RECORDING
Chapter Twenty-Five
Fuses Running Short
They arrived at the acoustic room to find that the knob refused to turn. The door was locked.
Chiharu rapped her knuckles against the sweet-smelling applewood. "Open up — Afterschool Tea Time's here."
"I was told not to open the door for anyone," came a monotone soprano voice. It was Ayana, Terror Firma's drummer.
The brune ojou raised a thick eyebrow. "Eh? Who told you that?"
No response.
Chiharu sighed. "Open the door, Aya-chan."
"I cannot."
"Why not?" she demanded losing patience.
"Because then I would be opening the door for someone," Ayana responded in her best Chihara Minori voice.
Chiharu groaned and leaned her hands against the doorframe, head bowed so low her chin touched her collarbone. Her eyes were shut tight with frustration. Meanwhile Yui and Ritsu bounced up and down as they caught the reference.
"I love that anime!" the guitarist squealed.
"Who doesn't?" the drummer grinned.
Mio shook her head and pinched the bridge of her nose. "Good grief. I'm dating a nerd."
"Aww, and you love me," Ritsu winked, elbowing her girlfriend's ribs.
Chiharu raised her head so she could glare through the door, behind which she imagined Ayana doubled over with giggles. "Okay, Aya-chan, I'll give it up to you: you do a great Yuki impersonation. Now will you open the door?"
"I was told not to open the—ouch!" Ayana's exclamation was accompanied by a thick THOCK! which Ritsu could instantly recognize. There was a heavy clack as the tumbles turned to release the lock; and when Fujusegawa Hitomi threw the door open, behind her the raven-haired drummer could be seen nursing a headlump.
Mio's eyes hooded, and she smirked. One in every band, huh?
"Ah apol'gize," Hitomi said in her thick Kansai accent. "Ya know how bored Aya-chan gets when th' band ain't practicin'."
"Like I'm the only one!" Ayana was gingerly touching her lump. "Wasn't it you who was suggesting we learn how to play the Rozen Maiden theme?"
"That was you, cabbage head."
Chiharu cleared her throat and gestured at Mio and Ritsu. "Hitomi, you know my two old classmates." She let her hand sweep along the remaining three. "This is their band, the ladies who opened for us. Yui-chan, Azusa-chan..." She paused and her expressive hand stiffened. "...and Tsumugi," she finished flatly.
Mugi's cheeks became unpleasantly ruddy as she stared balefully at Chiharu.
"Kotobuki-han...?" Hitomi's wide eyes flicked toward Afterschool Tea Time's keyboardist. There was disbelief in her soprano drawl, as though she couldn't even comprehend her girlfriend bringing Mugi into her home.
Mugi faced Chiharu, her back straight with formality, but she let her eyes wander over to the Kyoto-born guitarist. Hitomi's brown hair was feathery and perfectly straight, her bands framing her angular face, the rest of her hair up in a red-and-white polka dotted ribbon. For someone born and raised in one of Japan's most traditional and historical cities, Hitomi bore a very Western appearance. A semblance Mugi associated with relatives of hers — Holt, for example. The grave-angled eyes, slightly hooded over robins-egg blue irises. Her eyebrows were long, arching, and dark. The blonde girl looked back at Chiharu, noting that her eyebrows were thick like Hitomi's, but shorter and gentler. Her face was a bit gentler as well.
Something glinted in Hitomi's hard face, and she stepped back, letting the heavy door swing open. "C'mon in, y'all. It's recordin' time!" Her accent twisted time into tahm.
Mio gasped as the band entered the acoustic room, which the bassist now understood where it got its name from. Its high, arched ceiling was smooth and flawless, perfect for bouncing sound around and amping up its resonance. Even their footfalls — they were allowed to leave on their shoes since it was a Western-style mansion — sounded like peals on a giant bell. "We get to record here?" she almost-whispered, the ceiling making her echoes distended and rich. "I have to be dreaming..."
The walls were white and as smooth as the ceiling. Shiny floorboards extended across the acoustic room. There were no windows; the light came from the four lamps placed haphazardly around the room's edges.
There across the other side of the acoustic room was Terror Firma's set-up. Hitomi's Telecaster, Chiharu's Moog and Korg — plus a lefty model Gibson SG guitar — Ayana's Pearl Sound Check, and Madoka's Urge II. All the instruments were unoccupied, though. Ayana raced to where Madoka sat cross-legged on the floor, tuning a violin.
