Chapter Text
“The grief you hold in your heart, would you like to wish it all away?”
_____________________
For as long as Toya can remember, he has been a caged bird, longing for the skies.
He remembers being 5, being forced to practice at the piano long hours daily in order to ace his upcoming piano examination.
He remembers being 8, begging his father to let him go to the school festival, only to be met with harsh words and even harsher rejection.
Now, he is 16, still stuck in the ever-tightening cage of piano keys and violin strings, and he wonders, what would it be like to be free?
So, the bird strains against the cage, in pursuit of an endless sky, throwing itself against its bars over and over again. But the cage does not relent, as after all, a cage is made of cold metal, and a bird is made of soft flesh.
Again and again, he tries to stand up to his father. Tries to tell him that he doesn’t want to constantly be away for competitions, to tell him that this path wasn’t what he wanted, to tell him that he wishes to experience his own life, but his words fall on deaf ears.
And so, watching the horizon of a place he is never allowed to reach, hearing the eternal grey tones of the music he’s forced to play, Toya breaks. He screams at his father, louder than he thought he was even capable of, and he runs.
He runs along the dimly lit streets, without any thought as to where he is going, just that he needs to escape.
When he finally has it in himself to stop, he finds, panting, that he is in a park overlooking a cliff. A faint wind rustles the leaves on the trees gently, and the light of the full moon casts them in a silver glow. Below, he can see the glaring lights of bustling streets.
And he wonders-
What now?
He’s run away from home, albeit temporarily, but regardless, he has still enraged his father. There is no doubt in him that he will not be welcomed when he returns.
He has escaped to a place far from his cage, yet he is alone and disoriented. The crickets chirp loudly in his ear, a high pitched and uncomfortable noise. He tries to fill his heart with the shining lights illuminating the streets below, but finds it as empty and defeated as ever.
The bird escapes the cage, only to find itself stranded in the middle of a desolate forest, with nothing familiar to call home. In its despair, it sits on the forest floor, staring up at the starry expanse of the sky it once longed to see.
It feels so empty.
What has he achieved by running away? He is now simply an ungrateful failure, who could not endure the gilded cage it lived in.
Perhaps he should have just stayed in his cage.
Pęrhæps hẽ shœůlð hâvę nēvëř ŵįßhèď țǒ bę fřéẽ.
Pẽřħąpş ļįfė ĩțşełf įß ħïş ćæğę, åņď œñļŷ ıņ ďẽäťħ ŵįļł ħę bě fřẽę.
And in the eerily quiet night, Aoyagi Toya stands at the edge of the cliff, and allows himself to plummet.
The next thing Toya knows, something is gripping the back of his shirt, and he is unceremoniously yanked up and back onto safe ground.
“Jeez, that was a close one, wasn’t it?”
A boy stands before him, a grappling hook in his hand that swiftly retracts back into a microphone. He’s wearing an orange-brown cape with light brown leather armor underneath, accentuated by yellows and oranges at the ends of the outfits. A gem as orange as his fiery hair rests on his left chest, attached to the rest of his outfit by a small black chain.
It’s only when he finally takes his eyes off the strangely dressed boy, that he notices with a jolt that his surroundings have changed. Gone are the tall trees of the park, and the glaring lights of the city. Instead, he stands in what seems to be a waterfall in a forest, drawn hastily by a child’s hand with chalk. A grotesque mass resides in the middle of the waterfall, some sort of mysterious brown goop falling off its body and dyeing its clear water an ugly brown-green.
Where is he?
What is that?
And more importantly, what-
What was he about to do?
He opens his mouth to seek answers, but all that comes out is a tiny, confused squeak.
The boy freezes for a second, before replying, “Right, I have to explain this shit, don’t I? I’ll, uh, do it later, but mind if I settle some business first?”
The microphone in his hand crackles to life again, its head opening up to form the claws of the grappling hook once more. He flings it towards a nearby tree, and takes off the ground with agility. The goopy mess roars to life too, somehow, and tries to bombard him with the gloop, which misses the mark almost comically, but burns a deep hole into everything it hits.
The boy dodges the relentless bombardment for a while, until the movements of the mass finally slow, and there is a pause in its attacks. It’s then that he stops, musters his best throwing position, and flings-
A rock.
A rock? An opening finally presents itself and he throws a puny rock? Do either of them have any hope at making it out of this alive?
Toya’s eyes follow the rock as it sails in a smooth arc , and it inches closer to the mass of goop where it is sure to be corroded into nothing. And against all known laws of Physics-
It detonates with the force of a military grade bomb, causing the mass to explode into a million droplets of goo, which promptly disintegrates into nothingness. The chalky landscape slowly phases out, and in its place stands the nightscape of the park.
