Act 1, Chapter 22: Shadow On The Sun

Friday, 3:10 PM. The new Light Music Club room in Sakuragawa’s modern building pulsed with anticipation, its soundproof walls and ceramic floors a stark upgrade from the cramped B-12.

The stage was set; a grander sanctuary of frequency braced for battle. Toriteba’s five girls—Takane Yuzuriha, Mei Hashimoto, Yuna Aoki, Sara Fujimoto, and Hasumi Sakakibara—stood ready, facing the judging eyes of all LMC members.

Takane plugged her Yamaha APXT2 into the practice amp, strapping it on with confidence. Mei retuned her left-handed purple Telecaster, tweaking the amp’s EQ for a gritty drive. Yuna adjusted her brown sunburst Ibanez GSR180, dialing in a punchy bass tone. Sara set up the new black Tama drum kit, finding her sweet spot. Hasumi tested the Yamaha keyboard, settling on a rich piano patch. The air buzzed with their focus.

Takane grabbed the mic, her bubbly enthusiasm shining, striking a peace sign like a pop idol. “Everyone! We are Toriteba! I’m Takane Yuzuriha. This is Mei Hashimoto, Yuna Aoki, Sara Fujimoto, and Hasumi Sakakibara!”

The girls waved, each with their flair: Takane’s bubbly cheer, Mei’s big-sister warmth, Yuna’s bratty edge, Sara’s gyaru swagger, and Hasumi’s elegant poise. Yuna pumped her fist, her voice sharp. “Teachers are busy, so let’s make some noises!”

The room erupted—Omanjou raising imaginary lightsticks, Procorat cheering moderately, and Yakomori chanting gutturally. Suede watched quietly, Hiroki silently praying Hasumi wouldn’t crumble like last Saturday.

Mei took the mic. “This is our original song, inspired by The Pillows, titled Garter Belts!” She launched an intro solo, her left-handed Telecaster singing with a groove echoing Omanjou’s Reina Kuroda, simple but raw. The room gasped as feedback hummed.

Sara clapped her drumsticks four times, and Takane’s F and C chords kicked in, her head swaying, eyes closed, and grin wide. Sara’s snares built from soft to thunderous. “Let’s go!” Takane shouted, strumming fiercely.

The song exploded at 170 BPM. Sara’s drumming drove a hard-hitting groove, nodding to the beat. Mei layered harmonic chords, enriching Takane’s foundation. Yuna’s bass danced across frets, her groove unshakable. Hasumi’s piano chords pulsed, not just ringing but ad-libbed with classical flair, her fingers alive. Toriteba's energy surged with newfound vigor, their improvisation boldly declaring, “We're seasoned pros now!”

Takane sang the verse, her voice clear, joined by Mei’s gentle harmonies and Yuna’s cheeky tone. The dark lyrics—born from pain—carried a defiant hope: Our lives are messy, but we’ll rise. The chorus hit, Sara smashing the ride cymbal with ease. Hasumi’s keyboard turned operatic, her presence commanding, a far cry from her tearful rigidity.

Cheers erupted, almost tearing down the LMC room. “Good job! Go for the bang!” Hiroki nodded, feeling his heart swell with warmth at Hasumi's journey from classical restraint to pop-rock freedom.

Then, the second verse brought a shock. Hasumi suddenly smirked and cranked the keyboard’s volume, her fingers dancing with Mozart-like precision, a whirlwind of notes. The room erupted in a deafening cheer, Sara, Mei, and Yuna momentarily stunned before regaining their composure. “You goddamn witch!” Hiroki chuckled internally, amazed at Hasumi’s ascendance.

Mei suddenly countered Hasumi’s resurgence with a harmonic guitar solo, their duel fueling louder cheers. The second chorus soared, but Hasumi switched to an 80s synth patch, her chords ethereal, transforming Garter Belts into a nostalgic pop-rock anthem. Hiroki’s words from Saturday—"Play what you feel!”—had unleashed her into the next layer.

The solo arrived after Sara’s thunderous fills. Mei knelt, raising her Telecaster for a Jonny Greenwood-esque wail. Hasumi doubled down, her arpeggio soloes a flurry of precision, outshining Mei’s raw power. The room screamed, Hiroki throwing up his fists to Hasumi’s showmanship, who winked back. “Sakakibara-san ascends to all seven heavens!” Aoi whispered to Hiroki, awestruck.

