Act 1, Chapter 17: Garter Belts

Saturday, 2:35 PM. Studio room B-6 lingering with the echoes of Yakomori’s infernal 1 Week Go to Hell, and Suede’s purgatorial Death Homesick.

Now, it was Toriteba’s turn to claim the sanctuary of frequency. Their original song wasn't finished yet, but the five girls were ready to take the stage.

Takane plugged her Yamaha APXT2 into the nearby amp, strumming to test its clean tone.

Mei re-tuned her left-handed purple Squier Telecaster, dialing in a crunchy drive.

Yuna’s brown sunburst Ibanez GSR180 bass hummed thickly as she re-tuned her strings.

Hasumi pressed the studio keyboard’s keys, cycling through patches with a nervous glance.

Sara tested the studio’s drum kit, her sticks snapping crisply across snares and toms.

Phones with tabs sat on stands by their mics—a sign they weren’t fully prepared, but they’d perform anyway.

Takane gripped her Yamaha, her voice tinged with uncertainty. “Sorry, we’re still checking our sheets. Bear with us.”

“Memorize it, dumbass!” Daichi yelled. Yuna flipped him a frustrated middle finger with tongue out, sparking laughter from Yakomori’s boys.

Takane leaned into the mic again. “This is our original song, Garter Belts.”

Hiroki raised an eyebrow and wondered, “Weird name. Kinda sensual. Let’s see what they’ve got.”

The room fell silent, Toriteba’s girls exchanged hesitant glances, nodding with lingering doubt.

Sara clapped her drumsticks four times, and Garter Belts began.

Takane strummed her Yamaha APXT2, cycling F to C chords eight times each, her head nodding to the 170 BPM beat, a bubbly grin breaking through her nerves.

Sara’s drumming built slowly, soft snare hits escalating into a hard-hitting fill. Then, Garter Belts exploded with an unexpected bang.

Takane’s strumming surged with energy, her Yamaha setting the rhythm. Mei’s Telecaster joined, layering harmonic chords over Takane’s progression, her left-handed strums vibrant.

Yuna’s bassline grooved across frets, stealing a slice of the spotlight. Sara’s drumming was relentless, her precision rivaling a seasoned pro.

But Hasumi faltered, pressing keyboard chords timidly, her eyes darting nervously to her phone. Stage fright gripped her; her first raw performance exposed her inexperience.

The song’s nostalgic vibe pulsed like a 2000s anime opening song, Sara’s hard-hitting drums grounding its radio-friendly bounce. "Dude, that’s massive The Pillows vibes!" Junichi whispered to Hiroki, who nodded excitedly.

Listening to the song, Hiroki imagined himself speeding down a highway in a 90s Ferrari, Garter Belts blasting, like Sega’s OutRun on steroids.

Takane sang the verse, her bubbly voice never breaking as she never stopped her strumming.

Mei and Yuna joined, their voices harmonizing—Mei’s gentle big-sister tone as second vocalist, Yuna’s cheeky edge as third.

The lyrics, inspired by Takane’s loss of Kazuki Maeda in a plane crash and her defiance against her father’s disapproval, carried a dark yet nostalgically uplifting tone, encouraging resilience.

The chorus hit, Sara smashing the ride cymbal with ease. Takane’s strumming stayed steady, her voice soaring.

Mei’s harmonies and Yuna’s bass groove kept the momentum, their vocals blending seamlessly despite glancing at their phones.

But Hasumi lagged, her keyboard chords uncertain, her presence fading. Hiroki sensed her struggle, muttering, "Hasumi’s lost! She has to keep going, or they’re screwed!"

Takane, Mei, Yuna, and Sara carried Garter Belts, their sloppiness overshadowed by their energy.

However, Hasumi stopped playing. Her hands frozen, her face shadowed as if her mere existence dragged Toriteba down.

Hiroki couldn’t stand it. "Hasumi! Don’t stop! Just go with the groove!" he shouted, startling the latter. Mei, in mid-harmony, snapped into the mic, "Excuse me?!"

Hiroki rushed the stage, bowing to avoid disrupting their flow. "Sorry for interrupting! You girls keep playing!" he yelled to Takane, Mei, Yuna, and Sara, who resumed their groove, slightly thrown.

