Stars Aligning

That night had something special about it. I couldn’t tell if it was the fresh air, the soft murmur of the city falling asleep, or the anxiety gnawing at me since the afternoon. But when the clock hit 7:45, I was already at the station, sitting on a bench and nervously bouncing my leg.

"Get out!"

Lucio’s anger was still vivid in my memory. A big part of me knew that pushing him so hard to reach out to his former bandmates hadn’t been a good idea.

But that wasn’t like me, and I knew there was something more to all this. Those guys who showed up in the video seemed to awaken a completely different Lucio from the one he pretended to be.

Maybe, just maybe, he needed to see them again.

"Have you been waiting long?" Akira asked, appearing beside me with a bag in hand and his usual smile—though this time it was softer.

I shook my head, standing up in an instant.

"Not at all. Is that…?"

"Sweet potato taiyaki. I read it’s his favorite." He lifted the bag with a bit of pride. "I figured if we’re going to beg, we might as well bribe him a little."

I laughed, though it came out a bit tense. We walked together toward the old school. There was something nostalgic about that building at night, something that made me think of ghosts from the past. Ghosts that still seemed to be trapped there.

At first, we didn’t see any lights. We stared at the front of the building from behind the main gate, a hint of disappointment on our faces.

"What if he’s not there?" I murmured, biting my lower lip.

"Then we eat the taiyaki in his honor and go home." Akira shrugged—but just then, something changed.

A soft rhythm, somewhere between jazz and alternative rock, started drifting down from above. We looked up—and there it was: a dim light shining on the rooftop.

"Is that…"

"An electric guitar with low overdrive...? No, cleaner... It's got reverb, delay..." Akira muttered, squinting. "He’s playing like the guitar is water. It flows, but it drags."

I stared at him. Not because of what he said, but how he said it—so smug.

"What?" he asked, catching my look.

"Let’s just go," I whispered, and without another word, we snuck around the side of the building.

The metal stairs creaked beneath our feet, but once we reached the top, the sound wrapped around us completely. Lucio was sitting in an old beach chair, guitar resting on his lap, with a small portable speaker beside him. He didn’t look at us when we arrived.

"We brought taiyaki," I said, lifting the bag like a white flag.

Lucio didn’t reply immediately. The silence stretched for a few seconds that felt like minutes—until finally, he set the guitar aside with a sigh.

"You guys are gonna give me diabetes."

I silently thanked the universe that Lucio wasn’t still angry—or at least, that he was still willing to talk to us.

We laughed, relieved, and sat near him, legs crossed on the cold rooftop floor. The breeze was gentle, and the city stretched out below like a sea of lights.

"Lucio… what happened with Super Pony?" I asked, staring at the half-bitten taiyaki in my hands.

Lucio took his time to answer. He looked down, rubbed the back of his neck, exhaled.

"Aurora…"

Something about the way he said my name—so soft and intimate, as much as his throat and the situation allowed—sent shivers down my spine. I was sure he didn’t mean to, but it still brought a faint blush to my cheeks.

"You probably noticed that my voice was fine in the video you found, right?"

Of course I noticed. Only someone completely deaf would’ve missed that. Though Akira, who hadn’t seen the tape, visibly registered his silent surprise.

"Yeah," I nodded slowly.

Lucio let out another sigh, like he was throwing an emotional lifeline for what he was about to say.

"After that first big concert in the video… things didn’t go well. We fought over stupid stuff—especially Kaito and Rei. Whether a note should be lower, or the style was wrong, or the pizza had to be anchovy. Over time, the arguments became more frequent."

"And you didn’t want to lose them," I added. "But… what happened to your voice?"

I noticed Lucio tried to push his voice a little harder, unsuccessfully trying to sound like before.

"I wanted us to play at KazanRock Festival. You know, the one they do every year on the terraces of Sumiyoshi Taisha Park, with the river view and that magical vibe full of lights and food trucks. I felt like that was the chance to set things back on track. I gave it everything I had, practiced a ton and…"

Lucio’s voice darkened, his gaze fixed on the horizon.

"The worst happened."

Akira and I felt a deep sadness as we listened, but we honestly didn’t know what to do.

