only stopping to replace the DVD with a new one.
And he still had a long stack of DVDs to go, considering he went on a shopping spree a few days after those girls did their performance. Where the girl that looked so much like Lily smiled at him, where that girl that looked so much like his daughter sang to him.
(the song had felt like a goodbye, an apology...Takeo wasn't so sure)
He had gone home, crying, smiling.
A few days later, he had left the house and bought himself a new tv and every single DVD that caught his fancy. He had missed so many new shows, so many soap operas, seasons of cartoons he used to enjoy, documentaries, everything.
One of his coworkers had suggested a streaming site but Takeo had just smiled and said he was fine with the DVDs...so long as they weren't scratch, there was no buffering. His coworker had laughed then, nodding in agreement. "Too true, too true," he told him and wished him luck.
As of now, he had finished at least fifty DVDs, watched some news, talked to the pictures of his daughter and wife, cried, laughed, rinse and repeat. It was an odd sort of catharsis for him.
He had felt so miserable days ago but now, he felt as light as a feather, although his coworkers would disagree.
Takeo hadn't felt like this in a long time, hadn't felt just alright, not great, certainly, just alright.
Television didn't have the answers to everything but it had always been there, in the good days, in the bad days, in the times when Lily was still alive, when his wife was still alive.
(it had also been there during the hard times but Takeo had destroyed that one)
It will be hard, he knew, even as he exchanged the DVD for a new oneーLily's second film, a camping trip gone wrongーand waited for it to start.
He could pretend those two were by his side, watching, laughing with him. It was hard, but he knew it would get better. He would get better, even as the tears began anew.
Lily Hoshikawa was an odd kid, Okoba decided.
She had taken the world by storm at just eight years old, acting in multiple prime-time shows and a few made-for-tv movies here and there. Directors called her a genius, fans adored her.
And she was also dead. Dead at just twelve years old. Heart attack, Okoba remembered reading.
It had been a mess of news; the studio tried to distance themselves from the death, fans were devastated and looking for answers on why their favorite actress had died so young, a few from the nastier side of the tracks began to point fingers at her manager father and the greedy corporations that worked her to death.
That last part had not been a lie, if Okoba was being honest. It happened too often, it happened too much.
Hoshikawa worked a lot. Filming one series first thing in the morning, an hour later the next one, next day booked all day for a movie, interview's at seven, work, work, work. Everything was work. And when one is famous like Hoshikawa had been, work is all you do, all you got.
But the problem with work, Okoba realized as he drank, was that it could consume you, destroy you, make you drink at two in the morning because a group of idols had the faces of the dead.
Hoshikawa was dead.
He was drunk.
The only comfort one could take from Hoshikawa's passing was that at least it was quick.
Aoi let out a sigh as she set down another box; new apartment, new life, no Ai. It had been the usual for the past eleven years. Nothing had changed. Nothing was ever going to change.
(Ai was still dead)
But now, she was here. She was in Karatsu, Saga...an all-new place, an all-new city.
Tokyo was a busy place, Karatsu, she still wasn't so sure. Aoi would get used to it, though.
The doctor had made some calls a few days after arriving in Karatsu.
Her clinic would need a while to get started, Aoi knew. She had taken out a loan for a building in the center of Karatsu and was just waiting to fill in the necessary paperwork, get the proper equipment, hire a secretary, get so many other things done.
Frankly, Aoi didn't know what she was doing in Saga. She ought to go take these boxes and rip those papers in two, say her goodbyes and high tail it outta there, back to Tokyo. But she didn't. Aoi was already opening boxes and putting their contents in the counter; old medical books, papers she had written, magazines…
Aoi blinked away the tears.
She had thought she had thrown away this old magazine.
It was one of the early ones, the one that had Ai and her old group, Iron Frill, in the cover. They were all there, determined, big grins on their faces. They wore those outfits, the top and the skirt. Aoi never did like them. She complained to Ai enough about them as it was.
"Are you an idol or a piece of meat?" the doctor had asked her once, showing disdain to the outfit like any other sensible mother would, a sensible mother that was not looking forward to the kind of industry her daughter had decided to be part of.
