My Sweet Winter Child

«Click-clack»

Next station: „Nakasu-Kawabata“. I repeat, „Nakasu-Kawabata”.

She should have taken a seat. Her legs were trembling with excitement, tiny droplets of sweat trickling down her back.

The digitized voice of an unknown woman emotionlessly announced the next station. Yukino Rei had entered the subway car 25 minutes ago, stayed standing in the middle of a car so not to be in the way of other passengers, gripped the handrail, and hadn't moved since.

«Click-clack».

Yukino nervously clenched her right hand into a fist.

The train was rushing rapidly through the dark subway tunnel. The window was slightly ajar, and a powerful stream of air washed over her, carrying the metallic scent of the metro. Her long, dark hair swayed in the wind, and she tucked a strand behind her ear so it wouldn't block her view.

"Nakasu-Kawabata," the lifeless voice announced. The doors opened, and Yukino stepped out of the car.

«Click-clack».

The weight in her right pocket was unsettling.

A couple of minutes later, she emerged from the underground passageway under a cold, dark sky.

It was seven in the evening; the sun had already set. She adjusted her warm scarf, shoved her hands into the pockets of her warm black coat, and walked with a determined step towards the club.

***

The string snapped with an unpleasant twang, coiling in half. Watanabe nearly dropped his guitar in surprise.

"Hey, don't you ever joke like that again," Hideo retorted, continuing to tune the pegs of his bass guitar as if nothing had happened. "I heard about this guy who loved to tighten his strings to the limit, keeping saying it made the sound purer. Then one of them just... went right into his eye."

"What happened to the eye then?" Watanabe asked. He was rummaging through his backpack looking for spare strings – only half an hour until the concert left, damn it, why exactly now, of all times?! Though, it's probably better than during the performance…

"Well, it's on a shelf now. Like a trophy."

"The eye? For real?" Watanabe turned to him skeptically, trying to fit the string.

Hideo snorted.

"A prosthetic. The real one you'd have to preserve in a jar now. He says it gets in the way too much, easier to just wear an eyepatch and not worry about it any more."

"Yikes..."

"That's what I'm saying. So, no more of that, don’t tight your strings too hard, man, no jokes" Hideo nodded meaningfully.

"Who's joking..."

Watanabe tightened the string. Now to tune it. He brought his finger close to the string and, a millimeter away, felt something elusive. Some unknown, invisible wave, like an impact - no, more like a current, a flow - seemed to connect his fingertips to the strings. Static electricity? Nah. Nonsense.

He shook his head, dispelling the unnecessary thoughts, and struck the strings to check the sound. Fifteen minutes left until the show.

***

"Freezing. Brrrr." Yukino thought to herself, striding towards the meeting place.

She had the route on her navigator, just in case, but she remembered the way for sure. She'd been there before. The small club "Machine Gear" - nothing remarkable, an ordinary basement hangout where local and occasional touring musicians played a couple of times a week.

Yukino remembered she'd been there once before. She just wondered how much had changed.

She was walking along the river. The Hakata River never froze, and now the reflections of neon signs and streetlights shimmered on its surface.

Yukino glanced at her watch. Ten past seven. There was still time before the concert, no need to rush, but she felt like hurrying. She looked enviously at the windows of the cozy cafes and restaurants across the street, where tired office workers, tourists, and random passersby were spending a comfortable evening. What a pity her path wasn't the same as theirs...

***

"Darn it, where is she wandering off to? We agreed on seven!" Thin fingers tapped irritably on the smartphone screen, typing a message.

She hit "send," winked at the screen, and put the phone in her pocket. Then she looked around. The girl's name was Fuzuki Natsune, and she and Yukino had been friends since high school. Although they went to different universities, they both still lived in Fukuoka. And yet... they had almost stopped communicating somehow. They didn't have a fight, didn't argue, nothing like that. It was as if life itself had decided to drift them apart into different streams of the Hakata River.

They hadn't texted in almost six months; Fuzuki didn't really know what Yukino had even been doing since graduating, and then - out of the blue - she just texted yesterday.

