“Can you translate for him to tell us about the last time he saw Kyo?”
“What happened during the last time you saw Kyo, Kaoru?”
“I was outside the diner we were having dinner at having a smoke. Kyo came out and said he was heading to the bus. I went back into the diner to join the rest of us. By the time we got back to the bus, I noticed that Kyo was not on it. I asked the driver who was in there and he said Kyo had never got on.”
“Did he message you or anyone else about his whereabouts?”
“No. I don’t know anything after I last saw him. We all searched throughout the night until we decided to call the police.”
“Is there any reason that your band member would leave on his own?”
“I don’t think it’s possible. We are foreigners here in America. We are not familiar with the area. Tomorrow is our next gig and there’s no way he would leave without explanation.”
Kyo may have been unpredictable, but Kaoru knew in his gut that Kyo was caught up in something nasty. The police questioned Die and Toshiya already. Shinya and the rest of the roadies were still waiting outside the questioning room. Kaoru’s lungs were itching for nicotine. In times of stress, the urge for a smoke was particularly strong.
“You are free to go.”
Kaoru left the room and greeted the rest of the band.
“I’m going out for a bit,” he said and quickly walk down the hallway.
Die and Toshiya watched as their usually composed guitarist left them.
“I’m going to buy us some drinks,” said one of the roadies.
He walked towards the end of the bright hallway disappeared around the corner, leaving Die and Toshiya on their own. They both leaned with their backs on the wall.
“I really wish this was all a dream,” said Toshiya.
“I hope so too,” agreed Die.
“Kyo simply got lost in the middle of the night and will turn up tomorrow morning,” said Toshiya.
“You know that’s not going to happen,” said Die.
“We can only pray,” said the bassist.
*****
Die slammed the door to his house. He tossed his keys on top of the shoe cabinet.
“I’m home,” he called out.
He slipped off his boots and dropped his black designer bag on the ottoman in the living room.
“Miki?”
The Russian blue was nowhere in sight. She typically greeted her owner with a “meow” of approval and rub around his leg. She must have hidden away somewhere, thought Die. He hung his black leather jacket on the coat rack and dragged himself to the bathroom to shower. It had been a rough day.
The dark circles and bags under Die’s eyes were hard to miss. The storm from the night before flooded the studio at work and therefore DECAYS’ rehearsal was delayed. Negotiations for new tour goods went sour after the contract with the production factory was terminated. One dilemma had piled atop another. Die stopped to look in the large bathroom mirror. His red highlights were fading. Maybe I should have stuck with black. I look good in black anyway.
Die let the warm water pound over his head. He wondered how the other members of Dir en grey were faring. It had been a year since they last talked. Was Kaoru’s radio show running smoothly? Did Toshiya’s fashion line continue to manage well? How is Shinya working as a temporary drummer for other bands? After Kyo’s disappearance on their North American tour, the band went on indefinite hiatus shocking their fans. To form a new band with a new vocalist under the same moniker was almost like a desecration to their name. Unable to cope with the loss, the remaining four went separate ways. It simply wasn’t Dir en grey without the original five.
By the time Die was finished showering, it was 2AM. He wasn’t in the mood for a drink nor was able to settle for a good night’s sleep. Inspiration for new songs was not coming anytime soon. Walking to his modest kitchen, Die filled up a small pot of water. He turned on the stove and emptied the contents of a miso soup package into the pot. In the refrigerator was some leftover gyoza and a hodge podge of dishes in stackable plastic containers. Die removed the plastic wrap and chucked the plate of gyoza into the microwave. He shoveled some tofu cubes into the boiling miso soup and tore open a pack of wakame to sprinkle some of it. The lid was capped onto the pot and left to simmer. By this time, the microwave sounded. Die took out the hot plate with a towel and placed it on the kitchen counter. The savory smell of soup permeated through the air. He turned down the blue flames and proceeded into the living room with his plate of gyoza.
Die flipped open his Macbook and logged on the Dir en grey chat room. About twenty or so members of「a knot」were logged in. He typed in “hello”. Many greeted back almost instantly in a warm fashion. “I’m back at home enjoying a late night snack,” Die wrote.
The fans replied with emoticons and their sir situations at home. Some asked about his late night snack while other inquired about his well being. It was always comforting for Die to hear the voices of his fans no matter how trivial the comments were. A simple “ganbatte” was enough of a reason to continue on.
“How are the other members doing?” one fan asked.
It was a troubling question. Die didn’t want an answer that would cause unrest, nor did he want to lie about knowing how his band mates were doing.
“We are thankful for our fans’ concerns. With your support, we are continuing what we can so best for now as Dir en grey.”
