Chapter 9 - Synchronize!

Neko11137: Aiko, good with spicy?

I cough. "Kinda." I rasp, taking another sip of my strawberry milk. "I-, hah, Coco Corry's Level 4 is my max. Anything above that is impossible." I slurp up some more instant ramyun, and I wince at the spicy kick in the back of my throat. "I tried their level 15 once. I-, hah, almost got carried into the ICU, hah."

The chat fills with more "草" and "www"s. I grin tiredly at the camera. "I-, hah, it's like they put uranium or something in there."

It's been a couple days since I got my reply from Hololive. It's an hour before midnight, and I'm in the middle of another mukbang stream. But this one is a little special, and for all the wrong reasons.

My channel blasted past 400,000 Subscribers, but I still want to celebrate it. So I ordered a mountain of food for me to devour for another mukbang stream. Except I decided to add some spice to it. Literally.

Spicy ramyun. Spicy curry. Spicy crackers. Spicy hamburg steaks. Gyoza topped with super spicy mayo. I have on my desk an actual catastrophe of spicy foods, and I'm about halfway through.

YogaHlv: Aiko-chan, have you ever played Lethal Company?

I blink. "Lethal Company?" I let the name run through my head for a good second. "Oh! The horror game about getting…scrap? I've heard of it, but I've never played it before." The chat fills with disbelief, and I smile as I take another slurp of ramyun. "It seems fun, but-" I cough. "But it's just, I…"

I sigh. Lean back and slouch back into my chair. "Can I be real with you, chat?" A weak smile lifts my lips. "I hate horror. I'm just no good with it, and the last time I tried watching a horror movie, I literally ran out of the cinema."

That is true, unfortunately. There was this horror movie that came out, and my work-friends invited me to watch it together with them. I didn't last the whole movie. I ran out after the third jumpscare, and I sat in the lobby drinking milkshakes to calm myself down. It's a shame I can never live down.

"草" and "www"s fill the chat. 

YogaHlv: www. That just makes it better, Aiko-chan.

Strangely, I feel a shiver up my spine. I can't help but feel like I just signed a contract with the devil. "Sure, Yoga-san. Sure."

I take a breath. And I slurp up the last of the ramyun. It leaves me coughing by the end, but at least the ramyun is done. I push the bowl aside, and pull close a plate of mayo-topped gyoza. 

Apachishiratake: Aiko-chan, do you play any instrument?

"No, but I'd like to learn." I take a bite of gyoza. I hum happily. The spice isn't as taxing as the ramyun, and the mayo is delicious. God bless kewpie mayonnaise. "I've only learnt how to compose."

Machigako: Ooh! How about a composing stream, Aiko-chan?

My mouth opens, and I stop. "That…sounds like a good idea, actually." I take another bite. "I mean, I don't know how interesting it'll be, but making a song on-stream sounds kinda fun." I shrug. "And hey, maybe I'll release it as a song if it's good enough."

The chat fills with general agreement, and I grin. "Alright. That's a promise."

I eat the rest of the gyoza, and I sigh in defeat as I come to the last remaining meal on my desk. It's the dreaded Level 10 Spice Coco Ichibanya Curry. I can smell the damn spice, and I can feel my gag reflex preparing to act up. 

But at least it's not Level 15. That thing's actual poison. Hopefully this one won't be as bad. Hopefully.

That hope is quickly dashed as I take my first spoonful. It hits the back of my throat like a sledgehammer, and I slowly curl into myself as I struggle not to retch. The chat fills with amused comments, but I can't even find the energy to make a quip. 

I take a large gulp of strawberry milk. It helps. Slightly.

"That-, hah, was horrid." I cough. "Holy hell, what were they thinking when-, hah, they made this?" I take another sip of strawberry milk. "It's like drinking a tub of hot sauce. God-, hah." I wince as another cough escapes me. "And there's people who eat this? For fun?"

Is what I say, but I don't think I have any right to say that. 

