The band's place was not like the small apartment Aya and her neighbors lived in. Rather, they all drove in their van to the harbor. They rolled through a gate in a long chainlink fence, which surrounded a lot upon which six large identical dark green warehouses stood. Parking in front of one of the buildings, they all unloaded the van, Aya again with the cables.
Hitomi opened a door in the side of the building. It was dark and the air smelled musty. Aya followed the band up a flight of stairs to their space – it was enormous. The group had the entire second floor of the warehouse to themselves. A vast wooden floor, interrupted by concrete support pillars, stretched to the windows that ringed the entire space. There was furniture clustered in groups – a futon and a trunk here, a sofa there, three chairs and a small table at another spot – with no central living area.
“Wow,” Aya gasped. “I guess you must be pretty successful to afford such a big place.”
This provoked laughter from the entire band. “You could say that,” chuckled Hitomi. “We make almost nothing, and for this place, we pay nothing. So in proportion to our incomes, we manage.”
They unloaded their equipment against the wall at the top of the stairs. Aya set the cables down with the rest of the equipment, and then followed them to the couch and chairs.
The two drummers weren't particularly social. The took out a shoji game and set to playing without a word to anyone else. The laptop artist opened his laptop as he sat in a chair opposite the couch. “Let's see if I can get that signal I found yesterday ...” he said, distracted.
Aya sat at one end of the couch. It was old – the fabric was torn in places, and she could feel the wooden frame bend and creak. When Hitomi sat at the other end, she half expected the couch to collapse altogether. Koji, who had wandered off, returned with an acoustic guitar, plucking out a meandering tune.
“So, Aya,” Koji began. “What do-”
“No noodling, Koji,” Hitomi scolded playfully. “If you're going to play, play something. Don't just pick at it aimlessly like a crow in the garbage.”
Aya frowned. “Crows don't eat garbage.”
“Correct,” Koji smiled. “They eat food that people think is garbage. They find the useful in the discarded. Hitomi, you could learn a couple of things from our Korean friend here.”
“That's not exactly what I meant ...” Aya said.
Hitomi rolled her eyes at Koji and turned back to Aya. The tengu felt a surge of warmth, being in the presence of such good friends. “So, you don't pay anything to live here?” Aya asked.
Hitomi shook her head. “We rent a tiny storage space a few buildings over. Then Yazutaka did a little exploring around the pier and found this place.”
The man with the laptop nodded. “All thanks to me.”
“Yes, all thanks to you,” Hitomi smiled.
“But, isn't that dangerous?” Aya asked. “What if you get caught?”
Hitomi shrugged. “Then we'll move.”
“We made a decision,” Koji said, “Long ago, as a band. We vowed from the day that we formed that we would never, ever work again.”
“Never.” Hitomi emphasized.
“We reject the false promise of happiness that society dangles in front of the nation's youth.” Koji said, strumming a dramatic tune. “The great lie – go to a good school, get a job, get married, buy a pile of worthless junk with your credit cards, spend, buy, consume, pay. No! we say. We would rather live as paupers with dignity than-”
“Koji,” Hitomi cut in. “Please, don't bore our guest with your long-winded manifestos.”
“No, really, it's fine.” Aya said. “It's fascinating, really. Tell me more. Are there many people like you?”
Yasutaka snort-laughed. “Yeah, they're called 'homeless'.”
“Ah, but see,” Koji said. “There, right there, you're buying into the great lie. The stigma that a lack of material possessions means you've failed in life.”
“Consider the crows.” Hitomi smirked.
“Exactly!” Koji said. “You're making a joke, but that is precisely my point. Do the crows care for material things? No. Do we consider them failures as birds? Hardly. Their happiness is not predicated upon owning stuff.”
“I think Koji makes a very good point.” said Aya.
“Thank you.” Koji grinned with satisfaction, and continued noodling, pacing slowly.
“Anyways, Aya, tell me more about you,” Hitomi prompted.
“What do you want to know?” Aya liked Hitomi's casual demeanor.
“Hm.” Hitomi tapped her chin with her index finger. “Why Japan? Why not Mongolia, Bhutan, Algeria or Guyana?”
“Why didn't I go far away, in other words? Well, I have a pretty big family of sorts. I can't go too far from them. But also, I was interested in modern Japanese culture. I know enough about the medieval history already.”
“Ah, really?” Hitomi brightened a bit. “I love history. Is that what you majored in at university?”
“I didn't go to university.”
“And you got a job as a journalist, in Japan, with no university education?”
Aya shrugged. “Well, when I want something, I let nothing get in my way. It's just how I am. No reporter worth their salt would back down.”
“Yes!” Yasutaka exclaimed, drawing everyone's attention. “Got the signal. Hehehe. Alright, let's see how long this lasts ...” The brothers went back to their game.
Hitomi turned back to Aya. “That's an admirable attitude.”
It was then that Aya noticed Koji staring at her as he played. Being stared at was nothing troubling in itself. It was more the look in his eyes – as if he were trying to memorize her face. Aya met his gaze nonchalantly anyway. Koji quickly turned away.
Aya cleared her throat. “Yes.” she said to Hitomi. “I quite agree.”
The brothers finished their shoji game, and one of them rose, speaking for the first time. “Who wants sake?”
When Aya woke up, she was curled up on the band's couch in a very uncomfortable position. Hitomi's hoodie was draped over her. Her head ached and her eyes burned. That's right – she hadn't taken her contacts out, as Yukari had advised. Slowly, she sat up.
Sun poured in through the windows. The cement pillars cast long shadows across the floor. It seemed no one was awake. A low snore was slowly rising and falling somewhere in the loft. Aya stretched her arms, legs and toes, yawning. It had been quite a night. The “sake” was some suspicious homebrew, which she declined, pleading a weak stomach. The band drank, though, and things descended into an improvised jam session late in the night. After a while, one by one, they went to their separate futons. Only Hitomi and Koji had been awake when Aya began to feel tired.
“Please,” Koji had said. “It's not safe to walk home this late at night. Just crash here.”
Hitomi nodded. “I have to agree. The couch is all yours.”
Aya wasn't worried about what she might encounter on the city streets, and even if she were, ground travel wasn't the only option for her. But she felt the normal thing to do would be to accept their hospitality. And she was, after all, very tired.
“If you say so,” she'd said with a yawn. “I have to get to work in the morning, so-”
Work!
Aya stood up. By the angle of the sunlight, it was probably late morning. Hurriedly, Aya slipped on her shoes. She considered leaving a note, thanking them, but there was no time. With a sigh, she hurried down the stairs and out the door.
She momentarily considered flying. She'd get to work faster that way, sure, but it was a clear, cloudless day. She'd have to get pretty high up to avoid being seen, and even if she could, she couldn't just drop down in front of her office. She'd have to land some place hidden, and even then only after wasting time getting up to a ridiculous altitude, and she might still get spotted during her ascent or descent, and-
Aya sighed again and started walking. Making a job out of journalism was taking all the fun out of it.
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