If anyone was to skip class, it was him. He had no interest for sitting for long lectures about things he didn’t care about. At least that’s what he told me. I wondered if he was going to make an exception today. We were going over the Battle of Sekigahara, one of my favorite parts of sengoku history. I eyed the vacant seat next to mine. The bell chimed and still there was no sign of my neighbor. The teacher walked in and our class representative called for everyone to stand. A shuffle of feet and sliding chairs unanimously sounded. Afterwards, the teacher began to tick off names.
“Miura Daisuke.”
“Present!”
“Kawachi Shoutaro.”
“Present!”
“Ueto Mami.”
“Here!”
“Nii-”. The sound of the sliding classroom door interrupted.
“Present,” he said.
He leisurely strolled through the array tables and sat in his seat.
“You’re late again,” I said.
“Almost,” he said.
“The teacher will call your parents again.”
“Do I look like I really care?”
“Not really.”
To my disappointment, we were not going over the Battle of Sekigahara as planned. In between the pages of the Japanese history textbook was a slip of lined paper. My pencil was lazily carving out my mind’s latest creation. The graphite lines lapsed over each other as I drowned out my classmate’s readings. It soon became an eye staring back at me along with some other miscellaneous doodles. It was not the only thing that was staring at me. I shot a look at my neighbor. He was too busy looking at my crude drawing.
“Stop looking at it,” I whispered.
He gave a smirk and turned away. He produced his drawing of an indiscernible mass of scribbles for me to see.
At the sound of the bell, I was brought to attention that it was already lunch. The droning voice of our teachers seemed far away. I pulled out my wrapped bento from my leather satchel. Noriko walked over to my table and placed her lunch across from mine.
“What’s up with you two?” she asked.
“Nothing.”
“Really? Is this what you’re fussing about?”
Noriko rolled her eyes. “The entire class is talking about it! You’re talking to a guy in our class! With him out of all people.”
“So? What’s the big deal? Is that suppose to mean something?” I laughed. “Look I get that guys and girls don’t usually talk alone that much, but can’t you accept that we’re just friends?”
“Okay, let’s just say hypothetically you two are friends …”
“Hypothetically?” I interrupted.
“That’s not the point. He’s not exactly a model student. He doesn’t even get along with the other guys in our class.”
“That’s because no one understands him.”
“Like you do?”
Well, Noriko did have a point. I didn’t really understand him that well either. Like how he became an enemy to both the jocks and the nerds. I really thought to myself, Damn that’s gotta suck. The jocks could be pretty arrogant with their inflated egos, but the nerds also had their pride. Somehow, he found a way to ignore these people as if they didn’t matter at all. He didn’t care for cliques and their senseless comments never bothered him. I was impressed by the manner he carried himself. He was always free from the judgment of others, something I could never flee from.
After finishing my bento, I made my way outside the classroom. The noonday sun glazed over the school campus. My only compromising retreat was the shade under a tree away from the searing heat. Better than staying in a sweaty classroom in my opinion. I whipped out my sketchbook and soft lead pencils. The unfinished drawing laid before me.
“Wow,” a voice said from behind me.
I quickly shut the sketchbook dropping the pencils on the grass.
“Don’t scare me like that.”
“Sorry. You never let me see your art.”
“It’s not art. It’s just some really crappy drawings.”
“Crappy? You should see mine. Yours are a million times better.”
“You’re just saying that to make me feel better.”
“No, I really mean it. What’s wrong with showing your art to other people?”
“It’s really … embarrassing. My drawings aren’t exactly friendly to the eye.”
“You don’t need to care about other people’s approval.”
“But I really do.”
“Art is about expression. You need to be free to express whatever you feel like without restriction. I hate it when people tell me what to do.”
I looked at my closed sketchbook. Inside contained mostly harmless drawings albeit some were personal explorations.
“Are you ready to show me?” he asked.
“Will you laugh at me?” I said.
“No one is going laugh at you. The only one judging is you.”
I reluctantly handed him my sketchbook and watched as he devoured each page. His eyes glinted with much interest at what I believed was meaningless creation. I waited for his pending approval.
“This is amazing. No one else draws the stuff you do. The work art club is doing is so rigid and planned,” he complimented.
“You really think it’s good?”
“Good? I think it’s great. Promise me that you will never demean yourself again,” he said with a smile. “When you become famous, show me your work again.”
