by Z. Allora
“Different how?” The interruption set Daiki on edge. Who did he think—
Apparently not affected in the least, other than a tightening of his jaw, Sage explained, “Different in many ways, but mostly in terms of orientation or gender identity.”
“No way. What you’re proposing is career suicide.” The man stood and left without even a goodbye.
Sage inhaled and dropped his head for a moment, then pasted a smile on his face. “I’m guessing there was no prescreen?”
The agent shook her head. “Not for that.”
He gave a nod. “Who’s next?”
AFTER A couple of days filled with interviews, a definite pattern had developed. They greeted the candidate, they sat, and Sage described the band’s goal of visibility. The reactions varied, but none had been positive.
This guy shot a wide-eyed stare to his agent and then grimaced.
Sage smiled. “I think—”
The guy stood. “Well, you shouldn’t. This isn’t your concern, so butt out.” He spoke in English, clearly calling Sage out as a Westerner and an outsider.
On cue, Daiki and Sage stood and thanked the musician for their time. No sense prolonging rejection.
Sage collapsed back into his chair and let his head hit the table. “He’s right. It’s not my place.”
The representative from the agency organizing these meetings stared at him and Daiki for a moment. She pointed toward the door, and as soon as Daiki gave her a nod, she escaped.
“Wrong is wrong in any place or any time and in any language. Isn’t that what you said?” Daiki remembered the quote because the words added fuel to his own fire.
Sage’s head rolled to the side. “When did I—you’ve watched Scream Into the Void?”
“I listened to a few episodes while I was drawing over the weekend.” Daiki didn’t confess he’d devoured almost all of them.
“Um… still, what am I doing?” Sage’s eyes crinkled up in the corners as he looked at Daiki for answers.
Many commenters on Sage’s channel had encouraged him to move forward with the band. They approved of the band’s name, Kashi-sei, because there was no doubt as to the brand.
Daiki repeated what many of the commenters had written to Sage. “If not you, who?”
“You. With you agreeing to be my partner in this.” Sage grinned as he nodded, as if coming to some great conclusion.
Daiki straightened and focused his gaze out the window. What do I know about anything other than drawing? This is crazy. “I’m a mangaka.”
“And an incredible one, but I’ve always known I couldn’t do this alone. I hoped to find someone to help me drive this and bounce ideas around with—and here you are. Maybe you thought I was joking when I asked you the day I met you, but there’s one thing I’ve learned from my dad: if you know it’s right, go for it.”
“I wouldn’t know where to begin.” Visibility and validation seemed like an unreachable goal.
“I know you’ve been using the power of your pen for this cause for a long time now,” Sage said.
Daiki folded his arms over his chest, crushing his attempt at business wear and his magenta tie in the process. He was unsure why what Sage had said was hard to believe, since his work was quite popular. Of course Sage would have vetted his work, but the idea shouldn’t please him this much. Turning away from the window, he stared at Sage. “You’ve said you read some of my work?”
“Yes, and I’ve read more since I got to Japan. I could see that you’ve been slowly elbowing your way into a different space with both of your publishers.”
“I didn’t think it was noticeable.” A little personal agency here, add some validation there, and an overall lessening of stereotypes whenever he could. But he hadn’t expected anyone to catch on. Most of the BL genre had been doing this gentle shift for years. Though in truth his was more pointed and had a definite purpose.
Sage raised his head from the table and grinned. “If I read your work over time, I might have missed the results, but with binge reading, I could easily see you’ve been driving this agenda for a while.”
“Mm.” Daiki didn’t know what else to say, but to have someone see him shot a spark through him.
Sage’s gaze traveled from his head to his toes, and on the way back up, he stopped and stared at Daiki’s lap. Sage wiped his thumb across his own lips, making Daiki wish he could feel the softness of that mouth.
He wasn’t used to such an open, appreciative stare. The appraisal embarrassed and excited him in equal measure. But he was drawing his own storyboard, so he glanced directly into Sage’s eyes.
Their gazes locked.
His heart started beating faster, and Daiki felt like he was tumbling down but being held aloft at the same time. He couldn’t resist the desire to be trapped in Sage’s attention.
The storyboards were all laid out in front of his mind’s eye. He painted the shy artist being enthralled with the bold foreign musician, the folly of beginning a relationship doomed to end but unable to prevent one because the more they knew of each other, the more the desire grew, and then….
Totally not on the agenda.
Snapping out of overdone BL tropes, Daiki asked, “How do you recommend we proceed?”
Sage groaned. “I haven’t a fucking clue—sorry.”
“No worries.” Daiki enjoyed how free Sage was with his words. He’d never spent time with anyone from America, but Sage was exactly what he’d pictured an American to be—not that all Americans were like Sage, and he imagined few could live up to his fantasy. Sadly enough for him, Sage did.
Sage’s head dropped.
A need to soothe him spread through Daiki like a marker pressed down and bleeding over the page. He rested a hand on Sage’s shoulder, which tensed for a moment before relaxing. “What you’re doing is an exceptional thing, but you knew it wouldn’t be easy. It’s frustrating.”
