Collaboration With a Legend

The couple toured the food stands for the next half hour as clouds loomed in from the western horizon.

“Looks like the weatherman was right,” Murasaki said as she tried to shove a chocobanana in Issei’s face.

“Yeah, but we still got a few hours of festival left.”

He accepted, since bananas were healthy, but had to suffer through a large coating of chocolate and sprinkles. Issei retaliated by stopping at a yakitori stand, and Murasaki squirmed like a toddler, her face pivoting left and right to avoid the fried meat on a stick.

“I had to eat yours, now eat mine!”

“No way! It’s too plain, and it’s got too much breading!”

Issei relented, and Murasaki compromised by eating a small box of karaage that was nevertheless drenched in sweet sauce.

“Ooh, let’s go over there!”

Murasaki pointed towards a high-striker, a metal pedestal with a tall, bracketed piece and a brass bell that must have been up six meters high.

“I was looking at other games we could play, but I think you’ll get this one for sure.”

After paying, the festival worker, sweating as he looked him over, handed Issei a wooden mallet–he had to slam the pedestal and launch the ball to the top and hit the bell.

“You can do it Issei!”

Grinning, he brought the mallet up high in an arc, then sent it down with great speed, and the mallet made a satisfying thwap as the ball catapulted up the metal wall–the bell rang out, announcing Issei’s victory.

“Woohoo! As expected of Issei!”

People nearby clapped as Murasaki picked out ‘her’ prize, and with both arms she pulled out a large, stiff, hard plastic axe in the shape of the Hagane Ono logo.

“Look Issei–this is cool!”

“I see it, but watch where you’re swinging that–OOF!”

A dull pain rocked Issei’s crown as Murasaki bonked him with the flat end of the axe, and when she realized, she gasped and squeezed his middle.

“I’m sorry–I’m really sorry! I got too excited!”

Issei patted her head. “Alright I understand, just be careful. Now that we’ve had our fill, you want to head back to the venue?”

Murasaki thrust the axe in the air. “Yes! Onward!”

They flashed their tickets to the security guard, and he opened the small metal gate, allowing them to return to the thousands of concert goers. The familiar constant droning of chatter returned. A cluster of people at the front were chanting a name, but Issei couldn’t remember the list of bands or who came next.

Murasaki closed her eyes. “It’s amazing: they’re all waiting for the next band to arrive. Right now, nothing else matters. If only we could be this carefree all the time.”

“That would be nice, wouldn’t it?” Issei said, looking onwards with everyone else. “But since we can’t, concerts are the next best thing.”

At once, lights flashed along the spine of the stage and fireworks exploded from above, signaling the arrival of the new band–and the return of riotous cheer. A giant screen lit up with a band’s logo: next to play was Scythetown.

Maybe while they make their album, Secret Prose will get a logo too.

After a couple songs with syncopated rhythms, downtuned guitars, heavy riffs, and compressed vocals, Issei deduced Scythetown’s genre was Groove Metal–quite heavy, but nothing moshpit-inducing. The wild nature of the crowd was mostly pushed to front-and-center, while the sides and middle mostly jumped to the beat and pumped their fists whenever the frontman demanded morale.

What was most important was whether Murasaki was having a good time, and she was. As the bands came and went, she jumped along with the crowd, her axe raised joyously with a smile plastered on her face. The sun shone brightly over her head, creating golden layers inside her black hair, light glancing against her nose which caused the side of her face to be shaded. Issei didn’t lie to his brother: Murasaki really was beautiful.

Her head pivoted towards him. “Issei! Let’s move up–Catalot is next!”

“Ah–”

He snapped out of it. “Wait really? How do you know?”

“Someone was just telling his friend. Let’s go!”

Using Issei as a battering ram, she placed both hands on his back and pushed. He could have waded through the sea of people without her, but Issei guessed she was as excited as he was.

They were subject to Death Metal, Groove Metal, J-Metal, J-Rock, Heavy Metal, and Heavy Rock–but now came the time for good old Symphonic Metal, and not a moment too soon: the sun shone defiantly from on high, but any minute now, those clouds rolling in from the West will cover the sky and blanket the venue in storms.

Soothing, melodic piano prefaced their arrival, making Issei beam. The other bands were fun, but this is what he was really waiting for. Smoke filled the stage, torrents of fire blazed from the walls, then–right before Issei’s eyes–his idols walked on the stage to a fury of cheer. Andreasen delivered a flurry of snare and hi-hat, and Holm and Blom fired a duet of guitar as Johansson rallied the crowd.

And then, arriving last, mic in hand, was the one and only Will Sanderlin, and he approached the edge of the stage with poise before kneeling down.

Seven years ago I was just a little boy,

Flower in hand, petals rippling away

I had no idea then what I did know now

They took everything, and my life was like a broken bough

Murasaki swooned. “Wow, his voice is so good! How long has he been training his voice? But his voice seems different than the one on the album.”

