Heavy Metal Surprise!!!

Is this a dream? I asked myself this as the voices kept on growing louder and louder. My hands won’t stop shaking and the pick anxiously slipped in between my fingers as my sweat made it slippery. Was this all real? Are the voices chanting out my name for real? The thunderous roar of feet stomping on the ground and the consistent machine-like handclaps, were they all really for me? I looked at my hands and stopped them from shaking. ‘This is not a dream,’ I told myself.

A voice called out from a few paces in front of me. I looked up and saw the face of the person who had helped make this all possible. It was because of this one person that I could stand up here on this stage right now before a crowd of thousands. She smiled and winked at me and held up a thumbs-up. I smiled back and nodded my head. And then, the drummer started the count off and the song began….

A loud ringing immediately woke me and I opened my eyes. ‘It was a dream, huh,’ I told myself. It all felt so real…. But maybe that was because I wanted it to be real. I turned off the alarm clock, sighed, and got out of bed. I took a quick shower and dressed myself. As I looked at myself in the restroom mirror, every little desire I had to make that dream come true disappeared with it. That’s right. It made sense that it was all a dream. I couldn’t really do it in real life. Because in real life, I’m a special person who had long ago disassociated myself from mainstream society. It wasn’t really something I chose to do, but it was something that I learned to live with.

Ever since I was a young kid, I had been ostracized by the neighborhood kids and my classmates. Why, you may ask? Because of a special feature I possessed. Do you remember your parents teaching you to “never judge a book by its cover”? Well, that’s something you only ever see in fiction. In real life, however, be prepared to get judged. I’m not saying this to be pessimistic or a downer, I’m saying this based on my own experience. You see, I was born with uncommonly thin eyes. Because of this, my resting face is always something to be feared. To the average observer, I would look like I was always angry or frowning or glaring or downright looking for a fight. The kids would always call me “Yakuza Boy” or “Delinquent Boss”. They expected me to be a kid who possessed no emotions and who is only capable of violence and “evil things”. No one had ever once considered that I could be just like them.

At least, that was what I thought when I was a child. But now, well, I learned to live with it. Normies have a specific view of how people should be. They have expectations that must be met in order for one to “fit in” with mainstream society. This was something that I have gleaned upon from my ostracization. After learning the truth, I decided that I wouldn’t want to be a part of something fake like that.

I inspected myself in the mirror with renewed self-confidence. My eyes, though uncommonly thin as they were, was filled with new life and their orange-amber hue reflected brilliantly off the glass. My hair, which had by now grew past my armpits, was straight and thin. I also had rather thin eyebrows too. I stand at about 170 cm in height (5’7”), and my frame is on the slim side. Oh, and by the way, my name is Shiomi Yoshiki.

After having satisfied my ego, I walked back to my room to grab my bag. Today was a school day, something that I neither hated nor loved. As I swung my bag over my shoulder, I inspected my room. Plastered on the walls were posters of rock and metal bands from around the world. There was only one area of the wall that was free of clutter. This was where I kept my most prized possessions. Along the wall was a large black rack filled with electric guitars. Each of these guitars were my friends and the only friends I need. Before I left to go to school, I approached the rack and lightly caressed the topmost guitar, my beloved Bender Stratosphere. It was the oldest guitar I ever had and I still use it to this day.

I finally walked downstairs and through the hallway for the front door. My mother called out to me to bid me farewell and I respectfully replied back. And then, I was off.

I live two blocks away from the school, which is very convenient for me. This meant that I didn’t need to ride a bike or take the subway. The closer I got to school, the more students I began to see fill my field of vision like schools of goldfish. And just like goldfish, they were all a bunch of dumb normies whose only purpose in life is to greedily feed on the crap fed to them by mainstream society. I was better than that. As the number of normies increased, I did my best to avoid unnecessary contact with them.

At school, I was never part of any club or clique, even those made up of the “outsiders”. In fact, I was an outsider even to the outsiders! I belonged to my own group, and that was just fine with me. I am a strong and independent being with no time for normie pleasures like karaoke or shopping or romance. All I needed to feel fulfilled is my music and my guitars. I smiled a little bit to myself at this thought.

