Cara Orke (Karaoke)

DOWWWWWWWN!
DOWWWWWWWN!
GONNA TAKE YOU DOWN THE SLOPE WITH ME!
GONNA TAKE YOU DOWN THE SLOPE WITH MEEEEEEEEEEE!
[guitar feedback]
[drum break]

So ended Leonor’s latest turn on the karaoke machine (or cara orke, as the Satsumans called it, with something between a tapped “r” and a glottal stop between the “o” and the “ke”). Before this, Noe had sung “Riviera”, a classic pop tune by Marcos Noda. It had probably been on karaoke machines here in Satsuma since the first karaoke machine was brought over from China, and it certainly predated anything like “nu-metal”, as Leonor’s choice would be classified.

“Wowwww!” exclaimed Noe, applauding Leonor’s performance. “That was awesome, Leonor! You really nailed those, uh…‘pig-squealing’ parts?”

“Save it,” said Leonor through heavy breaths. She plopped back down on the couch, microphone still in hand. Then she let out a deep sigh. “This is pretty good for blowing off steam, though, I’ll admit.”

“I know, right?” said Noe. “Anna and Serena rope me into it all the time. I’m not a big music lover myself, but once you get into it it’s super fun! I’ll have to listen to this song later when I get home, too. Uh… ‘S—Sa-ka-teh’…”

“Skateramp,” replied Leonor. “That’s the name of the band. ‘Slope’ is the song.”

“I see,” said Noe with a laugh. “I’m not big on American music, either. …By the way, do you not go to karaoke much, Leonor?”

Leonor sighed again. “Bold of you to assume I have anyone to go to karaoke with.”

“Oh…”

“Don’t feel sorry.” Leonor took a sip of her cream soda. “I just hate talking. Hate making friends. It’s everything to do with me.”

“…Really? But why?”

“Well… I know I said I ‘moved’ here before, but the truth is…we were basically forced out of Korea, as you might expect. I barely have any memory of it, but my father was apparently a preacher. He ran an underground church in Seoul that got exposed by spies of the dictator there. They arrested him, and they nearly got me and my mom too. We had to leave the country by boat.”

“Oh, my God…” said Noe.

“My mom started working at an orphanage, one run by the Hospitaller Sisters. It was a couple years after that that my gift manifested.”

Leonor took a look up at the camera in the room. She had already confirmed its model, and that it was one that did not record any audio, but it never hurt to make sure reality was the same as it had been half an hour ago. Then she switched her microphone off.

“Most of the kids there were from other countries, like me. They spoke all different languages. One day, everyone there pretty quickly found out I could speak all their languages, fluently. After that, it was one thing after another. First, all the kids there wanted me to interpret for them, and then the sisters, and soon enough the government and the Church became involved, too. They all confirmed my gift’s genuine, they just don’t know why I have it.

“That’s also why I was roped into working for the Knights. Being able to understand every single dialect of Japanese and Satsuman as well as every foreign language I’ve encountered so far helps when working on cases, after all. But Church clergy are the only non-alchemists allowed to serve the Alchemist Court…hence why I’m a postulant at the moment.”

“Do you…want to be a nun, Leonor?”

Leonor crossed her arms and buried herself further into the couch.

“Hell no. But…nothing really better for me, either. I think a boyfriend or husband is basically off the table for me.”

She stopped for a moment and cast her eyes downward.

“Huh. I dunno why I just said all that.”

Before she could muse any further on this, she was assaulted by two arms wrapping around her, and a weight not far off from her own pressing her further into the couch.

“I’M SO SORRY!” Noe bawled.

“H—Hey! Get off!” protested Leonor. “I—I told you, it’s fine! I’m fine!”

“But…But that’s just so sad!” Then Noe got off of her, though she kept her arms on her shoulders and looked straight into her eyes, even through the tears. Leonor had trouble reciprocating this.

“But you see? We do have something in common. We’ve both got something we don’t fully understand. I’ve been where I wanted to up until recently, when I had this, uh, ghost possess me. And if you’re not where you want to be, then…I think we can get through it together. What do you say? Friends?”

Noe took her arms off of Leonor, whose face began to turn red and whose lips began to quiver.

“Wh…Why…? I told you…I don’t…need friends…”

“But you feel happy, don’t you?”

“Mm-hm.”

“And you’d be a lot happier if you had a friend, wouldn’t you?”

“M—Mm-hm.”

“‘Kay, that’s that, then! We’re friends, Leonie!”

Noe stuck out her pinky finger. Leonor looked at her incredulously, with a bit of a pout on her face.

“Leonie?”

“Yeah. Must be boring getting called ‘Leonor’ all the time, huh? It’s just to change things up a little. Oh, but you can just call me ‘Noe’.”

Leonie sighed. “Fine.” Then she took Noe’s pinky in her own and cracked a smile.

“Thanks, Noe.”

Once they released each other’s pinkies, Noe took a moment before she spoke again.

“So you work with Justo and Sachiko, right?”

“Yeah. What about it?”

“How would you describe them? Good to be around?”

Leonie’s scowl flared up again.

“DAMMIT! I knew you were just trying to get info out of me!”

Noe laughed. “My bad, Leonie! How about I just sing another song instead?”

* * *

Far off from the many scenes of mirth, mirroring Noe and Leonie’s own, tucked away in the recesses of rented rooms, a lone man sat at the reception desk to this karaoke parlor. The desk was an island of tile in a sea of multicolored carpet (though the primary color was black), surrounded on all sides by a greenish-purplish-blue counter, the surface of which was peeling off in many different places. The man himself was about college-aged, likely a student, as evidenced by the backpack he had tucked away behind the counter. He wore a simple black T-shirt and jeans, the only clothing needed for a job like this, and had a messy mop of black hair which almost hid his eyes.

