His Drumming Heartbeat

🎇 Storms 🎇

The Friday night before the most crucial weekend for every independent band to gain notice, and all the signed bands to be with their friends in other bands, a pre-festival ritual where they sing acoustic sets of their songs already commences. A few other bands already went previously and braced the gloomy weather, leaving everyone wondering who gets to perform next despite the rain falling onto the rich green grass beneath their feet. Some people came prepared with a rain poncho and all, while others didn't care if they were sopping wet or not. Given the dreary ambiance, this is a perfect opportunity for fans to witness their favorite artists up close and personal. For all of them, this is the ideal moment to have this little private show before the two festival days begin, knowing acoustic sets won't happen then.

"I just saw Kirishima," Midoriya tells Melissa.

"Wait, where is he," she asked him, looking around amongst the swarm of people huddling around the small stage. He points towards where he first saw him, but he's no longer there, making him wonder where that other male had run off somewhere. Could seeing him be a figment of Midoriya's imagination, or did the redhead leave with the platinum-blonde woman?

Either way, the green-haired male knows what he saw, and he thought that man was back in Japan with his mom, taking care of her or working so much to keep paying for her medical bills. Or, could it be this "opportunity" he was talking about at the hospital that one day was over here, working alongside the same woman he's been talking to for a few months now almost every day of the week. It draws speculation, but his assumptions might appear slightly off because it might not be that, but his gut is speaking otherwise.

The area erupts into cheers when the brunette stops playing her song, she thanks everyone and begins talking about how much of a big deal this festival is. Explaining how this idea first came into mind a couple of years ago as some small get together, but it ended up being a festival selling out within a few hours after tickets went on sale, with one-hundred-thousand people wanting to attend this. After announcing, and more cheers from the audience, the woman tells them they'll be taking a quick break before the final piece of the night.

"I'm not surprised they would end it a half-hour before 11 PM," Melissa tells Midoriya as they both look where the stage is.

"Why you say that," Midoriya asked, his eyes glancing over at the blonde-haired woman.

"Because there's a rule in place about when concerts should end," she explains, "it's only to make sure people can make it out of the premises okay and arrive home safely."

Midoriya looks around one last time to find out if Kirishima's genuinely here and it didn't take him long enough to see him again. This time, the redhead's carrying his umbrella and walking beside a woman with her umbrella. She has long, wavy, raven-black hair, going down to her lower back, and her fair skin covered in tattoos on her arms, hands, and neck. She's wearing a pair of light-washed denim shorts, grey tennis shoes, and a grey tank top, exposing more tattoos on her shoulders, chest, and the shorts and sandals expose more ink she dons upon her. She's at least a couple inches shorter than Kirishima, but that doesn't take away the fact she's well-built and has some nice curves added on to her figure.

"See," Midoriya nudges Melissa, "I told you he's here." Midoriya waves to him, hoping he'll notice, "Kirishima! Over here!"

Kirishima looks around to see who is calling out for him. He looks over and finds Midoriya, looking right him as he waves his hand above his head, leaving Kirishima with wide eyes and muttering, "shit" under his breath.

"What's wrong, Red," the raven-haired woman asked her friend. Kirishima shoots a quick stare over. Kirishima glances towards Midoriya's direction before locking his eyes back onto the raven-haired woman's. She looks over towards the other two, and sees Melissa, waving at her, and standing next to Midoriya.