Chapter 3: Anime Background Music Should Only Exist Outside The Fourth Wall
"Hey– excuse me, sir, you left your..."
"Oh?" This much was amazingly enough to get the man's attention; he paused in the doorway, turning back to look where she was gesturing. He seemed almost startled when he spotted it: his shamisen was sitting on the stool next to where he'd been. Exactly where he put it, and where he'd made a habit of putting it over the past couple months, but apparently he'd been too caught up in subtly offending her to remember that.
When he didn't move to retrieve it immediately, Ikumatsu laughed. "You'd better claim it before I take it and start playing it."
"You say that as though the very idea is a bad thing. Why don't you play me a song? I've nowhere else to be this evening, after all." As he spoke, he leisurely made his way back over and picked up the instrument.
"Why don't you play one? If you really have as much time as you say you do, it's the least you can give me for not just hiding that thing somewhere."
"That does sound like a more logical course of action, does it not? Hmm..." He considered this a moment; he'd been about to slip the instrument's strap over his shoulder, but he slowly adjusted his grip on it as he apparently came to a conclusion. "One song couldn't hurt, I suppose. You were likely beginning to wonder whether I was even a musician at all."
She'd been giving him the benefit of the doubt.
Even that she reconsidered as, apparently forgetting too the many more obvious places to sit – including where he'd just been sitting minutes earlier – the man made himself comfortable on the counter and began tuning the shamisen.
Her eyes slowly narrowed, her hands curling into fists at her sides, but he only glanced at her and asked, as though this were natural, "Any requests?"
"Requests?" She let out a long sigh. "For one, get off the counter."
This made him pause, slowly tilting his head to one side with an almost insolent expression, as if implying Ikumatsu was in no place to be telling him what to do. For a moment he didn't budge, then he slipped down onto one of the barstools, turning and pushing off the counter. The stool's legs made a harsh grating noise against the floor as he slid backward a foot or so.
The motion itself was ridiculous, but there was a fluid grace to it that made it impossible to laugh. He may have been harmlessly fooling around in her shop, but that didn't change who he was.
"How often do you hear shamisen?" The question was tossed at her idly; he didn't look up.
Not at all, not in years. Even then, it was only ever at festivals. "Oh, quite often. I don't go out of my way to listen to music at all, but I do enjoy it when I get the chance."
He hesitated a moment, then nodded. "Is that so...? I shall do my best not to disappoint you, then."
It sure was taking him an awful amount of effort to get three strings in tune. When was the last time he'd even played that thing?
Or perhaps that wasn't what she should be asking.
After another minute's meticulous adjusting and plucking at strings, he seemed to be satisfied at last by the state of the instrument and looked up at her expectantly. Still waiting for her to making a request, she realized.
"Geez, you can't think of anything yourself? Surprise me," she said, suppressing a smile.
"It is rather a difficult decision to make, choosing one of the millions of tunes I have heard and could piece together." Now this was starting to sound like a classic excuse. Was he still just messing with her?
"Surely there's a song for this occasion somewhere in there."
"For this occasion? There is no such–" He'd seemed about to mock her, but stopped, tensing slightly. "I've got it."
And with that, he began to play. Careful and soft at first, then growing louder – something that was quite clearly neither a traditional ballad nor a rendition of the modern music that was probably still playing from his headphones. She had the distinct impression it was like nothing she'd ever heard before.
Not that that was too surprising, really. How far could she possibly read into this?
There was something almost mesmerizing about the way his fingers moved, but she forced herself to close her eyes and simply listen.
She'd lied about being a fan of the shamisen, of course, but it wasn't entirely unpleasant either. It had a distinct, almost sharp sound to it that cleared her mind somewhat.
Cleared it, and then filled it with music. Truly, she'd never heard anything quite like this; she began to doubt anyone had. The song seemed almost to tell a story; the simple, light melody was only a cover for the haunting sound that seemed to emerge from beneath it as it continued. It was almost frightening, the range of emotion it both suggested and evoked – curiosity, apprehension, longing, something lacking, a deep sorrow...
No, she didn't like that. She'd asked for a bit of entertainment, not something heavy like this.
As though spiting her, the song grew darker still – the feeling she got was just her overthinking it, surely, but she couldn't have imagined it speeding up and sounding somewhat betrayed, in whatever way a piece of music could. Such intricacy, with such a simple instrument. Would there be any end to it?
But sure enough, there was. Before long, the piece slowed and grew softer, subtler until there was silence once more. The final note echoed all through the shop, which felt much smaller all of a sudden.
Ikumatsu became aware that she was leaning forward against her side of the counter. It was only after she'd opened her eyes to see the man sitting calmly, if the tiniest bit fatigued, that she noticed she was shaking. She crossed her arms, sticking her hands in the opposite sleeves to cover it up.
If he noticed, he was tactfully ignoring it. When she didn't offer an immediate response to his performance, he asked, "I take it you were indeed surprised?"
So he'd been deliberately trying to disturb her, the bastard. She nodded slowly, gathering words together carefully before replying, "That's not what most people mean when they say 'surprise me'."
"Isn't it? I have been going about this wrong for years now, then." The man laughed quietly, returning the instrument to its place as he stood up. "Am I truly so talented as to have an effect on people? I am undeserving; that was a most pitiful attempt at such a song. Perhaps the nuances could have been crudely imitated on the piano, but like this...?" Now he pushed his seat back into its original position and took a step back, muttering to himself about tuning his shamisen in A next time. He intended to leave without any further explanation?
He was mid-bow when Ikumatsu interrupted him with a laugh that didn't sound quite as mocking as she wanted it to.
"You're nothing that special," she said, then, her voice rising, "just what do you think you're playing at?"
"What ever do you mean, Ikumatsu-dono?" There was nothing in his voice to suggest he truly felt the confusion the words expressed.
"That song!"
"A most interesting melody, was it not?"
"You–" Her argument felt feeble at most; it really was just a song, and only what she'd asked for at that. She looked away a moment, then back to him. "It was almost as though you designed it to–"
"I did no such thing, I assure you." As he spoke, he backed up into the doorway – the door was still open from his previous attempt to leave, and he wouldn't keep it waiting any longer.
He paused only long enough to add a few more cryptic words, which Ikumatsu could nearly convince herself she'd misheard, if only they wouldn't repeat themselves in her head.
"It was only you."
Author's Notes: This was probably the most short and sweet thing I've ever written. Playing with people's "songs" by quite literally playing their songs, nice. Bansai no. That is not an acceptable method of flirting or expressing yourself.
So by now I bet (read: hope) everyone is wondering where this is all going to go. And I'm not going to tell you. I'm currently doing NaNoWriMo but will probably end up working on this stuff a bit anyway... I don't really have a regular update schedule. The next chapter will just get here when it gets here.