Track for this chapter: Picture Me, by Yiruma, from the album Piano Museum
(Yiruma is my hero :3)
One week later found Tsubasa manning the front desk.
He stared forlornly at the paper-yellow marble. His arm had a red mark on it from leaning it on the corner of the counter all morning.
Nothing had happened.
Last week was almost preferable to this monotony.
Until, close to lunchtime, the doors slammed open and Les marched in, speaking in hushed tones to the person beside him. Tsubasa recognized her immediately as Hikaru Hasama.
Her shirt was rumpled and she wore no shoes, but it was the secretary beloved by all the WBBA agents. She was back to fix the madness.
Tsubasa picked up the intercom and said, "Sir? Hikaru's in the front lobby."
"Tell her to go away."
"Les is with her."
"I'll be right down. Call security." A click signified Ryo's departure. Tsubasa did not call security.
Les came over to the desk while Hikaru stood in the lobby, facing the elevators, waiting for Ryo to come downstairs.
"Hey, son. Ah found yer secretary."
"Thanks. It's crazy here."
"Ah know, son, ah know. Ah wish ye luck, okay? There's gonna be a lotta hullabaloo round these parts fer a long long time."
"It's nothing new, Les."
"Huh", Les grunted. "Well yer jus' gonna hafta deal."
"That's not comforting."
Les slapped his hands down onto the counter. He seemed to do this a lot. "Ah never said it was gonna be comforting, boy! Ah'm jus' givin' ya the straight gist o' life!"
"You're doing a very good job", Tsubasa reassured him.
Les leaned in angrily. "Don't git cranky wit' me, son. Ah ain't tha worst thing ya gonna hafta deal wit."
Tsubasa glared at the wall behind Les's head. Seemed that everyone had turned against him all of a sudden.
Ryo emerged from the elevator, glaring icily out at the room. It actually looked more like he was a vulture in pain. He hadn't quite got the commanding star down yet.
"Hikaru. I see you have returned begging for my mercy."
"You're the one who was begging for my mercy."
"Says who?"
"Says me and the hundred messages on my phone."
Ryo slumped. "Okay, fine, Hikaru. I'll give you your job back. But you had better shape up."
"Nah lissen here!" Tsubasa quickly shoved Les under the counter before he could get hold of a lampshade. His muffled grumblings came still from under the ugly countertop.
"But, Hikaru, you can't have your shoes yet...Tsubasa...broke them. So."
Hikaru glared at Tsubasa, who stuttered in protest. It had totally been Gingka. Everyone had seen him prancing around his father's office with the high heels on, but he had proved to be too heavy for them and broke them. But Hikaru was not listening. She shoved him out from behind the desk and Les scrambled away.
"Angry female in tha buildin'! Ye better run, sons!" Les hightailed it out the door and Tsubasa watched him go, feeling as if his last ounce of sanity and hope had run out the door with him and down the street. Singing 'here we go round the mulberry bush' as it went, no less.
He turned from Les's ambling, guitar-laden figure to find Hikaru glaring up at him.
"Those shoes cost me a month's worth of pay."
"But I didn't - "
"Be quiet and get out from behind my desk."
Tsubasa quickly moved away.
Around him, the green-tinged, chapped porcelain walls of the last stall in the bathroom were unforgiving, staring out at him in all their cold, hard blankness. He lay his head on his knees and shut his eyes.
6 years ago, when he was 12, he had come here to this city from a nondescript village. He had wanted to escape from a broken home and make a name for himself. Be something freer, bigger, better, and more productive, to do his mother's memory proud.
It seemed that everything was turning against him now.
He was being bossed around by a secretary, 'overseen' by an irresponsible boss, and given life advice by a retired navy man who was probably...not all there.
He felt guilty for these thoughts, however, when said navy man padded into the men's restroom, dragging his guitar behind him. Tsubasa made certain that his knees were pulled up all the way on the closed toilet seat, held his breath, and hoped that Les would not find him.
"Son? You in there?"
Hope was lost. It had gone down the street with Les yesterday and never come back.
"Son, the agency's 'bout ta shut down fer tha night. Ye need ta git out 'r else they's gonna shut ye in."
"I might as well stay here", he said. "I basically live here anyway. I'll probably die here too."
"Nah, son...ye been cryin', hain't ya? Ah hears ye snifflin'."
"I, uh. It was...onions."
