Chapter Text
“Oh my, what a smooth lane change! As expected of such an expert driver…”
Ryo Yamada is trying to humour Nijika Ijichi after a long day at work.
What a decade it’s been for these two. Ryo still remembers that overcast day on that rooftop, when Nijika asked her to play bass for her; a core memory.
Kessoku Band. What a dumb name. It was such a pain trying to ego search back then. Ryo couldn’t have imagined that it would get so much easier; but as bright and hot as they burned, their light would be extinguished, falling beneath the horizon in spectacular fashion. And then there was the matter of the band deciding to date each other.
Getting into that hot polyamorous relationship with their vocalist Ikuyo Kita and lead guitarist Hitori “Bocchi” Gotoh seemed natural for Ryo, the intertwined threads of affection had already seemed to ensare the four musicians. While Nijika didn’t feel too strongly about it, she too would end up giving polyamory the old college try.
It was intimate, it was fun, and their love for one another had truly been able to blossom. Yet, it did nothing to help the band manage their meteoric rise. Not even Seika Ijichi, manager of the band and older sister of Nijika, could deal with it.
Hitori soon become an alcoholic imp as she entered university, much to Kita’s dismay. The band’s breakup - professionally and romantically - followed not too long after, proceeding the Punkspring Accident.
The members of Kessoku Band had all gone on to live their own separate lives now, mostly. Kita’s somehow working as an assistant for an assemblywoman at the Tokyo Metropolitan Assembly, and Bocchi had started a band with the tragically alcoholic, but recovering, bassist Kikuri Hiroi, occasionally touring and doing freelance film and music editing work with her band, SICK HACK.
As for Ryo and Nijika, they find themselves colleagues at an IT firm, stuck in traffic on a Friday, along Yamate-Dori Avenue.
Usually they would have taken the train, but Nijika had the van this week. Her sister Seika was on holiday with their mysterious former sound engineer in Singapore.
She never told us her name, Nijika wondered. Otogi, was it?
About two years ago, Ryo had gone broke. She lived fine off of commissions and the occasional care package from her parents; they were a lot less doting now that she had a university-level education, but this time, somehow, she was more broke. Specifically, she was ‘wholly unable to pay her share of the rent’ broke.
Nijika saw this coming after seeing Ryo purchase five manga volumes, three VST plugins and another bass to add to her collection that month. She decided she should do something about her impulse-buying happiness spiral.
“They have a position open. You’ll be working with me there. That should make it better, right?” Nijika had said, then.
And so, the two had the same day job. The same job with the same boss that drained their life force in the same way. The same day job that demanded them to work overtime and leave at some godforsaken hour after dinnertime and after the sun had sat. The same day job that demanded crunch.
Truth be told, they both wanted out; Ryo, predictably much more so. Nijika had urged her to just turn in that letter, hiding her own desire to resign that was stifled by her crippling sense of personal responsibility.
“I’ll definitely quit,” Ryo had said, while noticeably not quitting.
At least they commuted together, and at least for now, they were going to go on a trip to Mount Hakone before Seika’s return, with the yet-to-be-named former sound engineer.
Though, of course, that didn't sway the gods of road congestion.
“Ah, your turn signal timing is so good…!” Ryo says, again, to a stressed-out Nijika. She peers at some motorcyclist ahead, as he swerves in and out of the many lanes leading up to the University of Tokyo’s Komaba campus.
“Is this guy trying to get himself killed?” Nijika yells, as a bus swerves to avoid him. She makes a smooth turn left to Metropolitan Route 420, still seething at the traffic, which was insane for this hour of night.
It takes some time to traverse the two-lane road before they turn left onto Route 413 at the FriendlyMart, during which Nijika spots three cars turning in without a turn signal, shortly before having to avoid a motorcyclist swerving right in front of her, and then a truck brake-checking her.
“ARGGHHHHHHH!” Nijika roars, eyes bulging out of her skull. She curses in the manner that Kikuri inadvertently taught her one night at an indie rock concert festival when she was 16.
“Ryo, are you seeing this?!” she pleads, annoyed. “How do our driving tests fail to filter out these idiots? These people really shouldn’t be allowed to drive at all!”
Ryo felt concerned — Nijika’s never seemed this distressed. Perhaps it was the lateness of the hour; maybe it was the mundaneness of the work, but Nijika seemed worn out, eager to return home to a microwaved tonkatsu dinner and her bed.