“Iomi!” came the call of an unneeded annoyance followed by a pound to the back. I almost keeled over from the impact and could feel my organs jump inside my body. I furiously turned around and glared at him. He responded with a “my bad” expression and his hand thrown behind his head.

“Why do you have to be so annoying first thing in the morning?” I asked him in an irritated tone.

“Now, now, is that how you should greet your best friend?” he chided back. “This is your greeting to me almost every day and I’m starting to get tired of it.” He pouted his lips like a little child, making me all the more uncomfortable.

“Alright, alright!” I told him quickly. “I’m sorry, alright?”

“Is that really what you should be saying?” he asked with a raised eyebrow.

“G….Good morning,” I said hesitantly.

“Morning!” he greeted back cheerfully.

His cheerful smile and laugh made me frown and a little annoyed. With my eyes closed in irritation, I slapped him on the shoulder and quickly returned back to my walk to school. If you were wondering, that annoyance that had just appeared was my best friend…my only friend…my only real human friend. His name was Takarai Ikki. We became friends in middle school and he’d stuck with me since then. I appreciate his presence, I really do, but his carefree, ahem, idiotic personality sometimes get on my nerves. I don’t know why, but I think it might have something to do with how normal he seems to me. Which is ironic considering how much of an outsider he is to mainstream society just like me.

Ikki is a boy of similar height and build as me. He has spiky dark red hair with orange and black highlights that reached all the way to his neck. His most defining characteristic, however, are his uncommonly long canines. Surprisingly, he is able to project a normal appearance when he closes his lips, but once he opens them, it’s like watching a lion eating its midday meal. Unlike me, Ikki is an extrovert and has no trouble speaking out for himself and making quick friends. He’s known to be quite the wild child. And it’s this wildness that makes him an outsider. The normies often view him as a dangerous person, despite the fact that they can more-or-less converse normally with him with no trouble at all. But I suspect that it might also be his association with me, which he doesn’t feel like he needs to hide, that could’ve contributed to his negative view by the normies. Sometimes, I wonder how easy it is for Ikki to actually become a normie.

At school, I normally sit at the back of the classroom. It doesn’t bother me and I actually enjoy being alone and having my own little island. I also don’t like being made the center of attention either. The normies can have all the attention and adoration to feed their egos all they want. I’m just comfortable knowing that I can take it easy and live a quiet life without any unnecessary trouble.

It was the last break before lunch and I had my face poised on top of my hand and my elbow leaning against the desk. I watched with disinterest at my classmates chatting and laughing like a pack of hyenas. Their conversation were the same old drivel as any other day: ‘Did you lose weight?’, ‘Did you see that episode last night?’, ‘Did you hear about so-and-so?’, ‘Wanna go do karaoke later?’, ‘So-and-so is going out with so-and-so!’, ‘I heard that so-and-so and so-and-so broke up!’, ‘Let’s go shopping after school!’.

But the most normie of them all had to be classroom “idol” Haruto Saiki. She is regarded by all (with the exception of me, of course) as the classroom’s precious treasure and goddess. Everyone treats her kindly and with the privileges of a princess. The boys all swoon at her (and based on conversation I’ve heard in passing, everyone one of them have always fantasized about engaging in despicable acts with her), and the girls all want to be her. To give you an image of her ‘holier-than-thou angelic goddess appearance’, imagine a precious fluffy little lamb with big innocent eyes and an aura of naivety around it. Makes you want to protect it and worship it, doesn’t it? Well, that’s Haruto Saiki in a nutshell. But instead of being a fluffy little lamb, she was more of a skinny girl with fluffy brown hair and child-like blue eyes. She looked like she could’ve been a child model. Who knows? Maybe she was.

Now, what do I think of Haruto Saiki? Nothing. I couldn’t care less about her. Every single day I pass through the hallway I always hear her being brought up in conversation. You can say that I’ve become immune to the name ‘Haruto Saiki’. Before, I admit, hearing her name was kind of irritating and annoying. But I learned to be the bigger man and just accepted it for what it was—nothing.

