Guitar ‘Hero’

Music blared across the arena. The shredding of a guitar was accompanied by a team of vocals. One verse erupted, and then, it switched to the other side.

Koujiro looked down at the strings, trying to recall every single note from the song he knew so well. He focused on his fingering, hellbent on delivering a perfect performance in response, refusing to compromise on the group that he built up. He nodded along with the music as every key he struck was on point. His girls sounded wonderful behind him, like he knew that they had his back.

After playing his section, he looked up and noticed that the crowd got noticeably louder once Claude and his side started up again.

‘Why? Why? I didn’t miss a single note?’

He stared at Claude, who played well but a bit amateurishly. He froze in wonder at how Claude could still be ahead when he occasionally fudged some notes. He felt a poke in his back. Not expecting it, his concentration shattered as he whipped around to see Liruru looking disappointed at him.

“You finally play along with us, and this is aura you give off?”

Koujiro looked dumbly at her, not sure what to say. He saw the other girls holding a similar expression. He instantly waved his arms in a panic, like he was trying to clear the air.

“What? What do you mean? I’m trying my hardest here to secure the win for all of you!”

After a few moments of staring by the collective group, Liruru responded.

“But you don’t look like you want to be here.” She turned to the crowd and pointed. “And they can feel that.”

True enough, the audience was vibing along with Claude and his jam session. Meanwhile, Koujiro had focused on mimicking the song to the letter. It was just like all those times before when he was faced with pressure.

“You have no passion. I can read it in your eyes.”

Every judging eye, every piece of critique – stabbing him for being a hollow imitation. That was why he didn’t want to be pushed into it. He couldn’t match up to others, no matter how much effort he put into it. No matter how his talents came into play, he would always fall short.

A guitar suddenly slammed him across the face, making him reel back and take a few steps before several arms held him standing. He looked forward at a smug Claude who had just taken the lead. The song had ended in his favor, but they still had more to play.

“What’s the matter, Koujiro? Are you simply a false king resting on a throne of lies? What happened to doing it for the girls behind you? Are you going to give up just because a formidable opponent stands before you?”

Koujiro struggled against the web of arms holding him back, feeling insulted by the taunting before him. He marched right up and swung his guitar at Claude, who promptly dodged and countered with a flick to the forehead. It hurt just as much as the pride that he lost.

“The next song is starting up. It would be best if you used it properly to win the crowd when it comes your turn.”

Koujiro stared down as he instinctively brought his hands back to play the guitar, but for a moment, he felt lost. What else could he do? He couldn’t play any better than he remembered. Every note seemed to be perfect in his view.

As if sensing Koujiro’s troubles, Claude roared at him as he started his guitar solo.

“Is that all you got?! I don’t feel any of you in your playing! You’ve got no soul! Just notes strummed from music sheets! You think that is enough to beat me?!”

Koujiro watched as Claude threw himself into the music, taking breaks from strumming to point to the crowd and get them fired up. He turned back and danced along with the girls as if holding short duets between each one. Never once did he worry about getting all the notes right. Never once did he look down when he slipped up. He pushed on, through the faults, letting his rhythm decide what to play.

As Koujiro stared in awe at Claude’s way of doing a concert battle, time seemed to slow down. A faint purple aura started wrapping itself around him, and a set of memories long lost came to him.

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A room littered with costumes and props was around him, dark shadows cast over everything. The glow of a computer screen illuminated a figure sitting in a futon, listlessly fumbling with something in his hands.

“I am Kazutora. And I invoke the powers of the mask.”

Slowly, he brought it up to his face, covering what was there. As soon as it was donned, he bolted up to his feet. Grabbing a few articles of clothing and hastily changing, he opened a window and leapt out of it, landing on the ground a story below.

He was unhurt, because Kazutora had trained himself like the shinobi. Scouring the city streets at night, he soon came upon a gang of thugs picking on a wimpy kid. He announced himself boldly, like a hero in some comic. The thugs simply jeered at his ridiculousness.

That was until Kazutora floored every single one of them in an instant. The kid’s face brightened, wondering if heroes truly existed. Kazutora bowed to the kid, who then asked him the most innocent question.

“Why are you wearing a mask? I don’t even know who to thank.”

It was at that point that Kazutora froze and backed away. He took off in the other direction, a hand bracing the mask over his face. He couldn’t tell him. He couldn’t tell anyone.

Without his mask, he was powerless. What he wore gave him courage. And if he took it off, even for a moment, then the magic would disappear.

Kazutora continued his normal path, running into more enemies to defeat and people to help. And when dawn approached, he finally made it back to his apartment, climbing right up to the open window he had leapt out earlier.

Rolling onto his futon, he peeled the mask off him, revealing the face of a normal man. With the mask off, he had no special talents or skills. He was simply Kazutora. It was all the mask’s doing. With it, he could become almost anyone. He could live out his fantasies and become the person he wanted to be.

He let the mask slide out of his hands, where it landed with a hallow, wooden clunk.

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In this world, Koujiro was a producer. Nothing more. That was the parameters that he had set for himself. The slick suit defined his role. He was optimized for it and nothing else. Of course, winning a guitar battle was out of the question. He hadn’t prepared the correct mask for such a task.

But then, he jumped as the pain of pinches erupted all across his back. He whipped around to see his girls all trying to catch his attention.

“Why are you backing down now?” Relia asked.

