Chapter Text
Nico Yazawa had never experienced a night like it before. Never seen anyone like her, never heard anything like this music, never been in a crowd reacting like absolutely everyone , INCLUDING NICO, was mad DRENCHED for the woman onstage.
Now Nico, Nico was not modest and fans, fans LOVED Nico Ni. But this, this was a hot pot, a room crammed with women femmes butches enbies anyone in hearing range all SCREAMING THEMSELVES RAW, throwing every thing, every limb, every loose article of clothing forward, a siege (where did Nico remember that word from) against this music wall, this rock fortress, this sexy smirk of a solar flare spike haired punk rock goddess assaulting every ignorant adult, every speak no hear no see no evil sellout with a molotov cocktail bouquet of songs, lyrics hammered into bullets and blades, collecting pain, crafting a cacophony. Nico's whole body reverbed, vibrating like a slicing guitar string, dizzy from dissonance, shaking from proximity to the emotional explosion that was Diamond Princess. And eyes, behind tinted glasses, that locked onto Nico's with a magnetic pull, never looking away.
And now, was that, was Nico hearing a screaming punk take on Mariah Carey's Christmas kick off classic, a month too soon, Nico rushing the stage, caught in the moment, everything reaching out to her, everything bright…everything and yes, Nico was saying that a lot but this room bursting with overwhelming asks, everything was happening too soon, too fast, too sudden.
And then Nico was backstage, not following anyone but hearing, really hearing a call that might have been on her wavelength alone because nobody got Nico like Nico but somehow this Diamond Princess was Nico's tonight. Nico stepped inside a small room, locked the door behind her, and the lights stayed low and Nico couldn't really see anything but the spiky hair was soft and the skin under the studded leather belt was softer and Nico, Nico had never ever before been aware of this danger, that her hands, her lips were biting, burning through a fuse to free an explosion that had been building for…. A scream, throat raw, and a whisper, sweet and shy, both would haunt, taunt, jaunt Nico, hiss in her ear, kiss a frisson of memory down her neck, tear her out of sleep, trigger longings that could not be satisfied alone, not with Nico Ni back on the road in concert and the Diamond Princess, shutting herself back in her tower, hiding away, monster again.
###
Working at home wasn't ideal for Nico, she missed random hallway chats, but with concerts coming up, she couldn't afford exposure to Covid. So to prep for her December dates, she went into the office a couple of days a week, the recording studio when needed, but mostly worked from her apartment's living room. With her manager Nozomi Tojo in residence when she wasn't needed at the label.
Slumping back against the couch, Nico pulled her headphones off, "Can you even do Christmas anymore?"
Nozomi leaned forward, closing her laptop, "What do you mean?"
Nico raised her hands, half counting on her fingers, half stretching, "People dying, planet's burning, genocides R Us in three or more locations, assassinations, everyone's hangry, smad, and exhausted." Nico sat up, "So can you even do Christmas anymore?"
"Well, you have a contractual obligation to."
""Maybe if Nico believed in something…" Nico muttered.
"What do you mean?"
"If Nico were religious, then Nico could be all "O holy Night, O silent night, What child is this, God rest ye merry gentlemen let nothing you dismay."
"But you're dismayed and not religious."
Nico groaned. "Best I got is some gay apparel."
Nozomi giggled.
Nico frowned, "But then there's fast fashion too. Did you see "Buy Now? Nico's breaking out her knitting needles for presents. Darn everyone's socks."
The sudden onset of frustrated, frazzled Nico puzzled Nozomi. Nico had been surfing easily through Year 5 of the Nico Ni Plan to Seize Fame and Fortune and Hit Number One on every chart before she hit 25. Now though, it seemed like Seasonal Affectative Disordered had gloomed into town too soon. But Nico had been productive all month, after her mini break…Nozomi's gossip radar tingled.
"Did something happen on Halloween?"
"No."
"So she still won't return your calls."
"Nico never said anything about…" Nico growled and pushed to her feet, "Nico is going for coffee. What's the name of this town?"