*****
Starting from then, I didn’t care for conformity that everyone else was longing for. The approval I sought for from before no longer seemed important. My wonky drawings earned me a respectable place on the internet and I was content. For now. I still couldn’t show them to my friends without getting an eyebrow raise for its disturbing content. Sometimes I really question how we got along in the first place.
Noriko popped her headphones into her ears and bobbed her head while flashing her new iPod for everyone to see. I looked down at my Sony Walkman. It was clunky and had only 512 MB.
“What are you jamming to Noriko?” asked Mami.
“Ayumi Hamasaki,” she said.
“Does it sound better on your new iPod?” teased Mami.
“She’s the queen of pop, of course she sounds good on everything,” defended Noriko.
“Have you guys heard of Dir en grey?” asked Mami. “They’re not pop, but they’re kinda cool. The vocalist is kind of cute.”
“Nope, never heard of them,” I responded.
“You should try them! I think you will like them. I don’t know about Noriko,” said Mami.
Noriko was too absorbed in her music to care.
“So who is Dir en grey?” I asked.
“They’re a band. Their vocalist, who I like, is Kyo. Kaoru and Die are the guitarists. Toshiya’s the bassist and Shinya is the drummer. Their latest album is out in stores which I already got.”
“You really are a huge fan.”
“Kyo is, like, super cute even though he says he isn’t.”
“Ok, you’re getting a little delusional here.”
“Don’t you have a celebrity crush once in awhile? I don’t think I’ve ever heard you have one.”
“I guess that makes me the weird one. I did go through a KinKi Kids phase though.”
“KinKi Kids doesn’t count. You have to obsess over them.”
“Doesn’t listening to their music nonstop count?” I said.
“I mean stuff like meeting your idols and getting a handshake. I would die for a handshake with Kyo,” said Mami.
“I thought my excessive listening was already affectionate enough,” I joked.
“Anyways I got tickets to see Dir en grey in Tokyo. You should come with me.”
“You got tickets?! How? I never heard about you getting a part time job,” I said.
“I saved up my allowance to get two tickets. I was going to force Noriko to come with me, but I think you’re the better companion to bring.”
It was my first time traveling this far out from Osaka on my own. Even though I had no idea who the band was, I still got the jitters.I clenched my bag tightly to my seat. A good portion of my funds went to train fare and I wasn’t going to let more of it disappear. Mami wore a very bright smile on the day of the concert. She wouldn’t stop talking about how much trouble she went through to buy black chain pants to go with the visual-kei inspired top. I, on the other hand, went with the humble T-shirt and baggy jeans combo.
“Do you think I should headbang more or should I fist pump more?” Mami asked anxiously.
“How should I know? I’ve never been to a rock concert,” I replied. “How do I even headbang?”
“Once you get there, you will know,” she assured me.
The huge presence of Nippon Budokan overwhelmed me. I’ve only seen previews of it on TV, but up close, the venue was simply too large to comprehend. The largest venue I’ve been to was my school auditorium. Our seats were high up and away from the stage. People standing near the stage were little ants squirming for attention. When the lights dimmed, the roar of the crowd filled my ears. Everyone stood from their seats and began chanting,”Dir en grey.”
The sudden rush of adrenaline filled my body. I could feel my face flush as the tiny figures of the band made their way on stage. Their instruments glittered under the bright spotlight and the crowd continued to scream. The vocalist, Kyo, gave a loud scream and the music began. Die’s black mane fluttered in the artificial wind. Kaoru threw his hair strongly to the strumming of his guitar. I couldn’t quite make out Shinya behind the enormous drum set, but I could hear the screams as Toshiya shot winks at the girls. Even as I try to recall that night’s events, the hazy memories of messy blonde hair were all I had left. Kyo’s energetic performance was so raw that it had rejuvenated my stagnant spirit. It was downright terrifying at certain parts and I couldn’t help, but be so attracted to the aura. Kyo was so free. I was beginning to understand why Mami liked them so much.
Still there was something that bugged me. Since I was so far away from the stage, I could barely see the band member’s faces. Only a few times was I able to get a closeup of their faces on the large screen which was in turn blocked by a large speaker. Even with the few glimpses I had, I couldn’t help, but see the ghost of my neighbor on Kyo.
“Hey Mami. Doesn’t Kyo kind of look like the guy from our class back in middle school?” I asked.
“What guy?” asked Mami.
“You know, the one I use to talk to?”
