The Angel of Music

Sighing, Ranko pulled open the pine double door leading into the Yusue High auditorium. Adjusting her pink-rimmed sunglasses, which she wore mostly to express her silent protest at her very presence in the room, she strode down the stairs of the long aisle between the two rightmost banks of red folding chairs toward the stage. I guess it is kinda weird that I've never performed on that stage, all things considered, she thought as she approached the group of twenty or so students. Most were sitting in the first few rows of seats, watching as a junior girl in a long white dress struggled to stand up in a little wooden boat that lay on the stage.

"Looking for someone," a voice asked from her left, and she turned to make eye contact with the only instructor in the room. She was an extremely short woman, nearly thirty centimeters shorter than even Ranko, and she wore a pair of thick round glasses in severe black frames that matched her salt-and-pepper hair.

"Yeah," Ranko said, not removing her sunglasses. "Mrs. Ikara sent me. She said you're a performer short, and I'm a performance credit short, so I guess we're in a position to help each other." She crossed her arms over her chest, a bit defiantly.

The diminutive woman nodded enthusiastically. "Yes, and it's wonderful to have you, honey. All of our roles save one are full, so there won't be much of a selection, I'm afraid."

The redhead nodded, scratching at her chest through her itchy school uniform. "That's fine. I'm looking for, like, the most basic thing you got. Like, if you're casting for Silent Fencepost Number Two, I'm your girl." I don't really need your help to be a star, lady.

"Well, we don't have too many roles like that. I might be able to put you in the chorus and promote one of the other girls, I suppose. What's your name, dear?" Ms. Zaito adjusted her glasses, her eyes scanning the selection of young women in the first two rows of seats disapprovingly, as if not relishing the selection she needed to make.

"Ranko Tendo, ma'am." She walked toward an empty seat in the second row, beginning to slip her heavy black school satchel off of her shoulder into it.

The old woman took a step back as if she'd been threatened with a hammer. "Wait. Ranko Tendo? Like, the Ranko Tendo? The singer?!"

Welp. Shit. This can't be good. "Yeah, that's me," Ranko said with a resigned sigh. "One demon in your radio, at your service."

Before Ranko could turn back to face her, the woman had closed the fifteen or so meters between them, and was standing within arm's reach. Indeed, she looked like she wanted to reach out and touch Ranko just to confirm that she was real and not some apparition.

I'm going to get to direct a girl who won three Japan Record Awards? Are you kidding me right now?

"Well, that's… I'm sorry, but it just won't do to have someone of your stature in the background. No, ma'am! Don't you worry, we'll make sure you shine, honey. Have you seen the show before?"

The redhead shrugged. "I don't even know what it's called. All I know is, Mrs. Ikara said I ain't gonna graduate if I didn't come here today, so I'm here. I've got an international tour coming up in a few months, and prep for it is really kicking my butt, and… I'm just not looking for a ton of extra commitment right now. I'm sure what you're doing is great and all, but I've just got way too much stuff to focus on right now as it is."

Ms. Zaito nodded. "I understand all that. I do. But at the same time, this is an excellent skill for a girl in your position to have, and I think it would be good for you to push yourself in it a little. A good bit of the reason a performance is required in this program is to get you some experience with working with a group and a director, and we will need to level that up a little bit for you to get any growth out of it, given your background." She leaned in closer, though Ranko still had to stoop down to hear her as she lowered her volume. "And besides, the show could really use the help."

Ranko groaned in exasperation, throwing her hands in the air and clapping them down at her hips. "I've done like seven or eight music videos now, all kinds of stage performances. I promise, I got showbiz figured out, okay? Just tell me where to stand, would you please?"

"Let me ask you," the director continued. "What's the highest note in your vocal range?"

"C-six," Ranko said proudly. "Worked on it all summer trying to hit it, before…" She blushed. Before the wedding. "Before we recorded Once Upon a Rhyme."

Good save, Ranko.

"C-six?! That means you're only a quarter-octave away from… oh, honey, you just have to help us out!" The tiny woman clapped her hands excitedly. I've done this show for a few years now, and we've never had a girl who could do it before. Not even close.

Ranko rolled her eyes, glad her sunglasses mostly hid the disrespectful gesture. "Okay, would you please tell me what you're on about, because I suspect whatever it is you're about to tell me, I ain't gonna like it."

