The Kizunas (part 5 - Final)

Mr. K. got a call from his old friend:

—— Oi, Kizuna! Don’t worry about it. What did you expect, to go on forever?

—— People don’t understand any more.

—— Yeah, but time changes, there are other things, people need something different.

—— It’s all right for you in your boring little coffee shop all day, but some of us are trying to do something for people, make them feel better, give them some purpose in life, try to make them think about the precious things, things we should cherish and respect, how to live with each other, cut out the nasty competition, from childhood, as soon as the kids start to walk, do this do that, be better than the others, it’s a pretence this false veneer of friendliness…………

—— Relax, Kizuna! Is your missus there?

—— Hello, Gimon, how are you?

—— Saw you the other day, you still look great.

—— You’re just saying that. The clothes don’t fit any more.

The Kizunas decided to drop in on Gimon. Because it had been such a long time since they had been there, they couldn’t remember the exact location of the coffee shop. As they were walking along trying their best to remember where it was, they recognized one of their T-shirts on a young man several metres ahead. It was one of a limited edition to mark their first appearance at the Truism Dome, the coveted venue that, like a Mecca for pilgrims, all entertainers seek to perform at as the pinnacle of their careers. They remembered the print on the T-shirt: KIZUNA IS FOR LIFE. But when the man came closer, they saw that some of the letters had been worn away, with the result that all they could see on the man’s chest was KIZU  IS LI  E. As they passed each other, the young man’s face betrayed the hint of a slight sneer as he wondered why this middle-aged couple was staring at him. The Kizunas in turn wondered whether the man knew the meaning of Kizuna and who they were, wondered whether the T-shirt had become scruffy because of a pride in wearing it often, with reverence for the words on it.

They soon found Gimon’s coffee shop and went in. There were a few customers in the shop, but nobody rushed for their autographs, as would have happened not so long ago. Two or three of them looked up from their drinks towards the Kizunas, but these were just the normal, casual glances nonchalantly directed at whoever walked in. Gimon said nothing. He picked up a record and put it on the turntable. It was an early recording of the Kizunas’ “We are one big happy Family.” After a few seconds, though, the record got stuck, repeating, “…..all together, help each other/all together, help each other/ all together, help each other…….” 

Gimon gave the turntable a slight nudge. The needle moved along smoothly. He smiled and said:

—— Wonderful things like Kizunas need a gentlle push now and again.

The Kizunas (part 4)

       A mixture of the faddish and the genuine, but whose fault was it? The name Kizuna was known all over the nation and their music was making people feel good. But when the side that takes over as fashion tips the scales, then the momentum slows down and things are taken for granted or forgotten; or worse still, become fossilized platitudes. And there was always the possibility that this could happen to The Kizunas.

       As if a harbinger of what was to come, or indeed what was actually happening, a trivial incident occurred at a performance in the capital. Just as they had finished their last song, a sequin from Ms. Kizuna’s right sleeve broke its thread and flickered down to the floor of the stage. It happened in an instant and only the people in the very first row could have noticed it, if at all. But to the Kizunas it was like a cast iron plate thudding into the wooden boards beneath their feet. And as they came off, they realized that the loud applause that always accompanied their exit to the wings was a subdued patter. They could hear their footsteps padding off into the dressing room; they had never before heard the rustle of their clothes as they were going off.

       Is this what Zeami meant by opprobrium from the masses? Were these the first stages of losing the Flower? The Kizunas flopped down into their chairs. They were in decline; people didn’t care about them that much any more. What had changed? Why were they not considered to be as necessary as before? Was it inevitable that a good thing cannot last forever? Yes, the climate of the times had changed; people had changed; feelings, emotions, and lifestyles had been re-prioritized to suit values recognized and reinforced, even coerced, by society as it now was. The Kizunas were slowly being forgotten, their fame and meaning tapering to a hardly discernible footnote in the back of people’s minds.

The Kizunas (part 3)

       Their name appeared everywhere. In the neon signs announcing their next appearance, on the helmets of baseball players, as tattoos on the arms of young men and the ankles of young women. The whole nation felt good. It was as if some magic dust had been sprinkled over the land by the songs of The Kizunas – a coating of grace and enlightenment. People began to reassess their lives, heeding the songs’ messages, which reminded them of the important things in life, as well as its brevity and impermanence. Family members who had not met up for years began to make efforts to renew contacts with their kin; there was forgiveness for the absentees and the runaways, the divorcees and the lost contacts. Nobody could quite explain how such a feeling, such a mentality, had suddenly gripped the nation. That the Kizunas had triggered such emotions with their music was in no doubt, but how it had happened at this precise time and to this extent was still under debate. A flash in the pan? A short-lived fad? Or a permanent change in the mindset? A famous psychologist explained as follows:

This is a good example of what is known in our field as the Schilstrom-Richtblufter Effect. There is what we call an intra-psychosertive desire within people to manifest a behaviour, feeling, or habit, which needs an extra-psychoadsertive contrareflexive stimulus to release a series of emotions acting as pre-parietal hippocampial reflex agents. In other words, if a behaviour is suggested to you as being desirable, it will be readily embraced and even enhanced further if the initial desire, no matter how deeply buried or concealed, is present. The Kizunas are spreading a message that a lot of people have found that they need. It’s nothing new; it was always there.It just needed an exogenous impetus to generate an endogenous reaction. And it’s a common phenomenon, with many examples existing in every culture. One famous equivalent could be the Flower Power movement at the end of the 1960s, and it is likely that the impact of The Kizunas will last for about the same length of time. It does not necessarily mean that the pervasive feeling or trend will disappear, but there is always a thinning out, a decline, or a transformation to mask the original phenomenon, even though it could actually continue for a long time, albeit in a less conspicuous form.

Meanwhile, The Kizunas were still flying high.

The Kizunas (part 2)

       The first telling signs came at a show in a small town in the north of the country. It was an outdoor event to celebrate Family and Neighbour Day, a new holiday added to the calendar of public holidays by ACHE, the Agency for Comfortable Human Existence. On the bill with The Kizunas were dancers, singers, a family of monocyclists, a manzai duo, and a monkey act. Owing to the rarity of such an event in the town, the seats in front of the temporary stage were full, and the grassy area beyond was also packed with families and groups of young people. It was the usual scene: mothers feeding their infants; fathers cuddling Chihuahuas and toy poodles; young adults staring into smartphones in between sips of plastic-bottled green tea. The first couple of acts were welcomed and sent off with enthusiastic applause, expressing more the excitement of attendance at such a show rather than appreciation for the acts themselves.

       Then it was the turn of The Kizunas. Mrs. K. dressed in a midnight-blue taffeta dress with sequins on the three-quarter sleeves; Mr. K. traditional, yet dapper, in his black suit and purple silk tie. Redolent of Showa style, some might have said, but perfect for the time and place. They eased confidently into the first few bars of Kinship, and as they continued with, no matter what, no matter where…….., they became aware that most of the audience were singing with them. The chopsticks were held motionless, hands that had been stroking the heads of dogs became still, end even the listless youngsters lifted their heads from their phones, even if for a moment or two. And this was repeated for the next three songs that completed the Kizunas’ repertoire for the day. The applause was loud and long, babies were held more tightly in their mothers’ grips, and tears filled the eyes of many of those present, including the organizing staff hovering around the vicinity of the stage. It was as if the Kizunas had worked some extra magic that day, something that reached deeper than before, something that the public longed for: a palpable togetherness with their fellow human beings.

       Soon after, The Kizunas became a regular fixture on TV; hardly a night passed without the Kizunas appearing on at least one of the main channels. The apotheosis came when they were invited to appear on the Pink and Purple Song Battle, the grand dame of music programmes aired nationally and internationally at the end of the year. Viewer rating reached a record 39.6 percent for the show, peaking just at the time when the Kizunas were being introduced as the next act. The Kizunas had become national icons, the epitome of the unifying spirit the country needed and longed for.

The Kizunas (part 1)

It was almost preordained that Mr. and Mrs. Kizuna (not their real names) would meet and become a couple. Both hailed from a long pedigree of entertainers, including The Omoiyaris, jugglers extraordinary; The Mame Twins, with their troupe of ball-balancing otters; as well as the illustrious careers of The Kikubari Family, singers and reciters of ancient poetry who, it is said, performed regularly at the royal court for more than a decade. They formed their double act, The Kizunas, after their marriage; their repertoire consisted of smooth romantic ballads, both traditional and recently penned, adapted to be sung in harmony, which often reached sublime heights. They were not like the brash, irreverent entertainers of their day, but could be described as being traditional, some would even say old-fashioned. They were more likely to induce feelings of warm emotion, of nostalgic togetherness, of neighbourly love, rather than screams of excitement or dancing in the aisles. The Kizunas almost always started off their performances with We’re Together, with its catchy chorus:

You’re my darling, yes you are,

my cute little angel, prettier than sakura

You’re my beau, yes you are,

my shining warrior, my movie star

But then, as if ushering in a new turn in their career, they changed their opening number to Kinship, which contained the emotional chorus that was to define their appeal form now on:

We are all together near and far

We will comfort you wherever you are

No matter what, no matter where

We will be with you, we will be there

It was fertile time for The Kizunas to shed their journeyman-act label and become the duo that everyone loves: the citizens needed something to comfort them in those times of suffering, discontent, and poverty. Things began to change little by little for The Kizunas; they were about to become household names, at least for a time.