"It was my fault. All of it. What happened to them, the band, my voice. I think things are better this way. I don’t deserve to play with them again."

I stayed silent. I wanted to tell him that wasn’t true, but I felt like I shouldn’t break that moment. Akira was the one to speak.

"You do deserve it, and I think you know that. Otherwise, why did you let Aurora visit after your stream?" he asked, with that calm tone he used when he got serious. "Why did you let her sing? And even if you think you disagreed—why did you let me join in?"

Lucio lifted his head, looking at both of us. And for a moment, I saw that spark of doubt in his eyes.

"Because you wanted to believe there was still something left to fight for," Akira concluded. "That it wasn’t all lost. That… my voice still had a purpose."

Something tightened in my chest. I moved a little closer.

"You want to leave a legacy? Then go after them. I won’t let you waste your talent. Not after what I heard. Not after what I saw."

Akira nodded, crossing his arms, as if holding on to some deep truth. Lucio looked at us… then lowered his gaze. Silence returned for a moment. It felt like something was pulsing in that quiet—like Lucio’s thoughts were too heavy to put into words just yet.

"You don’t understand what it was," he murmured, his voice trembling slightly. "Kaito and Rei were my life. My everything. We made promises—the kind you only make as a teenager, thinking time can’t break them. But things changed, paths split… and I was the one who yelled at them to get lost. I told them they ruined me. How am I supposed to look them in the eye again?"

"With music," Akira said, as if it were a universal truth. "With that song you wrote for them. Not to get them back, but so they’ll know you’re sorry. That you're still you, even if more broken. But do not commit the mistake of giving up."

Lucio looked at him, and something in his gaze shifted. Like he was seeing the real Akira for the first time—beyond the enthusiastic producer and over-the-top guy. I saw in his eyes that silent recognition only musicians can share. A shared wound. A common memory.

Lucio’s gaze drifted again to the Osaka nightscape.

And we, not knowing what else to do but grateful he’d let it out, stayed with him in a few minutes of silence.

"KazanRock."

He broke the silence with sorrow in his voice, but there were traces of hope hidden within. Then, he looked up at the sky, and finally back at us.

"Fulfilling our dream before it all ends. Do you think we can gather them in time for the KazanRock Festival?"

Smiles quickly formed on our faces—weighted by the challenge, but full of enthusiasm.

"If we start tomorrow, absolutely!" Akira exclaimed.

"We’re three already, Lucio. Let’s make it five," I added.

Lucio looked down, thoughtful… until he nodded ever so slightly, like allowing himself just a bit of hope.

"Huh, you two are hopeless. I guess I’ll see you at the station tomorrow at ten, then. We’re going after Rei."

Akira raised a fist into the air like he’d just won a prize. I joined him with a softer smile, feeling that something big had just happened.

"Looks like snooping through your stuff had a positive effect, Mr. Chiaro."

Hearing that, Lucio stretched, yawned, and stood up.

"Who would've thought? In the end… all it took was a bold producer and a pretty vocalist to get Lucio Chiaro chasing his dreams again."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever you say, rockstar," Akira cut him off while rummaging through his bag. "The vain one here is me. Here, taiyaki."

Through laughter, we shared the taiyaki sitting on the steps by the entrance, under the dark sky dotted with stars. The filling was still warm, and the familiar sweetness of anko comforted me more than I expected. Lucio ate his in silence, but there was a small curve on his lips, like he felt a bit lighter deep down. Akira wouldn’t stop talking about plugins, effects, and mixes he wanted to try, while I simply watched the two of them—feeling, for the first time in a long while, like I was part of something special. We didn’t know what was coming next. But for that night, everything felt okay.

~~~🌟~~~

I got home late, though the hour didn’t really matter to my father—or anyone else—anymore. No one could really put me in danger either, since few people still had the energy for crime with the end drawing so near.

"Tomorrow will be a new day," I whispered as I turned off the light and lay down to sleep.

Sleep slowly crept in, and I felt myself drifting off. But then...

"...Lucio… did he call me pretty?"

I grabbed the sheets and covered my head, trying to hide from the world—my blushing cheeks and my heart, which now beat wildly and longed for something I hadn’t expected.