The Carnivale Rosa staging facility was a place of many wonders and distractions, none more so than a dimly lit karaoke bar tucked away in its Recreation Level. Its polished wooden stage, adorned with plush red velvet curtains, gleamed under a single spotlight that turned to highlight each performer who took the mic, casting dramatic shadows and erratically spinning beams across the elevated platform.
On this particular day, the buzzing, blinking neon lights cast an uneven glow, and the current singer's voice cracked as they struggled through Celine Dion's legendary ballad "My Heart Will Go On" with all the grace of a cat fighting to claw its way out of a bathtub.
Coda Nitai perched on the edge of a barstool at the counter, her long tan trench coat rustling softly against the worn leather. The stage was alive with off-key singing and the room at large with boisterous chatter, but she seemed to be lost in her own quiet, contemplative world.
Her sunglasses hid her reptilian orange-gold eyes, and her blonde hair was neatly braided down her back. She sipped at her ridiculously flamboyant virgin cocktail with an unmistakably moody aura about her, seeming almost like she wanted to fold herself away from the world.
Not even a metric fuckton of sugary, syrupy beverages could improve her mood. Not for all the world.
The bartender, a burly man with tattoos of serpents coiling up his arms, slid a small brown paper tray towards her. Upon it sat a primly-stacked pile of takoyaki, small fried balls oozing with small chunks of tender octopus that glistened in the low light. A generous drizzle of sweet soy sauce coated the coveted orbs of battery goodness, while toppings of dried fish flakes, sliced green onion, seaweed strips, fresh ginger, and crispy tempura bits added pops of color and texture, sparkling like jewels under the hazy bar lights.
Coda delicately impaled a crispy ball of batter and octopus with a toothpick, her fingers deftly twirling it before bringing it to her lips. When she took that first bite, the flavors burst in her mouth: the chewy pieces of octopus, the tangy sauce drizzled on top, the subtle hints of ginger and scallion. In that moment, she was transported back to her home world, surrounded by familiar faces and places long gone.
The taste on her tongue was both nostalgic and bittersweet—a reminder of what once was but might never be again.
As she sat at the bar crammed with patrons, Coda let out a little sigh that blended into the bustling background noise, slumping a little. Behind her sunglasses, her cat-like eyes gazed off into the distance, lost in sweet memories. But with a shake of her head, she returned to the present and took another bite of the crispy takoyaki, savoring the familiar taste and anchoring herself to the here and now.
The singer on stage stretched their arms towards the ceiling, their voice reaching an impossibly high note that wavered like a ship in a storm. Coda's lips quirked into a slight smile, her chuckle as light and airy as sea foam. Returning to her meal, she took a delicate nibble of her food, but couldn't shake off the wistful feeling that lingered like a shadow, drifting in and out like oceanic mist at dawn.
On the brightly lit stage, the singer's voice continued to waver on the high note, straining to hit the climax of the song, warbling like a bird. The crowd, a mix of rowdy drunks and attentive listeners, held their breath, their eyes fixed on the performer, as if waiting for them to dive off a tightrope.
A second spotlight popped on with a crack, illuminating the off-key object of their attention, capturing every drop of sweat that dripped down their forehead in excruciating detail.
Then, like a phantom from a half-remembered dream, a figure entered the karaoke bar.
He moved with trained grace, every step calculated and precise. His tailored yet slightly rumpled suit was a sharp contrast to the dark interior of the bar, the charcoal grey fabric spotted with hazy polka dots from the oscillating ceiling lights. Muscles rippled beneath his jacket, brimming with strength and power. His piercing gaze and the lines etched on his face told tales of hardship, hinting at a life lived on the edge and a keen mind that ticked with the surety of clockwork.
Whispers followed in his wake as he slowly picked his way across the bar, his entire bearing firm and cool, seeming almost like the calm before the storm.
As Coda popped another bite of battered octopus into her mouth, she noted the subtle shift in the atmosphere. The lively chatter dimmed, the laughter stilled, all of it fading into a hushed tension. Her head turned, her eyes scanning the people scattered around her in slight alarm—and then widening upon spotting him, her eyes emitting a bright golden glow in her excitement.
With a subtle grace, Kiryu Kazama navigated through the packed, musty space, his gaze sweeping over the patrons as if searching for something. His dark eyes surveyed the room, taking in every detail, before finally settling on Coda.
The pair locked eyes, and a flicker of recognition passed between them—a silent acknowledgement of their past acquaintance. Without hesitation, Kiryu made his way towards her, his strides deliberate and purposeful.
Slowly, the chatter of the bar faded away as he sat down in the empty chair beside her. They exchanged a subtle nod, an acknowledgement of their shared experiences. Just two souls who had walked a similar path, not all that long ago.
As Kiryu sat beside her, Coda found herself drawn to the solidity of his presence. The way he filled the space next to her yet never encroached upon her solitude completely. The way he sat, his posture relaxed yet alert, like a tiger... or dragon, rather... basking in the sun, yet ready to spring into action at a moment's notice. The way he sipped his amber-colored drink as it was brought to him, his movements slow and precise, a voiceless demonstration of the discipline that was ingrained into him.
Laughter and the sound of glasses clinking swelled to fill the room once more, as if time had resumed its normal pace. But for Coda and Kiryu, it felt like time was bending and warping around them. They sat in their corner of the hazy karaoke bar, the lack of words speaking volumes, and the crooning of the next singer's attempt at fame cushioning the void their silence left behind.
Sometimes, it seemed, words weren't needed when silence could convey everything.