In the meantime, Ryo zones out to Nijika’s playlist. They never play songs from their friends; but a mix of American and other indie bands in Japan. Neither do they listen to their own albums; they keep finding fault in every chord. Besides, “it just feels weird listening to Kita-chan’s voice,” Ryo reasons. A fair point given the, well, fairly torrid phase they had when they were 18 and not very… mature.
It’s another 20 minutes before Nijika parks a few blocks from Starry — the neighbourhood is packed with tourists. Ryo thought about how in the brief time Kessoku’s been a global hit they’ve put Shimokitazawa on the map, and that’s made their parking situation even worse, with Starry being a minor attraction; she couldn’t even get a drink from the vending machine downstairs without being hassled by some indie J-rock fan eager to visit all the places depicted on their album art.
Starry is closed, though, on account of Seika and Otogi’s holiday, and so the curious tourists aren’t really there tonight.
Which gives them a bit of peace, the two of them think. The duo walk past the Dawwson and grab dinner, before heading up the lift to their apartment.
They both take a bath - the warm water soothing the soul in the cold December night.
Work had taken a toll on the two of them. Being in an office for a 9-5 was novel at first; Nijika and Ryo’s colleagues knew about Kessoku Band and would ask prying questions, imagining that perhaps it was some sort of Retsuko-like scenario where they bitched about office work in cryptic death metal screeching.
And the two would soon understand why Ret-chan would hole up in a karaoke room to scream after work.
The office was so stifling; code requests would come in about a computer that was breaking down halfway around the world, and the two would have had just an hour to attempt to resolve and implement a solution. That went well most of the time, but things would break, yet again, usually because of human error; Ryo could sometimes see Nijika’s expression change in real-time as she realises exactly why something went wrong and who caused the problem.
Then came lunch breaks and the incessant jokes about getting the band back together. Colleagues peppered Ryo and Nijika with questions about how Bocchi was like, and after seeing Kita on TV next to a candidate for the Tokyo Metropolitan Assembly during election season, they started asking about her, too.
Weekdays started becoming an unrecognisable blur; the two would wake up, prepare to go to work, do the job they were paid to do, commute home during rush hour, eat something warm, say a few words to Seika, then go to sleep cuddling while listening to the faint sound from live bands playing at Starry.
This Friday was different, but same, somehow.
“Remember we need to leave at 9am tomorrow, so pack your overnight bag today,” Nijika had said in the morning.
The Mount Hakone trip was planned right after Seika and Otogi had announced their Singapore holiday.
“It’s always so cold and snowy here in December,” Seika had said, peering at some tourism website. “Singapore would be a nice place to live in; if only my English was better. Summer? All year round? I’d love it.”
Ryo and Nijika haven’t had time off in months, haven't had quality time in months, haven’t had sex in months, either. Work for five days, recoup for two. Rinse and repeat. So Nijika took the initiative to book a room at a ryokan on Mount Hakone, since they could use the van.
They weren’t exactly excited for the trip; while driving was Nijika’s strong suit (she’d been driving the band equipment around in the van ever since she passed her driving test) it also took a lot out of her. People drive badly. At first it was anxiety-inducing - but now it was more anger-inducing; she once scared Bocchi while cursing out a truck that slammed on the brakes while on their way to Sendai for a festival.
Still, a break is a break, and the duo would finally be spending that long deserved quality time together.
Ryo crawls into the warm duvet, the desire to sleep taking over her very core.
“Have you packed your overnight bag?” Nijika asks, hands on her hips.
“I’ll… finish that tomorrow…”
Nijika glanced over to the side, noticing that her own bag is half-packed, and… well, she could just drive a bit faster tomorrow, plus check-in would only be at 11am anyway. She crawls into bed and plants a tender kiss on Ryo’s forehead.
She falls asleep, and dreams about code.
The sunlight of the clear blue dawn shines through the window of their apartment above Starry. It’s quiet; birds start to chirp as life starts to stir outside. The occasional pickup passes by on its way to deliver the day’s newspapers and fresh milk to the Dawwson next door. A stray cat stretches out, her breathing producing little puffs of mist on the winter air. She yawns. Light snow falls and immediately melts on the windowsill. The heaters whir quietly.
Ryo stirs and finds herself facing a sleeping Nijika; her scent ever present on the sheets, her hair beautifully glinting in the morning light.
It’s a sight that she’s used to now. Having lived alone with parents who weren’t always there, waking up to an alarm clock and getting dressed for school, she’s glad to have someone in her life, at least.
