Music often brings people together in unexpected ways, as it speaks naught to the person, but to the core of their being.
Shirota Mahiru is coaxed into accompanying his friends to a free mall live show, globally hosted every year by STRIKE Organizat...
STRIKE Organization, named roughly after its founder, is a group run by both musicians and enterpreneurs alike, with only one goal in mind; to make the music industry expand while keeping it fresh. Having started off as small-time local bands, famous names are released to certain areas of the globe to perform in free live shows funded by the organization itself, the charitable cause being naught but wanting to encourage the youth to participate in the annual scouting events.
Ten slots for ten bands in every chosen prefecture or city, sometimes meagre and sometimes overflowing with registrars, the auditions will take place for a few days until the numbers whittle down to one. The big stage awaits the deserving aspirants, and as they climb to an international standpoint, they move to replace the names of those who have fallen out either from unfortunate circumstances, or fulfilled plans. This position, though, is studded with requirements and standards.
The chosen band will soon be participating in the yearly live shows, supported by a novice group, which serves as the front act. The cycle goes on, and on this very day, youth discuss either on social media or among their friends, about the mall show that is to take place in their respective areas in a few hours.
Mahiru's friends are among those who pay close attention to news about these live shows. It doesn't interest him in particular, although, he has been coaxed into attending the event for the sake of companionship. The low drone of chatter emanated from the growing crowd, and Mahiru found himself checking the hour on his phone for what felt like the hundredth time. He was standing infront of a stage being set up for a band; something he didn't see the need to bother himself with. His friend, Sakuya, nudged him with his elbow as he leaned on the railing with vigor.
"Hey, I heard Sloth is going for front act this time." he grinned, a joker's expression that matched his side flair. "Think they're going to be working directly with the organization soon."
The brunette simply furrowed his brows, directing his line of sight back to the brightly-lit stage. An answer that equalled Sakuya's enthusiasm came from Koyuki, their mild-mannered companion whom you wouldn't expect to be into mosh pits. He leaned over their shortest friend, Ryuusei, as he presented an article on his phone.
"Besides that, Sakuya, it says here we have a chance to talk to the featured band. See, we're one of the first to arrive!" he held his phone out, which was then eagerly— but carefully— snatched from his fingers. "Seriously? Dang, I'm starting to feel as if I should just have ditched this Nirvana shirt..." "You'll be fine as long as you don't start holding up your hands in the 'rock' sign."
As they began to trail off towards an entirely different topic, the spotlights went off, and the murmuring died down. It must be, Mahiru thought, starting.
His guess proved correctly as a group of four, two with guitars and one with his drumsticks, began to position themselves onstage. A wave of cheering presumably from friends came from one side. The microphone gave off a slight feedback as a pale teen with bags under his eyes unlatched it from the mic stand, soon proceeding to wave signals at the men in the sound system booth. After a visible show of agreement, he sighed into the microphone as he unconsciously wound the cord around his arm, then up his palm, gripping it along with the body of the device.
He spoke, his voice coming off low and quiet, somewhat cool. It surprised Mahiru. He expected all vocalists to be in possession of gruff, boisterous tones, but this one had an almost soothing touch to his speaking voice that the brunette wondered if he would be able to hear it reign above the loud instruments. The vocalist— whom he later on came to know was named Kuro by a few kids chattering behind him— rubbed the back of his neck as he spoke.
"Okay, well, we're called Sloth, and although we don't have our lead with us today," this issued a brief, disappointed 'aw' from a group of ladies by the left. "We hope... um, that you can all still enjoy the songs we prepared for this show."
Mahiru thought he was a little too unenthusiastic.
Kuro of Sloth looked back at the other band members, and after exchanging looks and nods, they began to play. The air vibrated as the bassist plucked a string to start their first song, the brilliant sound of the cymbals following shortly after. This made an opening for the rhythm guitarist, who was now apparently covering for their missing member, to act as a whistle that spurred them on to dance with the music onstage. The sound of the instruments blended together with ease, the first few seconds of the intro enough to earn them a flurry of shouts from the crowd.
Sakuya was saved the humiliation of being silenced as Mahiru was stopped mid-sentence by the first note that seeped out of the vocalist's lips. Mahiru couldn't have cared less about any of the flashy guitar shredding and rolling of the drums, and he never really found himself listening to this sort of music. Or any kind of music at all, in general, as he would much rather do his homework blessed with complete silence. He, though, didn't even have the time to admit that he was sucked into the song by sheer texture of the vocals, of the original flavor they added to a song played a million times over and over again.
He felt his mouth shut itself, his body move to face the stage directly, and his hands grip the railing that was situated around the base of the stage. It wasn't unwise to say he had been completely petrified by the smooth tone of the pale vocalist, whose former lethargy seemed to rid itself from him the instant their music blasted off the speakers. Kuro shifted his weight onto his right leg as he placed his foot on top of the speaker infront of him, the verse transitioning cleanly to the chorus. Here, a part of the audience began to sing along, all too hyped in contrast to the rainy afternoon that was the scenario outside the mall's borders.
The last few lines exploded with a series of intense drumming. The bassist silently communicated with the temporary lead, and they shifted gears with practiced movements. The second song started almost immediately, the pause being a mere second to the euphoric crowd, comprised of individuals who were enjoying themselves even before the performance of the day's 'main attraction'. Even as the next track rolled on, Mahiru couldn't erase the flashbacks of the initial song from his head.
Up to this day, he thought books and movies romanticized the effect music had on people a little too much, and he had grown up believing flashbacks were only for the cinematic effect which films aimed to achieve. He was convinced he didn't have anything to do with the industry of showiness and competition, the complexity of records and albums betraying his quota of a simple life, and yet, as he gazed at the genuine enjoyment on the performers' faces, he felt a small hand tug at his ideals.
He saw himself onstage.
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ya-hallo, i began to have a mini headache in the middle of writing this, but my resolute desire to finally do something productive has spurred me on to complete the chapter. this is sort of the prologue of the story, so if there is anything to say you'd think would help me out in the further chapters, comment now! haha, i hope this was interesting enough to have made you want more, but for now i shall be retreating into the internet and maybe the dark confines of sleep. ships will definitely sail in my fic this time, i swear it.
