Act 1, Chapter 16: Death Homesick

The stage has set.

Suede readied to counter Yakomori's 1 Week Go To Hell with their shoegaze alt-rock anthem, Death Homesick.

Hiroki plugged his black-gold Les Paul into a nearby amp, his G1X Four set to his signature JCM 800 tone, and Aoi grasped her worn black GSRM20B, the four strings vibrating with the beefy fuzz tone from her B1X Four. And Junichi tested the studio's drum kit, his sticks a blur with precision.

Soundcheck was done.

Hiroki leaned into the mic. "We’re budget Deftones, but a trio from Japan. This one’s called Death Homesick." Some chuckled at his dry humor, while the latter leaned forward with curiosity.

Hiroki, Aoi, and Junichi exchanged nods, their gazes fixed in resolve. Junichi clapped his drumsticks in the air four times, and Hiroki's JCM800 patch boomed with an aggressive strum, stunning the audience like thunder before a rainstorm. He hammered an eight-in-a-row dissonant Em chord, then switched to a D for another eight, invoking Deftones' Be Quiet and Drive + Digital Bath.

Junichi unleashed four powerful hi-hat strikes, Hiroki let out a brief fry scream, switched to a phased JCM 800 patch, fiercely strummed the dissonant notes, and banged his body with the rawness of Kurt Cobain.

Aoi's GSRM20B growled with a beefy fuzz bassline, swaying her body and locked her groove. Junichi's drums thumped, blending hard-hitting rock rhythms with Latin-esque fills.

Three people sounded like a thousand, a perfect blend of hard rock ferocity with shoegaze nostalgia. Death Homesick erupted into a raw, unfiltered explosion that breathed life against the wall.

The verse kicked in, Hiroki’s voice rising, blending Chino Moreno’s raw emotion with Matthew Bellamy’s theatrical wail:

I refuse, but you drag me down.
Months in hell, I fight evils.
I squander, with your barks.
Their bullets, splatter my skull.

Aoi's ethereal voice, evocative of Evanescence's Amy Lee, blended with Hiroki's vocals. A haunting melancholy echoed the feel of falling into the abyss with no point of return. Her constant bass groove anchored the emotional maelstrom.

The room erupted. Toriteba's girls shrieked like they were meeting their new idol, waving their phones like lightsticks. Yakomori's boys banged their heads, starting a mini-mosh pit like a chaotic rock concert.

The chorus suddenly hit like a tidal wave:

My war, they have done!
My home, they have dried!
My life, they have died!
My death, they have home!

Hiroki’s fry scream, raw and scarred, stunned the room—nobody expected Suede to go that hardcore.

He strummed the bar chords; his screams were simpler than Riku's but primal. Aoi's divine choir soared, a soothing contrast to Hiroki's demonic wail. Junichi's drumming became more powerful but precise, with bluesy and Latin-esque fills.

Yakomori roared, their guttural screams and double devil horns saluting Suede's intensity. Toriteba's cheers got louder, and their prior doubt faded.

Following the chorus, the trio halted and let their instruments ring. Junichi clapped the snare frame four times; the mood changed to an eerie calm. Junichi's gentle drumbeat hammered snares, kicks, and rides with relaxed precision.

Aoi shifted to a clean-compressed bass patch, keeping her groovy bassline. Hiroki's clean guitar solo, bathed in phaser and influenced by Muse's Uno, floats eerily, with delicate Floyd Rose shakes adding ghostly vibrato. It wasn't a shredfest like prior Yakomori's bombastic performance, but its haunting melancholy drew the audiences.

Toriteba's girls screamed louder, loving the softer contrast. Yakomori's boys nodded, impressed by the mood shift.

The group halted in a silence, with Hiroki's clean phased guitar reverberating the air with a haunting resonance that froze the audiences in place. The void has taken over the room with no point of return.

Then came the twist. Hiroki strummed his Les Paul's headstock strings, letting forth a banshee-like scream. The song returned to its powerful verse, with Hiroki kneeling on the floor, harshly strumming Em and D chords with raw ferocity. The void is raging again.

After the final chorus, Hiroki strummed an open harmonic string, letting the JCM 800 distortion vibrate against the wall. Aoi smacked all four strings on her GSRM20B, the fuzzy tone echoing. Junichi finished with a bluesy, Latin-esque drum solo; his sticks were a whirlwind.

But Hiroki wasn’t done yet! He walked to the amp, knelt before its cabinet, and pressed his Les Paul against it, letting the feedback wail like a banshee screech. He shook the Floyd Rose, mimicking the chaotic showmanship of a literal Muse live concert. The audience laughed, some covering their ears at the brutal feedback, others cheering his audacity.

Hiroki then launched Nirvana's School, echoing Muse's Stockholm Syndrome outro medley. The room erupted in a deafening cheer. Junichi jumped in with funky, hard-hitting drums. While Aoi layered a beefy fuzz bassline, harshly jumping with the aggressive groove.

