Act 1, Chapter 3: The Trial Of Frequency

The auditions in room B-12 had started, and the space felt smaller by the second. Each twenty-seven first-year students had to achieve their dreams into reality.

Sora, Mika, and Ren sat beside the whiteboard as the judges called out first-years one by one. "Alright kids, show us what you've got!" Sora's tone was encouraging and confronting. Ren jotted down phone notes; her hood shadowed her face.

The guitarists went first. A tall punkish boy strummed the club's battered Yamaha acoustic with aggressive downstrokes of his Metallica's Master of Puppets cover. His energy was contagious, yet his chords faltered in the bridge.

Hiroki's nerves tightened in each second. I can’t mess this up!

The bassists followed, mostly playing it safe. But one preppy, punkish boy was downpicking Sora's Ibanez bass with raw aggression. He clenched in a power stance and harshly banged his head. Covering the grittiness of Disturbed's Stricken.

"Bass is the safest choice. But that dude goes metal AF!" Hiroki whispered to Aoi with a faint devil horn salute, her visible eye scanning the room like a hawk.

The keyboardist followed. One cheeky twin-tailed girl smirked, her fingers dancing with unrivaled precision over a synthesized melody of an anime opening theme. Earning applause for her efforts, she made an L with her finger and a bratty grin at the audience.

But then, a modest girl with twin braided brown hair stood forward and played Chopin's Nocturne Op. 9 No. 2. Her fingers elegantly danced over Ren's keyboard, and the classical music filled the room with elegance.

Halfway through, she added a jazzy flourish, bending the notes to match the LMC's rock vibe. The room fell silent but impressed. Hiroki's chest clenched as a wave of nostalgia hit him—Kaito used to play this classical tune on his phone whenever he was hollow inside.

The piece has ended with elegance, but the students' unison clap blared without stopping. And even Sora gave a rare nod of applause.

"That… was beautiful..." Hiroki's voice was barely audible.

Aoi's chuunibyou flair softened with a melancholy. "It's like staring at the abyss, isn't it?"

He only answered with a subtle nod; the memory of Kaito lingered.

The drummers restored the energy. A certain preppy blonde boy with a red bandana covering Avenged Sevenfold's Almost Easy, his sticks a blur on Mika's Tama kit. He banged his head and snarled his face, channeling the song's fury.

The double-kick pedal thundered, nearly toppling the small drum kit. The preppy blonde boy's rage overshadowed Mika's plea. "Please, don't break my drum!"

The audience erupted, and he lifted double devil horns and wildly grinned with his tongue out. Mika applauded his energy but was concerned about her cherished small Tama's kit.

"Kid’s got spirit." Sora chuckled, scribbling on his clipboard.

Then came the wildcard: the shy and skinny saxophone kid. He shuffled to the front, holding his sax like a lifeline. With a deep breath, he nodded to Ren, who played a bluesy drumbeat on her keyboard. The blues lick that followed was sharp and confident, in stark contrast to his shyness.

He swayed his body, his saxophone screaming like a seasoned pro, combining rock and jazz that's fitting in the LMC. Halfway through, he pointed to Ren, who responded with a gritty organ solo; their playful duel ignited the audience.

He ended with a high-pitched flourish, striking a rock-star pose. The students roared with thunderous applause, louder than before.

"Saxophone, huh?" Hiroki chuckled. "He should be in the orchestra club, but he rocks!"

Aoi smirked and nodded. "The Divine Eye approves of his audacity."

The vocalists came next, but it was a mixed bag. Some struggled with pitch; others nailed falsettos but lacked presence. Mostly secure in their single talent. But Hiroki and Aoi were the exceptions—both had chosen to sing and play guitar, a daunting double act.

Sora's voice broke through the clamor. "Introducing Hiroki Yamada on vocals and guitar! "Playing Radiohead's Street Spirit (Fade Out)!" However, a ripple of murmurs spread like a wildfire. Even for the cockiest freshman, who thinks it was a suicide mission.

Hiroki's pulse quickened. Aoi patted his waist, her voice low. "Good luck, Dark Lord of Tartarus."

"I won’t miss!" He snapped a finger and flashed a confident smirk at her.

