Second installment of this update. Again, more notes at the bottom. I have some things to say, but I don't want to spoil anything.
- SporkGoddess
Doshite Ja Nai
Chapter 8: Of Blue Eyes and Bells
"Will you be attending the benefit concert this weekend?"
Azami glanced up, annoyed at being interrupted. She was at a computer, working on a press release regarding the aforementioned concert given by some French snob.
"No. If I wanted to listen to high-pitched squealing in a language I don't understand, I'd go punch a Frenchman."
Kenji blinked. "You don't go for the music. You go for the cause."
"The cause isn't worth the music," she said shortly, resuming her typing. "Why is this woman in the group, anyway? She isn't Japanese."
"She's half-Japanese."
"If you have standards, you ought to stick to them no matter how famous she is." Azami grumbled. Sell-outs.
"You would do best not to insult Miss Briel around here," Kenji told her.
"What would some canary know about politics? About the real world?" The young woman shot back.
"Miss Briel was born in Neo-Japan. She knows what conditions are like there, firsthand. You're from Neo Hong Kong, aren't you?"
"Shut up, I have work to do." Azami snapped.
"You need to go to this. You think that she doesn't know about politics? You don't either, otherwise you would know that if you don't attend this you will be stuck typing up reports for the rest of your life. You won't ever get to help Neo Japan in the way you want to. Hatanaka is a political organization, and if you want power you're going to have to work for it. Midori, I'm telling you this as a concerned individual, not your boss."
"Why the hell should I have a boss? We're all working for the same cause." Azami was fuming. Politics were such bullshit! She'd had power in the DJN, and she hadn't had to gain it by sitting through a night of hearing some singer's caterwauling. She'd liked Hatanaka at first, but the more she learned about it the more it grated on her. What good was an institution? She had been told that Hatanaka was an intimate group. They called this intimate?
"We need organization, or things will just be a mess." Kenji told her calmly. Before joining Hatanaka, he had been a journalist, so he was used to trying to logically convey information to people who didn't necessarily want to hear it.
"Sugar-coat it all you want." She glared at him.
Kenji sighed. Most people would not conduct themselves this way with their boss, but this girl was crazy. He should have demoted her a long time ago. But, there was something about her that he liked. Passion, straightforwardness. He liked it, and guessed that Ryo would like it. Jun as well. But he knew that Zéphyrine Briel would hate this woman, and the two would be enemies. Both were self-centered and needed to get their own way, to hear what they wanted to hear. They would instantly clash.
For that reason as well as her conduct, Kenji should have stopped pressing the issue. Let Midori stay low-key, sitting at a computer all day. She wouldn't make any enemies and she would still be working for a cause that she liked.
But… no… this woman had too much potential for that. She had fire, determination. He thought back to the war that interested today's modern Neo-Japanese person the most: that old war, back in the A.D. timeline. Japan had fought to gain that which had been taken from it by other countries. Its fighters had believed in the cause so much that they would be killed, or kill themselves, before admitting defeat. Sometimes they would give up their lives just for one shot. They had nearly conquered the world. Kamikaze.
He smiled. Midori had that attitude about her. The attitude that nearly everyone in Hatanaka possessed. The attitude which was: take back that which is ours, or die trying.
Azami went to the concert.
It hadn't been an easy decision, but in the end she decided that she could subject her ears to torture for a few hours if it meant gaining more power to help Neo Japan. Though, damnit, she had to dress up now. She'd thought that she'd been done with that the minute she left DJN for Hatanaka. But, it turned out that now she would have to dress up even more. She resisted the urge to tear her program in two.
The program! "Vivez, Neo Japan," the benefit was called. The mixture of the two languages made her sick. And so did the headshot of the woman called Zéphyrine Briel inside. She was smiling serenely, apparently unaware of the seriousness of this matter. Azami wanted to yell at her for being so unconcerned about this. No wonder all she was doing for them was singing, Azami thought bitterly. Anyone can sing!
She was jolted out of her thoughts by a hand tapping her arm.
"Emiko?"
She jumped and looked around. Sitting next to her was none other than Asano! What the hell, she thought, what were the odds of that?
"Hello," she said, suddenly aware that she had pretty much just thrown on whatever dress she had around, and haphazardly put up her hair.
