Did Tatsuki once say she wanted one of her band's albums to be the Japanese version of Fleetwood Mac's "Rumours"? Sure. Guilty as charged.
… Did that mean she thought that would include the same chaotic drama of her favorite album? She should've… But no. No, she did not.
If she knew what hell was to come, she would very much have preferred they stayed an insignificant, dimly lit coffee shop band to this. She is this close to running away to a wedding cover band, because this is more excruciating than any cheesy rendition of "You're the Inspiration" can get.
Chad and Tatsuki are silent as they listen to the track, watching as Ichigo's jaw tick and his face flush as Rukia's high notes soar through the studio.
It's… A really good song, to be sure.
Oh you got stars in your eyes, baby
If you think we could work
I can't follow your galaxies
Can't fall for your smirk
Not this time, not this time…
It's about broken promises. It's about not believing someone you love, even if they love you, that it's gonna work out.
It is very clearly about Ichigo Kurosaki.
Tatsuki shifts her gaze from Ichigo's reddening face over to the one person he's glowering at…. Rukia. The petite vocalist lifts her chin at his glare, staring straight back with piercing violet eyes.
Tatsuki just wishes they would make out already.
The Karakura Soul Society had innocent beginnings… Or: as innocent as an Alt Rock band can be.
Ichigo, Tatsuki, and Chad always kinda knew they wanted to get into music—well, Ichigo and Tatsuki talked about wanting to get into music, while Chad was the one who actually knew how to play a bass guitar—and the two friends finally learned when they were around fourteen. Tatsuki knew she was drums (the choreographed chaos of it was electrifying, and besides… Girls that played drums were hot) and Ichigo figured he'd be lead vocals and guitar.
Ichigo could sing, for damn sure: a low, gravelly tone that could melt girls' hearts, even if he himself was as obtuse as a rectangle around women.
But what I really like to do, he slurred to her in his garage, Kirin in hand because the idiot was a total lightweight—is write.
And he really did write some incredible songs-at the very least, his lyrics had potential. It started with some weird Shakespearean metaphors and bad rhymes, but everything had a good start that Chad could find a beat for. He only got better, and the coffee shop and dive bar gigs were really receptive, and then the call came from some industry weirdo named Urahara that he was interested in managing their band and well… Things were going good.
That is: until Urahara suggested they get a keyboardist to double as another vocalist.
A female keyboardist, he noted, eyes dark under his green and white striped fedora, would be perfect for your team. I know just the one.
And, yeah, the way he said it was kind of creeptastic… But he did have a point. As great as Ichigo's voice was, it was missing the harmony a softer, more feminine could contribute.
Convincing Ichigo to at least let the girl audition for them was like pulling a damn tooth.
"I don't see why we need another person," he grumbled, leaning his chair back with both feet on the café table. The band was waiting on the girl to arrive at this empty coffee shop, with a lone piano waiting for its player on the stage. "We've already got a groove going between the three of us. Why do we need another? When we need a keyboardist can't we just… I don't know. Ask for one?"
"Number one: for the love of God and our careers, don't ever say 'groove' again. Number two: stop tipping your chair like that—"she slams her hand up on the seat, causing his chair to throw him upright. It may or may not give her a sadistic thrill when he yelps. "Number 3: we need a keyboardist. Period. We can't just conjure one up with a poof that's gonna work well for us unless they're regularly with us. Number Four: we could use a female vocalist. We're an alt rock band. Get over it."
He scowls at her, but she sips her coffee nonplussed. She's known him since they both were seven years old; she's not about to let him throw one of his tantrums now.
From the corner of her eye, she sees him turn to their bassist. "Chad, what do you—"
"Don't even try, Chad agrees with me n' Urahara."
Chad shrugs helplessly and Ichigo rolls his eyes. "Dunno why you guys are even so hard pressed to get this chick. For all we know it's Urahara combining his artists for gimmick. it's not even like we know whether she's good—"
"I've been doing this a year, and I've been signed with Urahara longer, so…. Yeah. I suppose I'd call myself good. Maybe better than you."
The whole team turns behind them to look where the soft voice is calling from the cafe's swing door.
She looks like an eighth grader, Tatsuki thinks before she looks a little harder at the form beneath the baby blue dress and realizes—ah, no. Just short. Her raven hair curls prettily into two low pigtails, and lightly shadowed violet eyes look them each up and down with pursed, pink lips.
She's cute, for sure.
… But "cute" is definitely not their band's vibe.
"You're late," her bandmate beside her scoffs—at whether he's thinking the same thing she is or he's embarrassed to be overheard bitching, she's not sure.
"I'm not—oh, look! Urahara set up the exact piano I asked for. That's wonderful." She floats past them to the stage area, beginning to the fiddle with the said instrument's keys. "He can be an absolute idiotic pain sometimes, a great manager at others… I'm sure you all know what that's like. And no I'm not late: on the contrary, I was early. I didn't see you all enter until about five minutes ago, so I figured I'd wait it out at the park across the street so you could all get settled… So technically: you're the ones who are late."
Ichigo grits his teeth, raps his knuckles annoyed on the table. Tatsuki grins. She may not know whether the girl's a good fit for them, but hey—she's got guts.
"Soo… What do you got for us?" Tatsuki asks.
The girl says she's got an original—a ballad called "For Hisana," if they don't mind. The bandmates agree that they don't.
Ichigo clears his throat stubbornly, anyway.
"Sure, but just a heads up: we're looking more for a keyboardist… Piano is nice 'n all, but that's not really our style."
"I do both. I've just been trained in piano first so… It's a habit, auditioning with it and all. I can show you what I can do with a keyboard anytime after, if you're impressed enough with this."
"…All right." Ichigo shrugs. "Show us what you got then, pianist."
"My name's not 'Pianist.'" She looks straight at Ichigo, before lowering them back to her keys, and Tatsuki strangely feels like she's just intruded on something. "It's Rukia. Rukia Kuchiki."
Her fingers hit the keys and she starts singing.
She's… Really good, in a way that the drummer can't quite describe. Her voice is like a mix between Regina Spektor and Joni Mitchell—all folksy, high notes and yeah that sounds super gimmicky and lame and yeah no definitely not their vibe—
But maybe that's also why she'd be kind of brilliant.
And the way she plays that piano…
Everyone in rock n' roll will tell you that a good musician makes love to their instrument, and while she's always thought the metaphor grimy, Tatsuki knows what they mean. They need to know the ins and outs of whatever they're playing, for the instrument to be a second limb—for their expressions to be in complete bliss, ecstasy as they play.
Rukia's face… It's not quite so explicit as all that. But the way her eyes are dreamy and half-closed, how she bobs her head ever so softly to the heartbreaking beat, her mouth closing delicately over warbly vowels… Sure, with a little more vocal work she could be better, but all in all: she's wonderful.
Tatsuki turns to Ichigo, about to ask if he's thinking what she's thinking but stops dead at his expression.
He's watching her so… Intensely. His jaw—always so sharp, so tight and ready to grimace—has softened, and his eyes are locked onto this petite woman in a way Tatsuki has literally never, ever seen him look at a woman before.
He is captivated with Rukia Kuchiki, and she can't decide whether she's happy for her friend or panicked for what this means for the band because fucking yikes.
He hums and haws after Rukia leaves, nitpicks when they meet alone with Urahara about how some of her keys were clunky, she needs more vocal training, blah blah blah.
But when the vote is cast, he agrees she needs to be on the team.
And that, Tatsuki pinpoints, is when the beginning of the end started.