Hamuko Arisato (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
wipingallout) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
personavelvetroomdr2025-04-11 07:47 pm
wipingallout) wrote in personavelvetroomdr2025-04-11 07:47 pm
Entry tags:
Cherry Blossom Evening Party
Throughout the week, Hamuko has messaged the vast majority of people she's met so far - and eagerly invited them to come meet at Inokashira Park starting at 5pm.
⋆🌸₊˚⊹♡❀˖°🌸⋆
You're invited to an evening sushi-party-turned-hanami-picnic-party! I've organized a bunch of cognitive chefs and performers to come to that park on the listed date/time.
I've sent this to you because you were part of one of the three teams that helped with fighting Fatalis or rescuing Falcon and Wolf (or are Falcon and Wolf themselves!!) - we've all busted our butts a lot lately, so I think we deserve to have something nice together too!
Of course, the party is open if you have any +1s or more. But before spring turns into summer, let's celebrate what we've all accomplished together!
.🌸˚𑁍.ೃ࿔*:･
The Venue...
Inokashira Park has a lovely river and trail and a phenomenal collection of cherry blossom trees. They're in the tail end of their season, filling the air with petals like snowfall.
In a large open area, Hamuko's arranged a ton of picnic blankets for people to claim and sit down on, though each blanket is HUGE to accommodate people sitting with as many people as they can handle! There are cozy pillows for sitting on too, stacked neatly to be borrowed.
There's a truly humongous row of tables laid out with an impressive amount of sushi presented. With a few trucks nearby, it seems there's a few sushi chefs making fresh platters of it to lay out through the night.
Similarly, there are food carts along the trails if you're not in the mood for sushi and would rather have some more traditional fare like dango, taiyaki, matcha, takoyaki... it's got the place lively and smelling fantastic! There's sake for the adults, and some cherry-blossomed themed mocktails for minors.
🌸𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖🎐
Activities
There's a few set out activities besides just chowing down and socializing or walking along the lantern-lit trails under the cherry blossoms! Inoshikara Park has always had cute little swan pedal boats or regular rowboats for 'rental' (not that money matters here).
The area is SO pretty, perfect for taking pictures to have as keepsakes. There's even a booth to claim a yukata and privately change into it, if you want to go the extra mile!
Finally, in lieu of a traditional band or modern concert, Hamuko has picked out a large set of speakers connected to a small karaoke stage and screen - menace the party with your sing-along! Get a little boost to your Guts!!
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He tapped in Bohemian.
There was really only one song with that in the title.
"That the one?"
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A grin cracks across his face before he can stop it—wide, loose, and obvious.
"Ah. That’s the one. Brings back so many damn memories..."
He trails off for a second, staring at the title. The kind of look people get when nostalgia hits harder than they expect. Then he snatches up the mic like it betrayed him by existing, spinning it once in his palm with all the drama of a man being deeply inconvenienced by joy.
He doesn’t press play yet. His brow furrows, trying to hold onto the last scraps of composure like a towel slipping off a drunken man’s lap.
"Akane swore she’d delete my entire audio log history if I backed out." A scoff. "Said it’d be good for me. ‘Let it out, Dad,’ she says. Like I’m gonna start sobbing into the mic over Queen."
He flashes Phoenix a crooked smile that says: yeah, I absolutely am.
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He clapped a hand on the man's shoulder, and then excused himself from the stage. "Break a leg."
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“‘Break a leg,’ huh?” he muttered to himself, blinking like he was trying to remember if that was a real phrase or just Phoenix being a cryptid again.
Then—click. His expression twisted into something sly and theatrical, his voice going gravel-smooth.
A beat.
"...you kids will see the best live concert ever."
And that’s exactly what he did. Or, well, something like it.
As the haunting piano intro of Bohemian Rhapsody filtered in from the battered karaoke machine—slightly off-key but somehow charming—Zenkichi closed his eyes and tilted his head back like he was about to be executed by musical guillotine. The mic hovered just inches from his mouth, trembling faintly in his hand.
♪♫“Is this the real life...?”♪♫
He sang it too sincerely. Like it wasn’t just a line—it was a genuine, painful question posed to the void.
♪♫Is this just fantasy...
♪♫Caught in a landslide.
No escape from reality~♪♫
By the time he hit ♪♫“open your eyes…”♪♫, Zenkichi actually did open his eyes—big and wet and just a little unhinged. He wobbled slightly as he stepped forward, letting his yukata flutter behind him like he was some war-damaged pop idol finally giving his farewell tour.
♪♫I need no sympathy
Because I'm easy come, easy go
Little high, little low
Any way the wind blows doesn't really matter to me, to me♪♫
As the song built, so did he—gesturing too wildly for someone with a sidearm still strapped to his obi. At ♪“Mamaaaa… just killed a man…”,♪♫ he pointed his finger like a gun, then immediately winced.
“Mgh—okay maybe bad lyric choice—”
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but he was curious to see how a song whose name he'd only heard of went. It was quite pretty overall, if filtered through the inebriated croonings of a man who wasn't so much drunk, by this point, as sloshed.
For the look of the thing, he conjured a mote of flame and set it to sway gently back and forth in the air. Was that mean? ... Maybe a little. But it was the good-natured sort of mean that was acceptable, in polite company.
1/3
Zenkichi gestured again, sluggish and theatrical—index finger out, back arched a little too dramatically for a man of his age and spinal condition. Then, he hiccupped.
“He had it coming,” he murmured under his breath, and then blinked, realizing he’d gone off-script. “...Wait, wrong genre. Dammit.”
♪♫ "Mama, life had just begun..." ♪♫
His voice cracked—just a little, just enough to hit that weird emotional spot where it was unclear if he was acting or really feeling it. Maybe both.