The plate of curry stares at me, the smell of spice overpowering. I wipe the sweat off my brows as I sigh. "Why do I do this to myself?" And I eat a spoonful of curry right after.

The pain comes blasting back. I manage a few seconds before my face is planted into the desk, my body reeling as chills run up my skin.

I can't quite read the chat, but I'm more than sure they're all laughing at me. Demons, they all are.

…

A day has gone by since that accursed mukbang stream. I still haven't recovered.

I finished everything—I'm no heathen. Even that damned curry. But I felt terrible after it all, and I ended the stream just five minutes after I took my last bite. I didn't look at my ratings, nor did I check the Shop. I just waddled to my bed like a zombie, plowed my face straight into my pillow, and curled into myself for hours as I tried to fight away the pain.

It's 8 in the evening. I'm currently in Osaka, sitting in a bar as I swirl my glass of beer. I would normally be home by now. But I've already made a post on my social media—that I won't be streaming today to 'recover from a great battle'. My viewers thankfully understood, and they sent me their well-wishes.

Of course, downing beer while it feels like there's a damn war in my stomach probably isn't a good idea. But I need something to get my mind off the upcoming collaboration I'm having with Hololive. And as I've learnt, there's no better distraction than getting blasted after a few glasses of beer.

So I do. I drink my glass dry, much to the growing surprise of the bartender. I extend my glass out to him, and I smile as I shake my glass slightly. "Can I have another?"

The man chuckles. "You're quite strong, ma'am." He says as he takes the glass back. "I'll be back."

I nod before I slouch back onto my seat. I'm not quite sure what glass I'm at now. Five? Six? Twelve? I genuinely can't remember—all I know is that I've been here for about an hour.

And it's then, finally free from my beer, that I notice that someone's been singing in the background. I turn to see who it is, and I find a young woman singing at the corner of the bar, strumming simple chords on her guitar as she sings.

I recognize the song. It's 「勇者」by Yoasobi. It's a pretty complex song, and fast too. It's not really my style, though I do enjoy it if it comes up.

The girl is…an amateur. Her singing isn't perfect by any means, her inflection changing and breaking as she tries to match the high-pitched tones of the melody. The chords she plays are simple and slow, and even then it's clear that she's struggling to keep the song from falling apart.

There are other customers in the bar, but they're all turned away from the woman. It's clear none of them find the woman's singing enjoyable, even if they don't say it outright.

The woman seems to know this as well, and her smile is fragile as she attempts to sing along.

And-, I don't know if it's the beer or something else, but I find myself walking to her.

She stammers to a stop when she notices me approaching. Something akin to fear comes over her face as she quickly bows. "I-I'm sorry-!"

"No, no, I'm not angry or anything." I quickly say instead. The girl looks back up, and I smile. "I'm just curious. Why did you pick「勇者」? It isn't an easy song, especially on a guitar."

"Ah, it's-" The woman giggles as she blushes. "I just like it, I guess."

I turn slightly. I can see that we've taken up the other customers' attention. They stare at the girl like she's weird. Like it's weird that she decided that such a hard song was appropriate to have been sung by an amateur like her.

I step to the left slightly. My body shields the woman from their gazes.

I find myself smiling. "Mm. Daring, aren't you?" Her blush deepens as I wink. "I like that."

"Y-You do?"

"Mhm." I hum. "Say, why don't we sing it together?" The woman blinks as she hears that, and I grin. "I'm pretty good at singing myself."

The woman happily agrees, and I take another glance at the customers. They're staring at me now, and they look almost judgemental. Like they're waiting to see if I can back up my words.

And I have to hold back a snarl. 

What do you know? Do any of you have the confidence to just start doing? You're all here in this damn bar drinking your sorrows away. Might as well do something, assholes.

I say none of that, but they're true to what I feel. As safe Japan feels compared to the West, the homogeneity of this country is also a curse. "Mistakes are to be feared." That lesson is taught to young children. "You live to serve the country. It's your duty to serve others."

And sure, it makes people kind, helpful, and polite. But it also shuns those that can't fit the mold.

