Act 1, Chapter 7: A Rush Of Blood To The Head

Friday’s lunch break bathed Sakuragawa High in a warm glow, the cherry blossom trees outside swaying gently. Hiroki emptied his bento, sitting in a secluded corner of the school’s stairway—a hidden spot behind the old building, far from the chatter of other students. 

Aoi Mizuno sat across from him on a staircase, the sunlight piercing through the glass, as she gulped the last of her juice from a stainless steel bottle, her eyepatch glinting in the sunlight.

The week had been a grind. Hiroki aced English, arts, and social studies, with his passion for music spilling into his assignments. But math, biology, physics, and chemistry were his Achilles' heel.

Scott Ardennes Villeneuve, the math teacher exuding a warm, friendly aura akin to a golden retriever, had pulled him aside yesterday, his usual cheer tempered with a stern warning. “Hiroki, focus on equations before riffs, alright? Music won’t solve quadratic formulas.” Constantly ringing in his mind like a bell of death.

But in PE, Aoi's playful sparring, dodging her mock “Divine Eye” attacks, pushed his temper to the sky—that earned them a scolding from Nolan Webber Girling, the jocky sports teacher and LMC advisor. “Save the ninja moves for the stage, you two!”

But today is Friday, and Fridays meant their first meeting of the Light Music Club in Room B-12. Hiroki’s pulse quickened as he couldn't stop the thought of jamming with Suede—his trio with Aoi Mizuno and Junichi Enoshima—rocking after school.

Aoi set her stainless steel bottle down, her visible eye narrowing in suspicion. “Do you feel it, Dark Lord of Tartarus? A resurgence stirring in thy blackened soul?”

Hiroki groaned, rolling his eyes. “What resurgence? Stop calling me with that shit."

She leaned closer, her glare insistent and dramatic. “Thou cannot deceive the Divine Eye of the Priestess! I have witnessed such fire in you, Dark Lord of Tartarus! It could erupt.”

Hiroki’s cheeks flushed. She always knew how to get under his skin, as if her “Divine Eye” could read his thoughts. “Fine, fine!” he snapped, raising his hands. “Yes, I feel… awake. Like, more than ever.”

“Spit it out!” Aoi pressed, her voice low and firm.

“I can’t wait to play my guitar at the club later,” he responded, hoping to dodge her probing.

But Aoi’s eye narrowed further. “You're lying!” she accused sharply.

“What do you mean, lying?!” he shot back, frustration bubbling.

“I witnessed a rush of blood to your head. It could disrupt the—”

“Quit it!” Hiroki’s outburst was sharp, cutting her off. Regret washed over him instantly as Aoi’s expression flickered, hurt beneath her chuunibyou mask.

He turned away, groaning with clarification. “Ugh… fine. I haven’t slept enough the last three days…”

Aoi let out a wry chuckle, striking a dramatic pose, pointing her stainless steel bottle like a scepter. “Heh! Is it time for the Dark Lord to admit defeat and be ready to repent to our Lord and Savior?”

“Hell nah!” Hiroki snapped, then sighed, softening. “It’s my brother’s guitar. I… can’t stop playing it.”

Aoi tilted her head, her act dropping. “What’s wrong with it?”

Hiroki exhaled, his voice quieter. “Tuesday night, Junichi DM'ed me a video.”

“What video?” Aoi asked, curiosity piqued.

Hiroki pulled out his phone, opened the YouTube app, and hit play on Gate—Live at Minerva Academy Summer Fest 2019. They huddled over the screen, the six-year-old footage bursting to life.

Tsuyuki Tsumaki’s Telecaster screamed through Muse’s Dead Star, his stage antics—standing above the amp cabinet, leaping, and shredding—electrifying the Minerva Academy crowd.

Nolan Webber Girling’s Sterling bass thundered, and Scott Ardennes Villeneuve’s Tama drums pounded like artillery.

The medley outro of Pendulum's Crush ignited pandemonium in the gym; the piercing feedback wail of Tsuyuki’s guitar at the end sent electric shivers down Hiroki’s spine.

Aoi’s eye widened, her usual confidence shaken. “What… is… that?!” she whispered, as if witnessing such an apocalypse.

Even the Gate’s aura intimidated Priestess, their raw, frenetic energy transforming a school festival into a chaotic rock spectacle. Hiroki grinned and was about to respond, but the school bell rang, sharp and insistent.

“Ugh, we have to get to class!” he said, pocketing his phone. “Let’s talk later.”

“Fine…” Aoi quickly adjusted her eyepatch, her mind clearly still on Gate’s performance.

They hurried back to class, weaving through students returning from lunch.

***

Friday afternoon hit Sakuragawa High with a burst of energy, the 3 PM bell ringing through the halls like a starting gun.