They really were about to attempt Rozen Maiden, weren't they? Ritsu thought with a smile.
Set up near the center of the room was a computer and a pile of mics and cables. The mics weren't the sort Yui had ever seen before in all her moments on stage. Not the kind with a ball of chrome at the end of a handle. These were shaped like little round cylinders with chrome at the ends conforming to their shape. They were so alien to the guitarist that she could only stare in wonder.
Chiharu, noticing Yui's fascination with the mics, picked one up and explained, "These are special microphones for recording. They deliver much more lucid sound quality than the live boom mics in concerts, though they're quite expensive."
"What're these?" Yui asked. She was holding a circular plastic frame which encased a thin screen of foam.
"These lend your voice even more clarity," the brune ojou responded, taking the screen. She hooked it up to a clip on the mic so it hovered a mere inch from the chrome. "If you breathe into the mic now, it won't sound crackly or anything." She paused, her hooded green eyes focused on the filtered mic in her paw. Then, with a diffident grunt, she placed it back in the pile. "We won't need these for some time yet, though...Vocals always get recorded last. Hell, all we might be doing tonight is drums."
Mio, Yui, Azusa, and Mugi looked at Ritsu. Then they looked at each other. This was going to be a long night.
"Were...you guys recording as well?" the kouhai queried as Chiharu and Ritsu proceeded to set up the drums by the computer.
"We were going to do a live recording of a new song of ours," the brune ojou responded, struggling with the bass drum. Set it down lightly she did, but the resulting THUD still sounded practically explosive in the acoustic room. "Just something we do for fun..."
"Pssh, modesty," Hitomi grinned. "Chiharu wrote this ditty herself, 'n it's dandy!" Displaying a bit more gusto than any of the previous times Mio had met her, the guitarist aggressively pressed her girlfriend's head into her armpit, knuckles grinding into her scalp.
"It isn't all that..."
Yui smiled, her eyes shining with interest. "You write songs, Chiu-chan? Even that one about middle-distance running?"
Terror Firma's keyboardist struggled to free herself of Hitomi's vice-like hold. She gasped as she felt the guitarist's breasts pressing into her back. Tearing herself free, she corrected, "Chiharu." Then she replied, "Yes. I'm, uh...the band's lyricist."
Mio tilted her head, finding a new respect for this enigmatic wealthy keyboardist. Whilst Yui had been taken with the guitar solos and piano trills in Terror Firma's songs last week, the bassist found herself enticed by the lyrics. They were good lyrics, with beautiful poetic words to adorn the addictive catchy melodies. Terror Firma had cast themselves with a certain audience, yes — the melancholy social outcasts who loved reading The Catcher in the Rye and listening to Donovan on vinyl because that's the way he should be listened to — but there was nothing cheesy or gimmicky about them. They sang lyrics people could really identify with: Mio had identified herself with the line "I swapped my innocence for pride/Cursed the end within my stride."
She's gotten me into a bit of trouble, thought Mio, who still owed Ritsu two thousand yen, but Chiharu-chan's really got something with those songs. The raven-haired girl wondered where she got her inspiration.
"Chiharu-chan."
The girl in question had been miking up Ritsu's drums when she heard her name. She looked at Mio.
"Could we...hear this new song...of yours?"
Chiharu, still hovering about the Hipgig, tinkering with the various little mics, raised an eyebrow. "You want to hear it? Really?" She didn't sound eager, but Mio, as a lyricist herself, knew the keyboardist didn't pen these songs just to refuse to play them for people. Ayana seemed to understand this, as did Madoka, who set aside her violin to strap on her bass.
Chiharu, seeing this, snapped, "Oi! It doesn't mean we're going to play it!"
"Well, why not?" Ayana whined, tapping her sticks together. "I like 'Lazy Jun'! It's got the best beat since 'Electronic Renaissance.'"
"'Lazy Jun'?" Azusa smirked in recognition of her sarcastic bebopping chum. "Is that seriously the title of it?" Wait'll Jun-chan hears that she's actually the lazy one! Hah!
