10,000 Days

Seven years later...

The late-afternoon sun casts long shadows across the bustling street of Osaka as Aria steps out of the Melodia Music Course. The building was modest, tucked between a neon-lit cafe and convenience stores. The early March air brushed gently against her face, cold and faintly damp.

She is now twenty-four. Three years after graduating with a library and information science degree, and two years into the piano teaching job with music theory that never fully closed.

The pop piano teaching role wasn't her first choice. Because the electric guitar slot had been claimed by another tutor when she applied, she'd taken what was still available.

But she didn't mind it.

Piano had been her first instrument long before the GRX40 and the effects chain. And she understood what a guitar could do to a room.

She'd learned it as a child with the same method she used for her guitar, learning how to make it feel like something rather than just sound like something.

That was the part she tried to pass on.

Pop piano focused on style, soul, and bending the rules rather than rigidly following the music sheet. Just like her guitar riffs layered with effects.

Some of her students arrived but were intimidated by her appearance: the gothic aura, the blunt gaze, and the flat expression.

But as they left, most of them had played something that sounded like them. That mattered to her more than anyone could admit.

"Play it slow first, and then let it build up."

She once told a nervous fourteen-year-old earlier in the afternoon, her voice soft and patient.

It was a success.

By the time she closed the center's door, a quiet sense of fulfillment lingered beneath the day's weariness. Teaching wasn't selling out. It was like passing something forward, and she respected it even when she didn't love it.

As she joined the evening foot traffic, her phone buzzed with a Discord group chat's notification.

It was from Rikuro Hasegawa.

The message pops up on her screen:

"Yo, Miss Liliane! Got a paycheck today?"

Aria snorts, typing back as she weaves through the evening crowd.

"Don't extort me, dumbass!" Her reply was sharp, but a chuckle escaped her lips.

She can picture his smirk: sitting somewhere in Hasegawa Family Studio, probably still in his sleeveless vest, drumming on a desk surface out of sheer habit while some poor session musician tested his patience. The nickname Miss Liliane was one of his favorite tools to ease up her iciness because it often got a reaction.

"Btw, I'm at Nagase Ramen Shop. My shift ended 2 hours ago. But hot damn! That rapper dude was stubborn as hell!"

"But y'know what? Let's just forget all that. With beers!" Rikuro added a winking kaomoji and a beer emoji.

Aria grimaced, her alcohol tolerance terribly low. She recalled a memory of Seiko's prank to give her a "non-alcoholic" drink that left her dizzy, which turned out to be literal sake.

Aria will not forget nor forgive this.

"I'd rather go home than get drunk." She responded.

Before she pocketed her phone, Seiko chimed in.

"Oh please! It was the lightest sake I could find! Like, pretty please, with a cherry on top? I'll give you a 25% discount, though~~~" A chibi anime sticker of a pleading girl follows.

She sighed. But her frustration dissolved into a reluctant chuckle, which always happened every time Seiko was involved.

Aria finally typed. "Fine. I'm coming. But if you 'accidentally' give me any alcohol, I'll officially disband Liliane!"

But her threat felt hollow; she and her friends were aware of it.

"Chill, girl! No more sake here, ok?" Rikuro fires back with another cheesy kaomoji.

Aria scoffed, grinning as she turned toward the ramen shop.

They had gone separate ways after high school into three different universities with three different directions. Yet, they had remained connected through shared passion and an unbreakable bond.

They reunited post-graduation, trading stories over ice teas and beers, laughing about how their Secret G cover stunned the crowd and sparked whispers of underground legends.

She knew it.

Although, she doesn't have a specific name for that certain feeling, like an ending that isn't an actual ending.

***

The Nagase ramen shop announced itself with a familiar scent of slow-cooked pork bone broth. The neon sign above the entrance flickered on the early evening air. Inside, the counter and the seats were lined with customers, the kitchen moving at its steady, practiced rhythm.

Seiko was behind the counter, setting three bowls of shoyu ramen for a group of middle-aged men with efficient warmth. Some of them were teasing at Seiko's alluring body shape and her seductive voice. Which grimaced Aria's jaw as she passed through them from across the seat.

Fucking creep!

Her eyes found Rikuro sitting at a corner table, air drumming with chopsticks, and his laptop was open on the table. Probably thinking through a fill for Liliane's brand-new song he created on his DAW.