“It’s not like you to give up so easily,” added Merona.

“You put so much effort into us, but none into yourself. What an annoying man,” Lailah jeered.

One by one, the girls expressed their disappointment in him, but then, Liruru stepped forward.

“But when it comes to us girls, nothing else matters in this world. You give us everything and see our wishes to the end. You are capable of anything to get us where we should be. And because of that, we know that you have the talent to be on this stage as well. This venue is for all of us.”

Koujiro shook his head, knowing the ‘truth’ behind their success.

“What if I told you that I knew exactly how you all ticked? That I simply needed to manipulate you how I wanted to get you there? You see… I’m just a shallow man that-”

“A shallow man cannot craft his own music, nor can he teach us all the dances himself. A shallow man would not patiently design every outfit to suit our tastes perfectly. He would hardly care to build chemistry between strangers, no matter how much he knew. You acted on those things. You possessed the skill to do so. Stop lying to yourself!”

Koujiro shrunk back. He had done all of that because he didn’t have the confidence to leave it to others. He had merely ‘stepped in’ to obtain the optimal solution. Just like he had always done, he picked up on things quickly through imitation. Somehow, he could get into the same rhythm as those around him, moving to the same steps in a blink of an eye.

“You made the successes that we are, and in extension, you should be able to do the same for yourself!”

“Ha, you want me to imitate you girls?”

“To an extent… our dresses wouldn’t look good on you.” The girls all laughed at Liruru’s joke.

That was as far as he got. Cheap imitations. That was what people called them. And they never truly felt like his own either. Roles that he acted, ‘masks’ that he made – that was the summation of talents that Koujiro possessed.

But Liruru was undeterred by this. She looked into Koujiro’s eyes and spoke with confidence.

“Of course! We sing together. We dance together. Forget about everything else. Let’s just have fun. We are the Aquarions. And you are part of it too, Mr. K.”

Koujiro placed his hands back on his guitar, just in time for their song to start. This time, all he looked at were his girls, who started belting out the lyrics. Instantly, his fingers began to move, to seek out the perfect accompaniment for their melody.

He knew the girls in and out, feeling the exact vibe to cover for their weaknesses. It was just like how he had instructed the others to act. But now, he was cutting out the middleman, letting his guitar do all the talking. Somehow, things started to click, melding together into an unbelievable harmony.

The loud cheering slowly grew in volume. Koujiro turned to the audience, and for once, he could feel the mood upon him. Strumming, shredding, moving about – Koujiro danced across the stage, the girls backing him up.

He no longer cared anymore. He was in the moment, heart pumping with excitement and angelic voices at his back. Before he knew it, the song had ended, and he was gasping for air.

A hand moved up to his face to correct his mask, but all it felt was skin. His eyes grew wide. There was nothing there. He had no mask to hide behind. For once, it was just him.

Claude walked over and patted him on the shoulder.

“See… I knew you had it in you. After all, you were never decisive to begin with, so I found it strange to see you always wearing one single thing. ‘The clothes make the man,’ but one must have the skills to keep up the illusion.”

An illusion – that had been how Koujiro treated his abilities. They were gimmicks to suit a temporary role. But in truth, Koujiro possessed the skill to maintain them. What he lacked was genuine belief in himself, thinking that his ‘imitations’ were not part of him.

That was mistaken for lack of passion. And if only Koujiro had realized it sooner, he wouldn’t have faced so much rejection.

“Yo, the next song is starting up. How about we do this one collaboratively?” Claude asked.

“I’ll have to decline to that. We are still in the middle of a battle, you know.” Koujiro returned to his side, the purple aura now ablaze. Claude did the same, and their gazes locked on each other while the song started.

A while later, the concert was finally over. They kept on playing until exhaustion kicked in. And in the end, no one knew who had won. There was no announcer, no audience anymore. Just a silent stage with the two men and their girls.

“You know, you showing up here really put a wrench in this world’s plans,” Koujiro complained.

“For the better. It makes your desire to walk off and orchestrate a win from the shadows all the more pointless. You belong by their side, no matter what happened. And before you try to argue, the girls already remember their pasts. Katalina made sure of that before our battle.”

Koujiro’s jaw hung open. He had purposefully left them in the dark, fearing that their trust would be lost if they had their memories. But then, he scratched his head dramatically and groaned.

“I guess you can say that as it was sorta your fault that everyone died.”

It was now Claude’s turn to recoil.

“D-Don’t remind me. That’s why I’ve been going around the world collecting up the Electi. And whoever else was involved as well.”

“That includes that chick as well? I could have sworn that she died. The Mad Empress, was it?”

“Uhhh, funny story. I didn’t find Olivia and Lamps. They found me instead.”

“Seriously?”

Before Claude could answer, the giant screen lit up and the face of Lamps, eyes wide open, appeared before them.

“Hellooooo there, I hope you had fun, but it’s time for all of you to head into the portal. Though I would say that ‘time waits for no man’, it seems like we have achieved the impossible, reuniting everyone with time to spare.”

Claude stood up and sighed.

“Well, at least he seems to be on our side this time. Gotta be thankful for some things.”

Koujiro stood up and approached Claude, a single question on his mind.

“Y-You mean, we can return? To Macali and our children?”

“Yeah. They are all waiting for you. It wouldn’t do for those kids to miss their parents for too long now, would it?”