INTRO ONE: THE BOY TURNED REFUGEE
Now come days of waiting. Days surrounded by peers of the damaged and the ill-willed. Eleven days David waited for a savior, as come to find he'd been brought to a refugee center three miles from nearby Shibuya.
These were not days for the hopeful, for any remanence of hope in the deathly white was as hopeless as death itself. For every many child, woman, and man taken in, three fold were brought. Of three fold, only a mere baker's dozen could be refuged, the rest to become a burden for any out of sight.
The eleven days he stayed were blurred with screens of an old box tv, showing words of which he couldn't read, as he and many others were tended to by people he'd never know, speaking words he'd never understand. Blurred were the lines of banality and novelty, overshadowed by overwhelming isolation.
His only companion during that time save for the television was a 16 year old girl from Austin. He hadn't known her name - he hadn't asked to begin with - but she provided a sense of amity David had lacked for some time.
Within two days, a family from Nagasaki had taken her in. There was left David, wondering if his turn would bear fruit. Wondering, hoping, praying that it was a mere figment of a cruel lucidity.
"Can I go back to how my life was?" He wondered.
Came one day, a woman brought him to a room, fitted with sparse wooden chair and but a single TV mounted on the wall. She spoke something in Japanese, before leaving the room.
The silent hum from the television buzzed the room. Images briefly showed from America. A man raised a closed fist, as behind him the flag of the New Confederate waved, mocking. David clenched the underside of the chair tightly, indenting his fingers.
A broadcast of President Beckett shone onscreen, Japanese text under him. David shuddered, his eyes replacing the American flag with the Confederate one, all but for a brief moment. He felt as if Beckett was staring into his soul, his face stern with his lip curved upward in an articulate smile. The very manner in which he presented himself was that of a calm man, well mannered, with his hands rested in front of his chest, the nation's flag proud behind his being.
David fixated on the flag, its menacing red lined with white and blue. The stars which lined it stared him down, watching as if to say "One day, we will get you too." He chilled, his mind going to the same flag which wafted over the decrepit in Bakersfield.
The door opened, breaking his focus from the television. Enter a man dressed neatly in a suit and tie. Behind him, the woman from before held the door open. The man looked at David, who looked back up at him with tired eyes, neck angled to point his face toward the man's. The man bowed as he spoke.
He introduced himself as Haru. He spoke in accented English, extending his hand for David to shake. David returned meekly.
"I'm David." David spoke softly. Haru smiled.
"The volunteer mentioned you would be silent. I suppose she was right." Haru paused, grumbling at his bluntness. He rubbed the back of his neck. "N-Not that there's anything wrong with that, of course."
"Don't sweat it," David responded. "Am I going with you?"
"That you are. Is there anyone you'd like to say your goodbyes to?"
"Not any I know."
"Then we should be going."
"Great," David thought to himself. "Didn't feel like staying much longer."
The drive to Haru's home wasn't none out of mundane. Small talk was made here and there, but aside from all there was none too of note. And yet, David found himself staring at the city throughout the car ride.
Absent were the wonderous sights he'd been told about religiously. Where there would be yet few last stars in the void above, there stood only void with colors of silver and gold from the surrounding labyrinth of concrete and window. Haru noticed him transfixed.
"Eye catching, is it?"
David hummed. "I guess, but not really. It just..."
There stood silence, as Haru eyed the boy who stared at the city around, lost in memory.
"Remind you of home?"
David paused, looking out onto the streets upon which only people walked from on destination to the next. He thought of Downtown LA, which carried imperfect liveliness in street performers and homeless. The bang of a nearby firework sent a shudder down his being. His mind snapped to the image of bursting bombs under his feet. He came back, still staring out the window.
"Home was more loud, I guess."
They arrived at a parking lot, graffiti dotted around the interior and contrasting itself with the dust covered concrete. Exiting the car, David followed Haru to an elevator, cold silver lamps lighting the way around.
Entering Haru's apartment, David was met with a small quaint living space. The walls and much rest of the interior were colored a dust grey save for few items colored in foreign assortment. Haru stepped forward, collecting articles of packaged food and stained dishes off a glass table.
"I'm sorry for the mess," he spoke nervous. "Most of the time, I work in my office, so I hardly have time to clean after myself."
"It's fine." David recalled the state in which his home lay desecrated prior to his exodus, which made even the most diseased of landfills clean by nature.