Someone who loved her, and who didn't just put up with her.
Ryo pats Nijika's head, feeling her distinctive triangular cowlick endearingly compress under her palm. “Cute,” she muses to herself.
The peace is interrupted by the shrill phone alarm that Nijika’s set. She stirs a little, and her wispy, pale hands tap on the tiny button that says Dismiss. The alarm stops.
Ryo stumbles out of bed and starts making her way to the washroom with her toothbrush. It’s unusual for her to wake up first, but she has to pack her bag anyway; she knows how Nijika can get if vacations don’t go to plan.
The alarm beeps again, this time from Ryo’s phone, and Ryo makes a few quick steps to stop it from ringing. No harm if Nijika catches a few more Zs, she thinks.
It’s 8.15am, and Ryo’s doing her morning skincare routine. Toner, a layer of moisturizer and then sunblock. Ryo feels a warm draft tickle her neck, just as she closes her eyes on the last step.
“Morning, dear~”
A groggy Nijika, who’d just awoken to an empty bed, peppers her girlfriend with soft kisses, her cowlick polishing the stud embedded in her earlobe.
Ryo checks her phone as Nijika detaches from her, making her way to the toilet.
Bocchi’s sleep cycle is wack, again, and she’s been posting memes at 3am on the LOINE group chat. Before that, though, she was with Kikuri, watching the band Katyusha! (カチューシャ!!) by Yui Hirasawa play at a live house.
The chat is peppered with blurry stage photos of Hirasawa in a long dress, killing it on that Les Paul that made her famous in Hokago Tea Time - her previous school band - some years ago. Ryo starts to text.
Kessoku Band!
8:17 AM
Ryo: she kinda looks like you bocchi
Kita: Yeah!! Like a younger version!!!
Ryo: you’re always up this early……
Kita: Mhm!!! And you guys are going to that big trip to Hakone today right? Have fun!!!
Ryo: yeah
Ryo: how’s work?
Kita launches into a laundry list of troubles, each a little bubble popping up on the group chat as Ryo packs up everything they need for this day trip - lotion, toner, charger, tablet, her medication.
Her rants pop up, to be briefly read, registered and dismissed - from her interactions with this transgender homeless shelter to preparing for the next legislative session to how the assemblywoman - her boss - is stressing out over this gaffe that’s all over SNS.
Kessoku Band!
8:19 AM
Nijika: sounds rough…
Nijika: honestly the gaffe was sort of funny!
Nijika: mistaking austria with australia wwwwww
Nijika: did she not take basic geography?
Ryo: oi get off the toilet ijichi
Ryo: we have to pack
Kita:ヽ(°〇°)ﾉ Ryo-senpai as the responsible one???!!!!
Ryo: (￣ ￣|||)
Ryo hears the sound of flushing and the sink running, and sets down her phone. She zips up the backpack, and starts getting dressed, as Nijika goes into the kitchen and starts making some coffee for the road.
It would be 9.15am when the two bundle into the van and drive off. Nijika seems a bit more relaxed, despite the time.
Saturday morning traffic out of Tokyo was a bit more relaxing than usual, and it wouldn’t take long before they reach National Route 1, the sea shimmering on their left.
The van was roomy; designed to hold the band’s many amps, and still leave room for her and Kita (or Nijika and Ryo) to have hot steamy make out sessions. It stood out; the blocky pink HiEight had a huge Kessoku Band decal on the side (at Seika’s behest).
Seika would remove the decal after one too many tourists started taking pictures of the van; the band’s logo still leaves an imperfect imprint.
Nijika thinks about that trip to Sendai.
The traffic was just plain insane. National Route 6 had closed after a typhoon, and it was close to midnight. The highway was only lit at the junctions, leaving the lingering red glow tail lights as the only way Nijika could tell that there was another driver.
Bocchi was huddled up right on Kita’s lap, asleep. Ryo was struggling to keep herself awake so she could act as a lookout, in case some truck decided to jackknife across the Tohoku Expressway for no reason.
“Kita-chan… are you… touching my…?” Nijika hears Bocchi‘s soft, groggy voice from the backseat as she rolls over, her head in Kita’s lap. In the dimly lit interior, from the rear view mirror, Nijika could barely make out Kita’s hands under Bocchi’s tracksuit, her fingers teasing her mounds.
The streetlamps briefly light up, and Ryo and Nijika can see Bocchi’s pants tent a little. Bocchi lets out a small moan.