"'Lazy Line Painter Jun,'" Hitomi nodded, her thumbs hooked in her belt loops. She nudged her girlfriend, who was moaning and covering her reddening face with her hands. "C'mon, Chiharu. Let's play it."
The keyboardist shook her head. "I can't sing those embarrassing lyrics..."
"Then why did you write them?" Ayana cackled.
"Chiharu-chan." The ojou heard her name again, but it was the unyielding firmness of the voice that made her raise her face from her hands. Mio remained where she stood, her measured alto voice pealing in the resonant silence of the acoustic room. "They're embarrassing only if you think they are."
Chiharu's virude eyes unhooded as she considered this. Then her hand clenched in determination, and her chin jerked in a resolute nod. As she made her way to her keyboards, she paused and glared over her shoulder. "We. Are. RECORDING after this. Got it?"
Five heads bobbed, cowed and chastised.
With a deep, reverb-drenched twang, Hitomi's Telecaster pushed off her girlfriend's new creation — a throbbing little piece of white punk soul about an aimless hipster looking for a bit of inspiration to raise her above the usual mundanity. The guitarist stepped up to the mic and sang softly but strongly, drawing in their listeners and welcoming them, supplying her own Kansai twang:
"You're working the village shop
Putting the poster up
Dreaming of anything
Dreaming of the time when you are free from all the trouble you're in.
In the mud on your knees
Trying hard not to please
Anyone, all the time
Being a rebel's fine,
But you go all the way to being brutal."
"You will have a girl tonight," Madoka sang in her deeper, but still distinctly Kansai voice. "You will have a girl tonight/On the first bus out of town/On the first bus out of town."
After that refrain Chiharu sang, and her voice stunned Afterschool Tea Time. Shimmering, booming, almost an instrument in itself. An alto voice with the unadorned quality of a Kantou native belonging to a solemn girl who sang:
"So let's see your kit for games
All the girls look the same
You are challenging style for running miles
You're running miles in some girl's jumper
Boo to the business world!
You know a girl who's tax-free on her back and making
Plenty cash
While you are working for the joy of giving.
You will have a girl tonight..."
So went the chorus, after which a bout of clapping followed. A sparse, yet addictive rhythm. Clap-clap clap. Clap-clap clap. After that all the instruments dropped away to make room for Madoka's none-too-sparingly plucked bassline. Hitomi sang:
"You are in two minds
Tossing a coin to decide whether you should tell your folks
About a dose of thrush you got while licking railings."
Chiharu joined her, their voices as deeply entwined as the lovers themselves:
"But you read in a book
That you got free in Boots
There are lotions, there are potions
You can take to hide your shame from all those prying eyes.
Lazy Jun, all the time
Painting lines
You are sleeping at bus stops,
Wondering how you got your name
And what you're going to do about it."
The song was now in a two-chord groove, the equal of the Velvet Underground at their syncopated best, the swirling boom of the acoustic room almost an instrument in itself. It had reached a point of such vast life-affirming joyfulness that when Hitomi's "River Deep" riff which signaled the song's closing moments starting bringing it all back home, it was almost an affront, a rude reminder that this manna couldn't groove on forever. And when it did end in a clanging bucket of spent echo, the five Light Music Club members were left exhausted, exhilarated, just like Painter Jun on her back doing it for the joy of giving.
Panting, Chiharu leaned a bit over her keyboards, her ruddy face glittering with sweat. There was even a darkening bloom of sudor in the small of her back through her green shirt. The brune ojou looked up at her five wide-eyed spectators and immediately regretted playing this song for them. A stupid little song about a stupid little made-up girl. God, they're gonna laugh. Ineffectively concealing her embarrassment, Chiharu looked back down and growled, "Well, that's it. Now we gotta get to re—"
She stopped herself short as a trickle of applause rippled in the acoustic room. Knowing it was her band's wont to pantomime applause at the end, the keyboardist hesitated to look up at her five guests. But they were clapping, beaming, praising, and the rest of Terror Firma was applauding as well.
"I don't know what that was about," Ritsu grinned, "but I loved it!"
"I feel like I'm a bit like Lazy Jun," Yui claimed.
Azusa smirked wisely. "You would fall asleep at bus stops — in fact, I'll bet you already have!"
The elder guitarist giggled, making no effort to refute this.
