Slam Dunk Week: this is the last time to get it right
“No, no, I’m recording all my unfinished stuff now.”
“Don’t force yourself. If you overwork…”
“I know, I know. No travelling for me, no performances. Not now. Gotta protect your investment, hunh?”
A snort. “Just come back to America, for god’s sake. At least I can keep an eye on you here.”
“Nothin’ doing. I haven’t been in Japan since forever, and I’ll quit if I have to leave now.”
A long pause. “Do you want to die there?”
Very softly, “Yes.” Louder, “But I’ll keep going with my music, as long as I have to, as long as I can. If I leave anything unfinished, don’t let anyone else complete it. Let that be my swan song.”
“Pessimist.”
The nurse looked into the waiting room. “Fujikawa-san, the doctor will see you now.”
“Gotta go, Marcus. Don’t worry, I’ll be fine,” with the smallest hint of false bravado, and the cell was switched off.
“That’s disgusting,” Koshino said indignantly from the doorway. “Either stop that or get your own pencils.”
Sendoh looked up from the desk (Fukuda’s), where he had been idly chewing the pencil (Koshino’s) while going over the melody in front of him (Uekusa’s and Koshino’s, written jointly). “But it calms me down,” he said, in a manner half-confused and half-innocent.
“Still disgusting. Katsuki-san, tell him it’s disgusting,” he ordered, as Katsuki arrived at the doorway with the promised dinner. Uekusa and Fukuda were already scoffing theirs.
“What are we talki- oh, urgh, ew, that is disgusting.” Katsuki wrinkled her nose, stepping into the room. “If you keep on with that I’ll make you use a pen.”
“I might make a mistake,” he protested.
Katsuki pulled meaningfully at a folder on a desk, which contained two copies each of all the music written by the band members. Some already had lyrics, and some didn’t.
“But, well… it’s like I’m setting them in stone, if I use a pen. If I use a pencil it’s easier. I can erase any mistakes.”
“White-out, Sendoh-san. Or cancel out the offending characters, if they bother you so.”
Sendoh rolled his eyes. “I meant that once it’s done in ink it feels like that’s what the song is going to be. That the whole creative process is dead.”
“Sing it differently and we’ll change the lyrics later on,” Koshino said, in between mouthfuls.
“I- oh, never mind. You don’t get it, either of you.”
“Put down the pencil and eat your dinner.”
“…Let the stars burn themselves/And time will kiss the world goodbye,” Ookusu sang carefully, accompanying himself on the electronic keyboard, with the violin sound chosen.
“Too classy,” Kiyota snorted. “We’re a rock band, blondie, not an orchestra!”
“Do it again,” Takamiya ordered, his drumsticks at the ready. “Match my tempo.” He waited for Ookusu to begin before sinking into a hard and fast beat. Before long, Kogure was joining in on bass, and Noma was adding his own contribution on guitar.
Satsuko watched in amusement as Kiyota stewed while the rest were playing. Ookusu wasn’t even trying to lip-synch, merely concentrating on keeping up the fast tempo. Kiyota was looking away from them, not catching the glances each of them shot him, waiting for him.
She started to count backwards in her head. Five… four… three… two… one-
“Argh! Give me the damn mike already!” And Kiyota jumped in to the mix at just the right moment, turning the ethereal lyrics Ookusu had written into something stronger, primal, brutal, yet still the same words. An anthem against dying, against the end. A song to live forever.
Sharp Height could go anywhere. She knew it.
“I’m not going along with this,” Fujima announced, looking down into the clear green water. Below him, treading water, Hanagata snorted.
“We’re here to shoot a music video, Kenji, not hear you whine about your inability to swim.” Hanagata splashed invitingly. “You don’t even have to open your mouth, just touch the keys-”
“I need to hold my nose!”
“We’ll have to raise the piano platform, that’s all,” came Maki’s voice from behind Fujima. “Just enough to keep the keys underwater- we’ll only need shots of your hands, and the rest of you can be above water.”
“So it’s just my torso underwater too, with my guitar?” Hanagata asked, irritated. “We hashed this all out just now! I’m not going to-” He was cut off by a splash and a gurgling yelp as Fujima was pushed into the water from behind. He stifled a laugh. As much as he disliked (he felt ‘hate’ too strong a word to use) Maki, one had to agree that Fujima really had a way of meddling too much in a good thing, and the best way to stop him was to throw him in headfirst- literally, in this case.
By industrious, if somewhat panicky, paddling, Fujima made it to the pool’s edge, snorting a few times to get the water out of his nose.
“See, you’ve learned to swim,” Maki declared. “Now we’ll just have to work on you holding your breath.”
“I’ll drown, just you wait,” Fujima muttered sullenly, “and then you’ll be sorry, because I’ll come back to haunt you every night.”
Ayako had a strictly professional relationship with the members of North Star. Despite all Miyagi’s efforts, she refused to let it go past that again.
She went to the trouble of ensuring that at least one other band member was in the room with Miyagi and herself, and carefully occupied him with any number of recordings and single-member interviews (perhaps more than was fair to him, really). He, in turn, pursued her even more ardently.
In one interview, when they were asked if there was anyone special in their lives, Akagi, Mito, Sakuragi and Rukawa all but fell over themselves talking over Miyagi. This resulted in a very interesting exposé declaring that the members of North Star were involved with an as yet unknown all-girl band named Blue Roses, which was later discovered to be fictional. However, this resulted in groups of North Star fans forming their own Blue Roses bands, in hopes of becoming involved with North Star. Thus far all attempts had been ineffective.
Ayako was not omniscient, but she did her best.
When she caught wind of how one reporter was investigating their high school lives, she quietly ensured that no word was ever mentioned of how she had once been Miyagi’s girlfriend.
The band was the most important. It had to be.