Hiroki reached Hasumi, who stared at the keyboard, her eyes dark with despair. He approached her. "Sakakibara-san, don’t stop! Forget the sheets; just go with the groove!"

"B-but…" Hasumi stammered, her voice trembling, hinting at deeper personal trauma.

Hiroki patted her shoulder firmly, whispering, “It’s okay! Just play what you feel!” The second chorus neared its solo section.

Hasumi’s eyes suddenly lit up, her hands hovered over the keys as Sara’s fill-in thundered.

The solo arrived, and Mei unleashed a guitar solo on her left-handed purple Telecaster, groovy yet aggressive.

Then, a revelation: Hasumi snapped to life, her fingers dancing into a Mozart-like arpeggiated piano piece, weaving elegantly with Mei’s solo.

The four Toriteba girls glanced at her, stunned, as Mei locked eyes, their guitar and piano trading blows in an impromptu duel. Hasumi had awakened, her spark igniting.

Hiroki fist-bumped her with a smiling nod. "Good job!" He darted back to Suede, the room buzzing with shock at his audacity.

The final verse soared. Takane hummed on the mic, strumming her Yamaha with relentless nods.

Mei bent the notes on her Telecaster, mimicking humming vocals.

Yuna’s bass groove pulsed, Sara’s drums locked in, and Hasumi’s piano added nostalgic brilliance, her confidence restored.

Garter Belts finally ended with a wistful, uplifting ending, the room erupting in cheers from the audiences.

Hiroki sighed in relief as Aoi whispered, "Your audacity saved them."

"It was for their own good." He replied softly, still glancing at Hasumi.

The room then exploded in applause. Even Hiroki earned cheers for his intervention, like a stage crew fixing a performer’s gear mid-show.

He hadn’t meant to steal the spotlight—he just couldn’t let a band falter because one member was struggling.

***

Saturday, 2:40 PM. Studio room B-6 was still alive with the fading echoes of Toriteba’s Garter Belts.

Despite its sloppiness, their nostalgic pop-rock anthem had captivated the twelve first-year Sakuragawa LMC members.

Toriteba with its unexpected piano revelation from Hasumi Sakakibara, had carved out a paradise of frequency.

The room's reaction was mixed—cheers for the nostalgic vibe created by Toriteba's performance and critiques for the rough edges of the song.

Takane, holding her Yamaha acoustic guitar close, leaned into the mic, her voice uncertain. "H-how was it, guys?"

The room erupted in cheers, surprising Toriteba. Yakomori’s four metalheads roared approval for the pop-rock sound, a rare nod from their hardcore hearts.

Daichi grinned, pleased with the performance, poking Hiroki playfully to acknowledge his contribution. "Hiroki, you should be Toriteba’s stage crew!" And Hiroki could only respond with laughter.

Yuna, gripping her Ibanez bass, pointed her pick at Hiroki with frustration in her voice. "Hiroki, you got in our way!"

"Got in your way?!" Hiroki shot back, pointing at Hasumi, who stood somberly by the keyboard. "Hasumi was lost! And I had to step in!"

Sara rose from the drum set, her gyaru flair softening. "Oh, c’mon, it’s our first time playing our original song. It’s normal if—"

"Preposterous…" Hasumi interrupted, her voice a dark stutter, her elegant demeanor crumbling.

The room froze. Mei raised an eyebrow, confused. "What's wrong?!"

"Preposterous…" Hasumi repeated, her chest shaking, eyes glistening. "How… can I… indulge in such… low-life playing?!"

In a heartbeat, she collapsed to her knees, tears streaming as she covered her face, overwhelmed by shame.

The room’s energy shifted; all set aside their instruments as they rushed to her. The remaining Toriteba’s girls knelt beside her, wrapping her in a group hug.

Even Yakomori’s boys with their usual brashness approached with concern, stunned by her emotional collapse.

Suede’s trio stood close, their hearts heavy in surprise at Hasumi's emotional outburst.

Takane stroked Hasumi’s back, her voice gentle. "Hasumi, it’s okay. You did fine. What’s really going on? Tell us."

Hasumi’s sobs intensified, her trembling words barely audible through her tears. "N-no… this one’s… different…"

"I… used to attend an elite all-girls school. Chasing perfection after perfection. One mistake meant hellish punishment."