This time of the day, about 4:00 PM, was accompanied most days by a lull in traffic at the reception area. The students had long since gotten out of their classes, and those who had made their minds up to do karaoke today had already picked a venue and rented a room. Most of the working world, on the other hand, was still an hour away from clocking out, at which point traffic would pick up again.

In the meantime, heedless of the uncomfortable stool on which he sat, the dim lighting the neon and LCDs in the room provided, the din of the TVs opposite the desk playing four different music videos at once, and, of course, the part of his mind which was telling him to get back to work, the man busied himself poring over a thick issue of a comic magazine (the enthusiasts called them manga rather than comics, after the Chinese man-hwa, where most of the popular series originated), fresh off the presses, but being mindful to not show off the bikini model on the cover. His favorite series in the magazine, one titled The Regular Customer at the Café I Work At Turned Out to Be a Famous Idol?!, had received a color page this issue, featuring an illustration of the series’ heroine in a racy bunny costume.

But his ogling was not to be long-lived. From the other side of the counter, a young female voice came.

“Um…Excuse me…”

The man jerked his head up. The 3-D sight his eyes were greeted by was almost as good as the 2-D attraction they were being drawn away from: a woman about his age, wearing a tube top and a long black skirt with a slit running up to her thigh, carrying a backpack on her back. She had a gentle, pretty face with just the right amount of makeup, framed by a bob of dark brown hair with blonde highlights, and she flashed the man a smile.

“Hi,” she said, “I’d like to rent a room, please.”

“Can do!” the man replied, with an unusual amount of spirit. “For how many people, miss?”

“Just one.”

“Absolutely! In that case, you can take advantage of our Solo Karaoke Special and rent one of our smallest rooms for just ¥1500 an hour. Would you like to do that?”

“Yes, please,” the girl said as she flashed him another smile.

“Perfect!” said the man. While he processed the sale on the desk’s computer, he also took the time to strike up a conversation with this customer.

“By the way, miss, from your accent it sounds like you’re from Japan. Am I right?”

“Yes,” answered the girl with a nod and a giggle. “I’m actually a student at—”

“—Kagoshima University?”

“Yes! Wow, you go there, too?”

“Sure do. It’s a surprise to see someone all the way from Japan who goes there, though. …All right, you can pay on the card reader when you’re ready.”

The girl took her phone out of her backpack. As she held it up to the card reader, the man caught a glimpse of something else inside her phone case that gave her more points in his book.

“Whoa!” he exclaimed. “Is that a photo card of Fuku-chan?”

“Oh my God, yes!” said the girl, her eyes lit up with enthusiasm. “You’re a fan of FCZN, too?”

“You bet. Check this out.” The man picked up his backpack, flashing a keychain of a cartoon illustration of Cocoro-chan hanging off the main zipper.

“That’s so cool!” said the girl. “Ahh, I listened to ‘Love Kiong-Si’ so many times when it dropped. Mmh, I just hope they’re not on hiatus for too long, though.”

“Yeah, I get you,” replied the man. “You know what I say? F— those conspiracy theorists!”

The both of them laughed.

“Well, enjoy your time! And hope I can catch you on campus.”

“You too!” With this, the girl slung her backpack over her shoulder and walked off.

* * *

Once she was settled into her room, the girl sat herself down on the couch and, before she interacted with anything related to the karaoke machine, unzipped her backpack, took out its only contents, a slim black tablet, and placed it down on the table. She stuck a hand out over the device.

“All right, shiki,” she said with a sneer, “it’s time to get to work.”

At her word, the USB-C port of the tablet began to glow a white-blue light. This was followed by a viscous, glowing, neon-blue mass slowly pouring out of the port; some spots of yellow could also be seen floating in the fluid (?). Once it reached a large enough size, about the span of a hand, this mass began to pour in upon itself. Taller, taller, it piled, and eventually four thick legs hoisted the rest of the goop off the ground. As it solidified, little yellow spikes began to form on its back. Many of the other patches of yellow came together, lumping into two unevenly-sized balls on its “face”. Finally, two “pupils” were carved out of these “eyes”, and the summoning was complete.

The girl stroked this almost cartoonish, blobbing creature’s spikes with two fingers and giggled.

“Cute as ever, my little shiki. Now, up! Up into the camera!”

Upon her command, the creature, the shiki, bolted toward the back wall of the room, ran straight up, and climbed on top of the security camera. It looked down the back side of the device for a moment, searching for a point of entry, before spotting an unused HDMI port. It smooshed itself face-first into this, and, as if the camera itself was sucking the creature up, disappeared bit-by-bit into the device, once again likely becoming a thin strand of supernatural goop.

The girl powered the tablet on and tapped through a few menus. Suddenly, a camera feed was displayed on the screen, with the girl herself and the room around her visible in it.

“Now, let’s see what you can see…” she said.

She closed out of the video feed and began tapping away at the tablet again. Feed after feed began to cycle on the screen, showing some empty rooms, some rooms with very little activity, and some rooms with a lot of activity. It was not just a party the girl was evidently looking for, however.

Amongst all the dim silhouettes of people under dim lighting so far, one figure in one feed suddenly stood out. Not only was he glowing, a whitish-purplish hue, but he was certainly not dressed in the attire of the average karaoke-goer. No, he was wearing tattered robes, which complemented his disheveled hair and unshaven face. A sword-scabbard was at his hip, and he was standing behind a high school girl with short, curly blonde hair, though she seemed to be unaware of his presence.

“Onryo spotted,” said the girl, as another sneer crept across her face. “Room 4, huh? How lucky.” She gave a loud whistle, and after a few seconds, the shiki exited the camera, shimmied down the wall, and crawled back into her tablet. She zipped the tablet in her backpack and stepped outside.