Embers of Espionage
an excerpt

Prologue

Reader, if you have picked up this memoir then I would like to believe that you already know who I am. Of course, there is no guarantee that you did not select this merely out of curiosity, but either way you have chosen to take this peek into the most important years of my life. Whether you know who I am or not, there is something I must tell you before continuing on any further: I never thought I would ever write down any part of my life for others to read, or even purely for myself. Even after my rise to fame, I never wanted to write these memoirs. However, I feel I have to; not for your sake or even for my own selfish gain, but because I hope somehow it will count as an apology. I owe Kamiya that much at least.

That being said, I would like to greet you properly. My name is Shirota Hiroshi, though you probably know me better at Hiiro, or as the lead singer of Espionage Orchestra, the band most famous for “We’ll Come Bother You” and “Oblivity.” My own solo career has since surpassed the fame of my early band years, but I would not trade my years with Espionage Orchestra for anything, not even the anger and frustration and agony that marked not just our final years but the majority of our brief career together. If it weren’t for Espionage Orchestra I would never have had any reason to pursue a career in music. I would never have had the opportunity to come into my own as a performer, or to grow as a songwriter and a singer, or to form any of the relationships that came about as a result of the band and the whole experience therein. There is no way to discount the importance of those years, and doing so would not only disrespect my own history but also my band mates and friends.

Even though the band has been broken up for nearly six years now, I still maintain close contact with my former band mates. Yujiro has actually helped me out many times by recording on my albums and touring with me between shows with the newly revised lineup of Espionage Orchestra, while Tsubasa and I meet up for coffee at least twice a year to exchange stories and share information about contacts within the industry to further our solo projects. Even Rikuo and I still talk, though I’m unsure whether she will ever forgive me entirely for leaving the band. Still, a lifetime of friendship is not something lightly forgotten, and I don’t think we will ever completely lose touch. Shinji has been busy with his production company for the past few years but we still send each other cards for the holidays. And of course there was Kamiya. While we are no longer in touch for obvious reasons, meeting such a kind and brilliant person would be more than worth the tumultuous years of Espionage Orchestra’s original demise.

Kamiya actually came close to convincing me not to leave the band. It’s not a commonly known fact. Not even the other members of the group knew about this, until now. The media has made much about our friendship, and usually with surprising accuracy, but the fact that we were close enough that he could convince me to endure more of that insanity would probably surprise even them. It nearly happened, though. I trusted Kamiya more than anyone else in the band, and I knew he wouldn’t ask me to stay if there wasn’t a reason. He cared about me too much to do otherwise. And he was truly frightened when he asked me just before going onstage for what would end up being our final concert.

Rikuo was off in her own dressing room as per usual, and by that point in time I didn’t care what she was up to in there any longer; Tsubasa and Shinji were running their parts backstage for final sound checks, and Yujiro was going through his pre-show routine of meditating to Shostakovich in one of the bathrooms. Normally Kamiya would have been doing something similar…he never got over his performance anxiety. I suppose drums were the only instrument for him, really, since he could hide behind them. That night, however, he joined me in the lounge, and that was unusual enough that I stopped reviewing the lyrics to “Cielo Azul” without complaint, even though if I didn’t run the song at least three times before a show I tended to switch the first and third verses during the performances.

“I can’t concentrate,” he told me. “I keep dreaming about dying.”

I don’t think anyone on Earth could go back to running lyrics after hearing something like that, and especially not when it came from someone so important to them.

I knew Kamiya had been having nightmares. We rarely stayed at each other’s places any longer, not with things as awkward as they had become by then, but it was clear he wasn’t sleeping well from the circles under his eyes and the way he shuffled when he stepped, and he’d called me in the middle of the night the previous few nights without bothering to leave a message. They were all signs of restless nights. But I hadn’t realized how bad things were. Even worse, Kamiya’s fear of death was more extreme than anyone I had ever met. I can’t imagine anything else terrifying him so much as dreaming his own death over and over again.

Once Kamiya sat down and I had managed to get him to stop shaking, he told me about the dream. He could barely make the words come out. “It starts with me standing in a crowd outside a big stone building. I’m not sure where it is, but it scares me. It scares me just thinking about it now.” He leaned into me and I couldn’t push him away, not when he was so afraid, when his voice was shaking so. “A group of pall bearers come down the steps and through the crowd, carrying a black coffin. It isn’t latched properly, and everyone is snapping pictures, trying to get a good shot of the little bit of hand that peeks out of the crack between the top of the coffin and the body. I can’t get a good look myself. It’s too far away. But I know it’s me in there, Roshi, I know it’s me. You’re in the crowd with everyone else in the dream. It’s the only part of the crowd where no one is taking pictures. And you won’t cry.” He sounded like he was fighting back tears. “You’re the only one who won’t cry. And then Rikuo starts screaming when she sees the coffin isn’t totally closed and she starts saying it was your fault for not being there, that you could have stopped it. But you’d never kill me. You’d never leave me, right, Roshi?”

I’ve only just realized reader. He was the only one who called me that. I’d forgotten. Maybe I made myself forget. I won’t forget again, though.

After he told me about the dream, I assure him that I would never hurt him like that. He believed me without a single question. He said it was just a dream and he could think of nothing more frightening than knowing that I would be left carrying the burden of his death, even worse than dying itself, and that must be the reason for that part of the dream. That was when he asked. “I know it’s a dream,” he told me, “but I keep having it. I don’t think I’ve ever been so scared in my life. Everything’s falling apart here, it’s getting more and more dangerous to go out where someone might recognize us, and now I keep dreaming of dying. Promise me you won’t leave.” He actually hugged me then…Kamiya, the sweetest of all of us who was afraid to touch anyone in case he hurt them without meaning to, but he hugged me then. “Please, Hiroshi? Please don’t leave me yet.”

I promised him without a second thought. I almost promised him what he was really asking, too, for me to stay with the band as well…but in the end, I couldn’t do it. He knew, I could tell, but he didn’t say anything. He just smiled and stayed with me while I ran through the song a few more times for him. When the concert was over, there was no time to reconsider or to even talk to him again before he left to escape the final fight between the band before it got out of hand and pulled him in, too. The next morning I called the press conference announcing my leave from Espionage Orchestra and the launch of my solo career. Kamiya called that day but left no message, and I was so busy finally recording all of the songs I’d wanted to release for so long that it slipped my mind. After a few days, he stopped calling.

One week after the end of the first Espionage Orchestra, a cerebral hemorrhage killed Kamiya while he slept. He was twenty-three. Rikuo didn’t call to tell me. It wasn’t until footage of the funeral hit the news nine days later that I even knew he had died. One of my greatest regrets is that I did not have that chance to say goodbye. If I had been at home instead of in the studio in Chiba, I would have gotten the invitation; if I had handled my departure from the band better, the others might have told me what happened even with me in the studio working on an album without them. But that is not my greatest regret.

I know I had nothing to do with my friend’s death. No one could have foreseen what happened. It was nothing but a freak accident. But I still feel responsible. I might not have killed him like in his nightmare, but I feel responsible all the same. I wasn’t there to be with him like he begged me to be and no amount of apologizing will ever change that.