He signed off and ate a gyoza. Die had successfully evaded the question and breathed a sigh of relief as he leaned backwards on the sofa. The heavy stone was off his chest for now.
“Oh shit!” Die cursed out.
The fragrant smell from the kitchen had crawled into the living room. Die ran into the kitchen to see a violently fuming pot. He immediately turned off the heat and removed the lid. Thankfully the soup had not condensed into an inedible mess. Die gave it a stir and ladled a bowl for himself. The day may have been a terrible one, but at least food will not fail him. He returned to the living room with a hot bowl of delicious soup and turned on the TV.
A late night talk show was on, but it wasn’t of interest for Die. He flipped through some dramas, a variety show, and a documentary. None were too engaging. Finally, he stopped on a news channel.
“An American citizen refused to show his bag during inspection at the Japanese customs at Narita International Airport. Footage shows the American passenger wrestling furiously with the customs police before managing to escape with the bag. He was last seen taking the airport taxi heading towards Tokyo. The Tokyo Metropolitan Police has issued a warrant for the suspect. The suspect has been ...”
As if things weren’t chaotic already, thought Die.
The images on the screen began to waver and the sound grew choppy. The screen then grew black with a message of “lost signal”.
Strange, Die thought again. Perhaps it is a minor disruption.
The screen flickered back to normal and the news channel resumed.
“... it is believed that the suspect may be carrying a ...”
The image then changed to a variety show Die had previously flipped to. He looked around to see if he accidentally sat on the remote. The remote was on the table next to his Macbook.
More channels started occupying the screen switching back and forth out of control. Die pointed the remote to turn off the device, but it would not yield. Frustrated, he pressed the button repeatedly. The lights in the house were blinking on its own. Even the radio had turned itself on. Just then a picture of Kyo flashed on the TV startling Die. After the brief appearance, the TV continued to change channels on its own. Die couldn’t suppress his heart beating wildly out of his chest. What was Kyo doing there? It must have been my imagination.
A familiar voice called out on the radio.
“Die.”
Die jerked from his seat.
“... run ... now ... leave!” it said cracking over the static.
“Kyo! Is that you?” Die asked in fear.
“It’s here ... run!”
Kyo’s voice faded over the static. Die immediately jolted from the living room to the front door. He hastily grabbed the leather jacket from the coat rack and snatched his keys. The dangerous aura was creeping closely as if it were about to latch onto Die’s back. Just as he jammed his foot into his boot, Die felt a pair of menacing hands grip tightly around his throat.
*****
“Good work everyone!”
Kaoru had just finished recording his live radio show, The Freedom of Expression.
“Kaoru-san! Let’s run out for a late night drink.”
“Not today Joe,” Kaoru declined politely.
“Eh ... why? It’s only a quarter past 1,” answered Joe.
“I think I’ll pass today. Maybe another time,” the ever so calm guitarist said.
Kaoru buttoned his wool coat and put on his black military cap. He felt the brisk air hit his face when he exited the studio. Fortunately his apartment was not too far away. There were few people on the streets tonight. The bright neon signs of restaurants glowed glamorously in the dark night. Kaoru had walked for twenty minutes. He was reaching near his home. Buzz buzz. The phone in his coat pocket vibrated. The screen showed an unknown number. Kaoru swiped the surface to dismiss the call. Buzz buzz. The unknown number was calling again.
“Hello?” Kaoru answered gruffly.
All he heard was static on the other line. He hung up and returned the phone to his pocket. Buzz buzz.
“For God’s sake, who the hell keeps calling,” said Kaoru annoyed.
He picked up and answered angrily, “Whoever this is. Stop calling this number.”
The static on the phone resumed.
“ ... Kao ... ru ... ” a broken up voice said.
“Hello? Hello? Who is this?”
Faintly in the background, Kaoru heard an instrumental of Inward Scream playing eerily. It had been a year since he last heard it. What struck him now in a panic was that this particular instrumental was never released. It was a demo piece that no one has ever heard apart from the band.
As if something was rewinding, the scratchy sounds pierced Kaoru’s ears. Slowly he realized that he was listening to a distorted recording of more Inward Screams. The call hung up by itself and ended in dial tone. Kaoru subsequently called back the unknown number, but with no luck. The notification light started flashing. He felt a spike at his gut. Kaoru swiped to see that it was multiple text messages one after the other, each reading the same exact words.
Save Die.
*****
BGM: Diabolos by Dir en grey
Thank you for reading the first chapter. So what did you think is going on? Who do you think is in Die's house? Who's calling Kaoru in the night? Leave a comment below.