"You far surpass me as a songwriter, Chiharu-chan!" Mio exclaimed breathlessly. Her dove-colored eyes swam exquisitely as she approached her old classmate. "You could wipe the floor with me!"
Chiharu blushed deeply and shook her head fervently, the corners of her mouth rigid. "Nah, not really. 'Don't Say Lazy' and 'Fude Pen,' those are genius." She leaned forward far enough to tap Mio's forehead with her index finger, the other one straying up to her own brow. "You and I each have our own worlds up here, and we are masters of those respective worlds. In that, no world is better than the other."
She withdrew her finger sheepishly, and Mio nodded in complete understanding. As a songwriter, the bassist lived in the real world until she didn't, and it would be a long time before she broke out of that zone. While working on a song — picking the perfect word or fine-tuning a melody — she was very hard to reach. And she did feel like the master of her own world built around songs about being young, free, and confused.
Mugi had her hands clasped to her chest, head tilted to the left, eyebrows raised. "Chiharu, I never knew you could write such enchanting songs! That was beautiful!"
Chiharu turned redder as she looked at the blonde girl. She smiled softly. "Y-you really like these songs? Well, uh..." She looked down. When she tugged at the collar of her shirt everyone saw a musty cloud of steam go up. "We didn't play 'When The Cynics Stare Back From The Wall' at Hair, did we?"
"Nawp," Hitomi replied.
Playing with a strand of her short hair, Chiharu looked up at her guests from under heavily lashed hooded eyelids. "Would you like to hear it?"
Mio came within a breath of politely suggesting a more pertinent alternative when Yui burst, "We'd love to! I want to hear more of the Chiu-chan Baby Songs!" Nobody there knew what that last sentence meant either.
"Chiharu," the keyboardist corrected, and with that Terror Firma ran through some songs that hadn't been played at Hair, a couple of which were new. When The Cynics Stare Back From The Wall, American Schlock, There's No Holding Her Back, and Quiet Riot Girl. There was also a swinging ditty written and sung by Madoka, whose deep raspy voice — like Tom Jones, minus the testosterone — lent Fishin' Blues a deeply-felt sexuality. Yui couldn't help but giggle at its innuendo:
"Do you want to go fishin'
Here in my fishin' hole?
Said do you want to fish some, honey,
Here in my fishin' hole?
You want to fish in my pond, baby,
You better have a big long pole.
Before you start in fishin'
You better check your line.
Said before you start in fishin', honey,
You better check on your line.
I'll pull on yours, darlin',
And you best tug on mine."
Azusa shuddered and forced herself to think about gross things to prevent the humiliation of another nosebleed. Ever since her kotatsu encounter she couldn't bear to think about tugging things. Unluckily for her most if not all of Madoka's songs bore a smouldering torch for one of mankind's most basic urges. Another song she sang shook with this charming line: "It ain't nuthin' but a barn dance, sugar/It ain't nuthin' but a round-and-round." One song suggested the bassist's appreciation for good literature, making references to Rebecca by Daphne du Maurier, but not without including an appreciation for something else:
"You know we're going back to MANderley,
We're gonna dance on the SANderley,
I'm gonna sing with the BANderley,
We gonna do all we CANderley,
Do me, baby, yeah!"
They jammed and thrashed and rocked and rolled, without any sunlight or moonlight through a window to tell how much time had passed. Terror Firma was a primarily indie-pop band, yet their songs tended to sample different genres: blues, instrumental, northern soul. Whatever the style, Chiharu shone brightly like a diamond. She appeared nothing like the solemn girl Ritsu and Mio found backstage at Hair, nor was she like the skittish lass from earlier. She was vibrant, she was dancing, she was rockin'.
"Hooo," she exhaled after playing Punk Rock Easy Listener. "You guys wore me out a bit." She armed some sweat off her forehead; singing with the banderley was like her cardio. Her small breasts heaving with big breaths, she smiled at Afterschool Tea Time. "I guess I've kept you guys here awhile, huh," she mumbled absently, her eyes straying to her computer, whose blue light pulsed steadily in hibernation. Chiharu's jaw dropped.
"SHIMATTA! RECORDING!"