Haru rested the dirty plates in the sink. "You must be tired," he commented. David hummed. He led David down a small hallway which led to doors left, right, and center front. A single silver bulb lit the hallway. Haru opened the door left, switching a light on.
In the room held a quad stack of boxes, halving the view of a curtained window. It reached a mere foot from the ceiling. To the right, a single futon with not but a white blanket and pillow.
Haru sighed ashamedly. "I'm deeply sorry for not having prepared this better. Had I known we'd be meeting today, I would've at least given you something proper. If it's too little, I can offer you my room instead."
David shook his head, as he set his backpack next to the futon, pressing his hand to it. He looked at Haru.
"I'll be fine. I've slept on worse."
Haru sighed, relief washing his being. "If that's the case, I'll let you rest then. Don't be afraid to knock on my door should you need anything."
And there, Haru closed the door as he left. David laid himself on the futon, staring at the eggshell ceiling which shone grey in the dark. In his mind, he yet remained across the ocean, amongst the wrathful and the damned. There he laid, upon the bodies and shells of those who never made it. Unmoving and still, for all else would mean the absence of death itself. And yet here he laid, soaked by the blood of the worthy for he knew he alone was damned, for it is only the dead who truly see the end of stillness and the wrath of the wicked.
David felt the pit in his gut tearing at his self and heard the wails of the resting, and he questioned why it was he who still drew breath. His unworthiness tore his chest open. He laid a hand across as he heaved.
He closed his eyes and wished for sleep.
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INTRO TWO: TWO BUDS ON A WIRE
The sun shone its golden rays through the windowsill, shining as brightly as it did most days. Warm gold descended on the city as it bustled to life, moving like the hands on a clock.
The boy laid on the bed, head resting on his hands. He had his eyes closed, letting himself bask in the blanket of relief, free of worries. He tapped his heel against the bedframe as he adjusted the volume of his music.
The door creaked open as a boy but a few years older peaked his head in.
"Abel," the older boy called out. "C'mon man, we gonna be late."
The boy, Abel, removed one ear bud from his ear, holding it in his hand as he lifted his head up.
"Watchu want Zeke?"
"Momma says get up." Zeke furrowed his brow. "Watchu listenin' to?"
Abel turned on his phone, reading the name of the artist.
"Uhh... Roy Ayers...Ubikitey."
"Ubiquity?" Zeke questioned. Abel groaned, switching to a seated position on his bed.
"Yeah, yeah. Dad said I should try his stuff out after he bought me that Bob Marley vinyl."
Zeke laughed. "He got your ass on that 70's shit, huh?"
Abel scoffed. "Tell Momma I'mma be out in a second."
Shrugging, Zeke left, leaving the door cracked open as Abel stood up. Shortly after, he left his room, greeted by the unmistakable smell of fresh eggs, bacon, and coffee. Upon entering the kitchen, he heard a back and forth between his mother and his father.
"It just ain't right," his father shouted. "Sayin' some' 'bout how they gotta send 'em all back. Ain't nothin' to send them back to! Last I checked, a country at war with itself ain't a country for no one at all!"
His mother sighed. "Jerome, this country's different. They already had enough problems with people outside their own making the country worse than it already was. I'm sure they just don't want to make all the current problems worse."
"Then I ask 'em what's so bad about a starvin' orphan? They gon' tell all them kids that came over here on those boats that they gonna send them back to the hell they spent so long tryin' to escape?"
Abel sat down at the table, sighing as he fixed himself a plate.
"Third time this week," he thought to himself, "and it's only Tuesday."
His mother noticed Abel sitting down.
"Abel, honey," she called, "I'm driving Zeke to school today. If you need it, I can drive you too."
"Nah, I'm good, thanks." Abel answered. "I'm goin' with Kyu today. He's gonna pick me up in a bit."
His mother hummed. "Alright then. Don't cause them too much trouble now, you hear?" Abel nodded.
His father continued his ranting, starting with, "This country done went and lost their minds, I'm tellin' ya. Sittin' on their high horse and sayin' immigrants are destroyin' the economy. That's the exact same thing they told us in America, and now they tellin' us here. If they got any sense left, they woulda seen the cause of the problem and offered praise instead of punishment. Help over hate."
"And you think they'll hear out the righteous opinion of the big scary black man?" Abel's mother retorted. "All that talk, you'd have better luck in here than tellin' them face to face."
