Act 1, Chapter 30 (Act 1 Finale): Into The Void

Saturday, 9:00 AM. In Aoi Mizuno’s apartment, the morning light streamed in as Hiroki Yamada sat on the couch, surrounded by Toriteba’s girls, with Aoi nearby.

Hiroki played five videos of Izakaya No Mani’s final Shinagawa Livehouse performance from a year ago, each frame a poignant reflection of his late brother, Kaito Yamada, preserving his essence in a bittersweet time capsule.

The Sakuragawa Light Music Club’s second showcase had ignited their spirits, but this moment, steeped in loss, wove their bonds tighter, like a second family preparing for the distant Sakuragawa Halloween Festival.

The videos showcased Izakaya No Mani as a dynamic five-piece pop-punk force that, despite not headlining, captured the audience's hearts, overshadowing Sea Ixiom's metalcore dominance with their hardcore appeal. The setlist was a roller coaster of emotions:

1. Coffee 100 Yen—A punchy but playful opener, its groovy drum beats and bouncy guitar riffs hooked the crowd instantly. Kaito’s modded metallic brown Squier Jaguar sang with infectious energy, blending smooth yet commanding vocals. Kazuki Maeda’s second guitar skillfully wove rock-and-roll melodies, the bassist's power stance on the PA speaker added depth, and the keyboardist introduced a jazzy-esque piano groove. And the bald drummer’s relentless groove was the heartbeat, pulling cheers from every corner.

2. Tanukichi—A nostalgic nod to ‘90s J-Rock, evoking The Pillows and Number Girl. Kaito’s Jaguar strums never faltered, his voice weaving through the melody with precision. Kazuki’s riffs added flair, the bassist’s groove pulsed, the keyboardist launched a blistering solo, and the drummer’s fills sparked roars, the crowd swaying their arms to the retro charm.

3. Dio - Holy Diver (Cover)—A shift to heavy metal reverence. Kaito set aside his metallic brown Jaguar, gripping the mic with a voice channeling late Ronnie James Dio’s power. The crowd sang along, fists raised; even Kaito passed the mic to them, their voices echoing the iconic ‘80s anthem. Kazuki’s solo stayed faithful but injected a J-Rock twist, earning deafening cheers.

4. Band-Maid - Domination (Cover)—Featuring Cafe Fighter’s vocalist, Riona Kitazawa, this track thundered with aggression. Riona’s fierce vocals shook the Livehouse, and Izakaya No Mani was playing tighter and heavier than ever. Kaito’s rhythm guitar drove the chaos, Kazuki’s leads soared, and the drummer’s relentless tempo fueled the circling mosh pits.

5. Crimson Shiguri—The closer, a pop-rock anthem laced with Evanescence’s gothic emotion. Kaito’s falsetto soared, his Jaguar’s tremolo wails painting Shigure's bittersweet tale of farewell and redemption. The band’s chemistry peaked, their instruments raised like trophies as the crowd roared.

The videos ended, and the room erupted in applause, the girls’ eyes gleaming with awe. Mei, blushing, squealed, “Aaaaahhhh! Seeing Kazuki Maeda-senpai shred makes me wanna take him to a love hotel! ~~~”

“Fucking pervert!” Sara laughed, clapping Mei’s head. The room burst into laughter, but Hiroki’s smile faded, haunted by the spectral presence of the videos. He paused the final clip, his gaze darkening. “You guys heard about the accident, right?”

Silence fell, the group’s empathy mirroring Hiroki’s loss. The tire screeches, the fiery crash, the victims’ cries—Kaito’s lifeless body—haunted him. “It still gives me guilt,” he admitted, voice low.

Takane leaned closer, her voice soft with concern. “What guilt?”

“I left him to deal with those fans and ignored the crash. Only if I’d acted faster… I’d taken him home, maybe…” He trailed off, the nightmare vivid.

The room stayed quiet, sharing his pain. Takane’s eyes softened, caressing Hiroki’s shoulder. “It’s okay. What happened has happened. I tried convincing Kazuki-senpai not to take that Taiwan study exchange, but he proclaimed to start from zero.”