Nijika breaks out of her daydream; back on National Route 1, she makes a smooth turn left northward into Sakawa in Odawara, where they make a stop at Danny’s.
The warm American diner had coffee and scrambled eggs, nothing unusual - but it was Ryo’s favourite, a treasured childhood memory from when she went to the United States as a child being towed along by her parents to medical conferences.
The eggs were at least better than the literal weeds that she used to eat.
Their food arrives together. Just as Nijika registers the cold of the metal utensils on her fingers, her ears pick up a quick itadakimasu.
She snaps her head back up, only to see Ryo practically pouring the food down her throat, picking up morsels, chewing them and swallowing them in a measurable tempo. Nijika sighs.
“You’d still just shove anything into your mouth, huh? Even when they were piping hot?” Nijika critiques. “I was so mad when you wouldn’t savour the A5 wagyu beef I cooked at our last anniversary.”
Ryo shovels another spoonful of hot scrambled egg into her face. She chuckles, a little, and gulps. “It’s just… food, I suppose.”
“But I spent like 3,000 yen on it! And it was all gone in, what, 5 minutes? I asked you how it tasted like, and you were like, ‘meh’.” Nijika replies, making a perfect impression of Ryo’s monotonous dispassionate voice. “I had the candlelight dinner set up and everything, and you were done with the main course in like, 10 minutes.”
“I— well… it’s just food… to me,” Ryo says, remorse breaking through her blank facade. “Nijika, I love you. Of course I love the effort you put into it, you work so hard all the time! But… I don’t know if I could taste the difference between an A5 wagyu beef and a regular steak… it’s all the same to me.”
Nijika smiles a little, and snorts. “Of course you can’t, you’re constantly searing off your taste buds with piping-hot food. Whatever happened to ‘my tastiness sensor never fails?’”
Ryo stuffs the last strip of bacon into her mouth, leaving only a spoonful of coleslaw left on her plate; the butter buns on Nijika’s plate are still warm. She relentfully giggles. Steam rises from the mug of tea still on their diner table; she nibbles on another bun.
They watch the traffic pass by.
The pink van makes several loopy turns along National Route 1 as the forests approach, as a thin fog draped overhead. It struggles a little along the mountainous route as the trees pass by.
Crosswind - the 1970s Japanese prog rock band - is playing on the car stereo.
They pass by the sign that says National Route One Highest Point. Ryo takes a moment to joke about how “it’s all downhill from here”.
The buildings and forests all clear, and they see the sunlight glinting off Lake Ashi for the first time in a while. It shimmers in the winter sun, surrounded by snowy slopes.
It’s a while till they check into an inn overlooking the lake, close to the famed torii in the lake.
Nijika flops dramatically on the bed as she lets out a sigh, as Ryo sets down their luggage. The room has a classic modern Western hotel vibe, with a phone that connected to a concierge and lamps that glowed a warm white.
They’re only here to set down their bags, though; Nijika had a full day planned. They were first going to visit the shrine, then go to Owakudani, and then to the art museum, then to another shrine…
“I’m done… no more climbing…” Ryo says, limped onto a railing. They’re at the top of Kintoki Shrine, where Nijika makes an offering.
“Aw, but I wanted to see the sunset from Mount Kintoki…”
Golden rays shine upon the torii. Ryo’s hands are clasped around Nijika’s; they’re slightly cold. Clouds of vapor shine yellow before dissipating with each breath. Ryo looks at Nijika’s blond hair glinting in the golden hour; she notices wrinkles, from the stresses of life on her face, faint but sure, a mark of the years that have passed since they first met in their youth.
“It’s alright, I think we can go,” Nijika sighs.
It’s odd, how Nijika and Ryo are 26 and yet feel so old at the same time.
Bocchi once said she didn’t think she’d live past 21. And then she was 21. Surrounded by friends on her 21st birthday, she had started bawling right on her cake. Crying, with big globs of tears flowing down her face, some of them imprinting onto the cake below.
“What do I do now?” she asked.
The rest of the band would have expected Hitori to still have a life past her 21st birthday.
The year before, somehow, the four members of Kessoku were allowed a gap year to pursue their band activities; they didn’t know their universities deemed them worthy of such a favour. They played at every sort of live house, and at festivals of all sizes; from Punkspring in Osaka (their second time), to a brief performance at Budokan, to live houses in Sapporo.
