Act 1, Chapter 9: Own Little World

Suede’s trio stood with their coach senpai, caught in a whirlwind of creative energy. Hiroki was lost in his own little world, strumming Kaito’s black-gold Les Paul, plugged into his Zoom AMS-22, and working on his BandLab’s new project.

His fingers danced through riffs and chords. Aoi and Junichi chatted with Ren, their voices blending with the muffled chaos of Yakomori’s metalcore practice inside, all guttural screams and high-gain distortion.

Ren's text-to-speech software broke through, her synthetic voice calm but urgent. “Our time’s almost here. Shall we wait by the door?”

“On it, Ren-senpai!” Junichi stood up, packing the borrowed drumsticks with a grin.

The group moved toward Room B-12’s entrance, Hiroki slinging his gig bag over his shoulder.

At the door, five Toriteba girls—Takane Yuzuriha, Mei Hashimoto, Yuna Aoki, Hasumi Sakakibara, and Sara Fujimoto—spilled out, laughing with their coach, Mika Sato.

Their laid-back vibes are perfect for nostalgic pop rock, matching Mika’s cheerful energy, but they still face harsh teaching from the club president herself to be more serious about music making.

Inside, Yakomori’s metal onslaught roared on, Riku, Daichi, and Kenta’s screams layered over Gojou’s thunderous drums, guided by Sora’s gritty coaching.

Hiroki knew and aimed to bridge worlds—hard-hitting, deep, but still accessible. A perfect blend of Muse, Deftones, and Evanescence.

As Suede sat outside the clubroom, Takane Yuzuriha skipped over, her eyes sparkling with bubbly enthusiasm, lighting up her face. “Hey, hey! Hiroki Yamada, right?”

Hiroki turned, startled by her sudden approach. “Uh… yeah?”

“We’re in the same class, you know?” Takane grinned widely, crouching to meet his eyes. “Your guitar playing at the audition? So cool!” She clenched her fists, squealing, “Aaaahhhh! Please teach me, Yamada-sensei!”

Hiroki’s face flushed, her energy overwhelming. “Stop calling me that!” Behind Takane, the other Toriteba girls smirked, their eyes glinting with mischief. "What's their deal?" he wondered.

He glanced at Mika, hoping that she would discipline her junior. “Mika-senpai, didn’t you teach them DAW basics?”

Mika chuckled, with a slight desperation on her face, and scratched her back hair. “Yeah, they’re still figuring it out. Slow learners, but they’ll get there.”

Hiroki sighed. “So, what do you want, Takane?”

“Are you free after school?” Her eyes shining like a pistol star, her tone bubbly. “Let’s hit the best ramen shop nearby!”

Before he could respond, Aoi’s eyes narrowed, a tinge of frustration flickering.

She stood and harshly grasped Takane’s hand with a darkened glare. “Dare you, cretin, to encroach on the Dark Lord’s domain? Impressive audacity.”

Hiroki groaned, glancing at Aoi's violent response. “Aoi, don’t—”

Takane tilted her head, confused by Aoi’s sudden grasp. “Um… excuse me?”

Aoi’s grip tightened; her chuunibyou was in overdrive. “The Dark Lord of Tartarus is not one to trifle with! He’ll rip thy flesh, spill thy blood, and shatter thy skull to ashes! Thou wilt drown in his very abyss.”

Hiroki crouched, hands over his ears. “Aaaagh! Enough, Aoi!” Her theatrics were cringeworthy, and worst of all, the Toriteba girls’ smirks turned to frowns.

Takane’s eyes welled up, her lip trembling. “But… I was just being nice…”

Mei, Toriteba’s guitarist, pointed at Hiroki sarcastically. “Real classy, making a girl cry.”

“You got it wrong!” Hiroki snapped at their accusation, pointing at Aoi. “It’s Aoi’s fault!”

Sara, Toriteba’s gyaru drummer, jabbed a drumstick at him. “What’s your problem, dude? That’s how you talk to a girl?”

Aoi brandished her pencil like a sword, pointing it at Takane. “Lay thy filthy eyes off the Dark Lord, lest thou perish like fools!”

Hiroki’s patience snapped. “That’s it!” He karate-chopped Aoi’s forehead, then grabbed her arm. “Sorry, girls, Aoi’s acting weird. Gotta fix this!” He dragged her toward a quiet corner of the hallway, leaving the Toriteba girls to comfort a teary Takane.

***

In the empty corridor, Hiroki constantly karate-chopped Aoi’s forehead and retorted. “What’s your deal?! Takane was just being friendly! And yet, you ruined it with your bullshit chuunibyou!”

Aoi rubbed her forehead, pouting in frustration, her eyepatch askew. “Don't be stupid! The priestess… sensed an invasion.”

Hiroki sighed, rubbing his temples. “She’s not invading. She’s just… excited. Look, we’re a band. We must prioritize teamwork, not scaring people off. Pipe your ego down, will you?!"

Aoi hesitated, then nodded, her voice quieter. “Fine. The Priestess will restrain her divine wrath… for now.”