His father stood from his seat on the couch. "Hell, if that's what'll take to make 'em hear us, you best believe-"
"Jerome, that's enough." His mother scolded. His father scoffed, sitting back down as he grumbled.
Abel left the apartment soon after, looking out at the grandeur golden glaze which shimmered over each window in the city. He breathed in the crisp morning dew, before making his way twelve stories down.
"I shoulda taken the stairs," He thought as he reached the bottom. A car honk echoed in the parking lot to his left. He looked as a jet black limousine pulled itself up, stopping in front of him. He saw his reflection in its tinted window before it rolled down, a smiling face greeting him.
"Hey Abel!" The boy greeted, as the door opened for him. "Come on in, we're gonna be late!"
"I'm goin', I'm goin'." Abel climbed himself inside as the door shut automatically. "You're technically the one who's late, Kyu." Abel joked in Japanese. Kyu pouted.
"Hey, it's not my fault! My alarm died on me, and I stayed up all night doing English homework!"
Abel raised his eyebrow. "You sure? Or did you just not put the batteries back in?"
Kyu looked off to the side. "Shaddup, I forget sometimes..."
"Did you at least finish the English homework?"
He responded with silence. Abel sighed.
"Well, we got time right now. Come on, I already did most of it, we can finish it if we start now."
Abel opened his backpack, pulling a red college-ruled notebook from it as Kyu followed suit. He slapped the notebook on the empty space next to Kyu. Kyu held it up, quickly glancing at Abel.
"You're not gonna finish the rest?"
Abel shrugged as he placed his arms atop the black velvet seats. "I'll ask Kita for the answers during lunch." He crossed his legs. "Remind me what we ate last night, at your place?"
Kyu's head perked up for a moment. "You mean those meats? I think it was bulgogi, galbi, maybe some hanwoo beef as well."
"No, I know about that shit. I meant the stuff they gave us that was like, orange-ish pink-ish."
"You mean the salmon?"
"That was salmon?" Abel asked, leaning forward with his neck. Kyu nodded.
"Yeah! What, have you never had salmon before?"
Abel shook his head. "Nah man, that was my first time."
"You've lived here for seven years and you've never had salmon?" His eyes almost burst in astonishment.
"I've had it on sushi, but I haven't tried it by itself."
Kyu hummed, looking down but for a moment before his head snapped back up. "Well, don't leave me at that! What did you think of it?" His eyes beamed, awaiting an answer.
"I'll be honest," Abel scratched the back of his neck, "it was salty. Everything else was fine, but it was just salty."
"Huh." Kyu nodded, putting his pencil to his lip. "That's pretty descriptive, as usual. I'm telling you, you should be a food critic!"
"It's not rocket science. I just said it was salty." Abel crossed his limbs over each other. "Salt's an easy way to make stuff taste good, but it doesn't go good with everything, especially if there's a lot of it. But I guess it also depends if it's even supposed to be salty in the first place."
"Usually it's not." Kyu scratched an answer off his homework. "If anything, it's supposed to be buttery, and kinda sweet. I guess it also depends on how you cook it, or where it's from."
"I guess so." Abel raced his fingers along back and forth atop his knee. He glanced. "Are you done with it yet?"
Kyu's face flushed with embarrassment, and his arms stood stiff with his shoulders. "L-Leave me alone, okay?! You keep distracting me!"
"Just do the damn work dude," Abel sighed.
It was another fifteen minutes before they would arrive at their school, the limousine perching itself at the front entrance of the school.
It was a grand building, the entrance held two dark glossed gates with the tops ornate with clover spears in a wave-like arch, as both were hinged open, introducing the front space which contained pots of trees. At the center lay a round-about walkway, centered by a great Sakura whose roots angled the walkway to where a single coin would somersault by a margin.
The sleek concrete transitioned to gloss tile as they entered the front doors, taking their shoes off as they switched them to polished black shoes from their lockers.
"That's probably why I like your home so much." Kyu sat next to Abel as he closed his locker. Abel glanced at him.
"Say again?"
"Your parents don't force you to take your shoes off in your apartment. I ranted about it for a good five minutes, were you not listening?"
"Not really." Abel shrugged. "And why are you still on about that? That ain't anything new."
"I know." Kyu sighed. "It just never made much sense to me, y'know?"
"It's just sanitary, man." Abel rubbed the bridge of his nose. "It makes things easier to clean if we don't track a lot of dirt and stuff."