Despite her newfound fame as Kessoku’s star guitarist, Hitori still found it hard to make friends. Especially since she enrolled in a small private university in Yokohama studying art and film, while the rest of the band were at Tokyo Metropolitan — Kita was studying social sciences, while Nijika dragged Ryo into her computer science degree.
Hitori once again found herself alone, and it was still just as hard to talk to people.
She took a huge swig from a carton of onikoroshi.
“It’s… I don’t know. Is there a life beyond all of this? I can’t just… accept that I would live past 21…”
None of her bandmates had an answer.
The sun starts setting behind the hills, and the pair start walking back to the van.
It was dark when they got to the gyoza restaurant in the foothills near Gora; traffic had gotten heavier as more tourists arrived at Hakone.
The gyoza restaurant was packed, way more than the two were comfortable with. Loud babies and a cacophony of tourists speaking in a mix of soft-spoken German, brash English, loud Mandarin, and gentle Thai, none of which the two really understood.
All that was somewhat overwhelming, so Ryo pops open her phone again, absent-mindedly scrolling Tumbla, Twitta and Issta. She shows a couple of cute cat videos to Nijika, who chuckles as they wait for their gyoza; in the distance, Ryo can hear the them sizzle in the kitchen.
The pair get shrimp gyoza with rice; the miso soup felt warming, and as usual Ryo was done way before Nijika even finished half her plate. Despite having just devoured her meal, Ryo looks at the gyoza between Nijika’s chopsticks like a hungry cat.
“Can I have some more?” Ryo asks, as she brings her chopsticks closer to Nijika’s dumplings; Nijika makes a brief feint with her chopsticks, but concedes anyway.
“You know you can always mooch off of me,” Nijika says. “From now until eternity.”
A radiant grin appears on Ryo’s face.
“From now until eternity.”
They head back to the van after dinner, and drive home; twilight engulfed all of Hakone, and as they made their way back up National Route 1, with the red glow of a tour bus beaming through the van’s windshield, Nijika once again thought back to the time the band was heading up to Sendai in this very van.
The red glow of the semi-truck’s brake lights on the Tohoku Expressway was the only thing keeping Nijika awake then - and as she peered into the rear-view mirror, she saw Kita with her eyes half closed, her hand underneath Bocchi’s tracksuit.
Suddenly, she heard soft moans, but unquestionably, they did not originate from the back; it was not of Bocchi’s, nor Kita’s, but of Ryo’s. She looked across only to see Ryo decidedly pleasuring herself; her pants most of the way down her buttocks, giving her full access to tease and tend to her pent up arousal; an arousal fed by the image of Kita and Bocchi feeling themselves up in the rear view mirror.
Nijika’s eyes widened, hot blood rushing to her face — but the red glow of the semi’s brake lights suddenly flashed ahead, and Nijika instinctively slammed on the brake.
Inertia propelled Kita’s head into the front seat, and she stirred. “What happened?” Kita said, peering forward.
“Ryo-senpai, why’s your cock out?”
That scene would soon etch itself deep within Nijika’s memories.
Bocchi had also been similarly stunned, naturally, she was mortified. “D-d-did we almost get into a crash?” she asked with a shaky voice.
“I… I was only trying to keep myself awake,” Ryo stammered, slowly stowing away her parts in poorly veiled shame.
Nijika chortled as she filtered into the next lane, overtaking the semi on the freeway. “Fuck, is this guy for real?” Nijika curses, as she watched the semi reverse to try to turn into the exit it nearly missed. “God, can people pay attention on the road?”
The van erupts in fits of laughter afterward.
“What do you want to watch?” Nijika asks.
The two are sitting in the bathtub in warm, comfy water, Nijika’s forehead brushing up against the back of Ryo’s head; the pastel pink and blue swirls of the bath bomb they dipped into the tub wrapped around them. The humidity and warmth of the private bathroom was nice, way better than an onsen.
Ryo had always hated onsens; she felt an aversion since her early teens. Being naked around unfamiliar people who’d watch and judge your every move seemed oppressive to her. When she was 14, before she joined her first band, Ryo handed a fistful of money to the local tattoo parlour and asked for them to tattoo something, anything, on her back. Naturally, they turned her down.
So when she turned 18 she tried again, this time with Nijika in tow.
The drawing of a cat holding a bass on her arm hurt at first; then it itched. Dousing warm water on it felt soothing, something she described to Nijika as “the best feeling in the world”; and while her bandmates were well aware of her aversion to an onsen by then (Bocchi’s immediate reaction: “Me too!”) she finally had an excuse to not step foot into an onsen, ever.