The day passed by harmlessly and it was soon time to go home. As I was about to exit the school building, Ikki grabbed my shoulder from behind and pulled me in close. “What the hell, man?!” I yelled at him.

“Hey, hey, Iomi, are you going to the show tonight?” he asked with a stupid grin on his face.

“Show?” I wasn’t sure what he was talking about and frowned.

“At KABANG!” he clarified.

I now knew what he was talking about and said, “You mean tonight’s concert?”

He quicky nodded his head in quick succession like a bratty child. “This will be Nijigami’s first show at the live house,” he said.

“I know that,” I told him with an irritated eye-twitch.

Nijigami (“Rainbow God”) is one of the rising local metal bands and one of the most popular indie bands in all of Shinjuku. They have released two independent LPs and, most recently, an EP. I have listened to all of their stuff and had followed them ever since their emergence onto the scene. If I have to describe their music, I would say it was like 80s NWOBHM meets 90s Alternative and 2000s Core with a hint of J-Pop and a sprinkle of mainstream Punk. The singer, especially, is the band’s main star and her voice is like an ethereal goddess. I fell in love with it since the first song I had heard from them.

Nighttime arrived and I was dressed in my casual red T-Shirt and black leather jacket with black jeans. I said goodbye to my parents and left straight for the live house. The streets tonight weren’t as busy as they normally were and I avoided the gazes of the few normies that I came across. As I got closer to the live house, I noticed a line stretching from the establishment’s front door. ‘No kidding,’ I told myself. It made sense that everyone was here to witness one of the region’s most popular bands.

I stood in line and tucked my hand in my pockets as I waited for my turn to pay my due and enter. My phone buzzed and I took it out to see what the message was. Apparently, Ikki couldn’t make it tonight because his parents made him go buy groceries for his uncle’s welcome party. I scowled at the message and simply replied back with, “Okay.”

“Hey, hey, did you check out that new video?” came someone from behind me. He was talking to his friend. I didn’t want to eavesdrop, but the the close proximity in which we stood made it impossible not to.

“You mean that new original song by shred’emall_\m/, right?” asked his friend.

“That’s the one!” confirmed the first guy. “It was so epic!”

I couldn’t help but smile at their conversation. You may be wondering why I was so invested in such a normie conversation. My history of being an outsider with no friends, a social pariah shunned by the mainstream normies, have led me to find refuge in the one thing I consider my true friend: music. I was introduced to music and guitar by my uncle as a way to escape reality and it quickly became my one source of comfort and protection from the harshness of the real world. I quickly discovered that I can improve myself and connect with others through the power of music. Sure I couldn’t care less about interacting with normies, but at the same time, I couldn’t very well act as my real self without succumbing to the social horrors that come with it. I’ve already been shunned once before because of my looks, so why should I cause any more trouble for myself by getting shunned for my interests? It’ll just be a big pain in the neck.

However, with music, I can be myself unreservedly. And the one place I found where I can be myself without having to worry about what people will think of my looks or personality, where they only judge you based on your skills and authenticity, was the internet. In other words, shred’emall_\m/ is me. I post covers and original songs, and my popularity had surged quite a bit lately. I don’t care about the negative comments or critiques—it doesn’t help to bellyache about every little negative thing you find. I only look forward to the honest commentary based on my skills and my improvement as a musician. That’s why whenever I hear myself get mentioned, I can’t help but listen with interest.

“You can clearly hear influences from My Horizon and Triumvirate in his playing,” said the first guy.

“It’s a bit different than his usual style and more modern, but I like it,” said the friend. “Although I personally prefer his more traditional influences.”

‘I totally get it,’ I thought to myself with a happy nod.

It was finally my turn and I reached into my pockets to produce the money. I paid and walked in with a smile on my face.

“Oh? I haven’t seen that smile in a while!” I turned my head to see the owner of KABANG! walk up to me. She wore a large smile and had her hands on her hips.

