“Aww, dammit!”
Ranko pulled her silent headphones down from around her ears, letting them dangle around the back of her neck. She was really going to have to start remembering to replace the batteries more often. Still, the early October air was alive with a cool breeze, and the walk home from school would be pleasant enough even without Gloria Estefan in her eardrums.
She turned the corner around the perimeter of the school grounds, waving to the old man that sold snacks from a little bicycle-drawn cart there. Today, he had roasted sweet potatoes, and the air carried a caramel-like aroma from the grill within. Ranko bet he made a killing off of her classmates, and she patronized his cart herself from time to time when she had the extra money, not that extra money had been a thing that had really happened much since moving in with Akane. They had chosen to be broke and happy, and they were getting exactly what they bargained for on both counts.
She walked past a grassy little hill to her left. Just beyond it lay the school’s several athletic fields, and she often saw the track team or the baseball team out there working out on her walk home, but really never paid attention to it, thanks to the distraction of her Walkman. At least, on the days when she remembered to change the stupid batteries.
Today, though, there was music coming from the baseball field, and not the crappy standards junk the marching band always played. It sounded like a pop track. Screw it, she said to herself. If I can’t listen to my music, I’ll borrow yours. Ranko trekked up the little hill, walking in the grass closer to the field in the direction of home, in an effort to hear the song more clearly.
Having returned to her thoughts, it took her a few seconds to process what song she was hearing. But she definitely recognized the lyrics.
She had written them.
Ranko gasped. She’d never heard Rise outside of the Phoenix before; she hadn’t even played her own copy of the tape at home. And here was some random somebody or other who bought it. Who paid actual money in a real-live store to enjoy it, with no promise of two-for-one drinks or anything else to incentivize it and no personal connection to her. Just because they loved the music she wrote.
She had to know who it was. She had to see. Were they dancing? Was it someone who needed the message she’d written it for, the story of her improbable journey from the broken and hungry thing Hana found on the sidewalk one day to the… well, whatever she was now?
Slipping through the gate bisecting a chain-link fence that leaned so far forward it could almost be stepped over, she followed the sound of her own voice around a small cinder block building used for storing the equipment that maintained the fields.
Leaning forward onto another, taller chain-link fence intended to prevent baseballs from making it to the street, she watched through the grating. Beyond, the cheerleading squad moved in unison on the baseball outfield in time with the beat Crash and Shin had written for her. Good gods, their choreography is terrible, Ranko thought to herself. No wonder they hadn’t won anything in ages. Still, she smiled proudly at the thought that someone would use her song as a rallying cry, even if it were just to score more baskets or runs or whatever the hell cheerleaders got points for when it wasn’t landing punches and kicks.
The song ended, with Ranko barely resisting the urge to throw her fist in the air as she did on stage when the last note was sung. She watched as one of the girls ran over to the portable boom box that lay in the grass and ejected the tape, merely a few meters away from where she stood. The diminutive cheerleader made eye contact with her, but Ranko said nothing, giving just a polite wave. The girl reached into the grass beside the radio, picking up the plastic case for the cassette and popping the tape into it. She snapped the case closed, looking down at the cover art.
She blinked in recognition, snapping her head up hard enough to swing her green pigtails forward over her shoulders, and she turned her eyes back up toward Ranko.
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Oh, shit, Ranko thought in the split second before the silent tension was shattered.
“Ohmigods, it’s HER!”
The gaggle of cheerleaders clustered around, clamoring to see what the commotion was about. Ranko watched as the girl who had shouted pointed at the cassette, then up at her. She seriously considered running, but there was no getting out of it now. They knew where to find her.
Ranko recognized the taller of the two girls who had tried to recruit her at her locker. She gasped as she looked at the cassette, realizing who it was she had actually spoken to.
The group waved up to the songstress, beckoning her to come down and join them. What the hell, she thought. They probably wanted an autograph or something. Akane wouldn’t be home from school for a few hours yet and it was her night off, so she had a little time to kill, she guessed.
She lifted the U-shaped latch on the unlocked fence gate, stepping through and closing it behind herself before approaching the tittering girls. “Hey, everybody.” She was pretty sure she was somehow defying the laws of anatomy and blushing across her entire body at once. She hadn’t really intended for her school life and her music to interact in any meaningful way.
Shiori, who Ranko recognized as the squad captain from the encounter at her locker, stepped forward to speak for the group. “It’s really you, isn’t it? You sang the song we’re going to use at the competition?!”
Ranko gave a little nod, smiling as she flushed even more. “And wrote it. I can’t believe you girls want to use it. I’m flattered. I hope it’s great for you.”
“Well, now you just have to join us!” The girls behind the captain cheered loudly, but then again, cheering was their expressed goal, so Ranko was glad they had at least some talent at that. They certainly couldn’t dance their way out of a paper bag.
Ranko waved her hands in front of herself. “Whoa, easy there. Like I said, I don’t have time for extracurricular stuff.”
“But, if we had a real, live celebrity in our group, performing the song for our routine live, we’d win for sure. No one has ever done that, in the history of the All-Tokyo Invitational!”
The redhead blushed yet again. “I don’t know about celebrity. I sing in a bar. My sister sent the record place a demo tape, and they said they’d try a local trial run of a thousand or so. After my family and friends bought theirs, there’s probably about 970 left.”
Shiori stepped forward, a surprised and almost piteous expression on her face, like what Ranko would expect to see on someone who just found a hungry stray bunny in an alley. The cheerleader couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “You… you really don’t know, do you?”
Ranko blinked. “Know what?”
“I got this tape at All Bangers, the record store around the block.” The captain pointed in the general direction of the store.
Ranko nodded. “Yeah, that’s where the label said they were gonna put the bulk of them for the test market. It’s the biggest store around, and it’s close to the Phoenix, so I guess they figured it was their best chance to move a few of them.” Ranko had made a point not to even walk by it since her family had procured copies of the tape and tipped her off to the fact that they’d arrived. Signing copies for her family and her handful of friends was great, but she wasn’t sure if she could bear the inevitability of seeing the culmination of her dreams tossed in the clearance bin.
Again, the captain shook her head with a smile. “No, Ranko. You’re not listening to me. I got the last one. They sold out in half an hour. They turned about a hundred people away.”
Ranko just looked at the cheerleader with a blank expression. She was relatively certain that there were words in her head somewhere, but they were not accessible at the moment. Every cell of her brain was so preoccupied with processing what Shiori had said that there was no power left to run her mouth, too. After what seemed like a month, but was probably closer to five seconds, she managed to squeak out a high-pitched “What?”
“It’s true. Go by the store and check for yourself if you don’t believe me! They’ve started a waiting list in case they get more in.” Shiori grinned. “Ranko, I don’t know how to else to tell you this, but you’re a fucking pop star.”
Ranko leaned back on the fence, for fear that if she didn’t, the speed at which the world was spinning would throw her off into orbit somewhere.
The captain stepped forward, putting her hand tentatively on the reeling redhead’s shoulder. “Now, I’ll ask one more time. Would you please teach us how to dance to the hottest new song in Tokyo?”