“Hm. How about something in the Truck-kun series?” Ryo suggests.
Nijika has a tablet in hand, holding it off to the side. “You always want to watch that! I know it’s a satirical take on the isekai genre, but it’s not worth hate-watching.”
“It is funny, how the protagonist was isekaied into a truck in a world of trucks… remember her first reaction when she hit someone?”
Nijika giggles a bit. “Yeah, but it all went downhill when it turned out that Truckland and this world were both parallel universes… I mean, the truck yuri was fascinating, but still.”
She looks at her tablet.
“Hm. Sousou no Frieren seems… interesting,” she says.
Nijika taps the elf on her tablet, setting it on the bathtub lip, and the first notes of the theme plays. The elf traverses the great lands of the fantasy setting she lives in; retracing the footsteps of the friends she made decades ago in her first epic quest.
The show was bingeworthy for sure, but Nijika wasn’t paying attention; the memory of their time in the van to Sendai filled her head.
Nijika finds her hand meandering to Ryo’s soft and slumped member; still pliant. She bends it upwards, teasingly drawing circles around the circumference of Ryo’s tip. Ripples flit across the surface of the warm water, steam still rising.
Her other hand strums the bass the little cat is holding on Ryo’s arm, and she giggles a little. “That tickles!”
On her tablet, the elf is training a young apprentice to blast a hole in a rock.
Catching on to what Nijika is doing, Ryo turns around a little and looks into her eyes. Nijika briefly glows a bright pink; she can’t help it, years in the relationship and she still feels like the teenage Ryo in high school, her heart fluttering each time she smiled.
Nijika feels Ryo reach in between her legs, her palm beginning to press on her warmth. Ryo’s manicured fingers trace the edges of Nijika’s slit, and dance around her nub; they then find their way up to her breasts and flit about her nipples, which were starting to stand at attention.
Nijika purrs as she feels a warmth build up in her, something that she only felt while with Ryo, even during the torrid romance the four of them had.
Living together, rehearsing together every day before they all went back to university, the four bandmates fell in love with each other. The cuddle piles; the kisses, the not very chaste hugs; the strange look Seika gave all four of them when Nijika told her that “somehow, we’re all dating each other”.
Still, despite the love she felt for her other bandmates, Nijika only had her eyes for Ryo.
She can feel Ryo’s arousal building now; it pulses lightly in want, yearning for more of her touch. Ryo, gripped by that lust, pulls Nijika closer as they spoon in the bathtub. Twisting around, being careful not to tip over their precariously balanced tablet, Ryo sprinkles the nape of Nijika’s neck with kisses, her wet, golden hair reaching down to tickle her face.
Meanwhile, the young apprentice has since succeeded in blasting a hole in the rock, and the elf realises that her old friend has tricked her into bringing her young apprentice along with her journey.
Ryo reaches over and taps the screen on Nijika’s tablet, and the elf pauses mid-sentence. She gives Nijika a long kiss; her tongue intertwining with Nijika’s, as she continues to purr in approval. Ryo breaks from the kiss, glancing at the neediness in Nijika’s eyes.
“Let’s… go to bed?” Ryo asks, breathless. They’ve done this for so many times, and it still leaves her heart racing. At this point her arousal feels almost painfully stiff, and it pulsates ever so slightly. Its tip peeked out from the water, setting off ripples across the placid surface.
Nijika playfully taps on Ryo’s tip like a microphone, each tap sending a pulse of sheer yearning down Ryo’s legs and up her core.
“I suppose she’s ready to play?” Nijika giggles a little.
She drains the bathtub as Ryo stows the tablet away; and as the two of them get into the shower Nijika instinctively grabs onto Ryo’s arousal again, fondling it, kneading it as it continues to throb.
Nijika is more proactive this time; wrapping her other arm around Ryo’s hip and bringing her closer, as she starts kissing her on the spots she knew Ryo loved, too - the back of her ears, her cheek, and her collarbone. Piling it on, Nijika’s hand slowly traced upward beside Ryo’s spine, starting from her tailbone. She applies just the right amount of pressure on certain spots, causing Ryo to jerk, letting out a soft moan each time.
“Those spots are as sensitive as ever~” Nijika teases.
Ryo, fully enthralled in her pleasure, could barely muster a response. Her damp blue hair wraps around her, flopping about in the shower as soapy water is washed off the two of them.