"Ye decided ta eat yer onions in the bathroom stall. Like ah believe that. Ah'm old, but ah ain't a IDIOT."
"I...it's quieter to eat lunch in here. Without Hikaru."
"Ah. Women'll do anythin' over shoes, son, and ye shoulda known that 'fore ye went wearin' hers te the royal ball."
"IT WASN'T ME. It was the director's son. FOR THE LAST TIME."
"Okay, okay! Besides that, it's way to late ta be eatin' lunch."
"Les..."
"Don' worry 'bout it, 'kay? They say 'Ah hates ta see a grown man cry', but it's actually kinda fun. Also, it ain't no shame ta cry sometimes. All men cries sometime in ther lives. An' yer depressed 'bout yer life, son, so don' be ashamed."
"You aren't helping, Les."
"Son, ye know, ain't nothin' like a song on a starry night ta clear yer mind an' ease yer tears. Come on outta there an' let's gitcher mind settled so ye ain't goin' ta bed wit' a troubled heart."
"Music doesn't cure everything, you know."
Les shifted his weight outside the stall, and Tsubasa imagined him putting his hands on his hips and glaring at the door.
"Tell me one reason how it don't."
"You have to have a lot of people and effort to fix a problem."
"But ye gotta have a clear mind first. Dontche?"
Tsubasa said nothing.
"Tell ye what. Folla me an' ye'll see something'll clear yer head, fer sure."
"I don't feel like it."
"Come on. Not everyone gits ta go te the November bonfires, son."
Tsubasa's curiosity was peaked.
"I guess I'll go this one time. But if it doesn't work, you have to leave me alone the next time you find me in a bathroom stall."
"With yer pet onion."
"Yeah. Sure."
10 minutes later, Tsubasa was hanging on to the interior of his car for his very life. Les, mitten-clad and hungry-eyed, was trying (and failing) to remember how to drive, and the car veered and swerved so that Tsubasa would have felt safer in a burning building then he did here.
As they neared the edge of the city, a soft crown of flame became visible at the tops of the trees, small puffs of smoke rising between their leaves. Les pulled up to a row of logs and they stepped out.
Tsubasa was immediately glad for his wool jacket as the cold air bit hard at his exposed face, and he pulled his hat down further over his brow. Les pushed it up.
"See here nah. You ain't gonna be able ta see if ye git yer hat down like that, nah."
Tsubasa glared at him and followed him over to a table. Open bags of marshmallows lined it, a small pile of sharpened sticks dominating the end, and cups of steaming hot chocolate sat on the other end. Kids ran in between the towering bonfires, chasing dogs and each other, or throwing sticks and leaves into the flames, while the adults sat on logs around the fires, roasting marshmallows and chatting.
Les carried his guitar over to a log and started to talk with his neighbouring bonfire lover. He stuck his marshmallow-laden stick into the flames and carried on a conversation at the same time.
"Hey, Donnie."
"Hey, Les. Whatcha doin'?"
"Aww, jus' bringin' mah friend te the bonfires fer tha first time."
"No way. That him?" Donnie jerked a thumb in Tsubasa's direction.
"Yeah, that's him."
Tsubasa made no comment. If people wanted to pretend he wasn't there, he would too. It would just be better that way.
Les waved a gooey, blackened marshmallow in his face. "Have this, son. It'll cheer ye up."
"I don't want to."
"But ye look a lil' pale. Ye sure ye don't need some sugar te get yer system goin'? Onions cain't be that good for ye if ye still feelin' puny."
"I fell fine. This is seriously my normal skin colour."
"Nuh-uh it ain't. I lived outside yer apartment since 'fore ye moved thar and ye never looked so pale before. EAT IT. A-COS AH SAID SO, SON."
Finally Tsubasa gingerly took the marshmallow off the stick. It began to get dark, and secretly he was thankful for the sweet (albeit slightly burnt), sugary warmth in his mouth.
Les strummed downwards across his guitar a few times as he and Donnie continued their friendly chat. A couple of kids came up and, seeing that Donnie and Les were occupied, turned on Tsubasa instead.
"Hey mister, do you know how to roast marshmallows?" said the first little girl, holding out her stick.
"Not...not really."
"I didn't think so. EVERYBODY roasts marshmallows at the November bonfires. Don't you know that?"
"I - "
"Lemme show you." She plopped down on the log beside Tsubasa, uninvited, her sweater bunching up around her waist. "My name's Hazel. Who are you?"