Aoi wasn't blind. Every industry had skeletons in its closet and she had made sure to tell Ai that, even as she filled her application, even as she was selected, even as she performed.
(are you an idol?)
But Ai loved to perform, the same way her mother loved helping others.
Ai and those other girls loved their work, no matter how hard, no matter how strenuous. They practiced, they danced, they sang, and they gave words of encouragement to their fans, gave them hope of a better tomorrow.
Aoi didn't know of anyone that had been touched by Ai's words, she never bothered to look, she didn't want to.
Looking brought back memories, brought back bad thoughts.
(are you a piece of meat?)
The call had come in when she was in the clinic, busy with a young man with a stomach ache; the ache had been a bother for days, he had told her, making him vomit and nauseous. An infection, Aoi had remembered telling him. "You probably have an infection," she had told him. She was going to sent him to the lab to get some tests going, to see if there was something else wrong and then in came in her boss, an old doctor, head of the clinic, accompanied by one of her colleagues.
Aoi had been confused at first; what was wrong? Is something happening? Another emergency?
Instead, her boss just told her that there was an urgent matter he needed to talk to her about, privately, and to let her colleague attend her patient. Aoi was a little concerned but figured it was about another of her patients; she had remembered the patient from a month previous, always complaining and saying that "You're wrong, that's not what's wrong," and this and that, basically the one that said "I know better". Had that woman come to complain? Awfully long time to wait too.
They walked into his office and he told her, he told her plain and simple that Ai was...dead.
She was dead.
Aoi didn't react. Didn't move. Didn't faint.
Doctors are made of harder stuff, Aoi's father had told her once. Doctors were healers, were saviors. You never wanted to hear from a doctor that your child was dead. You never wanted to hear it. But Aoi heard it, loud and clear, unable to believe it.
She had been a little hysterical, wondering if it was some sick joke and if he wanted to fire her to just do it andー
It wasn't a joke and Ai was still dead.
Aoi had seen her. Had seen her body. Dead on arrival, the paramedics said.
The coroner had advised against seeing the body, seeing her child all burned, all dead. But Aoi had seen worse. Had seen shards of glass stuck to an arm, had seen holes on skin, had seen…
...but none of them had been Ai. Ai who was dead, who was burnt, who was dead, who was gone, who was…
Aoi had fainted once she left the coroner to his work.
There was no wake for Ai. There was no point. Her daughter would never be beautiful again, would never be...Aoi couldn't even pretend she was still alive...that she was just sleeping.
And the reporters, oh those reporters, like vultures they came to eat the remains of the dead.
They bothered her, they bothered Kaoru and the girls that remained, everyone.
Ai had become a legend once that bolt of lightning hit her and she was gone.
Reporters couldn't get enough of it. They hounded her, they hounded Kaoru, they hounded the girls.
Aoi had closed herself off on everyone. Kaoru had tried to talk, but Aoi ignored her, heck, she ignored all those other girls from Iron Frill, all the girls who left. Once she was back on her feet, she apologized to Ai's old friends, called herself a fool. They forgave her.
It didn't bring Ai back but it brought some peace to her heart.
And now, here she was, eleven years later, opening a clinic in unknown territory because she was too weak to let go. Because she had been too weak to let go of Ai, the ghost, the legend.
Aoi suddenly got up, tears sliding down her cheeks, down her neck.
She looked at the magazine in her hands again and then stared at the calendar she had bought off the internet.
There was a ghost staring back at her, smiling, grinning.
Aoi decided then and there to find this ghost and put her thoughts to rest, it was the only way to mend what was still broken.
Ai Mizuno, leader of Iron Frill, circa 2008.
Applied to the ZLS Company when she was just fourteen years old, Mizuno had big dreams and even bigger aspirations.
Okoba admired that kind of determination and Mizuno had plenty of it.
She and the rest of Iron Frill had made a name for themselves, and by 2008 were one of the most popular idol bands in Japan. They were going to be big and then, Mizuno had been struck by lightning and it all collapsed like a big house of cards.
Mizuno became a legend.
What a legend.
Okoba can't help but shake his head.
That's not the kind of legend he'll want.