"What are you doing here?"
Oh, hell with it. She wasn't working for DJN anymore. What would she have to lose now?
"I recognized you even after all this time," Asano said softly. Her face felt a bit hot.
Well, she would lose him. Would that upset her?
"I… I have to tell you something."
Suddenly, the lights darkened, and the famous French soprano appeared onstage. With her were two Neo Japanese men. They all began to talk, but Azami wasn't paying attention. She was trying to figure out how to phrase this.
"My name isn't really Emiko. It's… you see, I go by a lot of names."
"Eh?"
"It's Azami. My real name, that is." Why had she told him her real name?
"That's a pretty name, too." A politician like Asano must have been used to people constantly lying, so he wasn't very phased. "But why didn't you tell me that?"
"I… was nervous." Azami lied. "Meeting such an influential person…" God, did that sound as lame to him as it did to her?
"I'm not sure if I believe that," Asano said. "But I like how mysterious you are. You're as alluring as your eyes…"
"Why aren't you with any security?" Azami asked, ignoring his comment.
"Should I be?"
"You're an important person."
He laughed. "Yeah, sure I am. The only people who have interest in me are groups like this one, which credit me with a power that I don't have."
"An attitude like that is why Neo Japan still suffers."
"You're very passionate… I like that."
The two suddenly stopped talking: the introductions had finished and now Zéphyrine Briel was beginning to sing.
Ah…
That was all that she sang. "Ah." Well, at least it was understandable! French soprano had a beautiful voice, as far as Azami could tell anyway. But there was no music even to accompany it. What the…
Suddenly, she sat forward in her seat as the singing became more and more complicated and soared higher and higher. Then, just as soon as it had come, it vanished.
She was dimly aware that Asano had put his hand on hers. The nerve of that man! And… yet… she didn't pull away.
Suddenly, the music started: a haunting melody…
Où va le jeune Indoue,
Fille des Parias,
Quand la lune se joue
Dans les grands mimosas?
Quand la lune se joue
Dans les grands mimosas?
Elle court sur la mousse
Et ne se souvient pas
Que partout on repousse
L'enfant des parias.
Elle court sur la mousse,
She was having a grand time with the notes; her voice was going all over. Azami couldn't believe how pretty the song was. And she hated this kind of stuff!
L'enfant des parias;
Le long des lauriers roses,
Rêvant de douces choses,
Ah!
Elle passe sans bruit
Et riant à la nuit à la nuit!
The singer's voice went even higher, higher than she had known it was possible to sing. And Azami found that she was very aware of how warm Asano's hand was against her own…
Là-bas dans la forêt plus sombre,
Quel est ce voyageur perdu?
Autour de lui des yeux brillent dans l'ombre,
Ilmarche encore au hasard éperdu!
Les fauves rugissent de joie,
Ils vont se jeter sur leur proie
La jeune fille accourt et brave leurs fureurs,
Elle a dans sa main la baguette
Où tinte la clochette, où tinte la clochette
Des charmeurs.
Bells started to ring, soft, tinkling, little bells, in a rapid pace. And then the soprano's voice followed suit.
Ah! ah! ah!
She mimicked the sound of the bell, going just as high and clear as the instrument.
L'étranger la regarde,
Elle reste éblouie,
Il est plus beau que les Rajahs!
Il rougira s'il sait qu'il doit la vie
A la fille des parias.
The more the woman sang into the song, the more rapturous her voice became, as though she were seeing heaven. Azami tore her eyes away and looked at Asano. He, too, looked quite taken with the music. Azami supposed that a rich politician should like stuff like this.
Mais lui, l'endormant dans un rêve,
Jusque dans le ciel il l'enlève,
En lui disant: ta place est là!
C'était Vishnou, fils de Brahma!
Depuis jour au fond des bois,
Le voyageur entend parfois
Le bruit léger de la baguette
Où tinte la clochette,
Où tinte la clochette
Des charmeurs.
Once more, the bells sounded—both the instruments and the singing.
Ah! ah! ah!