He approached the whiteboard, strapping on the Yamaha acoustic. It felt like an extension of himself. He re-tuned it to standard, tightened his pick, and tested the strings. Street Spirit was his overplayed song since Kaito taught him its haunting pluck. He closed his eyes and swayed, reflecting Thom Yorke's melancholic passion.

Rows of houses, all bearing down on me… His voice was soft and aching, each word sinking into the song’s desolate world. I can feel their blue hands touching me…

The room faded. The tires' screams, the infernal fire, and the hospital lights all flashed in his head. His fingers were steady on the strings while the lyrics carried his grief.

And faaaaaaade oooooout, agaaaaaain… His voice rose in the chorus, still soft but piercing, a controlled wail. The pluck never faltered, each arpeggio clean and deliberate.

Aoi's gaze focused, judging each note. The Dark Lord must never falter! Her intensity is almost overwhelming. But Hiroki wasn't just auditioning; he was pouring out his heart, with the sorrow of Kaito's death laced into every line.

His voice cracked slightly in the ending. Immerse your soul in love. A falsetto that trembled with emotion. He ended with a delicate strum, his spine's shivering, and his eyes glistening.

Claps and whistles erupted in the room. Mika jumped in her seat, dropping her jaw. Sora lifted his brow and nodded as he was impressed. Ren's phone flashed: Out of this world! Hiroki's heart pounded.

He had done it not just for the audition but also for Kaito.

"Perfection!" Aoi smiled at Hiroki with a nod of approval.

"And now, last but not least… Aoi Mizuno on vocals and guitar! Playing Puddle of Mudd’s Blurry!" Sora announced.

Hiroki's mouth fell. Blurry?! The song's complex harmonics and half-step-down tuning were brutal. He moved close to her and whispered. "H-Hold on! Are you suicidal or what?!"

Aoi patted his shoulder, her confidence unshakable. But surprisingly, she removed her eyepatch and her bandaged arm, revealing a small crescent moon tattoo on her right wrist. "Do not underestimate me, Dark Lord. The Priestess always prevails."

Sora handed her the Yamaha acoustic, and she neatly detuned it a half-step down. Standing in front of the whiteboard, she clasped her hands like a preacher. "This is the Priestess speaking. Let us seek our Lord and Savior's benediction before this sanctuary of frequency."

The room chuckled, but she ignored them and tapped the strings four times. Her fingerstyle nailed the song's tricky harmonic intro, and her small body belied the strength in her hands.

Everything’s so blurry, and everyone’s so fake… Her voice was gentle, almost ethereal, a stark contrast to her chuunibyou persona.

Hiroki gasped. How is she doing this? Her fingers danced over the harmonics without losing a beat, even while singing. She swayed with eyes closed, imitating Hiroki's but with her own flair.

Can't you take it all away? Can't you take it all away? Will you shove it in my face? It's pain you get to me! In the chorus, her voice is forceful but soothing. She clapped the guitar body for a percussive beat, a flamenco-inspired touch that shocked the audience.

In the solo, she did a tapping, her fingers blurring on each string and fret like a professional classical guitarist's. She sang in falsetto with a haunting chorus, her harmonics never faltering. Finally, she ended with a gentle conclusion, the last chord reverberating.

The room erupted with deafening cheers more than previously. Mika jumped from her seat, Sora's jaw dropped, and Ren's phone read: Beautiful... Aoi bows, like her chuunibyou was hiding a raw, unfiltered talent.

The students nestled back to the floor; Sora, Mika, and Ren came forward. "All right kids, that's all for the auditions. Stay here for a few minutes. We need to find out who makes the top twelve."

The three second-years left the room, leaving the first-years nervous but excited. Aoi slipped close to Hiroki and re-equipped her eyepatch and bandage. "How was it, Dark Lord of Tartarus?" Her grin was smug.

Hiroki grinned back, mirroring her intensity. "Not bad for a chuunibyou with actual talent."

She laughed, a rare and genuine sound.

As the other students shared stories about their performances, Hiroki felt a spark ignite. He and Aoi had poured their hearts into the music, and they hoped that the Light Music Club would become their second home.