Act 1, Chapter 10: Nothing To Waste

Room B-12 was a synesthesia of frequency. Suede’s trio dove into their practice session, guided by Ren's quiet coaching.

However, Hiroki abruptly halted their Hysteria jam and quickly turned off his Les Paul’s volume knob. "Guys, let’s try something else. Follow my lead."

He downtuned his low E string to a drop D. His fingers strummed a dissonant E minor chord eight times before switching to D major for another eight, looping back and forth.

Junichi felt the energy, striking the open hi-hat four times before breaking into groovy drumming with a swing.

Hiroki's distorted chords, bathed in phaser and luscious spring reverb, echoed Deftones' shoegaze edge.

Aoi didn't stand still. Her black Ibanez GSRM20B roared with a meaty, fuzzy tone. She laid down a pulsating bassline, energizing the jam.

Hiroki and Aoi banged their heads, swinging side to side as they rocked to the beat. They weren't as ferocious as Yakomori's metalcore chaos, but they're raw and mosh pit worthy. Ren sat on the couch, nodding along as her phone recorded the session.

Hiroki leaned into the microphone, murmuring inaudible words, his voice evoking Chino Moreno's ethereal wave. The jam had a dark, dramatic, and soaring feel of Deftones' Digital Bath + Be Quiet and Drive + Evanescence's Bring Me to Life.

The chorus hit hard; Hiroki let out an inaudible banshee scream, his fingers slipping between bar chords: Em, G, Dm, repeat. Aoi joined in, her quiet hum seeming like an angelic choir against his hellish shriek, invoking Amy Lee's eerie elegance. Their raging synesthesia pulsated the room.

Suddenly, they stopped, letting their strings ring. Junichi clapped his drumsticks four times, settling into a gentler, rhythmic beat.

Hiroki's eyes lit up. He switched to a clean modulated patch, played a groovy solo reminiscent of Muse's Uno, and gently shook his Floyd Rose for a haunting vibrato. Aoi switched her bass tone for a compressed clean line that blended smoothly with his lead.

They finished with a mellow, bluesy fade, and the room quieted. Hiroki gasped in awe and clapped with delight. "Guys, that was sick! We should make our song like this! Soft intro, hard-hitting chorus, back to soft, then complete chaos. Thoughts?"

Ren's TTS chimed in. "I gotta say, that's pretty genius."

Hiroki’s about to continue, but Junichi abruptly raised his hand. "Hold up, bro. That jam... feels like I was overdosing in a bathtub, with lights flickering, and I'm sinking under."

Hiroki blinked, caught off guard. "Don’t think of weird stuff, man!"

Junichi shivered, as if experiencing a trauma. "I’m not kidding! It’s just... dark. Like, that depressing, chilling..."

Aoi gently nodded, her gaze softened. "I felt it too... it's like staring into the abyss."

Hiroki's mind sparkled, and he snapped his fingers. "Anyone feel homesick lately?"

Surprisingly, Aoi, Junichi, and Ren raised their hands in unison, shocking him. The song's haunting dissonance had sparked something universal. Holy hell... Hiroki's eyes are wide open. "Ok, the jam we just played? Let's title it about 'Homesickness'."

Aoi approached the microphone, her chuunibyou flared. "If the Dark Lord of Tartarus decrees it, I, the Priestess, shall enlighten the abyss!" Thus, their music was taking form under Ren's guidance.

***

The clock had passed Suede's twenty-minute rehearsal slot in Room B-12, and Hiroki Yamada was deep in his flow state, pouring ideas into BandLab.

His black-gold Les Paul, connected to a Zoom AMS-22 audio interface, churned out riffs as he crafted a MIDI bassline with Aoi's signature fuzzy tone and a drum machine that mimicked Junichi's groove.

Ren-senpai leaned in, her TTS offering tips on mixing, mastering, and more to balance each track. Though only 25% complete, the song, initially titled Death Homesick, was shaping up to be a professional-grade banger that was both hard-hitting for metalheads and accessible for casuals.

Hiroki invited Aoi and Junichi over. "Guys, check this out!" They crowded around his phone as he pressed play.

The intro blared with distorted, dissonant Em and D major chords, similar to their earlier jam. The drum machine kicked in with four hi-hat strikes and then burst into a hard-hitting groove, accompanied by a biting MIDI bassline that mimicked Aoi's fuzzy bass tone.

The chorus raged with bar chords, and a softer section included a simple, clean, modulated solo with haunting Floyd Rose shakes, ending in a mellow, bluesy fade.

Junichi nodded, impressed but critical. "It’s dope, but the fills are too hard to replicate live. Maybe simplify it a bit."

Aoi's eyes squinting, analyzing each track. "The bass should growl even more."