On noticing her arrival, Rikuro stood up. "Miss Liliane! Thou hast arrived!" One of his hands swept forward with a theatrical exaggeration.

Aria sighed in exasperation. "Oh, fuck off..." She mutters low before sitting down in front of him.

Seiko arrived with a tray of three iced teas, setting them on the table with a dramatic flourish.

"In accordance with the sacred and solemn promise made by Miss Liliane herself, we shall serve no alcohol, as sworn!" She lifted both hands in the manner of some servant presenting a royal decree.

Aria squinted her eyes. Both were watching her with barely contained laughter.

What the fuck is up with them?! Grow up!

"Ok, time's up!" Aria crossed her forearms in a deliberate X. "What the hell are you guys even doing?!"

Rikuro grinned and turned his laptop to face her. "It seems like Miss Liliane herself was bound to be curious."

He played a YouTube video.

Harmoniac: Nullus Clamor, Nullus Os (Live at Nippon Budokan).

Uploaded on 28 December 2024.

As he pressed play, the video took her into the labyrinth of the unknown. A place she felt she should never belong in, but she got dragged into it nonetheless.

The screen opened on a Budokan stage that looked like someone had set a Victorian ballroom into a theatrical lighting rig. Five women in elaborate Victorian gothic costumes and masquerade masks occupied a round table at the stage's center. Ornately dressed and speaking to one another, which surprised Aria to be Shakespearean prose.

Wine glasses. Candlelight props. The full production.

"Wait..." Aria leaned forward, confused. "What?"

The scene played out with complete determination. No winks to the audience, ironic distances, or comedic clichés. Whatever these five women are doing, they have committed to their very hearts.

As the monologue had reached its conclusion, all five women rose from the table and reached for their instruments without breaking from their theatrical register.

The young woman with shoulder-length blonde hair lifted a gold Telecaster-styled guitar with two filtertron. She pointed at the crowd like a declaration.

"I, Furias, fear no fury!"

The crowd's guttural cheers were piercing through Rikuro's laptop speaker.

A woman with short dark blue hair lifted a white Strat-style guitar; her face was a mix between challenge and amusement to the audience.

"I, Calculus, fear no calculation."

The bassist with short pixie-cut black hair and a piercing cold glare clenched her black Jazz bass and offered the audience a bow that looked both formal and vaguely intimidating.

"I, Nemesis, fear no hostility."

The keyboardist with long and wavy light blue hair dipped into a small, deliberate curtsy, lifting her skirt with both hands in a gesture of ladylike precision.

"I, Vanitas, fear no vanity."

And from behind a black double bass drum kit, the drummer with short purple hair and a voice that arrived with a hint of seduction.

"And I, Pulsaris—fear no pulse."

A beat of silence. Then, Furias leaned into the microphone.

"Welcome, to the labyrinth of Harmoniac."

The song exploded.

Pulsaris opened with a drum fill intro that shook the walls of Budokan with the thundering double-bass pedal. As her double bass pedal laid a foundation, Nemesis' bass locked in with a distorted and grungy tone with the kind of low end the audiences felt in their rib cages before their ears. Vanitas' fingers danced between a synth organ swell and piano runs with ease. Calculus stacked a harmonic lead over the top of it, while Furias' rhythm locked the whole architecture together.

Then, Furias sang.

Her voice was deep, rich, and controlled. Pained, theatrical, and with a darkness underneath that didn't feel performed.

Rikuro paused the video.

"Harmoniac." He faced Aria. "Currently the most talked-about symphonic metal band in Japan."

His eyes were gleaming. "And their debut album—Mythical Maze, released three years ago—charted at number three." He tapped the table. "Number three, Aria-chan! Can't you believe it?!"

Aria rested her chin on her hand, eyes still on the paused screen. "But why? What's the point?" She pointed at the paused screen. "It's like if you put Shakespeare and Eddie Van Halen into one same room and you try to make them work together, if you ask me."

Seiko leaned in from Aria's side, barely able to contain the glee of her face. "I get what you mean, but they've created something fresh since the debut." She pressed her hands to Aria's hand. "Y'know, I had a front row at that time! And I swear—I got goosebumps in there."

Aria cocked one eyebrow. "You did go there?"

