Act 1, Chapter 23: Save The Cat

Friday, 3:20 PM. The new Sakuragawa Light Music Club room, a pristine sanctuary of frequency, was frozen in suspense. Toriteba’s triumphant garter belts had electrified the air, but the sudden arrival of a weathered man in a bourgeoisie suit—Hasumi Sakakibara’s father—shattered the victory.

His accusation, branding the LMC’s activities as “promiscuous” and “low-life,” stung like a hornet’s nest kicked over. Frustrated protests erupted, stunning everyone present.

Hasumi’s voice trembled on the mic, her confidence from the performance crumbling. “Yes… my greatest apology… I was such a promiscuous whore…” Her words silenced the protests like a sonic boom, her head bowing in shame like a wilting flower. “I shall accept my punishment… to be a fine lady… I let my guard down…”

Murmurs of disbelief rippled through the LMC. To Hasumi, this was her hellish reality—her father’s rigid expectations crushing her newfound freedom. Two bodyguards entered, summoned by her father, their presence a barrier to any defiance. Hasumi descended the stage, her face clouded with guilt, approaching her father like a prisoner with Stockholm syndrome.

“Good girl,” he said, patting her shoulder with a faint, sinister grin. “I’ll take you to a palace befitting you, not this low-life slum.” He shot a venomous glare at the LMC. “You pieces of shit should have disbanded years ago!”

The words ignited fury. Yakomori’s boys clenched their fists, ready to lunge, their rage barely restrained. “Hasumi! Hasumi!” Takane cried into the mic, desperate for her to fight back.

“Sorry, guys. Continue without me,” Hasumi whispered, her voice hollow. Her father and the bodyguards escorted her out, the door slamming shut, leaving the room feeling violated, their youth stolen by elitist scorn.

Silence gripped the clubroom. Mei suddenly broke the silence, her voice heavy with frustration. “Dammit… that was weird. Who’s next?”

Sora sighed in defeat, pointing to Riku. “Yakomori, you’re up.”

Riku, his metalhead bravado shaken, hesitated. “Hold on, we just let Sakakibara-san get taken without explanation?” His tone carried sympathy, Hasumi’s Saturday tears echoing in his mind.

“Just play your damn song!” Yuna snapped low, her frustration raw.

The four Toriteba girls stepped down, making way for Yakomori. Riku set up his black Jackson King V, plugging into his Line 6 POD. Daichi’s red Schecter Zacky Vengeance model glinted, his face dark with confusion. Kenta tuned his ESP Phoenix bass, tweaking the amp. Gojou adjusted the Tama kit, finding his sweet spot. But their expressions were grim, Hasumi’s absence a gaping wound.

Riku gritted his teeth, unleashing a deafening open-string strum, the Diezel VH4’s high-gain distortion roaring like a lion’s wrath. The room flinched, some covering their ears while others winced and shifted uncomfortably in their seats.

He grabbed the mic; his guttural screams were a primal release. “YO, WHAT THE FUCK IS UP, YOU OLD TWAT?! YOU TAKE HASUMI AWAY?! WE’LL TAKE YOUR FUCKING HEADS!” He flipped the doorway off, his rage aimed at Hasumi’s father.

Daichi joined, his demonic fry scream fueling the fire, strumming his Schecter with vicious harmonics. “FEEL OUR TORTURE DEVICE! IT’S 1 WEEK GO TO HELL!” He slashed his thumb across his throat, fury personified.

Gojou smashed the Tama kit—snares, toms, kicks, and cymbals—declaring war. Riku, Daichi, and Kenta’s feedback screeched, a sonic assault. Gojou’s four hi-hat smacks counted down. “GO!”

Yakomori’s 1 Week Go to Hell erupted, a war horn fueled by rage over Hasumi’s departure. Riku’s downpicking, Daichi’s dissonant harmonics, Kenta’s aggressive plucks, and Gojou’s relentless groove were a force to make gods bleed.

Riku’s guttural screams in the first verse unleashed his inner demon, stunning the room, not in annoyance but in awe. Last Saturday was a festive celebration; this Friday turned into a fierce battleground.

Aoi, her priestess aura darkening, whispered to Hiroki, “This is wrong… Sakakibara-san shouldn’t submit to such ignorance!” Her jaw clenched, fists tight, as if sensing wickedness demanding divine judgment.

Hiroki’s mind raced. Is this about Yakomori’s song?! The second verse kicked in, Gojou’s death metal drumming driving the fury. But Aoi suddenly bolted, banging the door open and sprinting out in Godspeed, her athleticism and chuunibyou in overdrive.

The interruption jarred Yakomori’s performance, but they pressed on. “Aoi?! AOI?!” Hiroki yelled at the open door. He turned to the room, bowing frantically. “Dammit! Sorry, guys! Aoi’s acting weird! Keep going!”

He dashed after her, racing through the new building’s corridors, but Aoi was a ghost, vanishing without a trace. Her Godspeed was inhuman; her priestess persona was unstoppable.