And a part of him, drunk and drinking, figured that Mizuno didn't want that kind of legend either.
Reiko leaned closer as she took a look at the magazine; it was twelve o'clock and there was nothing to do. Maria was at school, her husband at work, dishes were done, floors had been cleaned, clothes had been put in the washing machine, etc..
The woman let out a yawn as she flipped the page; the magazine was a motorbike magazine, new edition, Reiko had spotted it while she went out shopping a few days ago and had been interested. She applied for a subscription the next day, her husband grinning at her as he left to work.
"Always a biker, eh?" he had told her, kissing her goodbye.
Her husband knew of her past, knew who she had been. Reiko had stolen his lunch money and he had fallen in love. Not the most romantic love story, but they made do.
Reiko placed a small finger over the picture of a bike, purple in color. It was one of those modern bikes, the ones that raced in racetracks, the ones that looked so...odd. Her bike wouldn't have stood a chance against these things, not even with all the modifications.
But that bike was gone. Left to rot in smoke and ashes. Her old hand-me down piece of shit was gone. And Reiko would have to move on. Mostly, she had to move on because her bike being destroyed had saved her daughter, had saved her stupid little kid.
(she still remembers the explosion, that girl, Two, grinning at her, smiling a familiar smile)
Maria had decided to end the gang a few days later, after that concert, figuring that she didn't have what it took, but not for a lack of trying but for...well, Reiko had a pretty good idea why but she decided not to comment on it.
Her daughter was keeping the jacket though, and that was the end of that particular discussion.
But her daughter didn't understand. Not now, wouldn't ever.
Reiko knew how difficult that part of her life had been. She had been an angry and sad teenager, angry at the world, sad at the injustice, pissed at the wannabe yakuza that called themselves the Oki. They weren't entirely part of all her problems but they certainly helped by making everyone's life a living hell.
Dorami was born out of that anger, out of that desire to crush those that wronged her. Dorami, to an outsider, would have looked like it had been formed out of good intentions. Reiko knew that was a lie. She had been pissed, she had been angry, she had been without purpose and together with her neighbor and best friend, Saki Nikaido, Dorami had been formed and the rest was history.
Saki was like her, every bit as pissed and angry at the world, less restrained, more chaotic. She had a bone to pick with the Oki. They had been antagonizing her old folks, her grandparents, with threats and property damage. At that time, the old couple ran a small little bakery out of their home and the Oki made it a habit to ask for protection money or warn them there would be consequences. Saki had been pretty pissed off but she wasn't an idiot. In a fair fight, she'll break some bones, probably knock a few of them out, but the Oki weren't a walk in the park. With their numbers, she wouldn't be able to do much before reinforcements came and if she was down for the count, nothing would stop them from taking their revenge out on her old folks.
It took a lot of talking and whispering, but finally Reiko and Saki had a plan; Dorami was formed in just two days, Saki recruiting a bunch of girls from nearby schools and Reiko calling on their neighbors, all with a bone to pick with the Oki.
The Oki had been a formidable lot; their leader, named Oki, per the gang's tradition (yeah, sure), was a stinking little shit. He was the new Oki, after the last leader, Oki Kazuma, had died in a fire just a few months ago. It was thanks to Kazuma that the Oki had gotten as big as they had but when you got big, it got to your head, as Reiko would later learn.
The leader never did.
Reiko still has fond memories of their first bout against the Oki. Saki had just marched up to Oki and punched his face in. His nose was broken, and the fighting began. Reiko would break it again, months later, during the final showdown.
Susan, one of the girls that still attended school, had once, as they were having lunch, commented on the oddity of that final fight against the Oki.
It had been a weird fight, all things considered. Most of the Oki had left their leader in the dust, disgusted and demoralized while a few others stopped beating Dorami girls and turned unto each other instead.
Eventually, after much snooping around and to satisfy her own curiosity, Susan finally found out what had happened. The Oki were unsatisfied with their leader. Unlike Kazuma before him, this Oki was like mixing water with oil, incompatible with the rest. He had a temper, he would antagonize certain groups of the Oki, turn them against each other to, in his own words, make them tough. That had just created resentment between the two groups that had formed amongst the gang, those that followed the current Oki and those that followed the burnt one. The gang began to fight over territory, which escalated in full out brawls. It was a surprise that the Oki had lasted as long as it did, and with Dorami finally making calls and crushing their numbers, it didn't take a genius to figure out why that dam finally broke when they came knocking.