"Exactly my point! We're cleaning it at the end of the day anyway, so why does it matter what shoes we wear?" Kyu pouted. "And why are you defending this if you're allowed to keep your shoes on?"
"Just because I can doesn't mean I always do." Abel closed his locker shut. "And that's just what you see at my house. My mom's told me and my brother before, she doesn't care what we do or how we act in private, but the second we're in public we have to out-citizen the citizens. She says our color makes us stand out, so we shouldn't make it worse by doing stuff to make us stand out more."
Kyu huffed. "I guess that makes sense. But then why do you defend things like changing shoes just to make something cleaner?"
"Because it makes good habits, and good habits are for people who don't have a maid to clean up after them."
He scoffed and stuttered, before he hung his head in brief defeat. "Fine, fair enough. You win this time."
"Not like you've ever won before, man." Abel responded in English.
The halls of the school stood much like its shell outside. It was a pristine white which garnered a white glow from the still rising sun. Their hills clicked against the checkered tiles, soloing from the clacks from other such students.
"I'm still stuck on how that guy figured out you were Korean." Abel took his walk to a modest brisk to match Kyu. Kyu shrugged in response.
"It's really not that hard. Anyone with basic vision skills could see it from a good distance away."
Abel's eyes trailed to the side as he mumbled. "Not that hard my ass."
"Are you saying all Asians look the same?" Kyu raised his brow as Abel slapped his arm.
"Man, you know that's not what I'm trying to say."
"It sure sounds like it."
Abel stammered. "Look man, it's hard to tell when every Asian I see looks different from the Asian next to them, so if anything it's the opposite!"
"Yeah, sure, sure." Kyu teased in Korean, grinning.
Abel groaned, jogging ahead of Kyu as he looked back at him. "Come on, we still got a whole day ahead of us. Let's try and get through this without the race-bashing so you can finish your homework, or so help my black-ass we're never gonna live this down."
His hand beckoned, and the two continued down the hall to their homeroom, the silver sun basking their shadows as they ran.
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INTRO THREE: THE CRUEL SPOTLIGHT
"I'll shine you a spotlight just for my love!"
A flurry of pinks and magenta spotlights shone on the dancers, basking the matte black stage as they danced around it. And they are dancing, moving their hands and bodies in ritual as the commanding eyes of producers and staff watch, the music serving as clock and commander for each idol, center and support.
The center girl beamed as she danced. She shone an eclipse in magenta light clouds, her each and every move noted by all including herself. She swept the floor with a leg, small and swift.
"Too stiff." She chastised herself.
The back-up dancers circled her as all spotlights trailed her, slow cooking her as her eyes glanced under their gaze.
"These lights..." She blinked. "Too bright."
She stared down the camera with a smile, posing vulnerable as she smiled. "I hope you'll never leave my side!" She lied blissfully.
"These words... so empty." She sung and sung, lying with her tongue as each eye captured all. She struck the final pose, holding her exhaustion as the spotlights dimmed to white. There was no applause.
The idols stepped off-stage, gathering around the producer like chicks to a hen. The producer said it lacked perfection, and his word was final.
He singled the center. "Miss Akiyama." She held her hands proper when she faced him, attentive.
"You need to eat more. A skinny body is good, but you're practically a skeleton. No one finds corpses attractive." He was soulless, but he was all.
"I apologize." She bowed briefly. "I'll fix it as soon as I can."
"Can you not fix it now? Explain yourself."
"I have tests coming up, so I have to study for those, and I've not found the time to feed myself properly." She explained. Inside, she seethed. "And you said last month I was too fat, you insufferable shit."
They went back and forth for but a few more. Then it was decided, they would be on a month and a half hiatus. The producer was final, and he was soulless.
The front door to the apartment clicked open, and in walked the center followed by two other girls in ascending age.
The door clicked as it locked. The middle girl - a girl no older than eighteen - reached out to the youngest, the center, who was four years younger than the middle girl..
"Mizuki, you know you don't have to listen to him."
"Of course I don't." Mizuki scoffed. "Why would I take health advice from that overweight pig? He's only my producer, after all." She huffed as she took her shoes off, leaving them with the toes pointed out and away but not entirely unneat.
The middle girl placed a soft hand on Mizuki's shoulder as she beamed. "I still think you did an amazing job, no matter what your mean old producer says."
She looked back at the eldest girl, no older than twenty-six. "Isn't that right Sachiko?"
