Open Mic

The word didn’t register on Ayasa’s face.

“It’s when you-”

“I know what karaoke is.”

There was a tinge of aggression in those words. Karaoke didn’t really seem like something a Northerner would have access to, so I was justified in thinking I had to explain it. No, maybe that wasn’t why she was angry.

“Oh. Well, you didn’t look like you did.”

“Saijou told us to keep a low profile.”

“She didn’t say that. She said to keep you ‘out and about.’”

It was a bit of sophistry on my part. Yes, Miho hadn’t ever said that Ayasa had to hide from anyone except her parents, but we both knew that unwanted attention wasn’t good. Wasn’t Karaoke the perfect activity for this? Both of us, in a private room, with nobody watching?

That sounded wrong.

“If I sing on stage, people will be watching. Saijou thinks that’s dangerous.”

Wait, sing on stage? They did karaoke differently in the North? I knew that some “karaoke bars” catering to American soldiers did karaoke in public, but those were almost never the kind you’d see a local in.

“I think it’s different from what you’re thinking. It’s just us in a private room. Nobody would see us.”

It sounded dirty when I put it like that.

“Oh.”

That wasn’t a yes, but it also wasn’t a no. Ayasa’s words had lost their edge.

“Why?”

Why what? Why did I bring up karaoke? That was a tough one. Because it’s something you do on a date wasn’t a valid answer here. This wasn’t supposed to be a date, after all.

“I don’t have that much more money.”

Ayasa raised her eyebrows, apparently surprised that I was flat broke after forking over that much money to buy her new clothes. It was the truth. After this absurdly expensive fast-food meal, I only had 2130 yen left over. Karaoke was just about the only affordable activity left.

“Why not do something for free, then?”

“What, like sit in a park?”

“Is that the only thing you can do that’s free?”

No, it wasn’t- but it was probably the only thing we could do without needing to go home and potentially run into an awkward situation with someone I knew.

“We have enough for a half-hour slot at the entertainment center in Akiba. Plus a little left over for train fare.”

Miho lived in Akiba, so we’d have to go there anyway later. Ayasa relented and didn’t continue to search for alternatives. What else could she come up with? What did they even have in the North?

Ayasa finished the rest of her burger. For someone who had never had an “American Sized” bacon cheeseburger before- (at least, that’s what I presumed)- she had put up a remarkable fight. We didn’t linger in the mall for too much longer. I was down to just enough for a few hours more entertainment, and Ayasa definitely didn’t have any money.

It was a little after noon when we got out into the sunlight. The weather had turned blisteringly hot for May. It felt more like mid-July. The loud rumbling of another cargo jet burst overhead- another one on the same path as the one earlier. It was only a five minute walk back to the train station, but the oppressive heat now made it feel three times longer. Ayasa looked to be having it even worse- she hadn’t changed out of Miho’s slightly-too-tight clothes despite having the opportunity to wear her new purchases out the store.

I was glad this wasn’t a date- I was sorely underdressed for one. I hadn’t been expecting Miho’s invitation-demand and only had time to throw together an old t-shirt and some medium length shorts. It wasn’t as fashion-agnostic as my outfit had been last night, but it would have at least earned a glare from Miho if I’d had the audacity to wear it on one of our dates.

The train was relatively empty for a Saturday, but there was only enough room for one of us to sit. I offered it to Ayasa.

“Thanks.”

Ayasa turned out to watch through the windows. This part of the line ran elevated for a long stretch before diving underground closer to Akiba. You could see Mount Fuji in the distance.

I wasn’t looking at the scenery. Miho had warned me against staring, but in her absence I couldn’t help myself. This Ayasa was different from the one I had seen last night. Her black hair fell straight down to her shoulders. Miho’s tight clothes accentuated the curves in her body. It wasn’t like she was a gravure model, but compared to Miho, she had more- mature proportions?

I could have just admitted she was sexier, but that felt wrong for the occasion. Completely wrong. The one unchanged part was her expression- it was that same mix of earnest sorrow that I had seen on her face last night. In fact, she hadn’t really smiled at all- at least, not in a genuine way. Not since those fleeting moments pulling me towards the dance floor before I had dragged her away from everything that she knew. Before I had ruined her life.

That was what this was about, wasn’t it? That was what karaoke was for. A do-over of that night. That was why I was depleting the last vestiges of profit I had made out of the whole ordeal. Kanamaru would be furious if he knew what I was using his bribe money for.

The Akiba Electronics Entertainment Center was an independent arcade and karaoke center a few minutes south of Akiba North High. Ordinarily it would have been a dangerous place for us to go, being so close to the school and people who might know me. However, most of the students who went to Akiba North didn’t live in Akiba, so the place wasn’t as full of students as it would have been on a school day. Being independent, it was cheaper than most other game centers- if a little outdated.

“I’m sorry, sir, but all of our booths are presently occupied. The next availability is in 15 minutes. Would you like me to put you on a waiting list?”

Well, that was a surprise. The 20-something employee manning the counter gave me a few stacks of arcade tokens in apology for the wait.

“There’s a wait.”

Ayasa didn’t seem surprised.

“Should we wait outside?”

“No. I got some tokens.”

“Tokens?”

“For games.”

“Like cards?”

I involuntarily laughed at this. Ayasa’s notions of what kind of games kids played were either woefully antiquated or had extremely depressing implications about who was allowed to gamble in the North.

