Rewrite the Stars | KamiJirou

Chapter 1

Jirou stared at the run-down, one story building that stood in front of her. She'd taken an Uber to this part of the city, considering it was quite far from her apartment. This place wasn't at all what she had expected it to be. The building was built of dark red brick, the colors changing and wearing out due to time. Old, ancient ivy plants clung to a large portion of the wall, covering it with their thick green leaves. However, it gave off a somewhat cozy aura, one that made the place seem promising. With that thought in mind, she tentatively walked over to the front door. There was a doorbell on the wall of the building, which she pressed her finger to.

A loud clash echoed from inside the building, along with a few faint noises after that. A few moments later, the door opened and a man with spiky red hair poked his head out. "Hey, what's up?" He asked in the most casual, unperturbed manner one could ask a random stranger that had showed up at their doorstep.

Jirou held up the paper she'd torn off the lamp post earlier. "I'm here because of this," She said calmly, trying to conceal the anxious emotions she felt.

"Oh," He responded, giving a friendly, welcoming grin. "Come on in."

He lead her down a hall until they reached the door to another section of the building, perhaps a room, with loud bangs and yelling coming from the other side of the mahogany door. The red-haired man opened the door, allowing her to get a good look at what was inside.

Jirou examined the interior. Near one end of the room was a bunch of instruments, including a guitar, an electric guitar, a bass guitar, keyboards, and a drum set. There were a few music stands, around half which were fallen down for some reason, and there were a few chairs, half which had fallen down as well. On the floor was a few scattered papers, books, and a drumstick. Against one wall was a comfy-looking, three-seat, black couch with a rug in front of it, and a coffee table on top of the rug. A matching armchair stood a few feet away from that. Against another wall was a desk with a small stack of papers and two stacks of books. A few pictures and posters hung from the walls, which were painted in a snow white color. The floors were a dark polished wood. The rest of the room was mostly empty, except for a small, round glass table with four chairs. 

Two guys were in the middle of the instrument area. They were probably having a fight of sorts before, but their attention was now on Jirou. One guy had ash blonde hair and a very angry look on his face. The other guy had darker blonde hair with a zigzag streak in it, almost like a lightning bolt shape. She didn't know much about Pokemon, but something about him reminded her of Pikachu. 

The red-haired man loudly cleared his throat, causing the commotion to stop and two pairs of eyes turned on them. One gaze held noticeable curiosity, while another gaze was undoubtedly filled with rage.

"WHO THE HELL IS THAT?!" The angry-looking blonde yelled, pointing a finger accusingly at Jirou.

"Calm down Bakugou," The red-haired man said, seeming perfectly untroubled by his furious demeanor. "Listen up guys, this lady is here because of the 'lead singer needed' posters we put up, am I right?"

She nodded.

"Well in that case," He continued, "Meet, uh...what's your name?"

"Kyouka Jirou," Jirou said, her voice slightly faltering, her gaze unable to meet theirs. She was never good at introductions, and first impressions of her were often awkward as hell. The next few seconds ticked by, the silence roaring in her ears and the air thick with tension. 

The red-haired man broke the silence. "Nice to meet ya Jirou, I'm Eijiro Kirishima," He replied, giving a warm, cheerful smile.

The angry blonde just grunted, crossing his arms, making it seem like he had no intention of introducing himself.