The Oki broke apart, the ones that tried to reform were stomped out by Dorami or other local gangs, who had become more formidable the years that the Oki were busy with their own conflicts.
With the Oki out of the game, Reiko and Saki had set their sights on getting their own territory. They started with Karatsu and got to work from their. And Susan, little studious Susan, who swung the bat like a sports league champion, hid with her school uniform in school and passed on any rumors or stories to her boss, allowing Dorami to grow and be feared.
Dorami had started small, like any other gang; the Oki had started small, too.
(and then, a broken nose and an idiot broke them apart)
They stole from local students, drunks that wandered too close to their territories, other local gangs, whether it was at the races or beating them up, it didn't matter. It was the students, however, that had gotten smarter as the days passed, murmuring to their classmates on how to avoid Dorami, whispering of safe havens to hang out, this place over here, this arcade over yonder, that sort of thing. But Susan, Susan with her bat and schoolbag, had already whispered those same words to her boss, so there was no escape.
The only real comfort the students took was that Dorami weren't bloodsucking leeches like the Oki had been. If you didn't have money with you, they let you go, the Oki weren't so merciful...then again, Dorami wasn't really nice if one of them found out you were lying.
As the years passed, Dorami eventually conquered most of Kyushu, pushing out other gangs out of their territory, putting out flames of rebellion that wanted to take form. Eventually, Saki figured that in a few more years, Japan would be a piece of cake to conquer, if Kyushu had been so easy. Reiko had agreed.
They had grown smug, Reiko realized years later.
Dorami weren't a nice group of people; they stole, they threatened, they broke the law. Reiko wasn't going to pretend otherwise. Back then, if you fought Dorami, you were going to lose, those were the rules. Those were the only rules.
But then, in an instant, Reiko quit, followed by Susan with her broken bat, and many others.
(Saki was dead, and she became a housewife)
It was Saki's unceremonious passing that opened Reiko's eyes to her own mortality. Made her fear death, make her fear what she had become for just an instant.
And so, they all moved on.
Most of the girls rejoined society, married, got work, finished school or moved away. Susan, Susan who no longer swung her bat back and forth, hadn't married yet but she continued with her schooling and became a veterinarian after all that hard work. It didn't really surprise Reiko. Susan always did have a soft spot for the little critters...and her headbusting bat.
Reiko still recalled that time where Susan had picked up this poor pooch from the streets; the poor dog had been run over and left to bleed his life away. Susan had taken him to the vet and a few months later, he was part of the gang, riding on a custom little cart Susan had attached to her motorbike as they cruised Kyushu. He had been obedient, loyal to a fault although he had a bad habit of always peeing in the bike's tires. Saki would get so mad at it because now their bikes all stank and Susan would just laugh.
That little pooch would end up outliving Saki by ten years. Sickness, Susan had told her in a call.
Poor girl had been devastated by her dog's death but like with Saki's untimely demise, Susan moved on.
And maybe that was Reiko's problem. She had moved on with her life but not with Saki's death. In her nightmares, she had seen Saki launching herself to her death over and over again and here comes this girl, looking like Saki, looking like the dead, performing the same stunt and surviving. Reiko almost had a heart attack but she ended up getting angry instead. The problem was, why? Why get angry? She hadn't been angry when Saki took on that challenge, so what had changed? How had Reiko changed?
Saki had been her best friend, the one who understood her the most, the one who took things way too seriously, the one who jumped over a damn cliff to prove to the whole world that Dorami was king…
...and that their reign was over.
Junko Konno.
Perfect. Popular. Beautiful.
Konno had taken the world by storm, in the same way Mizuno had with Iron Frill, with her voice. Okoba still remembers her magnificent voice...and how much Four sounds like her.
Okoba remembers seeing her in the tube...excuse me, the television set all those years ago.
She was amazing. Her voice, impressive. For someone like Konno, that voice was angelic, it moved the world around her. Deep, powerful, and like her, gone too soon.