The bells were all over the place. In the orchestration, in the singing, and in Azami's ears as Asano's grip on her hand tightened slightly. Her throat felt dry; she suddenly felt as though she had been the one singing all of those crazy high notes…Why had she enjoyed that? She hated that type of music. Had she really been enjoying the song for the song? Or, rather, had she been enjoying it for another reason? She glanced over at the man next to her.
Suddenly, it hit her. How stupid! And this man, what a liberty! Who did he think he was? And, who did he think she was? She wasn't that demure Emiko girl like he thought. She was Azami Kasshu, daughter of a famous martial artist and political spitfire, who was going to set the universe ablaze with justice for Neo Japan! The only good Asano could do her was to help her country!
She pulled her hand away. A new piece started: equally high, but not nearly as haunting or pretty.
Azami sat through the rest of the concert, not daring to look at Asano, ignoring him studiously as she felt she should. She listened to the music but found most of it bland and undesirable to listen to. Near the end, though Azami did not know it, Zéphyrine Briel wound down the night with Rossini's "Una voce poco fa." The Frenchwoman was singing part of it, hoping to convey to everyone the spirit of the message. In the aria it was about overcoming all odds to win the love of a man… A sheltered girl who had no reason to hope, but did so anyway. As she sang it now, Zéphyrine knew exactly how Rosina had felt. She sang it now with the same intensity. But she did not sing it about a man. No, instead she sang it about a country, about a people—Neo Japan. Against all odds, they would win, provided that everyone be prepared to fight.
Lo giurai, la vincerò—I've sworn it, I'll win.
Sarò una vipera e cento trappole prima di cedere farò giocar…
… I'll be a viper and I'll catch them in a hundred traps…
But Azami did not know Italian. Even if she had, she was too busy scolding herself for letting herself have been weakened by a smooth-talking politician to notice any special meaning in the words.
Sanae Kasshu did not know that her sister was at the concert as she waited for Zéphyrine to return backstage. The concert was over, and Sanae actually enjoyed the music, acknowledging that the woman, indeed, had a very pretty voice. She wished that she could sing that high. She should have taken voice lessons… But, no matter, she thought. After all, something else was on her mind: something that she had read in the program, which she had been skimming out of boredom, which had caught her attention and aroused her suspicion.
"There you are, Sanae!" It was Keiko, one of the other girls working there tonight. Zéphyrine had three other lackies, as Sanae secretly called them; two of the three being Japanese. Sanae didn't understand what for: she had barely done anything all night, other than fetch the soprano a water bottle and assure her that her hair and makeup indeed looked fantastic.
"Is Miss Briel around?"
"She's busy, why?"
"Oh… I had a question for her."
"What would that be? Maybe I can help."
Sanae took out her program and turned to the page she had marked by folding over one of the corners. "It says in her profile that she lived in Neo Japan. She told me that she didn't."
"Oh, that. Is it so complicated?" Keiko asked. "She lived in Neo Japan when she was younger… I want to say she left when she was around eight"
"She didn't tell me that."
"It's not something that she likes to talk about. You know what life is like for people there."
"You'd think that she would be exploiting that further."
"Give her some credit," Keiko scolded. "She isn't without integrity."
"Yes, but to further her cause…"
"She won't even talk about it to any of us. She says that it's too painful."
"I wonder why?" Sanae wondered.
Keiko laughed. "We all wonder that. But it doesn't do us much good to gossip, now does it?"
"I liked that first piece she sang tonight," Sanae said, hoping to change the subject.
Keiko's eyes lit up. "Oh, the Bell Song?"
"Is that what it's called?"
"Yes! Ooh, I love how she sings it." Keiko sighed dreamily.
"I didn't understand a word of it. It was in French, right?" Sanae asked.
The other Japanese girl nodded. "Zéphyrine explained it to me once, when I asked—it's my favorite, you see. Each of us have favorites of her repertoire. Like Remi, she likes "Juliette's Waltz" best. And Euphrasie, she likes "The Doll Song." Remi and Euphrasie were the other two girls who worked for Zéphyrine. Euphrasie wasn't Japanese and thus not a member of the DJN, so no one knew why Zéphyrine kept her around. Perhaps it was comforting to be with another French girl.
