Act 1, Chapter 21: Hole In The Earth

Friday, 2:45 PM. The week had been a grind for Hiroki Yamada, but he’d navigated it with relative ease—acing social studies and arts, his strengths, while scientific subjects like biology, physics, chemistry, and math battered his confidence.

The last class of the day in classroom 1-A was math, a cruel finale that stung like salt in a wound. Numbers and probabilities mocked him, sapping his sanity just before the second week of Sakuragawa’s Light Music Club meeting.

Scott Ardennes Villeneuve, the young math teacher with golden retriever energy, paced the room, his enthusiasm a stark contrast to Hiroki’s gloom.

His teaching style usually lifted spirits, but today, math was Hiroki’s villain—a force more daunting than the Dark Lord of Tartarus himself.

“I’d rather die than live to suffer…” Hiroki muttered internally, his thoughts echoing a metalcore lament.

Scott’s laser pointer snapped to Hiroki, his voice booming. “Hiroki Yamada! I know you’re itching for LMC, but not until you solve this probability!”

The class’s eyes turned, and Hiroki shrank, guilt washing over him. “Uhh... sorry, Mr. Villeneuve…” he mumbled, head low.

Scott approached, his tone softening with concern. “What’s wrong? Not enough sleep? Playing guitar all night?”

“Y-yes?” Hiroki admitted, shame deepening as the class watched.

Scott sighed, a hint of sternness creeping in. “Whether you like it or not, math is part of passing. And yet, you forgot to submit the homework on Google Drive, right?”

The words stung worse than any classical music lesson’s rigidity. Scott’s youthful energy masked a fury that could rival the nine circles of hell.

“I’ll finish it after school and club,” Hiroki confessed quietly, defeated.

Before tensions could rise further, the school bell rang, cutting the day short due to a teachers’ meeting.

Scott patted Hiroki’s shoulder, addressing the class. “Lucky break, kids. School’s done early for a committee meeting. See you next time—and Hiroki, don’t forget that homework!”

The class erupted in chatter, packing bags. Hiroki stood, slinging his school bag and his black-gold Les Paul gig bag over his shoulder.

He shook Scott’s hand, ready to bolt, but Scott leaned in, his math teacher facade dropping. “I’ve heard from Sora Nakamura-san you kids had fun in the studio last Saturday. Playing original songs, right?”

Hiroki froze; the first-years’ private band battle was nearly exposed. Classroom 1-A buzzed, some students muttering in curiosity with a chuckle, “What’s LMC cooking?” The club, once on the brink of disbandment, was gaining hype. “Uhh… Yeah?” Hiroki glanced at Mr. Villeneuve, wary.

Scott smirked slyly, whispering, “Shame we can’t see your performance later. Have fun while you can.”

Hiroki’s mind flashed to Scott’s past as Gate’s drummer at Minerva Summer Fest, alongside Tsuyuki Tsumaki and Nolan Webber Girling. Scott knew the fire of Hiroki’s spark.

Scott’s teacher mode snapped back, pointing sharply. “And Yamada-san! Homework after club! Ok?”

Hiroki nodded, rushing toward room B-12, the LMC clubroom. Aoi Mizuno and Takane Yuzuriha trailed him, their gig bags bouncing.

They chattered, their laughter a balm for the weekday’s academic wounds.

“It’s like a freaking dungeon!” Takane groaned, her bubbly tone tinged with frustration. “Social studies? Arts? Piece of cake. But physics? Chemistry? And math? Need reinforcement.”

Aoi, her chuunibyou priestess flair undimmed, twirled a strand of hair. “The Divine Eye conquers history and music, yet the alchemical sciences defy me.” She struck a dramatic pose, earning a chuckle from Hiroki and Takane.

“Same,” Hiroki muttered. “Math’s my final boss. Villeneuve-sensei’s chill, but those equations…” He shook his head, the group’s shared struggle a small comfort.

Their chatter lightened their steps, Aoi’s theatrical gestures and Takane’s giggles a checkpoint after the school’s deadly dungeon.

The LMC room awaited, a refuge where their music—Yakomori’s fury, Suede’s despair, and Toriteba’s nostalgia—would reignite their spirits for the Sakuragawa Halloween Festival.