She gasped, fighting tears. "I played piano to prove my worth as a ‘modest lady.’ Countless sacrifices… just to please my family. I grew to loathe it, thinking it was only for elite families."

The room listened, nodding silently of Hasumi’s pain. Hasumi continued, her voice breaking. "I joined the Light Music Club at this ‘low-life’ Sakuragawa school to feel youth, to be free. My parents tried to stop me, saying it was beneath me. When my father found out, he punished me, called me a ‘low-life whore,' and threatened to strip away my dreams."

The word "low-life" stung like a hornet, Sakuragawa deemed inferior by her elite family.

The group patiently held back their questions, allowing Hasumi the space to share her story. "I kept wondering, how can I enjoy this kind of music? I was raised for classical perfection, not… this. But you all… you’re like… angels."

Her tears fell harder, dripping onto the studio’s wooden floor. "You showed me music isn’t just notes—it’s self-expression. I bet… Mozart, Chopin… they’d say the same."

Hiroki nodded, his heart aching, Kaito’s death flashing in his mind. "You saw Takane, Mei, Yuna, and Sara enjoying themselves, even with mistakes, right?"

"Exactly…" Hasumi sobbed, her chest heaving. "I… hate that you all have this freedom I can’t feel..."

Sara, her gyaru edge softened, hugged Hasumi tighter as she consoled her. "Don’t say that! We’ve faced worse too! But at least we keep fighting for it! Ok?"

Hasumi nodded, tears unstoppable. "You… have the bravery to be human. I was raised to be a submissive tool, told to ‘be a good girl’ or be disgraced for eternity."

Her sobs grew louder, the room frozen with sympathy and guilt of shared losses. Aoi kneeling beside Hasumi, patted her shoulder with a mix of determination and empathy. "Sakakibara-san, you face a primordial truth: rank and honor mean nothing in real-life situations."

Hasumi nodded, tears slowing. "Exactly… I want to be strong and independent, to be what I want…"

"But they restrain me," she whispered, covering her face. "I feel like… a burden… to you all."

Sara shook her head, her tone coach-like but gentle. "Oh, stop it! You’re not a burden. Sure, you’re used to elite audiences where mistakes meant punishment. Whereas playing with us gives you a culture shock."

The room exchanged glances, nodding with warm smiles, a silent promise they cared for Hasumi.

Aoi stood, offering her hand, her chuunibyou tone resolute. "Sakakibara-san, I have no issue with mistakes, but I despise quitters. Keep fighting for your right, or quit to face the consequences."

Hiroki’s mind flashed to Aoi’s morning jog words and Procorat’s "Nothing to Waste" from Friday—a reminder not to let opportunities slip away, resonating with his current situation. Hasumi’s eyes widened, her tears easing. "Mizuno-san…"

Daichi crouched, his metalhead edge softened. "It’s all cool. We’re not mocking you. Hiroki saved you, and you rocked that solo. It’s about fun, ain’t that right?" Daichi glanced at the surroundings, and the latter responded with a unison nod.

"Enjoy your youth while it lasts!" Kenta added, his tone gentle.

"Find your own path!" Gojou said, pointing a drumstick encouragingly.

Hasumi looked around, the warmth of the twelve LMC members a stark contrast to her family’s strictness. "Thank you… thank you all!" She cried, hugging Takane, Mei, Yuna, and Sara tightly, her tears now a release of relief and gratitude.

Mei caressed her cheek, her big-sister tone soothing. "If something’s bugging you, share it. We’re here."

Hasumi, still teary, spoke dramatically, "If I become what I swore to destroy… break me to life…"

The room chuckled sympathetically, her emo flair evoking Evanescence. Yuna patted her back, sharing a lighthearted moment with Hasumi, her laughter breaking the tension. "Stop it, girl! You’re fine!"

Hiroki’s loss of Kaito, Takane’s loss of Kazuki, Riku’s loss of his uncle, and now Hasumi’s loss of her own hope—her family’s pressure pushing her toward despair.

Their songs were powerful battle cries, empowering them to confront and overcome their fears, grief, and anxieties. This studio wasn’t a brawl against each other but a fight against their inner demons.