All it took was death to make that glorious voice disappeared; she died, trapped like a sardine inside the plane that came tumbling down from the skies, trapped with the screams of despair.
Official story was that Konno had been heading to Saga for a tour. Her manager had stayed behind, decided to join her a few days later, accompanied by her parents. But that meeting never happened, the plane fell, it crashed, it killed Konno and two hundred others in an instant.
Konno had been one of the few passengers that had been torn apart when the plane crashed. Others had lost legs, arms, faces, but Konno...Konno had been ripped to pieces, and if the rumors were to be believed, her eyes had been opened when they found her.
Okoba drank some more.
Her parents had never recovered. They died a few years later. No one knew whether it was the illness or heartbreak that doomed them, all Okoba knew was that Konno's mother was first, her father followed soon after. It was a tragic end all the same. At least, if there was an afterlife out there, they were together.
Okoba drank again and finished the bottle, throwing it to the side; the migraine was coming, he was seeing their ghosts.
The graveyard was quiet; not that it surprised him, graveyards were lonely places, reminders of the dead and people's mortality.
He didn't really care.
Dead was dead, simple as that.
And so was she.
He stared at the grave, eyes scanning the name engraved on the fine marble, wishing it would disappear, wishing it would be replaced by an unknown name that he didn't recognize so he would know all this was a farce and that she wasn't dead.
Minamoto Sakura, it read.
The man sighed.
His wish didn't come true, after all.
So, he decides to take out a cigarette. He had stopped by a shop before coming here and bought a new pack of smokes. He took it out and lit it, taking a deep breath before expelling the smoke, his eyes never leaving the grave.
He sighed again.
The name was still there; everything had been true, she was still dead, he was still smoking, heー
"Genji Kurosawa! Smoking in front of your sister!?"
The young man, Genji, bit unto the stub of the cigarette, almost choking on the smoke.
Behind him, standing none all too pleased with a frown on her face, was an old lady, Mrs. Hondo, a bouquet of flowers in one hand.
"Ma'am," Genji coughed, shaking his head. "What a surprise...to see you…" The old lady sent him a look.
"Genji...I cannot believe you, boy. Smoking! Don't you know those are dangerous to your lungs!" Genji smiled a bit.
His mother hated that nasty habit he had developed a few years back; but it wasn't a problem yet. A package of smokes lasted him a month. Recently, they had lasted just a few weeks. Maybe he did have a problem.
"Don't worry about me, Mrs. Hondo...I don't make it a habit to smoke often."
(except for now, except for when he saw that girl with the frozen smile, the one that was supposed to be dead...and she still was)
"I hope so, for your mother's sake," Mrs. Hondo grumbled, as old ladies tend to do when they chastises others for their faults. "I'll say...it is a surprise to see you...how long has it been, young man? Three...four years?"
"Six, actually…"
His mother had remarried just two years after Sakura's passing; the wedding had originally been planned two years earlier, when Sakura was still alive, but the pain at the time had been impossible to handle and a wedding much less so. So, they waited. The wedding had been small, not a grand event like they had planned but it hadn't mattered then.
Genji's mother had met her new boyfriend a year before the divorced had finalized, their parents had already separated back then, three years previously, so it wasn't really a surprise that their mother was dating. Genji remembered hating the new man just as much as he hated the old man. Sakura had just smiled, happy for their mother, but that didn't meant she didn't have misgivings about her new partner. The old man didn't seem to have a problem with him. If he made his ex-wife happy, who was he to complain. Their parents had fallen out of love a long time ago, but they never stopped being friends. Genji figures that made it easier for the old man to move on.
(and then Sakura died)
It was his stepfather's job that forced them to move away from Karatsu six years ago.
Genji was younger then, not in a rush for college, still brooding over his future, that he had just packed his bags and accompanied his mother and stepfather to new sights, to Florida. He had nothing left in Karatsu; the old man was in Tokyo, handling his new company and Sakura was dead.
But man, fucking Florida.
It was too hot, too humid, too wet, but at the end, it had been home. Genji certainly stopped complaining after a few years in the place, got a job, went to a few classes on the side, and just lived. He wasn't entirely happy, but he could cope.