“What do you mean?” I asked, immediately losing the smile.

“Oh, it’s gone,” she said.

“Are you trying to make fun of me?” I asked annoyedly.

“Judging by that smile, something good must’ve happened,” she deduced. A cat-like smile appeared on her face and she added teasingly, “Did you get 100K views on an ITube video?”

“Of course not,” I quickly protested. “At least, not yet.”

She was about to expand more on her jokes when she was suddenly called over by the receptionist. “I’ll be there!” she called back. “I’d love to play with you more, but I got to go. Enjoy the show! I know how much you love the band.” And she left.

Moriuchi Juri, that was her name. Also known by the name Jiro, she is the owner of KABANG! According to what I learned from Ikki, who was the one responsible for introducing me to her and to this live house back in middle school, she inherited it from a couple back in her college days. The live house was founded as a free space for cultivating local talents, mainly within the genres of rock, and still continues to live up to that purpose today.

She is a very tall woman with a nice figure and short black hair. She has sea-blue eyes and a beauty mark under her left eye. As I got to know her more, I learned that she used to be the singer/guitarist of a legendary local band. They’ve since disbanded upon her graduation from college. Now, she focuses all of her energy into running the live house.

I joined the crowd and chose a very calculated spot near the back row. This way, I can see the entire band while protecting myself from unnecessary contact with others. Even among a crowd of outsiders and like-minded individuals, I was still the most ostracized of them all.

The lights came on and the band walked up to the stage. Everyone applauded their entrance, including me. The band consisted of six members: drummer Tony Lee, bassist Jean Simon, keyboardist Lord Rudd, rhythm guitarist Mal Richards, lead guitarist Crash Young, and lead singer Eva Nascent. Of course, these were all stage names, but they’re all so cool! I had seen many bands perform in this venue before, but Nijigami possessed a very infectious vibe unlike any other. Not even the professional bands I had seen live during festivals made me feel this way before.

After introducing themselves, the band began their first song: “Black Sky”. I was completely enthralled and enraptured by their music. And Eva’s ethereal voice had me possessed. My body felt light and all of the fears and other negative feelings that were in my mind disappeared. I had finally attained Nirvana! I didn’t want this to end at all!

The band finished their five song set and the entire building went wild with applause. I’m not ashamed to admit that I was among the more passionate members of the audiences when it came to this. Eva bowed and cheerfully addressed the audience to say farewell. And the band exited the stage.

I left the venue feeling pleased and purified. I wish I could meet Eva and tell her exactly how much her music meant to me. It would be a dream come true! I can already picture her beautiful and slick black and silver hair and angelic blue eyes. As I was leaving, I caught the voice of Eva coming out of the back and talking to her bandmates. ‘Could this be my chance to meet her one-on-one?’ I wondered gleefully to myself.

“Excuse me, but can you help me?” came her voice. I immediately froze in place. Did she read my mind or something? My body began to shake and I was slowly starting to sweat from my temples. I panicked and closed my eyes while slowly turning to her. “Can you help me carry my case while I hail a cab?” she asked me. I simply answered with a nod. I walked up to her and slowly opened my eyes. I was within three feet from her when my eyes were completely opened and I noticed a strange observation. Eva’s hair was brown and fluffy. Had her hair always been like this? If I remember correctly, they should be slick and black and silver. At least, that’s what I remember seeing from the band’s album covers and promotional posters. ‘Fluffy brown hair and innocent blue eyes,’ I observed. That’s when it clicked.

“Haruko Saiki!” I carelessly said aloud.

Her eyes grew wide from the mere mention of the name and it appears as if she remembered me too. I don’t exactly remember what happened next, but I felt a sharp pain shoot through my cheek as if I was smacked hard with a brick and I fell down with my vision slowly turning black. The next thing I knew, I was knocked out cold. But the one thing that remained in my mind, as if it was being ingrained into my every being, was the discovery that the singer of my favorite band was none other than the class idol, Haruko Saiki.