Sage’s head turned to the side, allowing Daiki to get a glimpse of warm brown eyes he couldn’t quite fully capture, peering through the thick curtain of his hair.
Daiki tried to absorb every detail to get him on page later… or at least a reasonable copy of him. He let his hand slip away.
Pushing up on one elbow, Sage propped his head in his hand, giving Daiki another picture to sketch. “It is. I knew it wouldn’t be simple, but going through this process is another matter.”
“Singers and actors feel compelled to respect the power of the fans. Maybe a bit too much.” Even he felt the effects of this public contract, which caused him to strain to meet his fans’ needs without stressing his creativity.
Sage nodded. “We have much of the same in the US. We build stars up as mega gods and goddesses and then look for reasons to knock them off the pedestals we erected.”
“Some fans feel a personal responsibility to guide a singer or actor to fame and stardom,” Daiki noted. “Stars represent some products in the US, but I don’t think as much as here. In Japan, and other places in Asia, fans gain status by purchasing and uploading photos with the products, tagging the star as well as their fandom.”
Sighing, Sage said, “I know. That’s why I thought taking the need to please sponsors and investors out of the equation would allow more freedom and might help lessen the ties to fan expectation and sponsor demand.”
“Don’t lose faith. There’s more musicians to see.”
“See, that’s what I mean. You believe in this as much as I do. I need you… as a partner. Agree?”
The company rep bounced back in, filled with renewed energy. “Ready for the next candidate?”
Sage stood. “Let’s do this… partner.”
Happiness Daiki had only experienced when he’d beat all deadlines against the odds colored him in vivid contrast to the past. He didn’t agree to be a partner, but he didn’t say no, which Sage obviously took as a yes, and Daiki chose to leave it at that.
The afternoon sunlight picked out various shades of blue-black in the roots of Sage’s
hair while the bleached part glittered in shades of gold. His cheeks tinted a soft pink and his eyes sparkled whenever his gaze landed on Daiki, pushing Daiki right back into an angsty BL drama that he desperately wanted to co-star in.
His breath caught. How could he ever do justice to Sage on the storyboards? But the louder question was how could a shy mangaka ever hope to have even a small piece of an LA drummer? The story in his head played out to a hopeless ending.
What would one of his bolder, brassier characters do? Maybe if he channeled someone else—no, that would never work.
“The last candidate of the day,” Sage whispered as the door opened.
A sharply dressed person with short hair, wearing a suit, appeared next to the company representative. “May I present—”
“Yamamoto Haru. Pleased to meet you.” Sage was on his feet.
Daiki wasn’t sure if he should use the male or female pronouns. And after they exchanged greetings, he still wasn’t sure.
“I’m pleased to meet you both.”
The representative slid a page containing details about the candidate’s experience in front of each of them.
Sage said, “Feel free to speak Japanese, unless you’d rather continue in English.”
Daiki hoped not, because while he could understand the language, he found reaching for the right words a pain.
“Thank you.” Haru gave a quick nod.
Sage smiled. “My pronouns are him, he, and his. I want to double-check your pronouns are also him, he, and his.”
The ease of Sage’s straightforward question caused everyone else to pause.
Haru leaned back, and then a slow smile turned up their lips. “I’m not used to that question.”
Sage held his hands in front of him. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”
Haru glanced at Daiki for a moment, then stared at Sage. “Yes, he, his, and him are my pronouns… but not legally.”
The reference to the 2004 law that wouldn’t allow gender identity on legal documents to be changed unless the person was sterilized and had affirmation surgery couldn’t be missed. Human rights advocates were working on getting that changed but to Daiki’s knowledge had yet to do so.
Sage frowned and gave a slow nod. “Yeah, many states in the US have similar outdated laws. And if this works out with you and the band, what we put on pay stubs won’t affect what the other band members or fans address you as.”
Haru straightened his tie. “So he, him, and his, then?”
Sage didn’t hesitate and launched into his speech. “Absolutely. I want everyone in Kashi-sei to be themselves. It’s my hope our visibility will allow our fans to feel free to be the same way. You can be as open or closed as you want about yourself, but every member needs to be respectful of every other member and honor who they are. I want Kashi-sei to be a touchstone for people who need validation. I want them to know being LGBTQIA+ doesn’t mean there’s something wrong with them and that they are never alone.”
Haru gripped the table with both hands and leaned in. “I’m good with all of that. But why would you want me to be part of this?”
Sage tilted his head and grinned. “I’ve seen you play. You come highly recommended. Why wouldn’t we want you?”
“I’ve never been in a band before.” Haru tossed that out as if it didn’t matter, but he studied every move Sage made.
Daiki skimmed the information about Haru in front of him, looked up at Sage and then Haru. “But you’ve performed with a number of them.”
Haru crossed his arms and sat back. “I have.”
Glancing up from the information, Sage said, “From what I understand, you play anything with strings, and you’ve saved a number of bands from canceling shows by being able to step in last minute. And you’ve played both small venues and large arenas.”
Shrugging like it was not a major feat, Haru tapped the spec sheet about Kashi-sei and the description of the band’s expectations. “I’ve seen your channel, so I understand the basics of why you are doing this. The salary says you either think I’m really worth that or you know I could be ending my career before it starts by accepting if an offer is given.”