The boy, in an orange flash of light, changes his outfit to a regular hoodie and pants, before picking up a strange object on the ground and somewhat begrudgingly walking over to him, “So, there’s that, I guess. Any questions?”
Oh, a lot of them. Starting with the most obvious:
“What was that… gloopy thing that you exploded?”
The boy's eyebrows raise slightly, “You could see it?”
“It’s a bit hard to miss.” He replies dryly, letting some of the snark he has when arguing with his father leak into his tone.
“You‘d be surprised.” The boy snorts in amusement, “That was a witch. They’re creatures who spread despair and kill people… or something. And I’m a magical boy, so I get powers and fight them, I guess. I wasn’t really listening to the debrief. ”
“…Right. And, uh, just now, when I… fell off the cliff, that was because of the “witch” thing, right?”
The boy’s lopsided grin falls from his face at that question, and he stares at him with his sharp green eyes before replying, “That witch was a weak one. So it’s incapable of… creating those thoughts, it can only amplify what’s already there.”
Oh.
Toya averts his eyes away from the boy’s intense gaze. A silence falls upon them, causing the crickets’ chirping to return, crescendoing into a high-pitched wail. In spite of how irritating it is, he can’t find it in himself to cut it off.
Because what is he supposed to say to that?
“God, An would be better going about this witch stuff than me. She’s the extravert.” In the end, it’s the boy who breaks the silence first, grumbling to himself, “But, anyways, I’m going to go to a cafe, want to come with?”
“…Okay.”
“Great. I’m Akito, by the way. Shinonome Akito.”
“…Aoyagi Toya.”
_____________________
He is led to a place called Vivid Street, which is lined with bright neon signs from its various bars and cafes. Loud singing emanates from the live houses they pass, accompanied by pounding beats and an electronic backing track. The voices he hears are clearly classically untrained, wavering from the intended tune occasionally in a way that his father would no doubt scoff at, though he personally finds the raw emotion in their inexperienced voices comforting.
The cafe in question is a small establishment by the name of Weekend Garage somewhere in the middle of the street. Its lights are still on, revealing a middle-aged man washing a coffee cup inside. It has a well-decorated but empty interior, most certainly due to the fact that the sign at the door is marked “CLOSED”.
In a truly stunning display of literacy, Shinonome pushes the door open anyways.
The man looks up hearing the creak of the door, but there is no flicker of surprise when he sees Shinonome, “Ah, Akito. I take it that the mission was a success?”
“Yep, I managed to kill the witch really quickly. Aoyagi here was caught up in the fighting, so I brought him here to regain his bearings a little, if you don’t mind.” Shinonome replies, pushing him forward a little to introduce him to the man. He tries his best to muster a smile, hoping to seem polite and friendly.
“I see. Nice to meet you, Aoyagi. The name’s Ken Shiraishi.” The man nods back in greeting, before turning back to Shinonome, “An’s in the back, Akito, in case you were wondering. I assume you’ll have your usual then?”
“Yeah, you know me. Aoyagi, you want anything? Anything from Ken's is good.” Shinonome answers with a grin on his face.
Toya startles a little at the sudden question, not expecting his presence to be acknowledged again. He’s… unfortunately not very experienced with anything offered by cafes, so he ponders if he should just pass on the offer. Then again, would it be considered rude to go into a cafe and not order anything? He doesn’t want to make a bad first impression, so he decided to just stick to something conventional, “I’ll have a black coffee, please.”
No sooner than the words leave his mouth, Shinonome tugs him towards the back of the cafe, ignoring the yelp of surprise he lets out, “Right, now that that’s settled, I’ll introduce you to An. She’s really annoying on a good day, but she also knows more about witches and stuff than I do, so you’ll probably be interested in meeting her.”
Toya is not too sure about that. “Extravert” is a rather concerning title to be called, even if he is childhood friends with Tsukasa, who is probably the loudest person in all of existence.
An, as it turns out, is a girl about their age with long, flowing black hair that fades into dark blue tips. She is wearing an oversized teal and white jacket, with neon green accents at the end. Her amber eyes are focused on a music video that’s playing loudly on her phone, so much so that she doesn’t even notice him and Shinonome approaching.
“Yo, An. Guess who got your dirty business done for you.” She looks up at Shinonome’s words, staring for a moment before a large mischievous smile overtakes her face and she practically leaps forward to greet them.
“Akito! My worst apprentice! You actually beat the witch? Oh, I’m so proud of you~” She raises her hand in a clearly exaggerated motion as if to ruffle Shinonome’s hair, which Shinonome quickly deflects with his hand, hissing like an angry cat.
“An, stop doing that! Also, I told you I’m not your apprentice!”
She gasps in mock offense, “And who was the one who had to save your ass from that really strong witch that one time? Surely after that, I get mentor rights! Also, who’s the new guy?”