It doesn’t take long after the two of them dry off that Nijika finds herself on top of Ryo, staring deep into her eyes. Ryo’s arousal is more palpable than ever, and the warmth and want the two of them had continued to build. Familiar with Ryo’s body, Nijika starts lowering herself onto her arousal; only for Ryo to grab a hold of her arms and push her right onto the bed, her limbs splayed across the white sheets.
“You’ve been working so hard… it’s fine if I’m on top once in a while, isn’t it?” Ryo pants, pinning Nijika to the sheets by her shoulders.
Bright red, Nijika nods to give Ryo the go-ahead. “Wow, I haven't seen this side of Ryo in forever,” she teases, smugness apparent in her expression.
Ryo starts tickling the side of Nijika’s waist in retaliation, causing her to yell out, shuddering violently, as she tries to grab onto and claw at Ryo’s arms.
“Hey! S-stop that…!” Nijika protests, giggles leaking through her words.
The two almost lose stability, nearly collapsing into a messy pile, but Ryo retains her composure; her lips curl into a sly, desire-filled grin.
She can’t take it anymore; Ryo’s arousal finds itself right at Nijika’s wet slit as she slips right into place, filling Nijika with her warmth.
Nijika feels the pressure of Ryo’s perky breasts on top of her; the weight of Ryo an anchor, keeping her in a state of bliss. She whimpers, a little, as Ryo’s throbbing tumescence thrusts into her. Ryo’s arousal is stiff with intent, yet exhibiting a gentle softness at the same time; Nijika feels all of Ryo inside her as her body crests forward, up her chest. She could then feel Ryo withdraw, before letting herself back inside her, each thrust forming an ebb and flow as the urgent warmth in Nijika builds.
Ryo can feel Nijika’s heart beat as her palms press on her chest, kneading her breasts, with each thrust she can feel Nijika tighten around her, with each thrust she hears her soft, melodious moans ring out in the room, and by the gods, it all makes Ryo want her more. Raising herself up momentarily, Ryo looks into Nijika’s brown eyes. She looks away shyly, her hands gripping onto the sheets, her expression contorting into one of pleasure.
That picture alone causes Ryo to spasm with excitement.
“How are you feeling?” she asks, panting.
“Fuck me, Ryo… Please…!” Nijika whined. Ryo feels Nijika’s wetness tighten around her as she says that; Nijika reaches out and latches onto one of Ryo’s breasts, fondling it sensually; her fingers twirl around Ryo’s pert nipple.
Ryo purrs, the sensation in her lower abdomen building with each knead of her breasts. She’s overpowered by a fast-growing, carnal drive to start fucking her lover; her slim frame carrying an almost electric, feral energy as her cock pushes inside Nijika; slow at first, but quickly building to a buck wild thrusting into her pussy, intensifying as Ryo’s own climax built, the waves of arousal radiating all throughout her body.
All the while, Nijika gives in to her own need, only wishing to make it easy for Ryo. With every thrust, she bucks her hips up towards Ryo, making sure to fully engulf her love. With every thrust, ever so slightly, her legs spread further, and raise up higher, all so Ryo could have the space and the freedom to be deep within her.
The duo’s moans intensified, almost like a call and response; Nijika would moan softly after Ryo’s involuntary whimper, and Ryo would then moan again as she plunged inside Nijika. Nijika and Ryo’s love filled the room with squelches, pants, moans, and grunts.
“Fuck, Nijika…! I’m r-really close…!”
“Yes! Please…! Cum for me…!” Nijika pleads, and just as the words leave her mouth, Ryo yells, waves of pleasure crashing into her at their maximum. Nijika feels Ryo pulsate inside her as she thrusts deep inside her one final time, and that sets her over the edge too; she grabs on to Ryo as she cries out, the pleasure overwhelming her mind and body, her fingernails digging into Ryo’s back as she clutches on, a passenger to her own orgasm.
The two finally collapse into a heap, panting and giggling; the faint warmth of their climaxes pervading their senses. They lie for a bit, catching their breath, staring at the ceiling; the flowery wallpaper, once plain, now feels a bit more colourful.
“N-Nijika… I love you…” Ryo utters, peppering kisses on Nijika’s forehead; they hold each other close in a tight embrace.