"Yeah! Front row!" Seiko brandished a ticket stub from her pocket. "Pulsaris-san waved at me during the encore!"

"Like... aaaahhhhhh!" She let out a short, unhinged squeal of delight. "Pulsaris-san is so sexy! She's making me wet~~~!"

Aria glanced at the ticket. Then at Seiko, who was squealing non-stop. And then back at the paused screen. "Yeah, but... what do you guys actually want to show me here?"

With a smirk, Rikuro pulled up a second tab—a rig rundown, production stills, and the kind of behind-the-scenes documentation that only sound engineers and obsessive fans were looking for. He pointed at the screen.

"Look at Furias' rigs. Overdrive pedal, analog delay, chorus, graphic EQ, pitch shifter, hall reverb, and more—all of it wired to a Soldano amp head." He tapped the screen. "Here's the thing: backstage, you've got the effects and the amp heads that are all run through the load box, then to the mixer, and then to the PA. But onstage, all you see is a MIDI footswitch."

He zoomed to a wide shot of the live stage before the performance.

"There are no visible amps on stage. That one looks like your typical multi-effects rig from the front, but they're all full analog chains running backstage that the engineer handles in real time." He sat back. "That's what a properly funded touring setup looks like."

Aria studied the rigs for a moment. The economy of the stage design. The logic of routing everything through the rack unit. She saw a gap between what the audience saw and what was actually powering the sound.

Aria nodded slowly. "Ok, I get the picture now."

Her eyes darted at Rikuro. "Rikuro-kun, you're gushing over Harmoniac's gear and their sound engineering." She then faced Seiko, who can't contain her glee. "While you are gushing over these five women in gothic-adorned costumes with masquerade masks."

"Oh, come on! At least they're adorable, though!" Seiko protested. "I followed their Twitter and Instagram accounts. They're actually different people offline. Y'know, Pulsaris-san posts pictures of her bakeries, her cat, and her cute anime drawings."

Aria looked back at the paused video. Five women at their instruments, mid-performance—their costumes catching the Budokan lights. What caught her attention was their Gothic-Victorian dress. They are different from any gothic Lolita dress she has seen in Akihabara or any anime convention.

These have weights to them.

Black as the foundation, with careful accents of whites, deep crimson, and aged gold. Straight out of Tim Burton's movies mixed with the Japanese anime culture. They dressed for a concert stage and made it fully theatrical.

And they committed to it.

Aria sighed, her gaze darting at smirking Seiko. "Don't tell me you'd suggest live costumes for our next live gigs."

Seiko smiled, teasing. "What about yes? That'll be—"

Aria shook her head. "No. Not in a million years." Her tone was flat.

"Oh, don't be a party pooper!" Seiko groaned, shaking Aria's right shoulder with a pout.

Seiko's father arrived at the table with three bowls of steaming ramen and set everything down with a sincere smile before walking back to the kitchen.

As they were digging into the ramen, Rikuro mimicked Aria's old head-thrashing from their high school days, almost spilling the broth. Seiko laughed, almost choking on the broth. While Aria rolled her eyes in frustration.

Stop it!

Seiko told them about a DM from their fan after their previous live house gigs that said,

"It's like watching a literal storm on the stage!"

Aria snorted at the dramatic phrasing. But she held it for a moment.

Their hustles—teaching piano, waitressing at a ramen shop, and studio engineering—keep them grounded, but music is their rebellion. They've got a live house gig lined up for the next Sunday. And they need something that would shake the audience's hearts much harder than they used to seven years ago.

"So, got any idea for a new song for the gig, Miss Liliane?" Seiko smiled, leaning forward over her empty bowl.

Aria poked her waist. Seiko yelped and retreated.

"One idea. But it needs more time." Aria's tone was flat.

Rikuro grinned, drumming the table with chopsticks. "If you had one, DM me the audio file. We'll work on it together."

Aria nodded before paying the bill and parted ways at the door of the shop.

She walked home through the crowded streets, but her mind kept drifting back to the laptop screen. Harmoniac's live set at Budokan last December.

It wasn't just the music, stage performance, costumes, or the professional engineering behind the scene. There was someone she was familiar with performing there.

It was the keyboardist.

Vanitas.

The one with long, wavy light blue hair.

She knew her.

And she had a feeling that Vanitas probably knew her too.