Only Issei knew the gap in his skill compared to Will. It was a level unlike any other, only superseded by the legendary Troy Karl who had left the band some time ago. Only Will had the power to take the reins. Will he ever reach their strength? At this point, getting there was like looking across a barren canyon with no way to get across.

For now, though, that was okay. One step at a time. For now, all he should do is sing along with everyone else and have fun.

“Wait a minute…was that…” Murasaki gazed at him. “This is the song you sang to me on the phone, right?”

“Oh, uhm, yeah.” Issei smiled weakly.

“What a nice chorus…”

He continued singing along.

Taking arms, against a maleficent force

It’s what my mom and dad would ever want!

But now they’re here, my legs wobble with an uneasy heart

How could I ever hope to see myself again?

The tempo slowed down, and the guitars and drums dialed the volume back–then Will glared knowingly in his direction, and Issei’s heart jumped to his throat when he threw a finger right at him.

“You there, big man next to the pretty girl with the axe! You’ve been singing along with us for quite some time, so now I think it’s time you proved your worth! Come on stage with us!”

It was at that moment a whole cluster of people had turned their heads and cheered for him. Issei’s legs felt like concrete, but he felt a reassuring pat on his back. Murasaki smiled sweetly at him and said “go on Issei–let me hear you sing!”

It was just like doing a concert at The Montauk, right? Except only with ten times the people and side-by-side by one of the greatest vocalists who ever lived. Issei gulped, then pushed through the crowd and clamored onto the stage with the help of a barrier guard.

He was two feet away from Will, and several feet away from the rest of the band: Issei’s heart drummed like Andreasen. Then Will handed him a second mic–his legendary hand grazed over his.

Will gave him a toothy grin. “Let’s start at the bridge before the chorus, shall we? What’s your name, big man?”

“Issei.”

“Alright Issei, let’s see what you got!”

With assistance from the drums, the beat and rhythm kicked up again like replaying a section from the computer. Thousands of heads and arms jumped and flailed in his direction, and one of them was Murasaki, waiting for him to prove himself once again.

It was do or die. The last beat of the measure sounded out, and Issei switched to Rockstar Mode as he sucked in air.

The great comet shines across the sky

And you will know I aim to take my full

“HOLY SHIT!” Will screamed in surprise. The crowd erupted in cheer as Murasaki waved, her axe flailing about and threatening to hit the next person beside her.

Sunstream, bathing overhead

They won’t, take my comrades alive

Sunstream, the magic overwhelming me

Then we go

On to rebuild our lost future

“That’s how it’s DONE, man!” Will doubled over with ecstasy. “I got to shake your hand, man, that was excellent!”

Issei shakily extended his arm, and Will clasped his hand, shaking it vigorously. Then, facing the crowd, Will pointed at him.

“ISSEI!”

The venue roared again, and Issei couldn’t help but grin. If this is what being the frontman of a large venue was like, there was no time to waste getting there. Murasaki clapped, her smile unceasing, as if knowing all along he wouldn’t fail to deliver. For years, Issei believed the world was trying to test his patience, as if experimenting to see how long, how much it would take to break him. Issei felt broken for so long–he was so close to giving up–then, in just three days, he suddenly felt like one of the luckiest men in the world.

Issei was beside himself when, after Catalot finished, the band met them outside the gate and signed both their shirts.

“See boys?” Will pointed out. “I sure know how to pick them: both are wearing our album close to the heart. It was a sign.” He winked.

Two more bands went onstage–a J-metal and Thrash Metal band–before the sun was blocked by a ceiling of black clouds, raindrops sprinkling on their heads and shoulders.

“Ah–well we knew this would happen,” Issei said, his neck craning up. “You want to head out?”

“Yeah we should. Before that though…” Murasaki was dancing in place. “I need to go bad–let’s find a bathroom before we leave.”

The bathrooms were not far from the food stands, as they expected.

“Okay, wait here!”

Issei leaned against the wall and watched her rush inside. Then an unholy amalgamation of sin and fear pushed through his stomach without warning, forking over and invading down below with such speed, he feared a jailbreak would happen. He was so glad Murasaki thought of the bathroom beforehand–what would happen if she hadn’t?

He rushed inside too–promising to wait be damned–and Issei kicked aside the stall door and planted himself firmly on the miraculous porcelain just in time. What a photo finish. It had to have been the boba tea, the chocobanana, the pancake wedge, whatever else Murasaki had snuck in him when he wasn’t paying attention–having so much sugar when he wasn’t used to it was a death sentence.

Issei breathed a sigh of relief: luckily, his doom left just as fast as it came. However, when he was in the middle of washing his hands, something else gave him dread.

“Uhh Issei? Issei where are you?”

“Relax, we just want to talk to you.”

“No you don’t! Go away!”

“We didn’t even say anything yet!”

“Get away from me!”

“Oww! Give me that, you little bitch!”

“Issei–HELP ME!”