♪♫" But now I've gone and thrown it all away... ♪♫"
He swayed on his feet, the song carrying him. That little mote of flame Phoenix conjured floated gently in the air like some ethereal glowstick, bobbing side to side. Zenkichi noticed it, leaned toward it with a wide-eyed stare like a cat seeing a floating dust bunny.
“Ooooh...” he breathed out. “A little will-o’-the-wisp, huh? You got rhythm...”
He followed its sway for a few bars, squinting closer—then abruptly flinched back.
“Oooh. Mic." He finds a microphone at the side and nearly walks over it. He dips down and nearly keels over as his insides whirr. "That’s a mic. False alarm.”
He patted it gently like it might forgive him for the confusion, then turned back to the screen as the vocals climbed toward their next summit.
♪♫ Mama, ooh... didn't mean to make you cry... ♪♫
He glanced offstage—half-expecting Akane to roll her eyes or record him (or both)—then sang the next part directly into the mic like he was apologizing to her.
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His voice dips dramatically as the music hangs—only for him to wobble forward slightly and raise the mic with theatrical flair:
“...Tell Akane, Phoenix, that I did end up eating her saved up snacks back in the dungeon."
Akane blinks into view from the drone projector, arms half-crossed. “Seriously?”
"Ohhh Akane, where did you come from?"
Akane levels a look at Phoenix.
"That said, in exchange the leftovers in the fridge are fair game.”
He nods sagely, barely keeping his balance. “...Except for the pudding cup. That’s mine in death too.”
Akane groans audibly.
♪♫ Carry on, carry on… as if nothing really matters... ♪♫
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♪♫ Too late, my time has come… ♪♫
He clenched a fist to his chest, eyes squeezed shut.
“Sends shivers down my spine... Mostly ‘cause I think I’m getting old. Or because this yukata's freezing in the back.”
♪♫ Goodbye, everybody, I’ve got to go... ♪♫
He turned, walking away a few paces, then spun on his heel like he was exiting stage left—only to dramatically point back at Phoenix with a wide, sly grin.
♪♫ Gotta leave you all behind and face the TRUTHHHH... ♪♫
His voice leeched off-key.
“Maaaan, you know what this part is? It's oscar-worthy. They don’t let you write lyrics like this anymore.”
♪♫ Mama, ooh... I don’t wanna die... ♪♫
“I mean, who does, right?” he said casually. “Besides the twelve-year-olds in black lipstick writing-” he hiccups again.
He spread his arms, spinning again—off balance, yes, but very committed.
♪♫ I sometimes wish I'd never been born at ALLLL... ♪♫
And then the real music shift hit. Drums. Guitar. A sudden chaos like a drunken train smashing into a theatre stage mid-performance. Zenkichi’s head snapped up and down like he’d just been tasered by Destiny herself.
“Ohhhh—hell yeah. Now we’re cooking!”
He pressed the mic close to his mouth, tone suddenly conspiratorial.
“Ookay so, in Hell,” he said with the gravitas of a man about to say something extremely stupid as he holds out the microphone for Phoenix, “they do the musicals. And drugs. Think they did other shit you mentioned- I just can't remember it. Whole metaphysical warzones with synchronized song numbers- I get that. Theatrical as shit. If I breathe hard enough I should be able to trigger one. I think this is the part.”
“Get over here. C’mon."
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He kept interrupting the music to go on inebriated ramblings about the contents of his fridge, and his age, and the good old days, and now the song was well and truly away from him, well into the operatic bit in the middle, and now-
Oh, hells. The man was calling out to him.
Phoenix sighed, and stood, and switched off the badly-ignored music player. "Zenkichi Hasegawa, you're drunk and meddling in powers mortals weren't meant to comprehend. Are you sure you want me to join you?"
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He raised a brow behind his mask at Phoenix's statement (or a supposed warning?) like he was going to explode at the sensation of music or whatever musicals incited. Right now his heart was buzzing and itching to vent out all the tight screws in his body.
So he only laughs, now tapping his foot on the ground. "I used to be a mortal. Now I am a...an engineered bot with meat- I think I will be fine." Not to mention this isn't his first time being drunk or being drunk multiple times over the job. Long live his vice-! The amount of times his unannounced rage has been carefully countered with the slowing inhibitors that come with alcohol have been life-saving. Just as they are life-changing. He will be fineee.
"What-? You getting stage fright, kid?"
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The lights went out.
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Zenkichi had been joined, in that brief moment, by Phoenix onstage- who then pointed skyward. "Once more with feeling."
And the song returned, not from tinny speakers but all around, as though the band were right there, invisible and just out of reach.
♪ Mamaaaaa, ooooo...
I don't wanna die!
I sometimes wish I'd never been born at all! ♫
lemme know if you want me to just transition to the next bits of the song
And just like that the speakers turned on. Again. Although it was clear what Phoenix said wasn't for show and shit man, his heart lurched in his chest- excitement clambering through at the sound. "Haha-! Oh my god, it's like I am in a live concert!"
He wanted to go to one when he was younger. Especially the times when they toured in Japan but really- with the tight bills it wasn't possible. After his deadbeat father left, Zenkichi never got around to find time to indulge himself to that degree.
Keeping the microphone near his mouth, he smoothly sung in the background for Phoenix.
♪~any way the wind blows...
And just like that the music built up again. He tapped his foot against the ground when the tone straight up shifted, slightly upbeat.
♪♫ I see a little silhouetto of a man!♪♫
The stage's wall behind them suddenly posed a heavy shadow of them, painting two silhouttes.
♪♫ Scaramouche, Scaramouche, will you do the Fandango-?♪♫