Sage drank from the cup in front of him and then replaced it on the table with care. “I won’t lie. This could all be problematic for everyone’s future in the Japanese music business. There’s no way around that risk other than to allow it not to be a financial burden.”
Haru smiled, then schooled his expression into something more neutral. “You two are really serious about this?”
Sage nodded. “We’ve hired a social-media guru and a manager. My friend will be doing the video pieces of the band to arouse interest. I’m leveraging my YouTube channel and its platform. Daiki will be penning the manga, and then we’ll do an anime while the band is prepping the music to perform concerts.”
Haru spun the paper in front of him. “Where are the songs coming from?”
“I know some songwriters in LA….” Sage tilted his head. “Why? Do you write?”
Haru shrugged. “A bit. If we move forward, I’d like to submit some of my songs for review.”
“Of course. I’d be interested in seeing whatever you’d like to share.” Sage sounded excited at the prospect.
Squinting at Sage as if afraid of missing something, Haru nodded in slow motion. “Okay… and Kashi-sei is a band that plays instruments, not an idol group, right?”
Sage grinned. “Correct. Though we might change things up for a song or two, but for the most part we’ll be playing music.”
Haru gave a nod of acceptance seeming to accept Sage’s words, then he leaned forward. “Who else are you interviewing?”
Sage glanced over at Daiki. “Should we?” was the unasked question.
Daiki inclined his head and continued to imagine drawing Haru. The problem was going to be figuring out the right angles on his hair flip and how the black liner made his eyes huge but even more masculine.
Sage smiled over at the company representative and said, “Please show him our list.”
She frowned at the odd turn of events but did as requested.
Once Haru got the list, he skimmed his finger down the names. He shook his head.
“What?” Sage asked.
“First three on your list are rather useless. Next one is okay but shows up late for practice and shows. This one, she’s pregnant, plans to get married and semiretire. The rest of the list is trouble but….”
“But?”
“Even with their issues, Watanabe Wayuu and Suzuki Zen are excellent singers. They both play several instruments. Watanabe Wayuu can kill it on guitar, and Suzuki Zen’s fingers can set any keyboard on fire. Each has a strong fan following, but they would be chaos… together.”
“Together… both of them?” Sage seemed to be mulling the idea over.
“When someone’s drunken comment implodes two bands, I’d label them as chaotic trouble.”
Sage’s smirk should have worried Daiki, but instead it excited him and reminded him not only the singers would be trouble.
“Chaotic might be interesting.” Sage smirked.
The company rep started coughing.
Haru grinned. “If you can get either or both of them, close the deal. They would add a lot.”
Daiki nodded. He couldn’t agree more.
HARU LEFT, promising to have someone look over the contract and requesting to sit in on the next meetings.
Sage turned to Daiki. His big smile was enough to melt Daiki like crayons left too close to a heater. He looked away to keep himself from staring.
“Thank you, Daiki. I couldn’t have done that without you.”
Daiki ignored the warm feeling Sage’s exaggerated praise gave him. “I’m sure you could have.”
Putting his hands palms out in front of him, Sage said, “Let’s just say I’m glad I didn’t have to. So we need to celebrate. Where do you go to celebrate?”
“Nowhere” didn’t sound coo
l, so Daiki went with, “We normally work until late, so I usually have dinner with my assistants.”
“No bars to have a few drinks? Or a club to dance?” After Daiki shook his head, Sage continued, “How about we change that?”
Daiki reached in deep and accessed the parts of himself he infused into his characters. Afraid if he opened his mouth he’d say no, he gave Sage a nod.
Sage shifted as if his energy could barely be contained. “How about Ni-chōme?”
Ni-chōme? Ni-chōme? There was no denying that was where gay men and women, along with people who were transgender, went to be themselves. Of course Sage would want to go there; he was openly gay.
Daiki scrambled to say, “I’ve never been to Ni-chōme.”
“Oh, really. Never?” Sage studied him, making him feel like he’d failed to turn in his final drafts on time.
“I don’t go out much.” But somehow Daiki found courage not to leave it there. He admitted, “But I’ve always wanted to go there.”
“Well, then, let’s lose our virginities together.” Sage’s words rolled off his tongue and teased Daiki physically.
“Um….” Daiki swallowed hard. Was Sage making fun of his inexperience? No, Sage couldn’t know that.
“Yeah, the last trip here, I was too young to drink, and my parents were with me, so this will be my first time too.”
Daiki relaxed. “Sounds good.”
He swallowed the addition of “Too good.”
WHY DID I agree to meet for drinks? Daiki took a deep breath and stared out over the other rooftops in Tokyo. He had showered, changed his clothing three times, and now wanted to back out.
Akihiro joined him. “You look nice.”
“I’m supposed to meet someone for drinks. I should cancel.”
Akihiro had changed out of his cosplay clothing, and there was a sadness around his eyes. “Don’t waste your life.”
“What?” They were longtime friends, but Akihiro was always careful not to let that part of their relationship show in front of the others.
Akihiro sighed. “Take a chance on being happy, my friend.”