Act 1, Chapter 8: Forging The Frequency

The cherry blossom window in the hallway outside Room B-12 framed Suede’s trio—Hiroki Yamada, Aoi Mizuno, and Junichi Enoshima—huddled with their shy coach senpai, Ren Takahashi.

The chatter of Yakomori’s metalheads permeated the hallway, and Toriteba’s girls spilled from the clubroom, where practice sessions were underway.

Hiroki set down his gig bag, Kaito’s black-gold Les Paul inside, his mind buzzing with the Gate video’s raw energy and the demo he’d crafted Tuesday night.

Junichi twirled a drumstick he’d borrowed from Mika’s small Tama kit. Junichi's eyes were bright with anticipation. “Alright, that demo you showed—what’s the vibe?”

Hiroki pulled out his phone, opening BandLab. “It’s just a rough riff so far, not even a full song.”

He hit play, and a groovy, distorted guitar riff filled their ears, steeped in classic British hard rock vibes.

A harmonic solo kicked in at the 30-second mark, laced with a Matthew Bellamy-esque whammy wail—not a shred-fest like Herman Li or Kirk Hammett, but punchy and soulful.

The demo ended at 1:30 with an epic Floyd Rose divebomb, leaving Junichi, Aoi, and Ren in awe.

Ren’s phone flashed with text-to-speech, emitting Ren's soft voice synthetically but analytical. "That’s good. But it's still rough."

Aoi’s visible eye glinted, her chuunibyou flair rising. “Respectable, Dark Lord, but the Priestess demands a sound that shakes the abyss itself.”

Junichi's grin widened, his finger pointing eagerly at Hiroki’s phone, excitement evident in his eyes. “Add some groovy beats, maybe double-kick flair from a drum machine. Got a title in mind?”

Hiroki’s thoughts drifted to Kaito—the accident, the hollow ache. He softened, shaking his head. “Sorry, it’s just a demo. I’m thinking of something bigger.”

Junichi and Aoi nodded with a hint of disappointment. But it faded as Ren’s text-to-speech chimed in. “Have you guys heard of Evanescence?”

The trio nodded in unison. Aoi’s voice sparked with enthusiasm. “Yes! Their melodies are ethereal!”

Junichi chuckled, his eyes filled with nostalgia. “Takes me back to middle school, blasting Bring Me To Life.”

Hiroki’s mind lit up, an idea crystallizing. “Guys! What if we blend Evanescence’s gothic-esque vibes with Deftones’ shoegazy edge and Muse’s theatrical chaos for our original song? Objections?”

Junichi laughed. “Only one—what are the chords?”

Hiroki unzipped his gig bag, revealing Kaito’s black-gold Les Paul with its gold Floyd Rose and locking tuners.

The trio gasped, Junichi running a hand along its sleek body. “Dude, what a beauty!” he said, strumming a chord.

The guitar’s lightweight feel and tactile response drew murmurs of awe. “Way comfier than most Les Pauls,” Junichi grinned.

Aoi opened her smaller gig bag, pulling out a 3/4-sized Yamaha nylon-string guitar, its body showing a slight dent from age.

Tuned to D# Standard, she strummed the opening of Puddle of Mudd’s Blurry, singing softly, her voice weaving through the harmonics.

Junichi followed with air drumming, his sticks tapping an imaginary beat. Hiroki watched, impressed. “Where’d you get that guitar?” he asked.

“Birthday gift from my sister,” Aoi responded, her fingers still plucking the string. “Previously wielded by a brave but loyal warrior."

Secondhand. Hiroki thought to himself.

As they played around, Ren’s text-to-speech broke through, her tone less shy. “You know, I might have misjudged you. You’re luckier than I thought.”

Junichi paused his air drumming. “What's wrong, Ren-senpai?”

Her phone spoke again. “Hiroki’s DAW knowledge gives you an edge. Mika and Sora are teaching them basic DAW stuff, but you’re ahead. No offense to them, but you could finish your song faster.”

The trio nodded, Hiroki’s idea surging. “Alright, here’s the plan: I’ll build the song’s base in BandLab—chords, riffs, MIDI, maybe a drum loop. You guys tell me what to add.”

Ren’s text-to-speech added, "Don’t forget the mixing. It's crucial to balance each track’s EQ meticulously to ensure that no element overpowers the others."

“Got it,” Hiroki nodded, his mind racing with possibilities.

Hiroki and the others were crafting a song that blends Evanescence’s melancholy, Deftones’ shoegaze, and Muse’s grandeur.

***

Minutes feel like eternity, Suede’s trio still huddling with Ren Takahashi, lost in a shared world of music.

The distant rumble of Toriteba’s practice session seeped through the walls, but the four were absorbed in Ren’s phone, where she played a track from Procorat’s repertoire on her Cubasis app.