Sanae's head spun with all of the enumerated arias. Meanwhile, Keiko continued:
"She told me, if I remember right, that it's about a young girl, a priestess, who is in love with a young man her father, a holy man, deems a heathen. He doesn't know who the man is, so he has the girl sing that song—some religious legend—in the marketplace, hoping that when the young man passes he, or the girl, will give away some sign of recognition."
"Does she?"
"You know, I never asked," Keiko said thoughtfully. "I don't know much about it. I know that it's some French opera and Zéphyrine used to perform it constantly, but that was before we met up." She sighed, but then cheered a bit. "She did say that when she does the role again, if she ever does, she'll give me a ticket!"
"Hopefully someday, then," Sanae offered.
"Yes. I'm glad that you liked it, though." Keiko smiled.
Sanae didn't know that the aria had also affected Azami, and Azami did not know that the aria had been of a woman trying to hide her emotions and love for a man that she knew she not ought to be with. Had she been told what Sanae had learned, she would have found the parallel interesting, frustrating, and perhaps even disturbing. But, she didn't know, and she was likely better off that way.
Author's Notes:
The WWII references are getting more and more frequent. I planned things this way. :D
Azami is back to her normal self, thank heavens. I was afraid that she would be similar to Sanae, but writing each girl is really quite different.
And, yes, Azami is falling in luuuve… but it won't be that easy. If you're a bit astounded by how quickly it's happening, keep in mind that they're young and idealistic. And if you're wondering why Asano is always by himself, he is very careful in the public eye. Azami just makes him forget to maintain that. Ahh, recklessness.
As for the new opera I heavily, heavily, rather shamelessly referenced, it is actually Lakmé by the French composer, Delibes. You may have heard something from it called "The Flower Duet," which is really popular. Anyway, the aria in question is sung by the title character and is called "No 10 - Scene & Legende de la fille du paria (Air des clochettes) 'Ah!.. Ou va la jeune Hindoue'." You can just call it "the Bell Song," though, like Keiko did. The basic story as she summarized it is, for the most part, correct—the Hindu legend described in the aria, however, is about the daughter of a Pariah who saves the life of a stranger by ringing the magic bell on her wand. It turns out that the man is actually Vishnu, and he takes the Pariah's daughter up to paradise for saving him. It isn't the legend itself that is important, however, as much as the intent of Lakmé's father, which Keiko described.
I put the lyrics in its original language because that's how Azami would have heard it. And I didn't include an English translation because it would have taken up space and I would have to type it up. But, if you're really curious, let me know via a review and I could probably include it in the next chapter.
I listened to the aria while writing up that whole part, so I described it as best as I could. I think it's one of the prettiest things on earth, and I wish that I could give everyone an mp3 of it so they could get the full effect of this chapter. Alas, I cannot, so unless you hunt a copy down yourself you'll be stuck with my attempt at conveying what it's like. Ah well.
Other operas referenced:
"Una voce poco fa" from Rossini's Il Barbiere di Siviglia – I described the situation of that, too: a man has fallen in love with Rosina, and serenaded her outside his window. She, having heard his song, has fallen in love with him too. However, she is the ward of an old doctor who wants to marry her himself, so a happy ending for Rosina doesn't look too likely. But she vows to make it happen no matter what she must do. Btw, the "Fiiigaro! Fiiiigaro! Figaro Figaro Figaro!" thing on Looney Toons was inspired by this opera.
"Juliette's Waltz" is from Gounod's Romeo et Juliette, and "The Doll Song" is from Les Contes d'Hoffman. Both are common lyric coloratura soprano repertoire: really high and swoopy. I'm trying to make Zéphyrine realistic, as in not being able to sing everything under the sun. So there won't be any Carmen or Aida or anything, sorry—it's enough of a stretch to make her sing Madame Butterfly.
As for Zéphyrine's past… you'll find it out eventually. Oooh, mysterious! Actually, it's probably nothing that will really surprise you. I'll just say there's a reason that she's so darn obsessed with the Japanese part of her.
If you're wondering "How the heck is this related to G Gundam?"… well… I'm trying to put my own spin on things. If I wanted it to be entirely like G Gundam, I would have made it about the 20th Gundam Fight or something.
Stay tuned for more! Now that things are finally starting to tie together, I should be more motivated to work on this story.
- SporkGoddess