The building was nicer looking than I anticipated.
Most talent agencies let their exterior become a bit dusty and worn but this tall black building with purple-tinted windows towered over me. I froze up.
A small hand was placed on my back, it radiated warmth as it nudged me forward. I turned around.
"Aren't you going in?" Amara tilted her head at me.
Today big golden checkmarks dangled from her ears.
The shirt she was wearing today had the picture of an American actor, Shy Lebouff posing his signature pose.
The three words were printed on it. "Just do it!"
No caps today.
"You were coming?"
With folded arms, she nodded.
"I'll be waiting for you, out here."
"But, it's kinda hot out..."
"I'm going to wait here." She repeated herself firmly.
"O-okay." There was no use arguing with her when she was making such an adamant expression.
Amara would be waiting out here for me.
Oddly enough this newfound pressure calmed me.
As I headed towards the entrance I turned around only to see her still there staring at me with folded arms.
I mimicked Shy Lebouff's pose.
She nodded in approval and gave a thumbs up.
Why did I feel so warm? Why did I feel so terrible? Knowing that that small lady was out there waiting for me in the heat gave me strength but it also made me impatient.
When I entered the building, the lobby was empty.
I texted Amara that there was a lobby but she didn't respond.
"Are you here for the audition?" The receptionist questioned me as soon as I walked in.
"Yes!"
"What's your name?"
"It's Fukuda Kagami."
"Here's your number then, if you go straight down the hall to the left and around the corner, you'll arrive. Best of luck to you, Fukuda Kagami-san."
"Thank you..." Maybe I'm overthinking it but the way she looked at me was weird.
Did it go from nice to condescending?
Following her instructions, I walked down the halls which were mostly bare, but as I approached the designated room I could hear music.
I knocked on the door then entered.
The room was packed with people.
People took turns on a small stage going up to practice in the far left.
No one else played during this time it seemed like only the groups whose numbers were about to be called were permitted to practice during that time.
It's much better than having everyone playing at once, drowning each other out.
"Name?" A man walked over to me.
"Fukuda Kagami."
He checked his clipboard and nodded.
"Number?"
"43."
He looked to the others, "42? Where are you?"
A hand raised up in the crowd.
The man scribbled something down and jerked his thumb in their direction.
"Sit next to them."
"Okay."
I walked over.
I thought I was imagining it but I felt a couple of gazes on me.
I sat down next to the person with the number 42. He seemed to be in a mood. An older kid who was tall with bleached blonde hair and ear piercings.
There was a puddle and a can of coco cola lying on the floor in front of him, his pants also seemed wet. He was wiping down his guitar with napkins and muttering something about an ill-mannered brat, so I assumed something must've happened.
"Are you okay?" I asked him.
He looked in my direction with narrowed eyes.
Scary! I swallowed.
"Napkins." He said, his gaze was intense.
I blinked, my mind went blank for some reason.
"Napkins?"
He nodded. It took me a moment to realize he was asking me. I recall my mom ambushing me at the door stuffing wipes and tissue into a pocket in my guitar case on my way out as she peppered kisses across my face.
"Well I have wipes...and some tissues...but I don't know which one."
The second I pulled them out the punk rocker's eyes sparkled.
He was so excited he exclaimed in English. "Thank you!"
"Ah, are you American?" I switched to English.
"Ah, no. I lived there for a while, it still comes out and every now and then out of habit but seriously thanks, man." He used the wipes on his clothes pants and the tissues for his guitar.
I mourned for his misfortune. Getting your guitar splashed on an important day would seriously damage my morale. "Sorry, I didn't bring any lighter fluid with me."
"It's all good. Ken's the name. What's yours?" He introduced himself by first name.
"Ah, Kagami." Naturally, I followed suit.
"Alright, Kagami-san. I hope you stay put, after your audition, I'll be sure to pay you back for this favor earlier."
The double doors beside me opened. And a group walked out.
"Numbers 23, 24, 25 pass and 26...fail."
"Hmm?"
Everyone turned to look.
"Ah, man that sucks. I heard them practice earlier, they were pretty good."
I turned to look but I could only see one guy looking down as people stood in front of me.
"What's with the mood. Three of them passed didn't they?" The person in front of me muttered.
"If one member of the band fails an audition, the whole group might as well have failed. It's equivalent to the band breaking up after all. Assuming they decide to give up the audition."
Ken-san's eyes twinkled with spite. "Still, I think I'll take it as indirect karma."
"Did something happen?" I ask him.
"Well that bitch over there poured cola all over my guitar," Ken said eyeing the group. I couldn't see all of them but the tallest member was bald.
"Are you sure it wasn't an accident?" I asked. To think someone would do something so spiteful like that was unsettling.
"No, everyone saw her do it." The person in front of me confirmed this and many others listening in on the conversation nodded.
"Crazy bitch, she was the one who should have failed." Someone else said.
Another said. "The person who failed was the one that had her apologize too, he seemed like a decent guy."
"As if an apology will make up for deliberate sabotage." Ken sighed. "God is too nice to the wicked sometimes. But... indirect Karma always delivers, perhaps it's a sign he should distance himself from toxic bandmates-"
"Shut up!" The voice of a female silenced the whispers.
Ken was the only one unfazed, he stood up.
"Or what? You're going to throw cola on all of our instruments? I dare you to try that again BITCH!"
"What did you just call me?"
His voice became derpy as he whined. "If she barks like a bitch, and trods like a bitch, SHE'S A BITCH!" The ferocity in which he roared the latter and the hateful look in his eyes made me flinch.
I licked my lips.
"You...BASTARD!" The girl growled and lunged only to get pulled back by her bandmates. It was an unnerving scene, the sheer hate embedded in her eyes too.
"Why don't you take a look at your surroundings? This isn't your backyard. Seriously you're like a rabid dog on a leash. Girls like you should be checked into the hospital. You're a danger to society."
"H-hey, isn't that a bit..." I said though sadly I was beginning to see the dog comparison.
"You weren't here to see her in action, she did it while smiling. Smiling!" Ken turned to me to explain, pointing to the corners of his lips.
I had no words. What a terrifying person...
"Let's go Akemi-chan." I heard her bandmate mutter.
Akemi? Akemi... why does that name sound familiar?
"Don't think I won't be suing you, bitch!" He called after her.
The air in the room was entirely against them. Going after a musician's instrument was almost equivalent to them injuring their hands. Unthinkable and almost unforgivable.
Once the group was left, the room quieted down.
I got to learn the name of the person in front of me. Osai Reitaka.
He seemed like an experienced musician but a lone lion. The bands he joined always ended up breaking up.
"Number 35."
Me and Kenichi were getting tired of listening to him talk when his number was called. Four numbers were typically called at once.
The room became empty and emptier.
Soon it was Ken's turn, he saluted me with two fingers on his way out. I went upstage to practice a couple of strums, my back facing the remains of people.
"Number 43, 44, 45 and 46."
It was my turn now. I exhaled as I gathered my stuff and walked over.
The double doors, opened into a small studio, with a small panel of judges seated at a table.
"Number 43?" A woman with silver dyed hair and blue eyes took one look at me and frowned.
"You fail."