Sachiko sighed, her face stern and unmoving as stone. "You won't like it, but your producer has a point. People aren't likely to find a body that's too skinny to be attractive."
"So then what am I supposed to do?" Mizuki slapped her hand against the floor as she stood. "Is it not enough to just be average?"
"You said you wanted to be an idol." Sachiko crossed her arms. "That means making the impossible a reality. It's perfection or nothing. Ask Akari if it isn't enough from me."
Mizuki looked to the middle girl, who smiled nervously.
"It is a lot harder than I made it look." Akari shrugged, then smiled with confidence. "But that doesn't mean it's impossible. I only left the industry to help you, after all!"
Mizuki sighed. "Don't make it feel like I owe you this."
"You know that's not what I meant." Akari frowned.
"Well words of affirmation aren't going to make me any fatter for that overweight sleazeball!"
"Enough of that, both of you." Sachiko but in. She pinched the bridge of her nose. "For now, you're on hiatus. It's not a problem we have to fix in the moment. Just calm down, sleep if you need to. You're too heated to solve this head-on at this time."
Mizuki sighed, storming off to her room, slamming the door shut. Akari sighed exasperated as she glanced at Sachiko.
"I wish she wouldn't be so hot-headed at times. It would make helping her so much easier."
"She's still growing, and this is a lot for her to handle all at once. For now, all we can do is support her as much as she'll let us."
In her room, Mizuki sat alone in the dark. Blue light from her phone turned her face sky blue with it as she scrolled through her home feed. Her eyes landed upon a news article discussing the latest leaks of any and all idols. She searched for her name, sighing as it never came up.
"Is this really what people want?" She wondered. "They want us to be perfect, then get mad when they find something they were looking for? Why do they not expect us to be human?"
She scrolled further, stopping at a still image from a video. It showed armed men, bodies covered head-to-toe as they stood guard while cement and barbed wire lay under construct behind them. The title displayed below, bold and capitalized.
--CANADIAN RANGERS DEPLOYED AT US-CANADA BORDER AS CONFLICT REACHES NORTHERN UNITED STATES--
Mizuki's finger lingered over the video, debating with herself at the prospect of watching it. Too often now had she stumbled upon videos that had been a copy of a copy.
She moved her finger off. She knew it would be nothing new. She knew it would be nothing positive.
"At least I'm not there," she relieved. "I can only imagine what it must be like to live through that."
She gritted her teeth. "I wish I could say something for them, I really do. But management would let me go on the spot." She sighed.
"They barely let me stay with all the song ideas I showed them." She looked to a blue notebook, layered with dust on a high shelf. "I really don't like all these restrictions. Maybe I should leave..."
She powered her phone off, putting it on the nightstand next to her bed. "Idol or not, I still have school. I should really get to sleeping. I already know I'm gonna have a rough day tomorrow." She sighed.
As she closed her eyes, her mind wandered. She imagined a stage, surrounded with crowd that stretched past the hills. The lights white, but not bright, almost silver. And there she stood singing and dancing, but her words were her own.
And she was happy. Satisfied. Free.
Come the next day, during lunch. Mizuki wandered the halls, shining brightly as she brisked past the other students. She never ceased in her wandering as her heels clacked against smooth porcelain. She peaked her head from one room to the next, until she found one which held not one of even the most taciturn nature.
The light from outside pierced through the slit in the doorway, shining like a searchlight into the depths of the room. Mizuki coughed as the dust caught in her throat, catching her muscles like spores.
She fanned it away, setting herself down on an empty chair as she wiped away the dust on the table.
"Thank god I found someplace quiet." Mizuki said aloud. "It's hard to believe the school would even keep a room like this empty for this long."
She shrugged, smiling. "Well, at least I get a room to myself now!"
She opened the tin box, colored in bright colors more akin to a playset. The room was silent, and it was dark. Yet she did not feel alone, and her mind felt at ease.
Thoughts lingered in the back of her mind, the world tearing itself at its throat. Everything was loud, blaring, closing in on her being. There was no space for silence, not at school, at home, or in her idol career.
Mizuki craved for a time where things were simple. She wondered when it all began moving at a pace she could not understand.
She sighed. "At least in here, I can get away." Her voice echoed yet muffled by the dust. There was no noise, no voices. No need for the rapidity of reality. It was all quiet.
Mizuki didn't mind the silence.
What she missed most was stillness.