A Strange Video Chat

Issei’s chest squeezed, his heart thumping like Kanka’s bass drum as he pulled up Murasaki’s chat: their first text.

<Hey! Was wondering if you were gonna find my number, I thought it was gonna stay in your ear forever LOL

Nah you’re fine I don’t have work til 4

Hey you wanna talk on video? I got something to show you>

Issei swelled with an unfounded joy; not only did he not screw up his text, but Murasaki even wanted to talk. A video chat! There’s nothing in the world he’d rather do.

<Sure, let’s talk.>

His phone began beeping to Hark’s jingle. He pressed the green camera button that appeared on the center of the screen, and in a flash, Murasaki appeared, wearing a maroon short-sleeved shirt and a crocheted shawl with a handbag over her shoulder. Murasaki blinked. For a moment, she frowned as if he wasn’t yet on her end, but Issei must have shown up, because an instant later she beamed from ear to ear and waved to the camera–to him.

“Hi Issei!”

Murasaki’s voice was compressed through his phone’s speaker, but it didn’t matter: to him, it was such a wanting thing to hear. His stomach became fuzzy.

“Guess where I’m at?”

Murasaki disappeared, and she panned her camera around showing rows upon rows of shelves. Some held stacks of thin items, others with figurines or booklets. Posters lined the wall, most with teams of people against colorful backgrounds.

He asked “Is it a record store?”

“It is!” Murasaki switched back to her face. Looking off to the side, the camera bobbed up and down as she passed by two columns. “Look what I found.”

Her right arm reached out and she plucked two vinyl records and held them up to the camera, one daring to slip from her fingers. The left record was of a gothic woman in doll-like makeup staring at the potential buyer, while the right had an angel and a succubus on both ends. Issei could recognize them anywhere.

“Those are Catalot albums!” He said, astonished. “I can’t find those around here.”

“Which one do I get?” She asked, struggling to hold up both albums and her phone at the same time. “The White Pentagram or Just Desserts?”

Issei chuckled, and her face drooped.

“Huh? What’s so funny?”

The idea that Murasaki was about to buy one of his favorite albums excited him so much, he forgot he was on a video call.

“Nothing. Try The White Seraph: that’s prime Catalot right there. Just Desserts is some of their early work before their front man’s voice deepened, and it still retains some of the Power Metal elements when the band was new, but it’s still pretty good. If you like the first, then you’ll enjoy the second.”

Murasaki put Just Desserts back. “Sounds good–I also found a band shirt, I’m gonna buy that, too.”

Issei felt like he could finally relax, and he laid down on the bed while his arm kept the phone held high.

“Suddenly interested in Catalot?”

“Yeah, you said the band gave yours inspiration, so I was wondering how.”

“The front man taught me how to sing,” Issei blurted.

“Oh really?” Murasaki’s face lit up. “Now I really gotta listen. Could this be the secret to Secret Prose?” she giggled.

It had been so long since Issei smiled this much that his cheeks were sore. He couldn’t help but gush as Murasaki went to pay for the record and shirt. “Their best song is Sunstream. The singer’s voice really shines in the chorus, and the song as a whole has this soothing, moody vibe. It really makes you feel like you’re traveling.”

He had never dreamed of what the best video call would be like, but it had to be this moment. Everything just seemed to go right. Issei felt like singing–he sat up and took a breath.

Sunstream, bathing overhead

They won’t, take my comrades alive

Sunstream, the magic overwhelming me

Then we go–

At once, the shelves grew in size and the phone camera wavered. Issei heard a sharp yelp, then the screen jumbled about as though the phone itself spun. It pointed straight up with Murasaki almost out of the shot: she fell and collapsed against the wall, her legs pulled up to her chest and one hand grasping a shelf with her items scattered to the floor.

A distant voice called out. “Miss, are you alright?”

Murasaki jumped to her feet, then she rushed over, crouched down, and seized the phone and merchandise. “Sorry! Everything’s fine,” she said breathlessly. “I just slipped.”

That was strange. Issei didn’t know what to say, so he just copied who must have been one of the cashiers. “Are you okay, Murasaki?”

The camera pointed toward nothing in particular. “Yeah–yeah I’m good. Um, I’m gonna go buy these things and go. Thanks for si–um, talking, I’ll see you later Issei.”

Static overwhelmed the speaker as Murasaki fumbled with the phone, surely trying to end the call as quickly as possible. She flipped the phone over, and before she managed to hang up, Issei caught one last glimpse of her face: she was red as a cherry.

Issei stared at his screen in disbelief as the words “Call Ended” appeared abruptly, as though that perfect moment was a balloon that just popped. His thumbs lightning-fast, he returned to Hark’s chatroom and texted the first thing that came to mind.

<Sorry about that, I don’t know what I was thinking.>

He watched as the text, in ten seconds, went from Unread to Read. Three dots were shuffling under his message. Murasaki was typing. Yet as Issei waited, the three dots never became a reply and simply disappeared.

Everything was fine, but he had to open his mouth. Gritting his teeth, Issei rapped his forehead with the corner of his phone.

“Why the hell did you sing for, you idiot!? Who sings in a video call?”

The neighbor to Issei’s left yelled back. “If it makes you shut up, then I'm glad you did it!”