Hiroki wondered if her chuunibyou had gone haywire, but her words hinted at a mission: saving Hasumi, which would threaten to tear their sanctuary apart. This new crisis loomed ominously, poised to shatter their sanctuary into irreparable fragments.

***

Friday, 3:25 PM. The pristine corridors of Sakuragawa’s new building burned with tension. Hasumi Sakakibara’s father, Iseki Sakakibara, dragged his daughter by the arm, his grip bruising, his two bodyguards shoving her forward like an inmate. Her pleas echoed, raw and desperate. “RELEASE ME, YOU MONSTER!”

“NOT UNTIL YOU FACE THE CONSEQUENCES OF DECEIVING YOUR FATHER THROUGH DOUBLE CORRECTION!” Iseki roared, yanking her harder.

Hasumi’s tears fell, her voice breaking. “THEY NEVER DID ANYTHING WRONG! WE’RE JUST—”

He cut her off, jerking her arm with car-crash force. “ENOUGH WITH YOUR NONSENSE, GIRL! DO YOU THINK YOU COULD JUST RUN AWAY FROM RESPONSIBILITY?”

“NONE OF US DID PROMISCUOUS ACTS! IS HAVING FUN IN THE SLIGHTEST WRONG?!” Hasumi’s tear-streaked defiance hit the floor, her voice rising against his tyranny.

Iseki stopped, gripping her shoulders so tightly she winced, his glare cold and authoritative. “Face the truth! Always remember to keep your stupid 'fun' in moderation. You do not want—”

A rapid clatter of footsteps interrupted, echoing like thunder in the distance.

BOK!

Aoi Mizuno, her eyepatch and bandages gone, mask off in fury, delivered a neck-breaking jump kick to one bodyguard, dropping him instantly. Hasumi and Iseki froze, stunned by her surprise attack.

The second bodyguard reached for his pocket, but Aoi was faster, hurling pop-it fireworks into his face. The small explosions staggered him, and she followed with a brutal neck kick, paralyzing him. Both guards lay defeated, the corridor a battlefield.

Iseki’s grip on Hasumi tightened, but Aoi drew a box cutter, flinging it with precision into his right arm. The blade pierced his suit and flesh, blood splattering the pristine floor. He shrieked, his hold loosening.

Hasumi broke free, collapsing to the floor, while Iseki clutched his wound, both grappling with the surreal chaos.

“LET… ME…” Iseki gasped, but Aoi yanked the box cutter free, blood spraying, and pinned him to the floor like a police takedown. She held the blade to his mouth, her other hand brandishing an open box of pushpins, ready to pour them into his throat.

Her murderous glare, devoid of her chuunibyou priestess flair, was chillingly real. “Answer honestly, or you will taste your blood!” she growled, her voice low and lethal. “What did you do to Hasumi Sakakibara?”

The pushpins hovered closer, Aoi’s divine judgment poised to punish his wickedness. Hasumi sat frozen, bewildered by Aoi’s rampage.

Hiroki Yamada burst into the scene, panting from chasing her. “Dammit! AOI!” he yelled, horrified by the bloodied box cutter and hostage situation.

Aoi ignored him, doubling down, her voice sharp as she addressed Hasumi. “Sakakibara-san! This subhuman of filth has defiled your purity for years! Whose side are you on—fight for your rights, or submit to consequence?”

“AOI! YOU FUCKING—” Hiroki’s fury surged, thinking of her chuunibyou violence spiraling out of control.

“Are you letting this filth defile you further, or will you fight for justice?” Aoi pressed, her blade almost grazing Iseki’s tongue.

“Aoi… stop!” Hasumi sobbed, her chest heaving, tears streaming from the chaos.

"Make up your mind, Sakakibara-san! Whose side are you on?!” Aoi’s voice was a blade itself, the pushpins trembling.

“THAT’S ENOUGH!” Hasumi’s scream, raw as an opera singer’s falsetto, shattered the air. She was sobbing into her knees, overwhelmed by the violence and her father’s oppression.

Hiroki moved to intervene, but Aoi exhaled, retracting the blade of the box cutter and sealing the pushpin box, freeing Iseki from her hold.

He scrambled up, clutching his bleeding arm, fleeing from Aoi’s wrath. But a firm voice stopped him cold.

“Where do you think you’re going, huh?” Nolan Webber Girling, Sakuragawa's PE teacher and LMC’s club advisor, stepped out from the shadows, his scorn palpable.

“Trying to run from accountability again, Iseki Sakakibara-san?” Scott Ardennes Villeneuve, Sakuragawa’s math teacher, joined him, their glares piercing.

Hiroki’s mind reeled. Aoi’s rampage, Hasumi’s despair, and now their teachers confronting Iseki—what was happening? This unexpected turn of events loomed over the LMC's morale, plunging Hiroki into a turmoil of astonishment and the urgency to make a decision.