Magic Mêlée Music: IV - Mayhem

Kenichi walked back to his room, his heart heavy with the news. He had to defeat a department head, and the only one he had any chance of defeating was Scherzo, but defeating meant that he'd have to kill him. He sat down on his bed. This was a messed up school.

He looked at the posters on Magnus’ side of the room, the group photos of Clan MacLoud, including the photograph of Magnus with his favorite band. This reminded him of the picture in Acula's office, the group of students at a remarkably similar school. He couldn't remember the background details all that clearly, but it could very well have been this very school they attended, or some other weird boarding school that occupied a former castle. He remembered the faces of the students: young Kagamikurai, Asturoth, Kagira, Acula, Ixchelaraña, Shashira, and the others. He tried to remember the others. Two of them were musicians, both with violins. Then he realized something. He realized why Professor Scherzo was so familiar. He was in that picture. Or so he thought. He needed more information.

He went out into the hallway. In one of the halls were rows of pictures of past graduating classes, each student getting their own little portrait in a larger glass frame. He made his way to that hall. If Scherzo was the one he was sent here to eradicate, and if he did in fact go to this school, then he'd be in one of those pictures.

As he entered the picture hall, Hurdy and Gurdy hurried past, the hooves of their goat legs clicking and clacking on the tile floor of the school. Kenichi watched them hurry off and disappear around a corner. When they were gone, he stepped into the hall. It seemed to stretch on into infinity. He walked deeper and deeper into the hall, passing class after class, their young faces smiling (when their faces were visible, or if they even had faces). Alongside each class was the picture of the Class Advisor, the faculty member who has the additional responsibility of overseeing the class to their eventual next destinations.

Frame after frame showed a grid of aspiring young wizards, warriors, and warblers. It was when he got to one that was covered in ink that he stopped. The ink was relatively fresh. He wiped it away, as best he could. Below the smudges and smears of the ink were the familiar faces. He saw Acula (whose first name was Vladdr), Asturoth, Ixchelaraña, Kagamikurai, Kagira, Smudge, Alonso “Scary” Scherzo, Shasira, and the other violin guy, but his name was obscured by another smudge. At the edge of the picture that was completely smudged was the black tip of a pointy ear. Or else it was just the smudge. He couldn't tell.

The class advisor was Lysandro Arclume, looking as ancient as ever.

Someone tsked behind him. He turned, and right there was the real Arclume. “Such a pity someone has defaced this picture,” he said. He looked at Kenichi, at the ink covering his hand. “A more irrational person would assume you were the one to have done this,” he said, pointing to the hand. “But a more rational person would realize that just because you are covered in the same ink that was used to commit the vandalism, the circumstances surrounding it indicate that you were trying to clean it up.”

He looked at the ink smears and smudges. “I'll have Mr. Can clean it up, child. It will be right as rain in no time.” He turned and looked at Kenichi. “Such an interesting class, though, that one. I appointed myself as their advisor, as I had detected a strong inclination towards chaos and evil in the entire group.” He shook his head. “In the end, each went their own way, possibly to be some evil dark lord in some world suited for their tyranny." He looked back at the picture, seeing the young, moderately innocent faces of the students pictured there. “It was the first and the last time I ever advised a class,” he said. “It was my failure.” He shrugged. “Well, save one.” He pointed to Scherzo. “He grew up to be well adjusted. I hear he even started a family with one of the young ladies in his class after graduating. The blond one, I think. And now he's the head of Symphonics.” He mumbled something. “Odd that even she turned out wicked. It was probably all that makeup she was always wearing.” He shrugged. “You can't win them all, I guess.” He put his withered hand on Kenichi's shoulder. “Come along, child,” he said. “The selection for the Great Concert is about to start. I've heard great things about your prowess, and have high hopes for you. At least, I would have heard great things if Professor Eftérpi could talk through those stitches.” He chuckled a warm chuckle.

The two walked out of the hallway and toward the auditorium.

“What is the Great Concert?” Kenichi asked.

“It's a performance put on by the finest, most talented students in Symphonics. It's something that Professor Scherzo has started doing since he became head of the department. It highlights those talented students, and they often go on to greater things.” He laughed to himself. “Did you know that they often don't graduate? That's right. They're that talented, that they get snatched up almost immediately. You should see the letters we get from all their prospective employers. They all read the same, practically.” He shook his head and smiled. “That Scherzo sure knows how to get consistent results out of his top students.” He cleared his throat. “I for one am surprised at the sheer number of symphonies and studios that have picked up the students selected for the Great Concert. I did not know that so many had existed.”

Kenichi thought of his promise to Marumi. “What if a student is selected for the Great Concert, but he declines?” he asked.

Arclume looked at Kenichi as if he had asked why you can't put a trumpet mouthpiece on a piano. “Nobody has ever done that,” he said.

“But what if somebody wanted to?” Kenichi asked.

Arclume waved his hand. “That's irrelevant. If you're selected for the Great Concert, you have to participate. It's mandatory.”

“And what would be the consequences if someone who was selected didn't?”

“Such strange questions. What if water wasn't wet? What if fire didn't burn? What if noodles were not delicious?” He shook his head. “Don't trouble your mind with such things, child.”

They stood outside the auditorium, the heraldic rabbit paintings greeting them. Arclume opened the door. “Best of luck,” he said. They both entered, taking separate routes, Kenichi to sit with the final year students, and Arclume to sit with the faculty. As Kenichi made his way to his seat, he saw Calliope give him a nod.

Once everybody was seated and the room quieted down, Alonso Scherzo stepped up onto the stage. “It is my esteemed privilege to announce the students who have been selected for the Great Concert this year,” he said in a projecting voice.

He looked out over the crowd of final years. Their eyes were wide with anticipation. The years of backstabbing and scheming and music practice were about to finally pay off. He went through the students, one by one, alphabetical order by their last name. When Seraphina Dolce was called, she gave a little squeal and gave her cat purse a hug. Donatello Solfège, who sat beside her, had a sour expression on his face until he was called much later. Then he relaxed and leaned back in his seat, and allowed himself to smile. Dozens of the final years were selected for the Great Concert, though Kenichi noticed that Magnus’ name was not called. He looked at his roommate, who had an expression of defiant relief on his face. Kenichi also noticed that his name hadn't been called, as his last name came before even Seraphina's.

“One last thing,” said Scherzo. “As you know, every year, we pick our First Chair for the Great Concert. I've intentionally held that name for last. My selection this year is a bit unorthodox, and it may anger a few of you, but as I am the head of Symphonics, my word is final. My selection for First Chair this year goes to the transfer student, Kenichi Chozen.”

There was a hush over the crowd. Everybody looked at Kenichi. Sure he was a middling wizard and a somewhat capable swordsman, but everybody had heard the rumors of Kenichi's musical prowess.

It felt as if a spotlight were shining on Kenichi. Then somebody started clapping. Then another, and another. Kenichi felt the crowd nudge him out of his seat and into the aisle and onto the stage. He stood there next to Scherzo. “Thank you,” he said.

Then he saw Marumi in the back of the auditorium, standing just inside the door.