"Gomenasai," the brune ojou sighed roughly half an hour later Madoka and Ayana insisted on breaking for supper before diving into recording. After the meal Chiharu finished miking up Ritsu's drums and conducted a thorough check-up on the soundboard to which they were hooked up. At last, at long last, at twenty-six chapters' worth of last (shoot TamaoXNagisa4EVER), they were ready to begin.
"'Salright," Ritsu said, head tilted amicably. The acoustic room was warm, and the drummer had cast off her blazer before seating herself on her stool. She grinned and clicked her sticks together. "Alright! I'm up first!"
Chiharu's mouse-arrow hovered about the red circular REC button. The waves on the track were flat; as the Cakewalk received sounds from the soundboard the waves would jump to life. The keyboardist paused to don headphones, and motioned for Ritsu to do likewise. "You ready?"
"I sure am! Let's do this thing!"
"Alrighty. Five, four, three, two..."
Chiharu clicked the red circle. The recording had begun.
She stared blankly at the flat line extending across the first track. Dead air played through the headphones. Beside her, the drums weren't heard. Ritsu wasn't playing.
"Stop," the drummer ordered.
Chiharu clicked STOP and proceeded to delete the dead air from track one. She looked up questioningly at the brunette.
Ritsu looked at Mio. "What song are we recording first?"
Chiharu's head hit the desk.
"You don't even know what song you want to record? Are you serious at all? Why are you even here? GET OUT!"
Both drummer and bassist shrank away, and the former waved a hand placatingly. "Aw, Chiu-chan, don't be that way."
"Don't call me Chiu! Get out!"
"But you gave us such short notice on the whole recording thing!" Mio objected, rather heatedly.
"It was long enough to choose one song to record first. I won't waste my time on bands who—"
"Fuwa Fuwa Time!" Azusa blurted. Her pregnant echoes filled the room as everyone turned to look at her. Garnet eyes darting conscientously, the kouhai half-settled against, half-hid behind Yui. That was kind of abrupt, rude even. But I had to save us.
Chiharu raised a bushy eyebrow at Mio. "See? It only took her a second to decide."
"Here's the thing, though," said Ritsu. Seeing that Chiharu's tirade was over, she sat back down on the stool. "I don't immediately play at the beginning of Fuwa Fuwa Time."
"Oh, that's no problem," the ojou said lightly. "Just play how you do when you come in." She explained in layman's terms how she could splice Ritsu's track, and drag the sound recording across the timeline a few seconds or more to where the drummer made her entrance.
Ritsu still seemed uncertain. "I dunno, Chiu-chan. Maybe we should just record Yui-chan first: she plays right from the beginning."
"It's Chiharu. And you don't record guitar first — that's just backwards."
Yui turned toward Terror Firma's bass player. "Madoka-chan, how does recording work, anyway?"
Madoka explained, "Individual instruments and vocals are recorded on separate tracks. When the tracks are played simultaneously you have your song. Since drums are the main vehicle for tempo and rhythm, they typically get recorded first. Then bass, then rhythm guitar. Keyboard and lead guitar can be recorded in either order depending on whose part is more prominent. Then backup vocals, and finally lead vocals."
"Oh," Yui nodded, understanding a little.
Ritsu sat poised and tensed over her drums, eagerly awaiting Chiharu's countdown. The keyboardist's hand strayed up, the number of fingers diminishing with the count-in. "Five, four, three, two..."
Everyone, even Chiharu, jumped in surprise as Ritsu blasted into Fuwa Fuwa Time. Instruments have a way of speaking for their musicians, and the Yamaha Hipgig sounded like a white-hot live wire of energy. But there was a problem. Chiharu could hear the drums, alright, albeit only in her right ear. But she heard nothing through the headphones, and not a single wave registered in the track.
"Stop," she called, clicking the said button. She had to call this order a few times before Ritsu slowly, grudgingly stopped playing. "Something's wrong..." Chiharu jumped up to inspect the drums, all the while rubbing her chin and mumbling to herself. "This is strange. Cakewalk's never done anything like this before. Maybe one of the mics are broken?...No, the rest of the drums would still get recorded, and nothing's picking up...Unless they're all broken. No, no. That's not it."
"Chiharu...?"
"Yes, Hitomi?"
"Could it have something to do with this?"
Chiharu ceased pacing and inspecting and pontificating, and looked up. Hitomi crouched between the soundboard and the computer, holding up the jack that plugged the former into the latter. There was something between a question and a jeer in her blue eyes.