"I'm Tsubasa."
"Do you have a occupation?"
"Uh...I work at the WBBA. Why do you ask so many questions?"
"Here." Rather than answer, Hazel put a marshmallow stick in his hands. "You put it in the fire like this. NO, NO! Not on the coals! It'll get all ashy and gross!"
She wrinkled her nose at her comrades. "He doesn't know how to roast a marshmallow, Ross."
"I bet he's, like, 11. He's supposed to know by now! 11 is pract'icly grown up! You're supposed to know everything!"
"See here now, I'm 18!"
"Even worse. Ya drop outta high school or what? What they teachin' the kids in schools these days, huh, Hazel?"
"You betcha."
"See here", Les intervened. "Hazel, Ross, Hunter, Miles. Dontchee go insultin' yer superiors. No, he din't drop outta high school, and no, he ain't eleven. He knows a whole lot more'n you do."
"Yes, sir", said the cluster of kids.
Les turned back to Donnie and Hazel took the stick from Tsubasa, feeding another marshmallow onto it. "Try it again. Dis time don't put it so much down."
Tsubasa rolled his eyes and puffed loudly, watching his breath fog in the chilly air. Miles put a cup of cocoa beside him on the log and Hazel stared intently at the flames.
"Wait, WAIT! Tsubasa, IT'S ON FIRE! BLOW IT OUT BLOW IT OUT!"
He yanked the marshmallow from the flames and ended up dropping it. Hunter snuffed it out with his feet and Hazel glared at him. "Well, dere goes another one, Mr. Protege."
"See here."
"Don' say that again. Les is better at it than you", Ross said.
"Now see here - "
"Nah see here." Les once again intervened. "Ah am better at it than you, son, an' you know it. See here. You kids git if you ain't gon' be nice. This here young fella's had a hard day. And - "
"Les, I haven't had a - "
"Nah SEE HERE. QUIT interruptin' me. And ye better, as I was sayin, be consid'rate!"
Miles, Hunter, Ross, and Hazel dolefully gazed up at Les. "Yes, sir."
"Nah Donnie, what che was sayin' bout yer field tractor..." Tsubasa turned his attention away from Les.
"I'm done roasting marshmallows for the night."
"No you not. You haven't got one right yet." Hazel and Ross wrestled another marshmallow onto the stick and handed it back to him. He grimaced at the ball of sugar and stuck it back in the flames.
This time he blew out the marshmallow without dropping it. "Are you satisfied?"
"Roast me one", said Miles, handing him another.
"But - "
Thank goodness for Les.
Three downbeats of the guitar and all around the fire people went silent.
As the tune picked up, so did the voices. Les's lone one turned into a symphony.
What I wouldn't do for a hat's worth of freedom
Fire on a chilly night,
Stars above shining bright
What I wouldn't give for a grass - laden forest
Family all around and a song for the sky.
Take me away
Song for November
Remind me of who I love
Cherish
And long for
Take me away
Skies of November
Fly me away to how it was long ago.
A short instrumental solo for a few beats, and then:
Once upon a time I was free
I was dreaming
Anything that ever was was waiting there for me,
I ran to a city
A city full of freedom
Wanting to see who I could be
Take me away, Starry skies above me
Take me to the man of dreams I used to think I was
Fly me away
Heart of November
Back when I was innocent and open.
The song seemed to speak to him, and he thought of how he'd come to this city to start over. Heart full of hope and bounce in his step, melted away now.
But what I wouldn't give for a hat's worth of freedom
What I wouldn't give for open chilly air
Take me away
Stars of November
No matter what the cost may be
I need to go back there.
Take me away
Fire blooming higher
Take me away to the forest that I know
Take me away
Starry sky above me
Song all around me
I feel like I'm back home.
The song ended and Tsubasa found himself staring into the flames to avoid having to see the tear trailing down Les's cheek. Hazel was asleep beside him and Miles had eaten his marshmallow raw sometime during the last chorus. Ross and Hunter leaned back behind him so the three of them were back to back, and Miles was swaying on his feet, tired.
He checked his cell phone. 10 o' clock.
As he drove home that night, dropping Les off at the corner, with a belly full of marshmallows and a song in his head, Les's words rang through his mind:
"Tell me how music cain't cure anything."
He found that he had no answer anymore.
Not just to that question, though. He had no answer for anything anymore.