Ren, the shy keyboardist, was the mastermind behind their synths, ambience, mixing, and mastering.

She had selected to share False Horizon, a song Procorat had performed at the school club showcase last Tuesday in the gym hall.

The track began with Sora’s beefy, fuzz-drenched bass, mimicking a guitar’s raw edge, striking like thunder.

Mika’s drumming was hard-hitting yet groovy, anchoring the rhythm with precision.

Ren’s synths wove a dark, sci-fi atmosphere, the pulsing undertones evoking a dystopian cyberpunk.

Sora’s vocals entered, soft but powerful, channeling Mike Kerr’s intensity from Royal Blood. Hiroki caught the lyrics’ weight—an existential crisis, a soul grappling with meaning in a fractured world.

The chorus hit, and Sora’s voice soared, with Mika’s drum fill coming in, echoing Dave Grohl’s ferocity while keeping the groove tight.

Ren’s synths didn’t stay static; she layered arpeggios that sounded like a spaceship’s hum, adding a futuristic edge.

The solo section was a duel—Sora’s bass grooving like a lead guitar against Ren’s cascading synth arpeggios, a battle of sound that felt alive.

A brief pause gave way to Mika’s aggressive drum solo, raw and relentless, before the track closed with Sora’s wailing falsetto, Mika’s thunderous outro, and Ren’s final arpeggio flourish.

The Suede trio erupted in applause, their faces illuminated with awe and admiration for the music.

Aoi's voice burst with enthusiasm, her eyes sparkling with excitement as she chimed in. “Thy frequency was demonic! I need a holy water!”

Ren chuckled with a blush; her text-to-speech responded, synthetic but calm. “Sora uses a multi-effects pedal. You saw it at yesterday's club showcase.”

Hiroki nodded, still buzzing. “The live version was even crazier, but this still rocks!”

Their chatter was cut short as Sora appeared, his tall frame looming in the hallway. His intense gaze locked on Hiroki, conveying a sense of urgency and seriousness. “Pardon for the interruption, Suede kids. I need to talk to Hiroki Yamada. In private.”

Hiroki’s stomach twisted. Am I in trouble? He glanced at Aoi and Junichi, who shrugged, then followed Sora to a quiet corner near the school’s old science wing, far from prying ears.

Hiroki shifted nervously. “What’s up, Sora-senpai? Did I do something wrong?”

Sora’s usual smugness faded, and his gaze on Hiroki softened. “No. It’s about your brother. Kaito Yamada.”

Hiroki’s breath caught. “Kaito?” He raised his eyebrows, his voice barely above a whisper.

Sora nodded, his tone low. “He was my mentor when I worked part-time at the studio. Taught me mixing, mastering, recording—everything. After... a fiery accident, I felt... empty. Like my work was for him, and without him, it meant nothing. I almost quit.”

Hiroki’s chest tightened, Kaito’s face flashing in his mind—his jests, his guitar lessons, and the fiery crash that stole him away. Sora approached Hiroki, as if hiding a tear, and then continued.

“When you walked into the clubroom, it hit me. You have the same fire as him. Your Street Spirit at the audition? I swear, I thought, ‘Kaito, is that you?’ You reignited something in me, a tribute to his legacy.”

Hiroki swallowed hard, the weight of Sora’s words sinking in. “So that’s why your Procorat’s showcase last Tuesday felt so alive?”

“Exactly,” Sora gently nodded, a faint smile breaking through. He patted Hiroki’s shoulder. “Hiroki, you’ve got this talent passed to your brother. So don’t waste it.”

Hiroki nodded with a faint smile, a sense of responsibility settling over him. “I won’t, senpai.”

Sora’s smile widened. “Good. Yakomori’s up now. You’ve got twenty minutes before Suede’s slot.”

Hiroki rejoined Aoi and Junichi by the window, his mind swirling. Ren glanced at him, her text-to-speech curious. “Everything’s okay? What did he say to you?”

“It's all cool,” Hiroki chuckled, his voice steadier. “Just… got some inspiration.”

Aoi raised an eyebrow, her chuunibyou flair sparking with a brewing storm of creativity. “The Dark Lord harbors secrets?”

Hiroki chuckled, shaking his head. “Just thinking about our song. I want it to hit hard like Ren’s False Horizon—shakes the stage but touches the heart, like we would’ve wanted.”

Junichi rhythmically tapped his drumstick against his palm, a wide grin spreading across his face. “Let’s get cooking, then! We’re going to own that festival!”

As Yakomori’s guttural riffs echoed from the clubroom, Hiroki strapped on his Les Paul and worked on his BandLab. Suede’s fire was just beginning to burn and to further forge their frequency.