Hiroki Yamada leapt from his chair in Class 1-A, slinging his backpack over one shoulder and Kaito’s black-gold Les Paul gig bag over the other.

The classroom emptied as students spilled out, chatting and laughing, but Hiroki’s focus was singular: Room B-12, the Light Music Club, where Suede would forge their frequency for the Sakuragawa Halloween Festival.

As he stepped into the hallway, a light tap on his back startled him. He spun around, see Aoi Mizuno’s smirking face, her eyepatch glinting. “Dark Lord of Tartarus!” she declared, her chuunibyou flair in full swing. “I can’t wait to grant the revelation on stage!”

Hiroki grinned, her enthusiasm infectious. “Yeah, me too!” They fell into step, both carrying guitar gig bags. But Aoi’s was smaller, likely a compact short-scale, compared to the hefty Les Paul slung across Hiroki’s back.

Inside Room B-12, the space buzzed with life as ten other first-year LMC members mingled, filling the cramped room with their laughter and chatter, exuding energy and excitement.

Surprisingly, the hardcore metalheads of Yakomori—Riku, Daichi, Kenta, and Gojou—were laughing with Toriteba’s girls—Takane, Mei, Yuna, Hasumi, and Sara—over some shared joke, their usual rivalry softened.

Junichi Enoshima, nestled behind Mika’s small Tama drum kit, tapped out a faint beat with a mischievous grin as he spotted Hiroki and Aoi. “Yo, dude! You’re here!”

Hiroki noticed the absence of the 2nd-year senpais. "Where are Mika, Sora, and Ren senpai?” he asked, setting his gig bag down.

Junichi shrugged, twirling a drumstick casually. “Dunno, they're likely swamped.”

Hiroki smirked, pulling out his phone. “Junichi, I’ve got something to share.” He opened BandLab, revealing a demo track he’d recorded Tuesday night on Kaito’s Les Paul.

Junichi’s eyes widened in disbelief, a mix of shock and excitement crossing his face. “What?! You’re recording music?!”

Aoi leaned in, her chuunibyou flaring with surprise. “Thou forge such wicked sorcery? When?!”

Hiroki scratched his neck sheepishly. “My late brother used to teach me music production basics on this beginner-friendly DAW. Said it’s about creating a world, not just playing. I messed around with his gear Tuesday after you sent me that Gate video.”

“Cool! Let’s hear it!” Junichi said, practically bouncing.

Before Hiroki could hit play, the door swung open. Mika, Sora, and Ren entered, carrying files and looking slightly frazzled.

Mika, the club president, then clapped her hands and apologized, “Sorry we’re late, guys! Just had a meeting with the school council about moving our clubroom to a bigger space and our festival contribution.”

The room fell silent as all twelve first-years sat cross-legged on the floor, eyes on the 2nd years.

Sora scanned the group, his expression warm and approving, nodding with a smile. “Full attendance. I respect your discipline, kids. Keep it up!”

Mika continued, her tone clear. “Today, we’re coaching you to help with your weaknesses and brainstorm your original songs for the Halloween Festival. We’ll split it based on… well, let’s call it our biases, after the advisor’s advice, Mr. Girling.”

She grinned at Toriteba’s circle. “I’m coaching Toriteba. Let’s make some nostalgic Pop Rock magic!”

The girls erupted in cheers, thrilled to have the bubbly club president as their guide. Her cheerful energy matched their laid-back vibe perfectly.

Daichi, Yakomori’s guitarist, raised his hand. “What about us?”

Sora smirked, sitting with their circle. “You guys with me. Let’s crank up that metalcore madness!” Yakomori’s boys let out guttural whoops, their tribal chants echoing.

But Suede’s trio exchanged confused glances. Who’s coaching us?

Ren Takahashi, the shy keyboardist, approached Suede’s circle with a hesitant gait, shedding her hoodie to reveal cascading waves of light blue hair and a timid dark pink eye.

She raised a hand in a timid wave. Junichi’s jaw dropped in astonishment, his eyes wide with disbelief. “Ren-senpai?! You’re coaching us?”

Ren nodded quietly, her voice soft and stuttering, barely audible over the bustling room's noise. “Y-yes…”

Mika stood again, commanding attention. “Practice slots are twenty minutes each: Toriteba first, then Yakomori, and finally Suede. Make it count. If you want extra practice, DM Sora—he can hook you up at his music studio.”

Sora nodded and added. “I work part-time as a sound engineer. Hit me up if you’re serious.”

Mika clapped once more. “Toriteba, you’re up. Everyone else, wait outside and brainstorm your songs.”

The room cleared out, leaving Toriteba and Mika behind. Yakomori’s boys huddled outside, tossing around ideas for a thrashing metal anthem.

And Suede found a quiet spot by the hallway’s cherry blossom window, with Hiroki feeling a rush of blood to the head.