The elderly woman gestured to one of the chairs, taking the one next to it and waiting for Ranko to join her in the cushy folding seats. The director groaned into her palm as the girl in the white dress tripped trying to step out of the boat on the stage, landing on her face.

"So, the female lead in this show has this really incredible song, that's kinda the high point of the whole show. The character's a gifted singer, so the expectation is that she has an incredible voice. Well, the song is supposed to end on an E-six, and every year, we've had to shift it down to an E-five or lower because our lead couldn't carry the note. With you being so close, you might be able to…"

"E-freaking-six?! Are you out of your damn mind?!" Ranko blinked, gesticulating wildly with her hands. Her outburst drew the attention of most of the other performers, both those in the seats nearby and those on the stage. "First off, let's forget for a minute that I asked you for the most basic role you got, and you're talking about the friggin' lead. I can't hit an E-six. Like, one out of every twenty thousand or so girls on Earth can, probably. That's just insanely high!"

The instructor reached to her left, clapping her hand on the back of Ranko's. "If anyone can do it, Ranko, with your talent, you can. I'll be happy to provide all the vocal coaching you need to help you stretch your range, if you're willing to try. I promise, if you can't do it come show time, we'll shift it down like we've done in the past, but I believe you can. You've just got to do this for us, Ranko." With you in the lead, kid, I'll be able to fund the drama department for five years off the ticket sales alone.

Ranko slumped a bit in her chair, rubbing her temples. A familiar throbbing behind her eyes was building, and she gave it a dejected sigh in welcome. Hello, anxiety, my old friend. Her voice was one of quiet resignation as she answered, not lifting her eyes to meet her new director's. "I'm not getting out of this, am I?"

"I'm afraid not, honey. I mean, if you really refuse to do it, we'll figure something out, but… I think you'd be silly not to do it. It's not like increasing your range won't help you in your career. The acting experience, too. Lots of singers cross over into acting, you know, either in theater or in the movies." Ms. Zaito stood, moving in front of Ranko's chair and making eye contact with her, an easy feat given her short stature. "Please say you'll do this for us, and for yourself?"

With a resigned sigh, Ranko pulled her sunglasses off and clipped them into the neckline of the white blouse she wore under her red school pinafore. "Alright, let's assume for the moment I said yes. Where would we go from there?"

Without answering her question, Ms. Zaito turned up to the stage, where the girl in the white dress was still sitting on the floor rubbing her cheek. "Tsukiko, come here, please?"

The young woman stood, navigating the steps down from the stage and closing the distance between her director and Ranko. She fidgeted with her high ponytail as she made eye contact with the short woman. "Yes, ma'am?"

"Tsukiko, honey, I'm sorry, but we… We need to make a change, okay? I'm going to ask you to slide over and take the role of Meg, okay?" Ms. Zaito reached for the blonde junior's shoulder, sighing when she realized she couldn't reach it.

Tsukiko glared down at the seated redhead. "You're replacing me with… her?!" She growled loudly, gesturing to the singer as the fury in her eyes turned back to the director. "I've been busting my hump in rehearsals for months, and just like that, you're gonna…"

"I'm sorry, Tsukiko. I really am. The reality is, we're not any closer to ready than we were in September, and… this is Ranko Tendo, honey. The girl's won three JRAs, for heaven's sakes. I just…" Ms. Zaito gasped, recoiling a bit as a guttural roar burst forth from the slender blonde.

"I can't BELIEVE this! I'm OUT OF HERE! Good luck with this shit, Tendo!" The blonde stomped back toward the stage to collect her belongings, delivering a swift kick to a disused brass chandelier that lay on its side on the ground near the steps in frustration. She roared again, this time in pain as the dressing-room slippers she wore offered little protection from the metal she'd kicked.

Great. I've been here five minutes, and this lady's making me enemies, Ranko thought with a quiet groan. "Well, I guess you've committed me now. Thanks."

Ms. Zaito adjusted her glasses, shaking her head in dismay. "She'll be back, I'm sure. Nobody takes demotions well, but in this case, it just had to be done. Here, honey, let me get you a script."

Ranko stood to follow the woman, cringing a bit at the disapproving stares from her new castmates. I didn't do it on purpose, guys! Don't look at me like that! I asked to play the fucking fencepost!

The silent apology she made to her fellow actors with her eyes was interrupted by the director stuffing a thick paperback book into her hand. Ranko looked down at the black cover, emblazoned across the front with a white ceramic mask and a single red rose.

"Welcome to the show, Christine."