“I don’t remember much about things back in Kyoto. I only remember you and Noriko since you two were the only students in my class that transferred to Osaka with me.”
“I don’t know, but Kyo reminds me a lot of him.”
“What was his name?”
“His name was -”
Crap. I forgot his name. He was the only one I ever showed my drawings to without the fear of being judged. I struggled to unravel my own memories of him. All I could picture was him sitting next to me in our middle school classroom.
“I … I forgot,” I said embarrassed.
“He must not have been that special.”
I felt a tug at my stomach. I must be a terrible friend for not remembering. After graduation, we lost contact and I had no idea where he went. Could he have stayed in Kyoto? I don’t even remember him mention anything about a musical career. I guess Kyo just happens to look like my former classmate.
*****
The loud sound of guitars blasted on my speakers. My watercolors and palette were spread over my work table. The obnoxious voice of my mother came uninvited in my sphere of concentration.
“Your music always sounds like chanting,” she complained.
“I like chanting. I’m Buddhist after all,” I snided.
“Anyways, your package came in the mail.”
I skipped down the hallway where we placed the phone. There my parcel laid unattended next to the umbrella stand. I picked it up from the ground and brought it into my room. Sitting on the floor, I tore the box open with my cutter. Wrapped in green tissue paper was the new Uroboros CD, the latest magazine features, and a bunch of tour goods.
I looked up at the banner I put above my bed. In large capitals “Dir en grey” loomed over my head while I sleep every night. I opened my drawer and pulled out an envelope. Printed on cardstock were tickets to see Dir en grey live at Yokohama. This year I had spent most of my earnings on a VIP package. I even went as far as to join “a knot”. Talk about hardcore. Mami had given up halfway because “they were too hardcore”. There was only five days left before I set off for Yokohama.
Rather than staying home on Christmas, I was out in the cold shivering in line. I regret leaving my pocket warmers at home back in Osaka. My feet were dancing in their boots for warmth, but all I had in return was numbing cold. The cutting wind attacked my face mercilessly. Other fans on the VIP line were going through the same trials as I was. The door opened finally and an uplifting feeling of relief filled to the brim of my body like seeing the light at the end of the tunnel. I quickly waved my ticket and entered the building.
Feeling the sheer warmth return to my fingertips was enough to keep me happy. What happened next was even more ecstatic. Everyone was very hyped for the meet and greet. A couple of girls younger than me were jumping up and down at the mere peek of a band member behind the curtain. I clasped my hands and held my breath. This was the ultimate moment I had been waiting for. The question that had been in the back of my head was about to be answered. Before I could mentally prepare myself, Dir en grey came out from behind the curtain and the VIP fans shouted.
The high pitched scream clawed my eardrum. Amidst the pain, I tried to smile. I sheepishly raised my hand to wave except the bobbing head of a fan obstructed my view and knocked my arm out of the way. I grimaced at the back of her head and continued to look at Dir en grey. Kyo was way shorter than I had imagined, but his height was the least of my problems. It was his face I needed to see. We were lining up for handshakes and photos. I tilted my head to get a good view. Kyo’s huge sunglasses and sweeping orange hair had blocked nearly half his face. As the line progresses quickly, I saw that he had a bit of facial hair under his chin and tattoos reaching his hands.
“Next.”
I foolishly tripped on my own step and found myself stumbling in between the band members for a photo. What an embarrassment. I found myself being ordered by the staff to quickly shake hands. My own hands were trembling from nervousness. Each handshake was extremely rushed and there was no time to make eye contact at all. Upon reaching Kyo, my heart beat terribly fast. It was a now or never to ask. I opened my mouth to speak. All I found was an extremely parched throat. Our hands locked firmly together for a few seconds and I was pushed along the line. Kyo made no smile and his eyes behind the sunglasses only looked distantly into space. Though his hands were warm, the greeting felt cold like two strangers forced to make contact.
My stomach had now sunk down into the pits. I had made a mistake all this time. He was not my classmate. There was no way he could have been in the first place. It was an unrealistic dream I had been chasing throughout the years. I bit my lip in defeat and let out a sigh. I didn’t come here to be let down. My life long question had finally been answered. I should be rejoicing. I made my way to the front of the stage and attached myself to the metal bars.