The brune ojou's hands dropped to her sides and she shook her head. "Oh, my goodness..." She immediately set about plugging in the soundboard. "I am so off today." She cast a look at Mugi, who was conversing with Ayana, as if blaming the blonde girl for throwing her off.
"You and our gold egg goose of a lyricist got something going on, don't you?" Ayana was snickering. "Got a little thing for her?"
"Oh my, no," Mugi responded with a sheepish giggle. "I'm happily taken, and it seems she is, too. But Chiharu and I are close. We're like sisters."
Hitomi glanced at Mugi sharply.
"Oi, Tsumugi!" Chiharu half-cried, half-groaned. Her expression was one of shock and — Ritsu and Mio recognized from experience — fear.
Fear of what? Mugi? Mio wondered. Why would Chiharu-chan be afraid of Mugi?
Chiharu had a headache. She closed her eyes and actually groaned this time: "I'm your friend, not your sister. Who do you think I AM?"
Mugi blushed, giggled, apologized, and they moved on with their recording project. By now Ritsu had grown impatient and began rattling her sticks on the hi-hat; Chiharu smiled as waves thrummed away. Now they were all good. All good, except for Mugi, who for the next two months would hear what Chiharu just said over and over.
I'm your friend...Who do you think I AM?
"Stop," Chiharu ordered for the twenty-first time (Mio counted).
Glaring sullenly, Ritsu complied. She hadn't gotten beyond the first four bars of Fuwa Fuwa Time each time the brunette stopped her.
Resenting how the drummer looked at her, Chiharu said, "I'll say it again, Tainaka. You need to play with a consistent tempo." Anger flashed through her eyes and she snarled, "Ah, that's the problem, isn't it? I'm getting too far ahead of myself. Okay. Tempo is when—"
"I KNOW WHAT TEMPO IS!" Ritsu snapped, making Mio jolt into total wakefulness. The drummer looked about ready to slam the butts of her sticks into Chiharu's skull. But never, she thought seethingly. I'll never misuse my sticks, let alone waste them on Needle Butt here. Ritsu had taken to comparing Chiharu to a popsicle: frozen over with a stick up her ass.
It was late, very late, and everybody was being worn thin. Everybody that was awake, that is. Yui, Azusa, Mugi, Madoka, Ayana, and Hitomi dozed in a corner like ferrets: all piled and slumped over each other. Mio remained awake, sitting with her back against the wall, arms crossed, eyelids drooping, head nodding.
Ritsu said hotly, "I won't be called stupid by some foo-foo rich—"
"I never called you stupid." Chiharu's voice was level, calm. But Ritsu could hear the patronizing undertones oozing from it.
"You meant that I was stupid."
"No." The brune ojou shook her head and returned her attention to the computer. "I'm sorry you can't distinguish the difference between explaining tempo and calling someone stupid."
Ritsu's blood boiled. Tendrils of smoke curled from her nose.
"Let's try once more, shall we?" The keyboardist dragged and dropped the sound recording into the trashbin.
"Let's shall."
"Cute," Chiharu commented in a snotty voice. Ritsu shot her a glare that would make a bird drop dead from its perch. "Five, four, three, two..."
The drummer hadn't even gotten the first measure in when Chiharu called for her to stop. Twenty-two. Twenty-two failed attempts at recording, exhaustion, and sore hands that may have had fresh blisters sent Ritsu over the edge. Finally, she snapped.
"GUAAAAAAAAAAAAAOOOOOOOOO!" she screeched, sounding a bit like the Palmtop Tiger in a certain anime, throwing down her sticks and headphones. Her outburst, amplified several times over by the acoustic room, woke everybody up in a state of disarray. The drummer stood, heads clutching her aching head. "I'm so tired of this!"
"That makes two of us," Chiharu mumbled, still staring at the computer screen.
With a growl, Ritsu seized the ojou by the collar of her shirt and hauled her up.
"Lemme go!" Chiharu bellowed.
Topaz eyes burning vehemently, Ritsu crowed, "Oh, look who's all calm-arrogant-voice-until-I-have-to-fight! You're nothing but a pampered, decadent rich girl!"