Hiroki ended with a deafening harmonic open string, shaking the Floyd Rose into a divebomb howl, while Junichi's outro drum solo and Aoi's bass groove completed the chaos.

The room exploded. Toriteba’s girls chanted "Suede! Suede!" their phones still recording, while Yakomori’s boys threw up devil horns with roaring approvals.

Suede had done it! Death Homesick, with its unexpected showmanship, brought the room together. Bridging Toriteba's pop-rockers with Yakomori's metalheads. Their raw, emotional performance, fueled by their losses, was proof they could light up the stage.

***

Saturday, 2:30 pm. Suede's dramatic showmanship of Death Homesick was still reeling in the minds of those in Studio B-6. The haunting shoegaze alt-rock anthem sparked the latter first-years.

Hiroki, Aoi, and Junichi stood on the little stage, catching their breath as their instruments hummed. Turns out, Suede had brought the crowd together around a united fire.

Hiroki leaned into the mic, his voice tinged with a hint of shyness. "Sometimes my creation frightens me." The room erupted; their sudden cheer and laughter jumped him back in surprise.

Junichi and Aoi flanked Hiroki, gripping each other's shoulders with smiles and nods that spoke louder than the words, "We did it!" Performing in front of their friends was more difficult than confronting a sea of strangers, but the reaction was undeniable—they'd affected the audience.

Riku bounced forward with a phone in hand. "Bro! You still got that same spirit!" He held up a video.

Hiroki's heart fell. It was a clip from his middle school festival, when he was screaming Deftones' Elite in a solo vocal performance, fully immersed in his cringe-inducing chuunibyou "Dark Lord of Tartarus" persona.

"Noooo!" Hiroki lunged, snatching Riku’s phone, his face burning with embarrassment.

The video, "A Japanese middle schooler performing Deftones - Elite" by touhoumaycry345 (Riku's account), was published to YouTube two years ago. The video had 30,000 views and a 1,023 likes to 32 dislikes ratio. The virality mortified him—he imagined people putting this video in another cringe compilation.

"H-how… Where did you get this?!" Hiroki stammered, glaring at Riku.

Riku laughed, pointing at the screen. "I was there, recording at your festival."

Hiroki's mouth fell. Had Riku ever attended his middle school's event? The thought of his "Dark Lord" phase being memorialized online churned his stomach. "Oh shit, everyone will call me cringe forever!"

Curiosity may kill the cat as he scrolled the comments. But to his shock, none of them were mocking him:
"YO DUDE!!! THAT KID’S FIRE!!!"
"Chino Moreno would be proud!"
"This is what kids should do instead of mindlessly scrolling on TikTok! Keep up your talent!"
"When a random Japanese middle schooler with chuunibyou screams Deftones better than Chino Moreno himself."
"I heard he cringed after this performance."

But one reply caught his eye:
"What do you mean, 'cringed'?! I’d mosh the hell out of that place!"
"The crowd sucked, ngl. They should’ve cheered louder for that kid!"

Hiroki blinked, stunned. The praise clashed with his deepening sense of embarrassment. Riku patted his shoulder, grinning widely. "It’s alright, dude! Everyone loves it! Even they keep asking, 'Where’s this kid now?'"

Aoi stepped forward, her chuunibyou persona gleaming in awe. "It seems like the world hath recognized the true might of the Dark Lord of Tartarus."

"Exactly!" Gojou chimed in. "They want you to rip the stage again!"

Daichi nodded, still hyped from Suede’s Death Homesick. "That was nuts, man! Start with a bang, then clean, and back with the bang again? Insane!"

Aoi’s words from their morning jog echoed in Hiroki’s mind: "I know you tried to bury your Dark Lord persona. But there’ll come a time when you’ll crave it again." Her prior words froze him, sending a shiver down his spine.

Maybe she was right. His cringy middle school performance had been raw and real. And hiding that fire to submit to the mundane dystopia was a mistake.

Takane's cheery voice interrupted his thoughts. "Hiroki! Hiroki!" She sauntered over, her voice seductive. "Your voice... it's getting me wet~~~."

The room groaned before erupting into wheezing laughter at her vulgar audacity. Takane held Hiroki's hands, her eyes flashing with a playful mischief. "Pwease marry me, uwu~~~."

Out of a slight frustration, Hiroki karate-chopped her head lightly with an exasperated sigh. "Enough! Toriteba, you’re up!"

Yuna groaned and shook her head. "But we’re not ready!"

"Just do it, dumbass!" Daichi yelled, pointing at her.

Toriteba’s girls shuffled toward the stage; their nerves were increasing as their song was still unfinished.

Suede stepped back, their performance still ringing in the room. Death Homesick had set a high bar, and Hiroki’s past as the "Dark Lord" was no longer a secret. And the studio battle was nearing its climax.