Somehow, This Guitar Solo Feels Like an Isekai

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Haruki hadn’t touched it in hours.

Yet the tuning fork wouldn’t stop ringing.

She looked out the train window. The Haruki staring back was smudged with fingerprints. Her mind kept returning to the live house. The “message” on her track.

"You are the anchor." 

What did it mean? And why only her track? Maybe she was just overthinking it.

Even Aika thought so. 

“You’re catching his tinfoil-hat disease,” she’d said. But there was an uneasiness in her eyes. Haruki had noticed, and it made her anxious. 

She rested her forehead against the glass as the train rumbled forward.

She needed to focus.

They had a gig tonight, and the last thing she needed was another “incident.” Not with people watching. Not when her friends were counting on her. She brushed her fingers through her hair.

The café they were performing at was in Otaru, the next town over. Aika usually found gigs for the band, but it wasn’t always easy. Many venues weren’t open to booking a group of high school girls. Sometimes, they had to look beyond their city.

“Earth to Haruki!”

Sakura’s voice cut through her thoughts like a cymbal crash.

“Huh? What is it?” 

“What color is this supposed to be?” She held up one of those little taffy squares. “I swear it’s like lime-yellow, not regular yellow.”

“It’s literally just yellow,” Aika said from the next row, not even looking up from her phone.

“Hey, I have tetrachromacy, you know? I see colors everyone else can't. That’s why I’m so great at picking outfits.”

Mayumi whispered to Haruki, “I think she’s been doing this since we left the station.”

“She has,” Aika chimed in. “She tried to trade it for my coffee earlier.”

“I was offering a deal! Trade caffeine for brain stimulation. It was generous.”

Mayumi fished out a taffy from her oversized tote and handed one to Haruki. “Blueberry.”

Haruki raised out her palm to take it. “Thanks...”

Then Aika sat up and turned to the others. “Okay. Tonight’s plan: stick to what we practiced. Sakura, no more avant-garde jazz solos during the chorus, please.”

“Fine…”

“And Mayumi, please refrain from discussing kakigori flavors with the audience before the performance.”

“But they liked the pumpkin one!”

“I liked the pumpkin one,” Haruki joked.

“See?!”

“Okay, fine. Maybe save it for after the performance, then…”

“Yay!”

“And Haruki…” Aika turned to her now. “No randomly zoning out mid-chorus.”

“I was in the zone… well, maybe not the right zone, but you get it.”

Sakura leaned over to Mayumi and snorted, “Twilight Zone.”

⊹ ▬ ▬ ⊹ ⊹ ▬ ▬ ▬ ⊹

After about half an hour, they arrived at the station.

The train whipped past them as they walked down the stairs.

“It’s like a Miyazaki movie!” Mayumi said, spinning gracefully.

Haruki agreed. “It kinda does look like one, huh?” 

The air was cool and salty in Otaru. Traditional homes. Tourist attractions. The sound of distant canals. The shops leaned against each other like old friends.

They made their way through the cobbled streets, stopping briefly at a Mos Burger for a bite to eat...

“And then—BAM! A single punch to the chest. She flew into the wall… and that’s how I saved the world,” Sakura exclaimed proudly, mouth full of onion rings, sauce dripping everywhere.

“You fought a junior high kid? In a Seicomart?” Aika asked as she ate her rice burger. 

“It was a punch of righteousness!” Sakura said. “She stole the last Pocky box. MY Pocky box.”

Mayumi clapped her hands. “Wow, Saku, you’re so heroic!”

“…And then she scrambled away and nobody ever stole my Pocky ever again!”

Aika face-palmed. Haruki handed Sakura a napkin.

“My Obāsan said that you’re tied to your enemies with invisible string.” Aika recalled.

“You mean like akai ito? Red threads of fate?” Haruki asked.

"Something like that."

Sakura planted her hands proudly on her hips. “So that means I was destined to defeat her!” 

“Or… destined to meet her… and fall in love. You're tied to your soulmates too.” Aika casually retorted with a grin to match Sakura's.

Sakura thought for a second, then declared, “Well, joke’s on them. I’m punching everybody in the chest from now on.”

“Please don’t,” Aika murmured flatly, checking the time on her phone. “Anyway, we gotta hurry. We’re early on the set list and still have to set up.”

The group quickly finished the last of their Rice Bun burgers and iced lemon tea, clutching their heavy instruments before rushing out of the restaurant toward the café. 

⊹ ▬ ▬ ⊹ ⊹ ▬ ▬ ▬ ⊹

The café was one of those modern, minimalist ideas of what a café should be. Brick walls and mismatched furniture. College students, young couples, and a few older locals sipping coffee chatted casually among themselves. Beyond the seating section stood a makeshift stage. 

“Alright guys, remember what we rehearsed. Let’s do this.”

They began setting up. Tuning instruments. Checking cables. After a few minutes, they were ready.

“…and this is… err… Harmonic Distractions,”  the manager announced, butchering the name.

For a moment, it looked like Sakura might've beat him to death with her sticks. 

But that would have to wait.

The band launched into song, exactly as they'd rehearsed. 

Haruki's body moved with her guitar riffs, careful not to make any mistakes. Her mind entirely fixed on strings. 

A drop of sweat traced her cheek. 

Perhaps she was too focused.
Perhaps too in the moment.

She didn’t notice when Sakura’s drums began to grow muffled.
Nor did she notice when Mayumi’s gentle notes disappeared. 
Or when Aika’s accompanying guitar strums followed shortly there after.

Eventually, only the sound of her own guitar remained.

She blinked. And when she opened her eyes...

The café.
The stage. 
The guitar riffs.
The electrical smell of wiring. 
It was all gone.

Instead, the smell of chalk dust filled her lungs.

Slowly her eyes began to wander around this strange new place. 

She stood in the middle of an empty classroom. 
One that looked much like her own. 

Where am I?...

She didn't move from her spot, guitar still in her arms. 

Half-bitten pencils scattered atop the many little desks.
Remanence of equations scarred the chalkboard's surface.  
The hand of a malfunctioning clock ticked eternally in its spot. 

Another blink, and the space changed once more. 

Instantly, the afternoon sun had extinguished. Replaced only by the glow of moonlight. 

The polished wood beneath her feet had transformed into gray carpet.

This time, she found herself in a bedroom. She'd seen it before. 

Off-white walls void of posters or personality.
A bookshelf overburdened with books.
A desk piled high with math and English textbooks. 
A cup of lukewarm tea, sitting forgotten beside a cracked alarm clock.
A school uniform she didn’t recognize.

And near the back, a single window illuminated the room. 

She walked toward it and looked out.

The sky was bruised blue and purple, stars filling the gaps in between.
A residential neighborhood stretched beyond her field of vision. 
Streetlights winked. An old tree creaked in the wind.

And there, beneath its twisted limbs, she saw a figure. 

Staring at her.

A girl.

🎸