They need a bigger venue. They need a much, much bigger venue.

The crowd was pressing against the barriers, filling the room so it felt as if it was going to burst. The effect was magical, creating incredible photos before the band had even entered the stage. 

I thought about the quartet, how much I had liked them and how they had made me feel sort of absorbed into them. Suddenly, it was very important to me that they liked my work. Both because I wanted them to be impressed by me...

But also because I wanted them to hire me again, and again, and again...

The stage door opened, and in came Damien the Drummer, Chang or John, and Tobirama Senju. Damien and Chang were both energetic and very jumpy, but Tobirama was the perfect picture of absolute calm. The audience went wild as they took their instruments, and I laughed as I took picture of the three of them. 

They started playing a long intro, clearly building it up to something magical. 

And that something magical was Hashirama going up on stage, immediately taking the mic and starting to sing.

The effect was so strong on me, I forgot to take pictures for several seconds, definitely missing one or two good frames. But Hashirama when he sang... He had an entirely different aura to him now than when I had met him, giving his entire heart and soul to the song. He grabbed the microphone in a way that almost made me jealous, his one silver ring glimmering in the lights.

He was a beautiful artist, and he completely stole the show.

I took picture after picture, working harder than I had ever done in my career to get good shots. I was so focussed on Hashirama and his performance, it wasn't before Tobirama came forwards and handed me a bottle of water that I realised I had sweated profusely, and not drunk a single drop of water. 

I blushed as I took it from his hand. 

It went on for a couple of hours, and when it was done, I was exhausted and high and happy and nostalgic and whimsical, all at once.

All at once...

I had taken the opportunity to shower in the venue, changing into a set of clean clothes I had brought by the advice of the manager. I had had no idea why, but now, I was happy I had done as he had suggested as my working clothes were drenched.

As I was leaving, I had to go down from the third floor to ground floor and the bar area, but on the second floor, I was stopped by a now-familiar feeling of an arm around my neck.

"Madara, my man!"

"Hi, Damien", I screamed over the noise.

"Stay and party with us!"

"Thank you Damien, but I really need to head home."

"Stay! Hashirama wants you to stay."

"Oh, I don't think he does", I said.

"I think he does."

At exactly that moment, Hashirama walked past us, a woman on each arm, one blonde, one black-haired, completely oblivious of us. I suddenly felt awfully masculine in my hoodie and trousers.

"I really don't think he does", I repeated sadly to Damien.

"I really don't think he does either, anymore", Damien said, equally sad, which I thought was pretty sweet. 

I left the venue, feeling strangely saddened about Hashirama, not knowing that in a corner of the bar area sat another man, a completely colourless one, feeling as unexplainably sad about me as I did about his brother. 

The sound of gingerbread crunching beneath my teeth made me happy. The way the crunch was actually strangely soft, and how it entailed the wonderful scent of spices in the air.

I drank some of my mulled orange wine with it, updating my web page with some photos from the concert. It had been one week since I sent the link to the album with the edited photos to the manager's e-mail address, and two weeks since the concert. 

And nothing. I had heard nothing.

I looked to the corner where I had placed a very small Christmas tree that smelled heavenly, that decorated with dried oranges and cinnamon hung in red ribbons. I imagined what it would feel like to have four parcels there; one for each band member.

Well... Did I have to wait for them to hire me before making that little dream come true? 

Whenever I was sad about something, I found distraction was the best cure. And how best to cure a sadness by the impossible task of finding Christmas gifts to people you hardly knew?

I took my coat and scarf and ran out. I cried out loud like an idiot when I noticed it was snowing, and of course, I had to try to catch some snowflakes on my tongue before running to catch the bus to get to town.

I started with Damien. I found his present in a very steampunk-ish retro shop. It was a pair of drum sticks, made of mahogany and with the most incredible painted roses on them. Clearly not made for use, just for decoration.

John was harder, seeing I hadn't spoken to him, but there had clearly been some joking about the stereotypical Asian man with him, often brought up by John himself, so I gave him a packet of instant noodles. 

Hashirama was easy. I just got him a nose stud, as small as the one he had had, but whereas his had ben simple metal, this was a cobalt blue stone.

Tobirama turned out to be the hardest one of all. A piercing for him, too, for his eyebrows? No. A book with recipes for non-alcoholic drinks? No. 

He's very much like me. What would I like to receive? 

Finally, I settled on a notebook and a pen. The notebook was black leather with silver engravings of ocean life; an octopus, a hammerhead shark, a jellyfish... The pen was also black, shiny and strong and very comfortable between my fingers. I didn't have a picture in my head what he would use it for, but it felt... right, somehow.

All of these things were small enough to fit in my backpack, so I could actually comfortably hold a paper mug of hot chocolate on my way back to my apartment. 

When I opened my laptop to continue working, I saw I had a message from Hashirama Senju.