Next Evolution

~~~🎧~~~

"Done!" Akira exclaimed enthusiastically, closing his laptop with a clap before theatrically flipping it open again. "You’ve got to hear this."

A new morning began at Sanyou High School in Suminoe—in other words, Lucio’s house. But this time, it included a rookie vocalist who had spent the night there (that would be me), and a young producer eager to prove what he could do.

We gathered around him, and he gestured for us to lean in toward the screen. On the laptop, the editing interface glowed with multiple active audio tracks. He hit play, and the song began to play.

Midnight hum, city lights grow dim,
Shadows dance where we used to dream.

It was our recording of Ashes & Stardust, only this time, it had something extra.

A soft artificial drumroll accompanied Lucio’s voice and mine, keeping the beat with robotic precision. It was... odd. Flawless, but not exactly heartfelt.

"I could also play the keyboard once I finish the sheet music," Akira added proudly. "And don’t kill me, but I tried raising the key during the bridge. It explodes now!"

Lucio frowned, tilting his head slightly like he was trying to figure out what felt wrong.

"What do you think, Lucio?" I asked. "I didn’t think it was bad at all."

"It sounds... robotic," he finally said.

Akira shrugged, still smiling.

"Well, yeah. It’s a digital drum kit. I’m not a wizard. But at least it keeps rhythm and fills out the background—unless you know someone who plays drums, of course."
With that, he bowed dramatically.
"In which case, please, invite them to our humble musical revolution and grace us with their percussion."

I stared at him—so fixed it was like I’d just heard a bell ring inside my mind.

"What?" Akira asked, looking at me partly confused, partly uncomfortable. "Did I say something wrong?"

I immediately turned to Lucio, eyes wide with a mix of hope and curiosity. He didn’t return the look, though he clearly knew exactly what I was about to do.

"Aurora," Lucio growled under his breath, like a warning.

I hesitated, but quickly decided it was no time for hesitation anymore. I turned back to Akira.

"Lucio had a band in middle school."

"AURORA!" Lucio snapped, his voice slicing through the classroom like a broken string as he finally tried to locked eyes with me.

Akira raised both hands in peace, though a spark of interest gleamed in his eyes.

"Oooohhh! I see! Really? And you had a real drummer? That would really boost our quality. Tss tss papa boom! Trrr-tss-ka-tss!"

"Nobody cares!" Lucio roared, his voice cracking.
"If things had worked out with them, I’d still be playing with them instead of two rookies pretending to make music."

"Hey! Maybe quit with the attacks?"

I expected Akira to react like that—he’d been doubted by Lucio since day one—but in this case, I knew Lucio had a point.

"Lucio, wait."
Without realizing it, I grabbed his wrist, though neither of us seemed to notice in the heat of the moment.
"You’re right about that, but think about it. We could really use the help."

"Not now," Lucio muttered through gritted teeth, pulling away.
"This has nothing to do with you. Drop it."

"But if you know someone who could—"

He raised a hand, like something broke inside him, cutting me off mid-sentence.

"No! Aurora, I need you to understand! I don’t want help, I don’t want to go back to that. This is new! Don’t drag me back into where everything fell apart!"

"Lucio… when you wrote Ashes & Stardust... you did it for them. Because you miss them, and because you don’t want that last dream with a comet to die."

Akira’s eyes widened like he’d just witnessed a major revelation.

"Wait, that makes sense. Is that really what happened?"

Lucio started shifting his gaze between us, clearly feeling cornered—like we were pushing him into a place he didn’t want to return to.

"Fine! If you want them so much, then take that recording, go find them, and start your own band! I don’t want to suffer for them again! Just go!"

There was real anger in his voice. Not the sarcastic kind he used when making a joke or throwing a jab—this one hurt.

Akira swallowed and gently closed the laptop with a soft click.

"We just wanted to help," he said, calmer now, though clearly disappointed.

I didn’t say a word. There was a lump in my throat, like I’d crossed some invisible line without meaning to.

"We get it," Akira added. "We’ll go. Maybe it was a mistake for me to come here in the first place."

He began to walk away, and though his sadness made sense, it still caught me off guard. I looked at Lucio one last time—his eyes pleading for us to leave—and without knowing what else to do, I obeyed.

We left the classroom in silence, our footsteps heavier than usual. When we reached the lower floor, Akira sighed.

"Hey, Aurora... Did we go too far? Did we push him too hard?"

I nodded, unable to meet his eyes.

"I... we just... wanted to help," I murmured.

"And maybe we opened a wound that still hasn’t healed," he said.

I stayed silent. Deep down, I knew we had to take a step back... but I also knew that wound couldn’t be left open forever.

But then, what could we do to help Lucio?

~~~🛰️~~~

That same night, after the weight of guilt had spun endlessly in my head, my phone buzzed in my hand. It was Akira.

I answered immediately, sitting at the edge of my bed.

"Hello?"

"Hey," he said, his voice calmer than usual, but with a hint of guilt. "I’ve been thinking. About earlier… with Lucio."

"Me too," I replied softly. "Akira, I’m so sorry. It was my fault. I shouldn’t have said anything. I went too far."

"No, don’t say that. It’s not just your fault," he sighed. "I pressured him too. I just got here and I’m already poking around in wounds I don’t understand. I didn’t mean to start that fight. I got carried away."

Silence filled the space between us for a few moments, unsure of what to say. But Akira had already made up his mind.

"What if we go see him tonight?" he said suddenly. "Not to convince him. Maybe just... to make peace. Or to listen."

His proposal surprised me, but deep down, I’d been hoping for just that. I couldn’t leave Lucio alone with all that bottled up.

"Yes," I said firmly. "But I don’t just want to fix things. I want to understand him. We can’t move forward if he’s still carrying that weight... and I definitely don’t want to lose him."

There was a short pause on the other end, as if those last words had struck a deeper chord.

"Okay," he finally replied, with that signature calm of his. "8 PM. Suminoe Station. See you there."

"See you," I whispered just before hanging up.

I stared at my phone for a few seconds. Outside, night settled over Osaka like a heavy, spectral blanket, in a world collapsing piece by piece even if it didn’t seem like it. But inside me, something had started to shift.

Once again, I refused to let things end like this.