The night rocked violently to the waves of music. I found myself brutally thrashing my head to the beats. My scratchy throat was torn up from screaming and singing like a lunatic. With sweat dripping down face, I had forgotten it was winter. Once again, the band delivered a phenomenal performance. We were a dirty cesspool of euphoria and exhaustion. I looked up at Kyo. He was pleased with tonight’s show. He pounded the microphone to his chest so that the thumping sound would echo into the venue as the fans maniacally screamed. At that very moment, I saw a familiar glint in his eyes. Kyo turned to leave and disappeared backstage.
I had to confirm my gut instinct for the last time. The crowd was not friendly in letting me go. I squeezed my body and maneuvered away from the stage. My next move may earn me expulsion by security, but new adrenaline pulsed through my veins. I bounded for the exit I came from early after the meet and greet. The doors remained unguarded from behind and I quickly strolled down the hallway. My scampering footsteps made its way to backstage.
Finally down at the very end of the hallway was the words “Dir en grey” printed on a sheet of paper and taped on the door. I rapped on the half open door. Kyo was shirtless except for a towel around his neck sitting in front of the mirrors. He turned in surprise and looked at me. My own huffing breath was giving away my identity.
“You’re not suppose to be here,” Kyo said with a hint of anger in his voice. “Only staff is allowed.”
I gasped for breath.
“Please, hear me out. I deeply apologize for the intrusion and I know how insulting it is for me to be here,” I said briskly. “I need to confirm something and I will leave immediately.”
“There is nothing to confirm,” said Kyo. Clearly right now, he was on the verge of kicking me out.
“Back when I was in middle school in Kyoto, you sat next to me,” I said.
Kyo’s angry face softened a bit.
“I was the only person you talked to in class. You would arrive to class just on time pissing off the homeroom teacher each time and you didn’t give a crap what anyone said about you.”
“Who … are you?” he asked.
It was then that the pang of nostalgia hit me like a wake up call. The memory of roll call at school came flooding back to me.
“Not me. It’s who you are,” I said in return.
“Me?”
“Nishimura Tooru,” I blurted out. The name I had forgotten so long was finally rediscovered.
“How do you know my name? Wait, then you are …” Kyo began.
I nodded my head vigorously. Kyo’s frown cracked into a grin.
“I can’t believe it. You recognized me all these years. My face changed a lot,” said Kyo.
“Well, yeah. I didn’t expect to see so many tattoos,” I said.
“So how’s it been? Are you still drawing?”
“I took up painting so I guess your answer is yes.”
“Show me your art,” demanded Kyo.
“My crappy drawings?” I said.
“Your drawings are definitely better than mine. Remember what I said last time? Never demean yourself.”
I reluctantly drew my phone from my back pocket and handed it to Kyo.
“It’s not the best quality photo, but here’s a snippet of my portfolio.”
He scrolled through the gallery. “Your drawings are definitely better than mine. I still need people to clean up my drawings digitally so they be presentable.”
“It’s nice to know that you still draw a bit.”
“It’s my freedom of expression as an artist. You know, our company is looking for some artists to do some jacket artwork on promotional material.”
I gave a weak smile. “Thanks, but I’m not even famous enough to work with you guys.”
“Then do some work with us and get famous! Why are you still hung up on not being good enough for others? Who cares about what other people think. Be free.”
Some loud footsteps walked into the room behind me. I felt my heart skip a beat. I turned to see other members of the band standing right beside me.
“H-hi,” I stuttered.
“So who’s this?” Toshiya asked slyly.
“A friend who’s going to work with us,” said Kyo.
“Wait! I never agreed to the offer,” I quickly interrupted.
Kyo looked at me in the eyes. “Remember the promise we made a long time ago that you would show me your work when you got famous?”
It was a very vague memory, but it was there in the back of my head. I nodded in agreement.
“The picture you just showed me on your phone is on the front page of the Artists’ Gallery website. If you’re telling me that you’re not good enough, then I don’t know what you are looking to be,” said Kyo.
“You’ve … seen the image before?” I said in disbelief.
“Did you know our art director was impressed by your work. He wanted to know who the illustrator on the web was so that he could hire you to do jacket art.”
I put my hand to my mouth. A professional has seen and approved of my art. My art.
“So? Are you interested in my offer?” asked Kyo.
“Yes. Absolutely,” I said beaming.
“There is … one condition I forgot to mention. Promise me you won’t flake out after hearing this,” Kyo added.
“Ok sure. State your condition,” I said wondering what it could be.
Kyo gave a sincere look. “Never stop being free.”