Something like:

«Natsu-chan, long time no see! You in Fukuoka? Any plans for tomorrow night?»
«Hey! Nah... not really. Where have you been anyway?»
«Work, sorry! :3 So, you free tomorrow? Wanna meet up?»
«Free after 6»
«How about "Machine Gear"? Like the good old days...»
«Wow... sudden, but okay. I thought you were over rock. Anyone interesting playing?»
«Yeah, they say they're really cool. Standard Splendid»
«Ah, think I've heard of them. So, what time?»
«Let's say 7 then!»
«K»
«:3»

And now Fuzuki Natsune was waiting for her friend alone, with a bored look. The solitude, however, was rather conditional. A crowd of visitors had gathered at the bar, waiting for the concert to start and ordering drinks to pass the time before the show starts off. Natsune kept pressing herself against the counter to let the people scurrying back and forth pass.

***

"Okay... okay... almost there. Crap! I'm late!" Yukino muttered under her breath.

"In 50 meters, turn right," the navigator helpfully prompted.

"Yeah, I know, damn it!" Yukino shook her head nervously. A light chill spread through her eardrum, confirming the disconnection.

"Aha, there it is." Yukino crossed the road, turned into the alley she needed, and could already see the club lights ahead.

She tossed her head and closed her eyes for a moment.

"19:17. 26/01/2043. 1 new message from: Fuzuki Natsune."

"On my way!"

Yukino tossed her head again, confirming the send. The phone responded with a light vibration in her pocket; the icy, liquid cold spread through her ear again. She winced and pressed her palm to her ear.

"It's faster this way, it's fine. I need to stay connected."

Click-clack.

Here we are. Yukino looked at the glowing sign above the entrance. "Machine Gear".

"My God, it's true, how many years has it been since I was here..."

Someone bumped her shoulder.

"S'rry!" waved off a guy who was already pretty drunk. Seems he was here for the concert too.

Right in front of her, under the sign, was a staircase leading down to a semi-basement. Some unshaven bruiser - a bouncer and security guard in one - was blocking the entrance.

Click-clack.

"Not now," Yukino thought. "This is your first time. Get it together."

She wasn't the kind of girl who loved to admire herself, but right now she suddenly had an insane urge to look in a mirror.

***

"Alright, folks, let's go!" Hideo exclaimed backstage.

"Backstage," yeah, right. A miserable little room where you could barely stash your stuff during the concert - Watanabe looked around the room with disgust. Well, it's not like they had a choice.

"Let's do it," he nodded.

Calling it a "stage" was a stretch - just a small, cordoned-off space a couple of steps away from the gathered crowd. Watanabe scanned the room. Yeah, a decent crowd had packed in. A hundred people, for sure, no less.

The guitars, plugged into the amplifiers, hummed pleasantly; a light haze of purple light pierced the semi-darkness of the basement. Watanabe looked at the audience, gripped the guitar neck with his left hand, and felt the familiar electric tingling... just like then, just like the very first time, just like always.

***

"No doubts," Yukino said to herself once more. This time, out loud.

She lightly slapped her own cheeks.

Click-clack.

Yukino exhaled and slowly walked down the steps. The staircase was damp from the recent rain, and now the light from the bright "Machine Gear" sign reflected off the wet stone steps with particular clarity.

"Ticket," the bruiser grumbled sullenly.

"Ah... yes," Yukino nodded, reaching her hand into the right pocket of her coat without further thinking.

Click-clack.

"No, not now... no!" Her fingers got tangled in the pocket; Yukino barely managed to grab the thing what almost fell out, found the ticket, and handed it to the bouncer.

He took a quick look at it, handed her the ticket back, and gave a silent nod.

Yukino nodded in return and stepped inside. Her breath caught, and only now, inside, could she finally exhale properly and take a full, deep breath.

Click-clack.

"Damn, next time I'll definitely need a holster," she thought.

The pistol in the right pocket of her coat cooled her palm reassuringly. Yukino exhaled.

***

Watanabe took a deep breath, scanned the room one more time, and grabbed the microphone:

"Hello, Fukuoka! We're just regular guys, we are normal and totally standard, but we are as well pretty splendid!"

And then he plucked the strings.