…well, it's not anyone's fault. And it's not like the West's obsession with individuality is without flaws either. This is just how the world is. Flawed and broken and unfair and uncaring.

Doesn't stop me from wanting to blow them all away.

I stand by the woman's side, and I smile as I tap her on the shoulder. "Just do as you did before. Play as slow or as fast as you want. I'll back you up."

My hand leaves her shoulder, but the warmth I felt doesn't fade. If anything, it spreads into the rest of my body, swirling and coursing through my veins like the warmth of the summer sun.

Synchronicity has activated!

"Don't look at the crowd." I say. "Just look down and play. Listen to the melody and nothing else."

She makes a shaky nod. She looks down at her guitar, and begins to play.

And the changes are obvious. The chords sound clearer, deeper, and her fingers strum across the strings with no issue. This surprises everyone, including the woman herself. But I give her shoulder a tap, and she jolts out of her stupor just in time for the next chord.

Then, the vocals come. And I can literally feel the moment when the woman will start singing. I can feel her anxiety, but also her growing excitement. 

I grin.

She sings, and so do I.

And my voice rings all throughout the bar like a siren's. It's powerful, and clear, and leagues beyond my normal singing voice. The customers' eyes go wide as they hear me sing, and even the woman stops singing for a moment as her jaws fall open.

Of course, it's Synchronicity's help. 2 Ranks might not sound like much, but the difference between Rank F and Rank E is insane.

I give the woman a wink. "Come on. Let's sing together." I whisper.

She stares at me. Sucks in a deep breath. And nods as she sings too.

Her voice isn't as strong as mine. Nor as melodious. Nor as clear. But it doesn't drown beneath mine, and I'm more than happy to let both our voices harmonize, with the strummed chords pulling us along.

I can see the people recording us with their phones, but I don't care. Neither does this wonderful woman I'm singing with. We're both too busy singing to care about reality at the moment.

But the song ends eventually, and I make an exaggerated bow at the audience. They all clap, some even cheer and whistle, and all the noise finally snaps the woman out of her trance. 

She blinks, and she looks up to see the crowd that'd been ignoring her suddenly congratulating her. A massive smile breaks out across her face, and she sniffles as she tries not to cry.

"That was fun." I say, giving her a pat on the back. "You did great-, uh," I blink, realizing that I haven't even asked for her name. "Sorry, I don't think I ever introduced myself." I cough. "I'm Aiko. Suzuki Aiko."

"Ah, you're right…" She smiles. "Ryouki Futaba." 

I grin. "Mm. That was some awesome singing, Futaba-chan." She blushes as I call her name. "It's a little rough, but you've got talent. And you'll be even better with practice."

I'm not lying either. Synchronicity might've propped her up quite a bit, but it also gave me a sense of how talented she really is. And boy, is she good. The fact that she managed to keep up with me in the slightest should've been telling. And once she trains herself more, she'll be a powerhouse. 

I open my mouth to speak, but someone from the crowd asks for an encore. And before long everyone is asking us to sing another song. Futaba looks panicked, but I quickly pull up a UTube karaoke video on my phone. She blinks as the voiceless-version of 「Anytime Anywhere」plays.

It's another song Futaba really likes, and I give her a wink as I place my phone down on a nearby stool. "Come on, Futaba-chan." I smile as I feel the warmth rise in my chest. "Let's sing some more, yeah?"

She blinks. And then she smiles back. "Yeah!"

…

The day after, I wake up with a raging headache.

I squint as I try my best to remember what I did last night. It comes in bits and pieces—the bar, beer, Futaba-chan—but most of the night is swamped in a dull haze I can't quite parse through.

I shake my head. It doesn't matter. It doesn't seem like anything too bad happened, and that's enough.

I yawn as I open up my phone. I open the UTube app, and I scroll until I find my channel. It's a morning routine by this point—doom-scrolling through the UTube feed is just too addicting.

And then I see something that almost causes me to lose my grip on my phone.

@Suzuki_Aiko Ch. | 431,228 Subscribers

"...what da fuck?"