Mayonaka Soñodora Meets Cinema Bizarre

16. Shooting

 A/N: Almost done!  This chapter was pretty hard to write, for obvious reasons...

-Saya

~*~

Except for Blake Lewis, the so-called "contest" went almost exactly as it had in Seattle.  We played on Saturday night at Philharmonie--same songs, same order, and same result.  Part of me wondered why the fans didn't just go watch Seattle's show on YouTube, but I tried not to dwell on it.

The sunlight was streaming through the picture windows on Sunday morning as I awoke to my favorite song, "Speakers Blown" by Hit the Lights.  I rolled over--away from Ai, who was sprawled across most of the huge bed--to see the time.  The digital clock read 13:24 in green letters.

Correction: The sunlight was streaming through the picture windows on Sunday morning as I awoke to my favorite song, "Speakers Blown" by Hit the Lights.

Cho and Bachiko were asleep on the other bed.  Judging by the sound of the shower running in the bathroom, Fuji was already awake.  I lay in bed a few more moments, then rolled over and paused my iPod, now playing "Disturbia" by Rihanna.  Groaning, I rolled out of bed and went to the kitchen in search of poptarts.

When Fuji emerged from e bathroom, dressed in a green t-shirt and a pair of blue jeans, I was munching happily on a Vanilla Milkshake poptart and watching the news, rare as that was.  My feet were propped up on the lower bar of my stool, protected from the cold metal by the too-long legs of my skull-speckled, Halloween pajama pants.

"So, what's new?" Fuji asked, toweling her damp hair.

"Some psycho threatened a business guy last night," I replied, still staring blankly at the too-serious-to-actually-be-serious blonde reporter on the screen, "Y'know, the news here is more exciting than at home."

"That's because you never watch it at home," Fuji retorted, digging an orange out of the fridge.

I stuck my tongue out at her around my poptart, but I couldn't think of any witty comebacks.

"Will you two shut up?" Ai groaned from the pile of blankets arranged around her, "God, you're as bad as Strify and Kiro."

I grinned, remembering the discussion about chlorine hangovers.  It was more amusing now that I was fully awake.

To appease Ai, I disappeared into the bathroom to take my shower.  As the water smoothed out all the tangles and curls that the pillow had so kindly arranged my hair in, I noticed its length. My plan had been to grow the dark mass until it reached my lower back.  All our running around in recent months had distracted me, and now my hair snaked all the way down to my hips.  I cheered internally; I was more than ready for a substantial haircut.

Cho, Bachiko, and Ai were all out of bed when I returned to the room, though I couldn't exactly say they were awake.  Cho had simply moved to the couch, probably to get away from Bachiko's movement-intensive waking rituals.  Bachiko herself was munching slowly on the cherry poptart, last night's mascara smeared under her eyes.  Ai simply stood in front of the fridge, completely motionless.

"Close the door; you're wasting energy," I admonished, readjusting my oversized Death Note t-shirt--featuring Near and his creepy, lovable dolls--over a pair of blue shorts.

"What's," Bachiko began, before a yawn interrupted her, "today's plan?"

"Haircut," I replied cheerfully, before anyone else could speak.

That woke Ai up.  She spun around, staring at me in horror.

"You can't!" she protested, "that took you three years, and it's so pretty!"