"Chicago is not a town."
"You know what I mean, Nozy."
"It's on the lake, Otonizoka Falls."
"Maybe Nico needs to take a day trip. Scout out the scene."
"When are we going?"
"Nico is going alone."
"No, Nico is not." Nozomi stood, "I don't trust you in this mood. You worry me."
"Nico isn't stupid."
"Doesn't mean you don't need a wingwoman. Or an over coffee Tarot reading."
"Fine. But Nico's driving."
###
Maki Nishikino didn't have the energy for this. Waking up, wrapped in luxury linen sheets, in a bedroom as big as a studio apartment, protected by acres of lakeside property, her parents expecting her promptly at breakfast, dressed in business casual, prepared to take positions on issues affecting Nishikino Industrials like it was a briefing for the C suite.
Instead, Maki would wake up breathless, panting, sheets clinging from sweat, remembering that night in October when her audience had been more alive than they had ever been, when she had seen HER there, ruby eyes sharp and seeking, turning a crowd of strangers into an intimate emotional exchange, the intensity of a never wavering piercing gaze, her name on glistening lips, her lyrics sung back with power, her eagerness magnified, her aching met. How could Maki think about anything but that night, process anything but how much she ached to be lost like that again?
And Nico had called the club, asking for her number. But Maki couldn't be that person without her guitar, without music, without a mask.
In the bathroom, she scrubbed her face with cold water to wake up, avoiding the mirror except to adjust her wig. Her parents didn't need to see the shortness of the cut or the the pink streaks. Button down light blue oxford tucked into pinstriped charcoal gray skirt, a gray cardigan as an extra layer against her parents noticing the tattoo on her right inner forearm, Nico Ni's chibi rabbit logo.
She'd slept in a little late. As if to rep her mood, the weather had been mostly gray. With no sunlight there had been even less incentive to open her eyes. Maki expected a scolding when she got to the dining room table, her parents at the far end, picture perfect food produced by the probably not overpaid professional chef arrayed before them.
"Good morning, Maki. Did you get any sleep?" A friendly tone from her mother.
Maki faked a smile, "Yes, Mama."
Her father coughed, then almost sounded kind. But Maki knew it was only kindness for those quietly in their cages.
"We know you've been having a rough time since winter break started."
And before that since your grades were dismal and your premed classes dropped was left unsaid.
"So we arranged a Christmas present."
Maki found herself with her arms protecting her torso, left thumb rubbing the cheerful icon inked into her skin. She kicked herself for the thrill she'd felt at the word present. She needed to get herself away from the headspace where her parents generosity was a boon.
"What?" Her voice sounded flat. Her parents exchanged a glance.
"That singer you like. Nico Ni? We've hired her for the island's Christmas Eve charity concert."
Oh fuck no. Maki almost tripped, reaching for a chair to steady herself.
Her mother laughed, "I told you she'd be excited."
"No it's…" Maki struggled for words,
"This will be good for you. Invite your friends. Maybe look up some people from high school. Have some fun with people your own age."
People who hate me because my parents are private jet flying, climate destroying robber barons, Maki thought bitterly.
"Mama!"
"Now don't worry, Maki. Nico's manager said singers do private concerts all the time. And Nico Ni seems to be quite popular. We'll raise a lot of money for our foundation."
Their foundation. To pay for medical conferences in fancy hotels and trips to Davos to persuade donors over expensive Michelin star meals. Maki could have spit. Nico would be paid, like any other employee, and what would she think and she'd never believe and Maki…
Her parents were suddenly on either side of her.
"We'll be in Chicago for the week. Do whatever you want about decorating the tree. Have fun. Dust off your piano or something." Her father talking like her music was a toy or a diversion, a thing to be taken up lightly and tossed aside at a whim. Music was life. He was a doctor, He'd listened to heartbeats, the thrum of blood, the rhythm of breath. How could he not know better.
"Call us if you need anything." Her mother waved. The door shut.
Maki's mind went dark as she fell into the chair. Nico. Here.
"no"