In the outro, Takane hummed, strumming with bubbly fervor. Mei plucked aggressively at the 20th fret. Yuna’s bass ad-libs pulsed. Sara’s groove held steady. Hasumi’s arpeggiated piano solo carried them to the finish, Sara’s final cymbal crash and the girls’ last strum sealing the deal. Hasumi kept playing, her solo lingering like a victory cry.

The room erupted one final time, a cacophony of cheers and applause filling the air. Toriteba’s redemption from Saturday’s mess was complete, with the addition of Hasumi’s transformation as the spark. “They’ve done it!” Hiroki muttered to Aoi and Junichi.

Aoi and Junichi nodded, sharing smiles that conveyed their mutual understanding. The chaos of Saturday—Hasumi's tears, Aoi's antics, and the raw showcase—had all contributed to forging this triumphant moment. The Sakuragawa Halloween Festival was still months away, but Toriteba had just raised the stakes.

***

Friday, 3:15 PM. The new Sakuragawa Light Music Club room vibrated with the aftershock of Toriteba’s electrifying performance of Garter Belts. The five girls had transformed their nostalgic pop-rock anthem, 'Garter Belts,' into a powerhouse, far surpassing their sloppy Saturday showcase.

Hasumi’s blazing keyboard work, a fusion of classical precision and newfound freedom, stole the show, leaving the audiences in awe.

Cheers still echoed as Mika Sato bounded onstage, wrapping the Toriteba girls in congratulatory hugs, her pride radiating like a coach after winning a championship. “You girls were unreal!” she beamed.

Daichi’s voice cut through. “Hasumi Sakakibara! You're the MVP!” Yakomori’s boys roared, their double devil horn salutes and guttural chants praising Toriteba’s unexpected showmanship, adding to the electrifying atmosphere.

Ren, via her text-to-speech app, chimed in. “That was… unexpected! Hasumi had upped the ante!”

Mika, wiping a teary laugh, grabbed the mic. “I thought you girls needed my coaching, but you flipped it 180 degrees! Hasumi, your piano had me tearing up—seems like you girls don’t need me anymore!”

The room burst into laughter. Hasumi, blushing, spoke with her ladylike chuckle. “Please don’t, Mika-senpai. We’re still amateurs.”

Sora took the mic, his tone analytical yet warm. “Seriously, your precision, endurance, and showmanship were top-notch. But I saw several sloppiness—Mei’s harmonics, Yuna’s bassline, and Takane’s chords—suddenly distracted by Hasumi’s brilliance. Still, you embody ‘separated we fall, united we rise.’ Perfect band chemistry. Mega job!”

The room clapped again, Sora’s critique a balanced balm. He nudged Ayano, Omanjou’s keyboardist. “Your take?”

Ayano laughed, unable to hold it in. “We’re officially disbanding. I quit!” The room roared at her playful jab, Hasumi’s performance clearly rattling her.

Furuya, Omanjou’s saxophonist, grinned charismatically. “I always thought that all first-years were amateur snobs, but you shattered that! Girls, you gotta hit some tour after graduation!”

Toriteba chuckled, nodding gratefully. Reina, Omanjou’s guitarist, added, “What a roller coaster! Takane, your lyrics—losing everything, starting over—nailed it,” she said, flashing a double thumbs-up.

Haruto, the bassist, spoke analytically. “Yuna, your bassline wasn’t a back marker—it was frontline, creative over technical. Mega job!”

Daiki, the drummer, nodded. “Sara, your drumming wasn’t complex, but it was rock-solid, always on beat. You prioritized teamwork over flexing. Stellar!”

The room erupted one last time, Toriteba’s redemption sealed. Their public showcase had turned Saturday’s mess into a triumph, with Hasumi’s growth as the spark. Hiroki leaned toward Aoi and Junichi. “They’ve done it.”

Aoi and Junichi nodded, Saturday’s raw chaos—Hasumi’s tears, their audacity—having forged this victory. But as Toriteba prepared to leave the stage, a weathered man in his sixties, clad in a bourgeoisie suit and carrying a high-quality leather briefcase, entered unannounced, casting a mysterious presence over the room. His voice was stern, cutting through the cheers. “Sorry to interrupt. I’m looking for Hasumi Sakakibara.”

Silence fell, all eyes on the stranger. Sora stepped forward, wary. “Pardon? Who are you, sir? We’re in the middle of—”

“F-father?” Hasumi’s voice trembled in the mic, her confident glow extinguished. Her eyes darkened, head bowing in shame, the room’s energy plummeting from triumph to dread. This unexpected arrival cast a shadow over Toriteba’s victory, threatening to unravel Hasumi’s newfound fire.