“Some guy I saved from the witch. Brought him here to recuperate and stuff. Name’s Aoyagi Toya. Aoyagi, this is Shiraishi An.” Shinonome replies grumpily. At this, Toya politely waves a little, trying to ignore the way that Shiraishi’s eyes are narrowed and trained on him.
“Speaking of which,” Shinonome continues, mich to Toya’s relief, “Was that the Miku song I introduced to you last week?”
“Sure is! I’m trying to improve my singing for this part of the chorus, but it’s really fast.” She replays the part of the song in question for them to listen. The melody itself is quite simple, but for some reason, the producer saw fit to not only make the tempo absurdly quick, but also add some ornamentation on some of the notes. Truly, his heart goes out for Shiraishi and any others attempting to sing this song.
Shinonome perks up upon hearing the part, “I’ve actually been practicing this part for a bit, do you mind if I try?”
Shiraishi nods in response, slightly raising her eyebrows in interest.
There’s a pause, and then Shinonome breaks out into song.
His voice definitely shares some of the flaws the other singers he heard earlier has, wavering slightly on the long notes and sometimes with a little too much air. He also misses a few of the difficult notes and ornaments rather obviously. But more than anything, it carries a rich timbre to it, akin to the warm oranges of sunset, with unspoken feelings palpable through its tone.
It may not be perfect, but it feels full.
When Shinonome ends, Shiraishi looks suitably impressed, clapping for the performance with vigour. Should Toya say something as well? He’s a stranger in this conversation, after all. Then again, it would be considered polite to praise someone after a performance, would it not?
Toya opens his mouth to give his praise. Instead, what comes out is-
“Shinonome, you missed the slight appoggiatura on verse 2 of the chorus.”
He blinks. That was not what he wanted to start off with at all.
“Ah, I’m sorry, that was rude of me. Rest assured, I did find your singing very pleasant- ”
Shiraishi drowns out the rest of his statement in laughter, loud and raucous, like bright cyan paint splattered on a dark canvas, “That’s the first thing you say after coming here!? Man, Akito, where’d you find this dude?”
“I already told you, while I was fighting the witch. Besides, as much as I hate to admit it, he’s probably right about me missing the appo-somethings.” Shinonome looks like he just swallowed a lemon, which makes Toya feel even worse.
“Again, I’m so sorry about what I said. Your singing is very beautiful.”
“Eh, don’t sweat it. It's a little hard to have a brain to mouth filter after almost dying, I’d say.”
Ken chooses to serve their orders at the exact moment, and he spends the rest of the time observing Shinonome and Shiraishi converse (bicker?) while sipping his black coffee.
(If Toya played the song Shinonome was singing on loop when he returned home, then that’s for only him to know.)
_____________________
The next day, he decides to run off to Weekend Garage first thing in the morning, mainly because his father wants him to practice even more to make up for running away yesterday, but also because Ken’s coffee is really good.
To his surprise, when he opens the (now actually open) cafe’s doors, he’s greeted by none other than Shinonome, sitting at the first table of the cafe and enjoying a stack of pancakes.
As luck would have it, Shinonome recognises him almost immediately too, waving to him in greeting, which he responds to awkwardly. After that, he wanders around in search of a free table, but is somehow met with none. He decides to buy a coffee first and wait for a seat, but no one leaves during that time either.
Oh well, Plan B, he supposes.
He walks up to Shinonome, and says a simple, “…Hey”, because he is Aoyagi Toya, master of starting conversations and definitely not a child deprived of social interaction and whose only friends are a boy who can scream louder than 10 rubber chickens combined and his sister who has been in the hospital for who knows how long.
“Oh, hey, Aoyagi. What’s up?” Is Shinonome’s reply, which is already 5 more words than what he mentally prepared for. Social interaction is going great, yup.
His throat feels dry, but he continues speaking, “Can I… sit here too?”
“Be my guest. No seats, I take it?” He nods in response to Shinonome’s question, “Yeah, today’s a surprisingly busy day for Ken. Maybe because it’s a holiday.”
“It’s a holiday?”
Shinonome’s eyebrows raise, unimpressed, “There’s literally no school today, what did you think?”
“I’m starting school in a month. I got permission to not go for a while because I just came back from an overseas competition.” The piano competition is technically still ongoing, but he was already eliminated because of his lackluster performance. Shinonome doesn’t need to know that, though.
“Oh. Which school do you go to, though?”
“Kamikou.”
“Hey, I go there too! Never seen you around before though.”
“That’s… probably because I’m always away for classical music competitions, sorry.”
“What’re you apologising for? That’s really cool, dude!”
Toya spends the rest of the morning talking to Shinonome, who treats him surprisingly well considering his bickering with Shiraishi yesterday.