Ren’s TTS chimed in. "Balance is key. Don’t oversaturate it, or else it’ll peak."

Before they could dive deeper, the door swung open. Sora, Mika, five Toriteba girls, and four Yakomori boys barged in, their chatter filling the room.

Sora clapped his hands. "Ok, Suede, time's up!" Hiroki, Aoi, and Junichi packed their gear and joined the other first-years for the second-year surprise.

Mika grabbed the microphone, her enthusiasm electrifying. "Everyone, stand up for a surprise!"

***

Minutes later, the room was set. Sora strapped on his walnut-brown GSRM20B, his Zoom B3n’s dual outputs plugged into two small practice bass amps. Ren tested the club’s Yamaha keyboard, connecting her phone to play backing tracks. Mika adjusted her Tama drum kit, smacking each part to ensure it was in tune.

Junichi murmured to Hiroki, puzzled. "What the heck are they doing?"

Sora seized the microphone and startled the room. "You guys ready to rock before we call it a day?!" Toriteba's girls and Yakomori's boys burst into cheers, while Suede's trio stood puzzled but curious.

Sora continued, gripping his pick. "We’re playing our new original song; it's called Nothing to Waste! Let’s rock!" He nodded to Ren, and Mika clapped her drumsticks four times.

Ren hit play on her phone, unleashing an ethereal G minor synth track at 175 BPM, layered with faint glitchy Amen break samples in each part. Her fingers danced across the piano, layering real-time ambient synths. Mika tapped the cymbals for a light ting.

The buildup had culminated in a sonic crescendo. Mika's hard-hitting groove thundered, Sora's Royal Blood-styled bass raged, and Ren's sci-fi synths pulsed, her head bobbing.

Sora paused his bass to sing the verse, his voice calm but intense; the lyrics were a reflection of never wasting passion—a tribute to his loss of Kaito Yamada and the fire Hiroki reignited during his first arrival at the club room.

The chorus hit hard, with Sora's bass returning with a growl, Mika's drums accelerating, and Ren weaving an alien telephone-ring synth lead over the ethereal backing track.

A faint female voice looped in the mix—"Nothing to waste! Nothing to waste! Nothing to waste; don't waste yourself!" —pumping the twelve first-years.

Hiroki’s mind raced, eyes wide open at Procorat’s theatricality. This sounds like Pendulum meets Royal Blood! The glitchy synths evoked Rob Swire’s DNB chaos, and Sora’s bass kept Procorat’s gritty core.

The song slowed, and both Sora and Mika paused their play, giving way to Ren’s alien telephone-ring synths that colored the space.

Something nagged at Aoi. She leaned in and whispered to Hiroki, "I feel it! I witnessed... such ascendance! Like the lambs of God... toppling the tyranny of Babylon!" Hiroki's face is close to hers, listening. "I, the priestess, yearn for such ascendance like them!" Her chuunibyou went into overdrive.

Was this all about Sora's music? Hiroki thought, but he could only nod and chuckle, too preoccupied with her theatricality as he nodded to the beat. Sora shouted, "One! Two!" as the music reached its peak. Amidst thundering drumbeats and roaring bass, "One, two, three, go!"

Mika's drums blasted, Sora's bass growled, and Ren's synths soared. The first-years went crazy, with Toriteba's girls waving, Yakomori boys moshing, and even Suede nodding to the frequency of apocalypse.

"Don't you go to waste!" Sora yelled the outro. The song finished with a boom, and the group erupted in applause. Procorat's theatricality proved that they are the force of Armageddon.

Mika grabbed the mic, panting. "Thanks for staying, everyone! That's all for today. See you next Friday. Don't forget to check our group chat for further updates. Dismissed!"

Junichi jabbed Hiroki's shoulder as the twelve first-years parted ways. "Dude, that was nuts! They felt so different from yesterday!" He was still buzzing with post-show energy.

Hiroki chuckled. "Yeah, but we have to be better than them!" He hung his Les Paul gig bag, his mind fixed on Death Homesick. And perhaps... his brother's laugh, before the fiery crash.

"This... is just the beginning..." Aoi's voice suddenly halted Hiroki and Junichi's steps. They turned their heads to see her glancing down. Fists clenched; eyes squinted. Ugh, here we go again... Hiroki rolled his eyes; he knew what was coming.

Aoi confronted Hiroki and dramatically motioned her arms. "Such a grand battle between two forces that shall shatter the very—"

Hiroki cut her short with a brief karate chop to the head. "Yeah, yeah, yeah. Challenging Procorat?! No chance."

Procorat’s performance showed what was possible—bridging casual and hardcore fans. Just like Suede aimed to do at the Sakuragawa Halloween Festival. Or perhaps, their own identity. And Hiroki felt ready to mark his journey with them.