Hiroki nodded, her words resonating. Aoi’s voice cut through, grave with chuunibyou conviction. “Quitting is a treacherous act.”

Takane countered, “Not really. It’s about choices—Kazuki’s family wanted him to focus more on studies. He could’ve balanced music and school without entirely quitting his passion.”

The group nodded, reflecting on their losses—Hiroki’s Kaito to the motorcycle crash, Toriteba’s Kazuki to a plane accident. Takane smiled faintly. “Thankfully, Kazuki’s younger sister, Kanade Maeda, plays guitar like him now. I heard she’s in a band.”

Sara flipped the mood, her enthusiasm infectious. “They were so damn solid! I cheered for that bald drummer’s solo—Matsuda Toshinaga, right?”

Yuna scrolled her phone, nodding. “Yeah, Matsuda’s a killer on any instrument. He’s a lawyer now, but I don’t know if he quit music.” She showed them Matsuda’s Instagram, filled with professional drumming and guitar videos, alongside posts debunking copyright myths and sharing music production tips. A lawyer in the music world, his posts were a goldmine for aspiring beginner musicians.

Hiroki’s heart stirred. Remembered that Matsuda had taught him guitar and basic home recording years ago alongside Kaito. But Kaito’s death had distanced them. “Maybe I could reach out,” he thought, eyeing Matsuda’s profile. “Ask him about Izakaya No Mani, and learn more about my music making.”

The group continued chatting, their laughter and shared losses weaving a bond beyond clubmates—a second family. Aoi’s chuunibyou quips, Hasumi’s comforting aura, and Toriteba’s lively spirit collectively infused the room with a vibrant blend of humor, solace, and energy.

As noon approached, they bid farewell, their parting marked by heartfelt promises to reunite, the echoes of their shared laughter and losses lingering in Aoi’s apartment—a testament to the enduring bond of their second family.

Hiroki clutched his phone, Shigure burning in his mind as Suede’s new name—a poignant homage to Kaito’s enduring legacy in their music journey. Honor the past and forge a future where their music would echo like crimson rain.

***

Saturday, 9:15 AM. The morning light streamed against the apartment. It was the Toriteba’s time to part ways, and five of them stood in the apartment’s lobby floor.

The group then bowed in unison. “That’s it for today; we’ll see you next time.” At last, the five of them had exited the lobby door after waving their hands.

All had been set and done, and it plunged Hiroki into the void again. His mind constantly playing back the screeching tires, the hellish flames, the scattered bodies, and Kaito’s lifeless form haunted him for eternity. His chest felt heavy, his vision blurred, signaling imminent tears.

“Hiroki!” Aoi cut short his brief mourning. He then glanced back and witnessed Aoi approaching him with a stutter on her mouth. “I… umm…”

Pausing his mourning, he consoled the stuttering Aoi. “What’s wrong?” He softened his eyebrow in curiosity.

She caressed her chest with one hand and looked down in a stutter. “I… have… a feeling…”

“What feeling, eh?” Noticing Aoi’s stuttering gesture, he then playfully jabbed at her. “Jealous that I’m close with—"

“No! It’s…” Aoi cut him short, taking him back into silence. A few seconds after the awkward silence, she then continued forth with a determined glance. “Our band’s name… Do we have a new name for it? What do you suggest?”

Hiroki suddenly let out a heavy sigh, turned out to be just asking him. “Oh, yeah! Our… new band’s name…” He looked away with an increasing awkwardness, still uncertain of his choices. But grateful that it doesn’t end up with a typical rom-com anime cliché trope.

He gets close to Aoi’s face and whispers with a firm tone. “It sounded weird. But you know, let’s just discuss it privately. Ok?”

Aoi chuckled softly at the awkwardness of the moment, her usual priestess persona replaced by raw teenage emotion.

“As you wish, Dark Lord of Tartarus.” She smiled as the two then walked upstairs back into her apartment’s room. About to discuss their new band’s name, the band’s plan, and much more, they will make a thorough preparation for the future.

Perhaps Hiroki wasn't the only one spiraling into the void. The entire Sakuragawa's LMC membership felt just as hollow inside as he did. Music became their sole solace, filling the hole in their earth and voicing the unspoken.