“Ah… Ryo… I love you too…”
Still entwined together, both Ryo and Nijika’s phones buzz; with Ryo slumped, exhausted and motionless on top of Nijika, it would be hard for either of them to check what it was. Nijika gives Ryo a few quick smacks on her cat tattoo, commanding her to roll over. Ryo does so, lethargically flopping onto her side, her arousal finally disconnecting from Nijika’s; the length of which is covered in both their juices.
Nijika reaches over to her phone and tapped on the notification, it was Kita with a picture of herself at yet another live house, Bocchi’s pink hair slightly cropped out of frame.
Nijika feels Ryo start spooning her from behind, nuzzling into the back of her head, and arms wrapping around her waist. The two sink into their mattress, too comfortable in their catharsis to even move, or think.
Bocchi-chan, Kita-chan, let us just lay like this for a bit, she thinks.
More than an hour passes before Nijika replies to the group chat.
Kessoku Band!
10:32 PM
Kita sent an image.
11:56 PM
Nijika: looks like you’re having fun! www
Kita: Maybe we’ll come and find you!!
Kita: Are you two having a good time?
Nijika: yeah….
Nijika: we definitely are having a good time
Nijika: ⁄(⁄ ⁄•⁄ω⁄•⁄ ⁄)⁄
Nijika blushes, and sets her phone down. “We definitely are having a good time,” she muses to herself.
The two spend the night cuddling under the sheets, basking in that post-coital glow.
“Remember when Kita-chan confessed to Bocchi-chan?” Ryo asks, mumbling.
“Of course I do! That was right after you told me you liked Kita-chan,” Nijika smiles.
This was during their very first practice session after Mikakunin Riot; for another live festival. They’d been in the middle of rehearsing If I Was A Constellation.
The band’s practiced it for so long, the notes and lyrics were seared into their collective memory; it came naturally to them, but Bocchi was adamant that they keep practicing it; after all, it was one of the band’s most requested songs at live shows. It was stunning how at larger venues they’d be inundated with yells of “Encore!” and “Play it again!” after; Bocchi would often just look dazed, worn out.
Or that could just be her normal expression, Ryo reasoned.
The last note of Constellation rings out, and Bocchi looks… distraught. Scared, even. She wasn’t like that with the crew often, so Kita naturally asked: “What’s wrong, Hitori-chan?”
“Have you… ever thought of the lyrics to this song?” Bocchi responded.
“All the time,” Kita said. “It’s a love song, isn’t it? Ryo-senpai once said to write how you feel in your lyrics…”
“Yes, she did,” Bocchi replied. She peered at Ryo a little, sweat making her pink hair cling to her face.
She looked so sheepish and anxious, Ryo thought.
“I always thought it was about us,” Nijika said. “Bocchi-chan, didn’t you write this… about us?”
“Kita-chan… all this time you’ve sung the lyrics; I hear you hum the song in the shower…” Bocchi continued. “Do you really know what it means, and why I wrote it?”
“It’s a love letter, isn’t it?” Kita replied. “It’s a love letter from you, to me.”
Bocchi starts crying. “It took you so long to realise that…” she sobbed. “Do you not like me?”
Kita inhaled sharply. She knew her love for Bocchi was reciprocated, but a sharp anger rises up within her. How could Bocchi have not known?
But Kita was also keenly aware of how the other bandmates felt around her. How Ryo sometimes clung onto Kita after practice. How Nijika would stick with Bocchi and pat her head. How Ryo would sometimes comb Bocchi’s pink hair with her fingers, even on camera; acts of intimacy that she’d thought was friendly, but held so much more meaning.
“I love you! I want to be a constellation with you!” Kita exclaimed. I want you to be a constellation with me. “Don’t you see that, you fucking goofball?”
She stared at Bocchi’s blue eyes, watery and swirling, like a sun-dappled pool. Nijika and Ryo watched the two; Ryo feeling this sense of heartbreak, and Nijika all too aware of it.
Could they not be a constellation? Together?
A constellation is made up of many stars.
Ryo makes a wish.
“I don’t know if we were destined to be together, but I think I had fun,” Ryo says, as she shuts off the bedside lamp in the ryokan. “I had fun with you, Kita-chan and Bocchi-chan. But ultimately I—”
Ryo hears Nijika’s faint snores and stops talking; she sits up and leans over, glancing at her girlfriend’s face; Ryo notices that she has fallen asleep.
Ryo slumps back onto the bed, wrapping around Nijika’s waist once more with a soft smile on her face.
She closes her eyes, and dreams of the four of them, together.