"Ritsu, fuck you!" Chiharu's fatigue drew the oath out into a question. Ritsuuuu? Fuck yoooouuu? "I allow you into my home to record your album, and now you THREATEN AND INSULT ME? Fuck you!"
"You wish!" Ritsu cackled.
"I'm warning you," the keyboardist thundered, baring her gritted teeth.
"Thanks for the warning!" And with a mighty shove, the drummer kicked off the famous Tainaka/Yamoto battle royale that would be sung by future Light Music Clubs in years to come. Chiharu had prided herself in being a WASP; but now it seemed her old classmate had stirred up the nest. Still disoriented, the others leaped up to break up the fight. However, doing so would be akin to stopping a life-size pinball in a life-size pinball machine: Ritsu and Chiharu shot and bounced and thrashed all over the place, bouncing off the walls and each other with furious grunts, oaths, and screams.
"I figured you had the tackle of an American football player!" the keyboardist roared, running backwards and dodging blows. "I'll wager you have the weight of one, too!"
BOCK! Ritsu dealt her a punch that would make her resemble Azusa post-root canal.
The drummer hollered, "Orochi!" Snake!
"Enki!" Chiharu retorted, cheek throbbing as the wings of a violet bruise unfurled. Monkey!
"Subeta!" Bitch!
"Kodomo!" Baby! Grinning lopsidedly, Chiharu sneered, "But why should I expect you to act like an adult? You don't even have the chest of an adult!"
With an enraged yell, Ritsu again grabbed Chiharu's shirt and threw her against the wall. The drummer rushed forward to pin her when she was stopped from behind. Mio's arms slipped beside her to hook around Ritsu's, pulling her back and up.
Ritsu pitched wildly, trying to break loose. Across the acoustic room, Hitomi likewise restrained Chiharu. "Lemme go, Mio! I'm gonna bust her head inside-out!"
"Yeah, go ahead, enki!" the keyboardist challenged. "You can't play drums worth a damn, but head busting sounds perfect for you!"
The drummer howled venemously and bucked furiously against Mio. "I'll kill you, you wench!"
"Ritsu." The bassist's terrifyingly low voice sounded in her ear, and she could feel Mio's knuckles pressed none too gently against her head. "Who could hurt you more? Me or Chiharu?"
Ritsu had no doubt about the answer to that question. She slumped back in the raven-haired girl's arms, pointing dagger eyes at her adversary.
Tense silence fell. It was like there was a gunman in the room threatening to shoot anyone who moved or spoke...but that was still for another couple months yet.
"Maybe we should go," Mugi suggested in an undertone. Mio nodded assent and dragged Ritsu back, the heels of the drummer's shoes scraping the wood floor.
Hitomi released Chiharu. She was gingerly rubbing her new bruise. "Uh-huh, get some rest," she agreed. "They say sleep makes you smarter. Maybe a good night's sleep will make you a better drummer, Tainaka, but I doubt it."
Ritsu attempted a lunge and stopped when she felt Mio's arm tighten and her knuckles nudge her head warningly.
"Help me get the drums together," she sighed wearily, shrugging free of the bass player's hold.
Chiharu shook her head. "I think you should leave them here."
"Why should I?"
"Because you guys are coming here to record every single day. If you're serious, that is." She smirked at Ritsu, arms crossed. "But if you want to lug your drums back and forth, fine. Won't be my problem when your spine telescopes."
"Point taken," the drummer reluctantly admitted. The rest of Afterschool Tea Time gathered up their instruments and the toboggan. They were just at the acoustic room's applewood door when...
"Tainaka."
Ritsu turned to face Chiharu, a hard expression upon her features.
The keyboardist brought a hand to her nose in an apologetic gesture, though her eyebrows still slanted in anger. "I take back everything I said...for now."
"...Ditto," Ritsu finally nodded.
And with that Afterschool Tea Time took their leave of the Yamoto mansion. At the top of the hill in the starless cold night Mugi glanced at the mansion one last time over her shoulder. The fountain still splashed merrily with its dazzling colors.
"Mugi-chan!" Yui called from up ahead, bringing the blonde ojou out of her reverie, though not completely out
"Hai, I'm coming!" she replied, and dashed off, leaving the Yamoto mansion.
Who do you think I AM? I'm your...not your...Who do you think I AM?