***

Friday, 2:50 PM. The second week of Sakuragawa’s Light Music Club meeting pulsed with anticipation. Hiroki, Aoi, and Takane stepped into the cramped room B-12, their gig bags slung over their shoulders.

The energy of the twelve first-year LMC members drowned out the space. Toriteba’s girls traded playful jabs with Yakomori’s four boys, all sprawled on the wooden floor. Junichi Enoshima, usually perched on Mika’s small Tama drum kit, sat beside the group, his usual mood-maker infectious.

“Yo, Hiroki!” Junichi called, waving.

Hiroki, Aoi, and Takane joined the circle, but Hiroki froze, a strange unease settling in. The room felt wrong—empty. The Tama kit, Yamaha keyboard, acoustic guitars, couches, and practice amps were gone, leaving a hollow shell.

Before he could dwell, the three 2nd-years—Sora Nakamura, Ren Takahashi, and Mika Sato—entered, carrying only school bags, their expressions bright but purposeful.

“Good afternoon, everyone!” Mika clapped, commanding attention. The first-years lined up on the floor, facing the senpais at the whiteboard.

Sora, exuding confidence, spoke up. “Another 100% attendance streak—nice work! But I’m curious, how are you all handling school subjects?”

Hiroki raised his hand, his voice heavy. “Sorry, senpai. Math, physics, biology, and chemistry—they’re like the four horsemen of the apocalypse.”

The room erupted in chuckles, easing the tension. Sora grinned. “It’s alright. You could improve it after club.”

Mika’s tone turned serious. “Listen up! Good news and bad news. Good news: the school committee’s letting us move to a new, bigger clubroom in the new building, thanks to your contributions and our teamwork.”

Cheers exploded—Toriteba’s banshee-like screeches and Yakomori’s guttural chants shaking the walls. “Quiet down!” Sora barked, tapping the whiteboard, his authority silencing the room.

Mika continued, “Bad news: you’ll perform your original songs in there. Today.”

Groans rippled through the first-years, nervousness replacing excitement. Their private Saturday band battle at Hasegawa Family Studio was one thing, but a public performance for the senpais felt daunting. Sora smirked, his tone laced with sarcasm. “I heard you twelve had fun last week. So, as punishment, I wanna see how you mess it up in front of us.”

Mika’s voice sharpened. “But first, no slackers. You better have finished your homework and pop quizzes. We expect you to contribute in class, too.”

Hiroki’s heart sank. Dammit… I’m dead, he thought, Scott’s math homework looming like a guillotine. Mika clapped, her enthusiasm cutting through. “So, what are we waiting for? Let’s go!”

The first-years raised their fists in a “Banzai!” cheer, leaping up to follow the senpais. As they filed out, Junichi nudged Mika with a smile. “What about your red Tama kit?”

“Safe at home,” Mika replied, her bubbly smile flashing. “We’ve got something better waiting.”

"Are you selling it? Give it to me, please?” Junichi teased.

“Nope, never!” Mika shot back with a chuckle, her tone playful.

The group buzzed with excitement, joking and poking at each other, eager for the new room. But Hiroki lagged, his gaze lingering on the empty B-12. A pang of sadness hit him—the cramped space held memories of their first jams, Hasumi’s tears, and Aoi’s antics. It was their sanctuary, now stripped bare. Like a hole in the earth.

Sora noticed, pausing. “What’s wrong?”

Hiroki’s voice was soft and melancholic. “It’s kind of sad, leaving the place where we made our memories.”

The group stopped, their chatter fading. Aoi, her chuunibyou priestess aura softened, patted his shoulder. “What has happened is done for. A grander horizon awaits us.”

Sora nodded, clapping Hiroki’s shoulder. “You can visit this room anytime.”

“What’ll it be now?” Hiroki asked, his brow furrowed with melancholy.

“Storage, probably,” Ren said through her text-to-speech app.

The words stung, like burning their old home. But Riku’s voice broke through. “C’mon, guys! Let’s move!”

Hiroki joined the group, their footsteps echoing as they crossed to the new building. The art of letting go weighed heavy, but the promise of a new sanctuary—a wider stage for Yakomori’s fury, Suede’s despair, and Toriteba’s nostalgia—pushed him forward. And this move was their next step toward a better future.