MMB Chapter 46 Convenience Store in the Bubble
Chapter 46 Convenience Store in the Bubble
At 2 a.m., Shibuya is a tireless behemoth.
Even at this time, the central street is still brightly lit.
A drunken office worker vomits while leaning against a telephone pole; a nouveau riche waves a large sum of money and shouts in the street; and girls in tight skirts shiver in the cold wind while waiting for the next party.
"Ding-dong—"
Accompanied by the iconic automatic doorbell of the convenience store, Kitahara Shin walked out carrying a steaming bag of oden.
He had just finished filming a night scene for "Violent Man".
It was a scene of running in the rain. His hair was still half-dry and stuck to his forehead, and the gloomy and violent aura of the detective "Kikuchi" had not completely dissipated.
To avoid startling passersby, he deliberately turned up the collar of his trench coat, covering most of his face.
He walked to the smoking area next to the convenience store, intending to find a corner to finish his belated dinner, but suddenly stopped in his tracks.
A person was squatting in the shadows on the side of the convenience store.
She was a young girl.
She was wearing a thin knitted sweater, and a huge mannequin makeup case was placed at her feet.
At this moment, she was squatting on the curb without any regard for her image, holding the cheapest red bean bread in one hand and a pen in the other, writing and drawing in a worn notebook by the dim light coming from the convenience store.
It was Sachiko Kamachi.
The young model he "rescued" at the Suzuka Circuit.
Kitahara Shin did not go over immediately.
He leaned against the vending machine by the wall, quietly watching her.
At this moment, Sachiko looked even more disheveled than she had been on the field that day.
The model's job was clearly not easy; her high heels were off and placed aside, and there was a band-aid on her heel.
Suddenly, a broken humming sound drifted over on the night breeze.
"...Lonely night, on this sleepless night..."
"...No one understands my sorrow, just like a fallen leaf..."
The melody is beautiful, with a typical 80s City Pop style, but the lyrics exude an overwhelming sense of sorrow and confusion.
That is the loneliness of those on the margins of this prosperous era, the voice of countless young people like her who struggle in big cities but cannot find a sense of belonging.
She hummed for a while, seemingly dissatisfied with the lyrics, then irritably crossed them out with her pen, sighed, and took a big bite of her red bean bread, as if venting something.
As Kitahara Shin watched her chew with her cheeks puffed out, a faint smile unconsciously crept onto his lips.
The murderous aura and exhaustion that had accumulated on set dissipated considerably in that instant.
He turned around and tossed in a coin; with a clang, two cans of hot coffee rolled out.
Kitahara Shin picked up his coffee and walked over.
"The melody is nice."
He walked over to Sachiko, his voice not as cold and hard as Kikuchi's, but with a touch of gentle warmth, "But the lyrics are too sad."
Sachiko jerked her head up like a startled kitten, nearly dropping the red bean bread in her hand.
When she saw the man in the trench coat with gentle eyes, her tense body relaxed, and a blush of embarrassment spread across her cheeks.
"Kita...Mr. Kitahara?"
She frantically tried to stand up, put on her high heels, and hide her "down-and-out" appearance as she squatted by the roadside eating cheap bread.
"Sit down. I'm too tired to stand."
Kitahara Shin waved his hand and actually squatted down next to her, without any airs of a celebrity.
He placed the can of hot coffee on Sachiko's cold hand.
"Here. To warm your hands."
Sachiko took the coffee in a daze, and the warmth from her palm made her nose tingle.
"Thank you... I'm sorry you had to see this." She lowered her head, closing the notebook somewhat embarrassed. "I was just... a little hungry after finishing work, and then I suddenly had an inspiration."
"What did you write?" Kitahara Shin opened the lid of the Kantatsu, and the steaming aroma of radishes wafted out in the cold air.
"It's nothing... just some random thoughts." Sachiko hugged her knees, looking at the neon lights of Shibuya in the distance. "I think this city is too noisy. Everyone is laughing and running, but they all seem lonely. I want to write about this loneliness."
"Loneliness is great material."
Kitahara Shin took a bite of radish, looking at a point in the void. "But Sachiko, this era is already lonely enough. The more dazzling the bubble, the bigger the hole in people's hearts."
He turned his head and looked into Sachiko's clear eyes.
"Compared to this kind of self-pitying sorrow, people need a kind of strength in the era to come."
"A force that tells them 'Don't give up,' 'Keep running.'"
"Power...?" Sachiko seemed to understand but not quite.
"Like this."
Kitahara Shin put down his chopsticks, closed his eyes, and recalled that melody that, even in the dark decade after the collapse of the bubble economy, could still make countless Japanese people stand up again with tears in their eyes.
That was a gift from the future Izumi Sakai to the world, and now, he's borrowing it ahead of time.
He began to hum softly.
It's not the melancholic City Pop from before, but a fast-paced melody full of uplifting energy.
"...ふとした Instant Eyes (Inadvertently, my eyes meet yours for an instant)..."
"...The last step is to leave without giving up (don't admit defeat, it's just a little bit close, please run to the end)..."
Although there was no accompaniment and Kitahara Shin's voice was a little hoarse, the vitality contained in the melody, like sunlight piercing through the gloom, shone so brightly in this dim alley.
Sachiko was stunned.
She forgot to eat the bread in her hand and forgot to drink the coffee.
She stared wide-eyed at Kitahara Shin, as if looking at an alien or a god.
That was the feeling she had been searching for but could never quite grasp.
That kind of soul-stirring exhilaration, that kind of impulse that makes you want to stand up immediately and run against the wind.
After humming a section.
Kitahara Shin opened his eyes and found Sachiko looking at him with an almost worshipful gaze.
"What...what song is this?" Sachiko's voice trembled. "Did you write it?"
"No." Kitahara Shin smiled. He couldn't say that you wrote this later, so he had to lie. "The melody that suddenly popped into my head was probably... a gift for someone in the future."
"That's amazing..."
Sachiko muttered to herself, quickly flipping open her notebook and, by the light of the streetlamp, scribbling down the melody she had just heard. "That feeling of 'never giving up'... Mr. Kitahara, are you really an actor? How come you understand music better than professional composers?"
"I'm just very good at observing people."
Kitahara Shin stood up and dusted off his trench coat.
He finished the last piece of oden and threw the empty box into the trash can.
"Sachiko, stop writing those sad songs."
He looked down at the girl who was still squatting on the ground, his eyes filled with encouragement, "Your voice is very powerful, it's the light that can tear through the gloom, try singing this kind of song."
Sachiko tilted her head back.
At this moment, the "villain" who strikes fear into people's hearts on the screen is as gentle as a kind older brother next door under the dim light of the convenience store.
"……yes!"
She nodded vigorously, the confusion in her eyes dissipating, and a flame of ambition igniting within them. "I will try to finish this song! I definitely will!"
"I'm really looking forward to it."
Kitahara Shin waved his hand and turned to walk into the crowd of people in the dead of night.
He didn't tell her that the song was called "Don't Give Up".
That will be her legend, and also the national anthem of the next era.
Watching Kitahara Shin's departing figure, Kamachi Sachiko clutched the can of coffee that had already warmed up.
She picked up her pen and solemnly wrote a line next to the melody in her notebook:
—To the person who brought me sunshine on that rainy night.