“No, video games. Ever played one?”

“Chess, sometimes. My father has a computer.”

“That’s it? Then this’ll blow your mind.”

The 2nd floor of the complex was dedicated to the video arcade. It wouldn’t have impressed anyone who had been to the bigger corporate arcades on the south side of Akiba, but it was large and loud enough to stun Ayasa. She paused in getting off the elevator.

“Doors are gonna close.”

Ayasa jumped forward to avoid the closing doors.

“What is this place?”

This was the first time I had seen her genuinely shocked at something in the South.

“Come on, let’s do a kart race!”

I had to practically drag her to the Excellent Kart 3D Tour machine near the front. It was a cartoonish kart-racer video game that was easy to pick up on account of its simplistic mechanics. I dropped two tokens in the machine and selected “2P Race.”

“How do I-?”

“It’s just like driving a car. Wheel to turn. Right pedal to give it gas.”

I was talking big for someone who hadn’t ever actually driven a car. Excellent Kart wasn’t even realistic enough to give it a brake pedal. The only other button it had was a big flashing one in the center of the wheel to use an item. The items were all cartoon staples- rockets, oil slicks, and even a grand piano that would automatically drop on the lead racer’s head.

Ayasa was a bit overwhelmed by all this. She missed the starting countdown.

“It’s not going!”

“You gotta hit the pedal when the countdown hits zero!”

I was in 2nd place, behind an AI-driven kart. Ayasa was dead last, but slowly catching up. The karts raced over a collapsing cliff, comically ignoring gravity until they realized nothing was holding them up. I hit an item block. A grand piano- just what I needed. I hit the item button-

-And skidded past the 1st place kart. Oops. The grand piano dropped on my racer’s head, spinning it out. Three more karts rocketed past me. I was able to catch up to one of them, but still came in 3rd place. That was still better than Ayasa, who finished in last place. She had fallen off parts of the stage several times.

“How is anyone supposed to play this? There’s so much going on!”

It was probably a little overstimulating for someone whose previous game experience was with chess on an office computer. I laughed.

“You get used to it. You have to learn how to use the items. Once you do that, it’s pretty easy.”

Big talk for someone who had just blown his own lead by grand-pianoing himself.

The next game was a light-gun shooter- Zombie Hazard 4. Two imposing plastic assault rifles were chained to the cabinet. I put in two more tokens and selected the co-op mode. Ayasa grabbed the rifle and lifted it to her shoulder with both hands. This time, it looked like she knew what she was doing.

Zombies slowly marched through the abandoned city, inexorably advancing on the camera. The rifle kicked every time you pulled the trigger thanks to a small weighted piston inside the light gun that mimicked the recoil.

Ayasa blasted a few zombies with well-placed shots to the torso. She was surprisingly good at this. Soon enough, though, her clip was empty. She fidgeted with the fake plastic magazine molded onto the gun.

“You have to shoot outside the screen to reload!”

“Huh?”

“Point the gun away from the screen and pull the trigger!”

Ayasa did this and was soon enough on her way, blasting more zombies with the same precise shots to the torso. She wasn’t just good at this- she was too good. She finished the level with a score two-thirds higher than mine.

“You’re pretty good.”

I mimicked the finger guns of a famous video game character. The reference was lost on her. There was, however, a slight smile on her face- the first I had seen like that.

“Are you sure you only played chess before?”

“Oh? Yes. Just beginner’s luck, I guess.”

Was it? She wasn’t able to repeat that performance in any of the other games we tried next.

15 minutes went by pretty quick. We were able to run a few more games, but not enough to exhaust the generous amount of tokens we had gotten as an apology.

“Nishizawa, Party of two- karaoke booth four is now ready.”

It was a good thing it was a weekend. The loudspeaker would have been loud enough to draw attention to us if anyone who knew me was in the arcade.

Karaoke booth four was downstairs. It was a little small, big enough for six people or so. Still, that was plenty enough for the two of us. Ayasa sat down on the opposite couch as I closed the door. A happy little mascot character danced on the TV screen, imploring whoever was watching to pick a song.

Ayasa undid the top button on her blouse. The fabric relaxed as it splayed outward a bit. Woah, woah, wait. What was going on? I’d heard of people using karaoke booths for naughty stuff, but this soon? There was a camera in the room, too. We’d be the target for some voyeur-

“Hmm?”

Ayasa was confused by the panic on my face. Oh, duh. She was just uncomfortable in the tight clothes. Serves me right for thinking using parts other than my head.

“Nothing. Anyway, what do you want to sing?”

“Me?”

I handed Ayasa the touchpad that selected songs on the TV. She looked at it, trying to determine what to press. Tentatively, she reached out her finger and pressed the name of a song. Love at Sea- an old enka ballad.

“Oops. I didn’t want that. How do I-?”

“Hit the back button.”

The old crooner in the video was already into the verse about searching the world to find a lover as good as you by the time Ayasa found the back button.

“You pick. I don’t know any of these.”

For some reason, the song list had been filtered only to enka ballads. I felt a pang of sorrow for the person who had just been in here wallowing in sentimentality early on a Saturday afternoon. I changed the selection to current hits. A song popped up at the top of the list: S.T.i.L.E.

The same song that had been playing when I made that stupid choice.