(and then, when he decides to come back to his old home, he sees the girl on the flyer, the girl that looks like the dead)
"Ah, yes, yes...six years, is a long time, yes." Mrs. Hondo smiled before stepping towards Sakura's grave and leaving the flowers in a nearby urn, red rose, blue rose, yellow. A pretty bunch. "I am a little late," she goes on, bowing towards the stone with Sakura's name before turning to Genji. "I had a doctor's appointment...imagine if I had not gone! I wouldn't have caught you!" Genji smiled.
At almost seventy years old, Mrs. Hondo still looked like she was no older than sixty; she had been delivering flowers to Sakura's grave for the past eleven years. Mrs. Hondo had been there for Sakura when her parents couldn't be, either because they lived across the globe or in another city and couldn't travel often because of work.
(their mother had come every month when they were still living in Karatsu but not anymore...the old man...he would accompany her too, to see to their dead daughter and he had stopped coming because it hurt so much)
"And what brings you back home, young man?"
Genji shrugged.
(the dead)
"Eh, I'm not sure yet."
Mrs. Hondo raised an eyebrow. "You're not sure?"
Genji shrugged again.
(he was sure and it was all the girl's fault)
"I'm still thinking about it...if it doesn't work out, I'm going back to Florida." And at that, Mrs. Hondo huffed.
"Your sister is lonely here," she told him, shaking her head, her tone making no room for argument. "Stop living in this Florida and move back. This old lady makes for poor company."
But she's dead, he wants to say, but he just smiles. "I'll think about...I did miss Karatsu, if I'm honest."
(but he misses her more)
Mrs. Hondo smiles then, before she stares at the grave one more time, nods and then, waves goodbye, Genji nods, and waves.
Once the old lady is gone, Genji turns to stare at the grave, cigarette smoking hot, half finished. He fishes out the flyer again, stares at the picture, stares at the girl with the frozen smile before he looks at the grave.
Sakura Minamoto, it stubbornly reads.
He puts the flyer away, lets out a bit of smoke from his lit cigarette and walks away.
/…..
Meanwhile, in the other side of Karatsu, a particular group of girls are busy living their lives, uh, their undead lives.
Yugiri smiles sweetly at a fan, offering her a shake of hands and a photograph. Behind her, Sakura waves goodbye to another fan, who waves back, her friend giggling and smiling excitedly, nodding at the autograph in her hands.
Eventually, the lines dwindle down, and the girls let out a sigh of relief. The merchandise had been sold out an hour ago, minus the fabulous Franchouchou shirts, of course. Kotaro was probably already arguing with Saki backstage, wondering why the shirts didn't sell at all and Saki was already threatening to light the box on fire and get it over with.
(it wasn't the first time she had threatened to destroy the shirts; Kotaro had threatened to light her hair on fire and leave her bald if she did...neither had yet to go through with it, which was a relief for Sakura's peace of mind)
Finally, the place was almost empty; a few people had stuck around, still talking with Ai and Lily and Sakura. Yugiri had been left on her own, and it was time to go backstage, if only to make sure Lady Saki hadn't killed Kotaro. She knows poor Lady Junko wouldn't know how to deal with those two when they got fired up like that.
As she walked, her eyes barely caught a young man all the way in the back of the room; she remembers him.
He's been around a few concerts, always near the back, always staring, always looking at her. Everyone else, he ignores. He just stares at her.
Yugiri is used to the stares, used to the lust.
It came with the job.
Men would come all over to see her; they carried lust, they smelt of alcohol, they hid grief, and she had attended to them all.
Except, this wasn't her old job.
But it was of no consequence; Yugiri could defend herself, she had been taught so for her safety. Men could be uncaring while they were enthralled with passion and sake.
If this young man turned out to be a problem, she could handle it. Or Saki could sent him flying with a kick. She wasn't worried.
(it was too bad, however, when a few weeks later, she had been too late to stop him from hurting one of her friends)
Fun Fact: Sakura's brother's name is a name I used for another character for a story I'll be posting soon...I just like to reuse names and well, I like that one. :)