At some point, they both finish their food, and Shinonome stands up to leave.
“So, um, where are you going now?”
“Just gonna go sing on the streets a little. Me and An both like doing that when we’re free.”
Oh. That certainly explains how good Shinonome’s singing was yesterday. He’d fallen asleep with its vibrant orange tones in mind yesterday, akin to the caress of warm sunshine in an eternal winter. Vaguely, Toya wonders what his father would think of Shinonome, whose lively music was a far departure from the dignified tones of classical music he practically worshipped.
Probably nothing good, Toya decides. But since he already ran away twice, then the more he spites his father, the better, right?
“…Mind if I join you?”
Shinonome blinks, surprised, “Sure?”
_____________________
“I think this would be a good place to sing.” Shinonome says about five minutes after what was basically a glorified walk down Vivid Street.
“This place?” Toya questions mildly, “There’s a PA to play the backing track, sure, but there’s no microphone, how are you going to si- ”
The tacky orange and brown microphone from yesterday manifests in Shinonome’s hand. Right, that was a thing, wasn’t it? Toya had half-convinced himself he had taken hallucinogenic mushrooms or something.
“Oh.” He says dumbly in response, much to the chagrin of the great physicians of the past watching their life’s work get debunked.
Shinonome snickers at the blank expression on his face, then collects himself, gripping the microphone tightly in order to focus-
-and starts singing.
He starts on a single C, voice slightly warbling in uncertainty in a way that can be heard clearly through the extremely unscientific amplification of the (unplugged) microphone. Though he recovers from the mistake perfectly fine, the damage is already done, as the passer-bys move on after glancing at him once. Shinonome’s eyes fall briefly in disappointment upon seeing this, but his voice doesn’t waver at all.
The song is undoubtedly the one he sang yesterday in Weekend Garage, complete with the same flawed but orange warmth in his voice.
Yet still, a crowd refuses to gather at his beckoning, with the singing having only invited a few stragglers to stand and nod along.
What a pity, Toya wonders to himself, the sun itself has come out to share its light, and yet no one is around to bask in it.
Though, would it be possible for him to help to reflect it anew?
It’s foolish, Toya knows. He only has skills accumulated from years of grueling hours playing the piano, with nowhere near the same emotions in his voice as Shinonome and no training with regards to singing. But he wants to, just for a moment, experience the sprawling world of street music his father had never let him explore.
So, impulsively, Toya starts singing.
His voice is too mellow to be audible to the few audience with the microphone as competition, but Shinonome clearly hears it, as his eyes dart over briefly in surprise.
He wonders nervously if he’s distracting Shinonome from his singing. Would this kind of behaviour be rude in street music? Is his singing so atrocious that Shinonome can’t concentrate?
He’s brought out of his thoughts by Shinonome throwing an orange and brown microphone in his direction, causing him to scramble to catch it. He stares at it for a moment uncomprehendingly, before realising-
Oh.
It’s an invitation to sing with him.
And so, the boy who ran away takes a deep breath, and pours his heart out through song.
His voice sounds nothing like Shinonome’s, apathetic despite his best efforts, like the monotone colours of piano keys. Yet, it melds together with Shinonome’s voice, like the moon reflecting the rays of the sun, and though it’s not perfect, he finds that the greys of his voice serve to make Shinonome’s pop more.
More people are starting to gather around, he vaguely notes to himself as he tries to keep pace with Shinonome. A few are tapping along to the strong beat of the song enthusiastically, which his heart leaps in satisfaction at.
And finally, they approach the end of the song. The climax. The “make it or break it” moment, in a sense.
Shinonome locks eyes with him, and with vigour-
They sing the last line at the same time, ending on an intense high note that they hold as the instrumental ending plays in the background. And Toya notes, for the first time, that the music he makes has transitioned to a dark blue.
The crowd around them bursts into applause and cheers, but he can barely hear it over his own pounding heartbeat.
Is this what it feels like to be free?
Distantly, he hears Shinonome telling the crowd that they’re done singing (Weird, isn’t busking typically longer than this?), and then unceremoniously drag him into a back alley.
“Dude, where’d you get a voice like that? I didn’t know you could sing so well!” Shinonome exclaims once they’re out of earshot, a broad grin spread across his face.
“I- I’m not quite sure myself. I suppose I have been learning music for a really long time, though.” He replies, unsure, “It was really fun though. I’ve never really sang before.”
“Dude, that kind of talent, and you don’t even use it? What a waste.” Shinonome shakes him by the shoulder lightly, “But if you had fun, then how about this?”
Shinonome’s hand extends towards him.
“Do you want to try singing together a little?”
The bird flies with the nightingale into the night sky, and as they reach the stars once out of reach, they realise that they are finally free.
“I would love to.”