Hiroki managed a small smile. “Good. Let’s get ready for our slot.”

***

Hiroki’s heart raced as he returned to the front door of Room B-12 after his tense exchange with Aoi. Her chuunibyou outburst had caused a scene, and he couldn’t let it fester.

Spotting Toriteba’s girls still consoling a teary Takane, he took a deep breath, grabbed Aoi’s arm, and bowed low, forcing her to follow. “We’re truly sorry for our tomfoolery,” he apologized, his voice earnest.

The girls from Toriteba glared, their arms crossed. Sara snapped in a tomboyish tone, “What do you want now, huh? Looking for trouble?”

Hiroki straightened, clearing his throat. “Takane, remember you asked me to hang out after school, right?”

The girls nodded in unison, still wary. Hiroki exhaled. “I’ll do it.”

Takane’s tears ceased abruptly as relief washed over her, her face breaking into her usual bubbly smile.

She lunged forward, clasping his hands. “Aaaahhhh, thank you, Yamada-sensei! Thank you soooo much!” She shook his hands wildly, her enthusiasm overwhelming.

Hiroki turned away, annoyed. “Stop calling me that!”

Before the situation could escalate, Sora swung open Room B-12’s door. “Suede! You’re up!” Yakomori’s members—Riku, Daichi, Kenta, and Gojou—strolled out, laughing about their practice, gig bags slung over their shoulders.

Sora raised his voice. “But hold off going home, everyone. After Suede’s session, gather in B-12 for a surprise. Stay put!”

The students nodded, buzzing with curiosity. Suede’s trio—accompanied by Ren-senpai—swept into the clubroom, their air thick with anticipation and excitement.

***

Room B-12 felt transformed. The space gleamed with new paint and organized gear, a far cry from its former state of dusty chaos, like a freshly polished gem.

Junichi eagerly settled behind Mika’s small Tama kit, the sharp sound of the snare, resonant toms, shimmering cymbals, and booming kicks filling the room with each rapid, precise smack.

While Hiroki unzipped his black-gold Les Paul, Aoi set her 3/4 Yamaha nylon guitar’s gig bag on a couch.

He plugged into a practice amp, connected his Zoom G1X Four, and dialed in a JCM800 patch—his signature blend of vintage twang and modern high-gain distortion, inspired by Muse’s Matthew Bellamy.

A test strum reverberated through the amp, a thunderous and crisp sound echoing in the room.

Junichi and Hiroki was ready, but Aoi frowned, scanning the room. “No bass in here? Seriously?!”

Ren’s text-to-speech chimed in. “Sorry, Yuna Aoki’s still using the club’s bass for practice.”

Aoi’s shoulders slumped, her chuunibyou flair dimming. “Feels like entering a battlefield unarmed…”

Sora barged in, cutting through Aoi's disappointment. “Aoi, you’re a bassist, right?”

She nodded, her voice flat. “Yeah… feels naked without an axe.”

“Hold on.” Sora dashed to the storage room, returning with a dusty gig bag. “Use this.”

Hiroki’s eyes widened at the size. A guitar gig bag? But she needs a bass!

As Aoi unzipped it, the gig bag revealed a weathered black Ibanez GSRM20B short-scale bass, a stark contrast to Sora’s walnut-brown model, symbolizing a new beginning for Aoi. Her jaw's dropped. “Wait… this…”

Sora grinned sheepishly. “Same model as my brown GSRM20B, but it's my backup. Small, lightweight, but supermassive tone! Perfect for you.”

Aoi lifted the bass, its featherlight build ideal for her petite frame. Before she could process it, Sora added, “It’s yours.”

Aoi froze, eyes wide open. “What?!”

Sora pointed at the bass. “I’m giving it to you. You need it.” He pulled out a red Zoom B1X Four multi-effect pedal. “This too. My old one, before my B3n replace it. It’ll make your bass growl like mine.”

Aoi’s eyes flicked to the surroundings, uncertainty lingering. “B-but… the priestess does not accept bribery.”

But Ren patted her shoulder, gently smiling. “Take it, Aoi. It’s a game-changer.”

Junichi interjected, his enthusiasm growing. “You’re lucky! Free gear? Take it!”

Ren’s text-to-speech agreed and added. “Don’t be shy. It’s for your own good.”

Aoi shook Sora’s hand, her voice soft with gratitude and disbelief. “Thanks… Sora Nakamura-senpai.”

Sora plugged the Zoom B1X Four into a practice bass amp and handed Aoi the Ibanez. She strapped it on, plucking a string. A thunderous, fuzzy tone erupted, echoing Muse’s Chris Wolstenholme.

Her eyes lit up, and she launched into the Hysteria bass intro, bobbing her head. Hiroki jumped in, riffing the song’s solo on his Les Paul, while Junichi pounded the Tama kit, matching the groove.

Sora stepped toward the door. “If there are no objections, I’ll see you in twenty minutes.”

The trio locked in, their instruments alive. Hiroki’s Les Paul roared, Aoi’s bass growled, and Junichi’s drums drove the rhythm. Lost in their own little world, their passion reverberating in the air.