"Hoo—"
Breathe, Tomori.
Blink, Tomori.
Don't forget to smile, Tomori.
Carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders, Takamatsu Tomori walked out from backstage.
Her head was pounding — throbbing like it was about to split open — and the scene before her kept flickering in and out of focus.
The audience wasn't huge, but thanks to Yoshiiro Chiose's enthusiastic promotion, every pair of eyes in the venue swiveled straight toward Takamatsu Tomori.
The tipsy, grey-haired girl clutched a pink microphone in her hands. She was wearing a high school uniform, yet somehow looked far too mature to pass for any actual high schooler.
Behind Tomori, Yoshiiro Chiose cradled her guitar.
Honestly, Tomori's outfit was doing things to her — especially that flash of bare skin peeking above those dark green knee-high socks, which looked even more delectable than the surf clams she'd been enjoying just a few days ago.
Their outfits seemed completely wrong for fierce punk — but that contrast was exactly what made you look twice.
Murmurs rippled through the crowd. Tomori had no interest in listening to what they were saying. She turned and looked back at Chiose — a long, searching look.
Only Chiose could settle her nerves. Chiose worked so much better than alcohol.
The white-haired, red-eyed girl moved her lips without a sound. Tomori read what she said: Go get 'em!
Tomori's whole body trembled. The roar of the crowd and the heat of all those eager eyes lit a fire in her chest.
[I want to change. I want to keep running forward. I want to…]
I want to catch up to Chiose — and then surpass her — and become the [Savior] she talks about!
"Tomori! Just relax, okay? Go ahead and introduce yourself to everyone! When I start playing guitar, just open your mouth and sing whatever feels right — it's only a small show, after all!" Yoshiiro Chiose whispered encouragement into Takamatsu Tomori's ear.
I… I'll do my best!
"Hello, everyone. My name is Takamatsu Tomori."
Was that too awkward an introduction? Probably not, right?
"Tomori—!"
"Tomori—!"
"Tomori—!"
Yoshiiro Chiose led the chant herself, and in her wake, much of the crowd joined in.
The noise swelled to fill the underground performance hall. Even the passersby outside on the street could feel the blazing energy pouring out from within.
"Tomori, get ready — I'm starting now!"
Yoshiiro Chiose knocked back one last swig of alcohol, then her nimble fingers found the strings and began to play.
Tomori had been watching her every move, waiting for the intro to finish before she opened her mouth.
"When I was a young boy,"
"My father took me into the city,"
"To see a marching band."
Yoshiiro Chiose's fingers swept across the strings, and clear, bright music filled the air. Takamatsu Tomori's voice spread through the audience and seeped into their souls.
Fervent and urgent — the performance felt so vivid, so alive. A flash of excitement and relief passed through Yoshiiro Chiose's eyes.
[Kyoumoto — this is your favorite song… When I get back, I'm absolutely going to play it for you!]
A full week of dedicated practice. Chiose had learned the guitar, and Tomori had slowly reclaimed her singing technique.
Tomori's voice was shockingly perfect. A talent like hers should never have been buried — not from the very beginning.
"Sometimes I get the feeling,"
"She's watching over me."
The lyrics poured out of Tomori's mouth, and the tension and fear melted away. She was fully in it now.
Her mind went completely blank — no thoughts at all — and she floated in a heaven made entirely of joy.
Exhilarated, she sang with everything she had, reveling in the sheer pleasure of music.
[Tomori, you're incredible!]
Yoshiiro Chiose snapped fully awake. She was already lost in the extraordinary atmosphere spreading all around her.
That quietly overlooked grey-haired girl in front of her was shining on her own. She was radiant — truly radiant. This light, so long overdue, had finally crossed the distance from sixteen years of age to arrive here, now.
"On and on we carry through the fears,"
"Disappointed faces of your peers,"
"Take a look at me,"
"'Cause I could not care at all."
Chiose moved to stand beside Tomori. They looked at each other for a brief moment — a wordless understanding passing between them — then sang and howled together without restraint, pouring their feelings into the lyrics, carried forward on the tide of the alcohol.
"I! don't! care!"
"We'll carry on, we'll carry on,"
"And though you're dead and gone believe me,"
"Your memory will carry on,"
"We'll carry on,"
"And though you're broken and defeated,"
"Your weary widow marches on."
Punk and rock aren't only about cynicism and rebellion. They're also the expression of something humanity carries in its bones — the will to resist.
Chiose knew it: in this moment, Tomori was embodying the very soul of punk.
The notes escaped the underground performance hall and began to paint themselves across the world.
Takamatsu Tomori — her life was accelerating. This, right here, was the real way to finally step out from under the shadow that had hung over her since middle school.
Faster! The music could go even faster! Faster — I want more speed!
More!
Takamatsu Tomori gritted her teeth and sang with every last ounce of strength she had, radiating an aura that words simply couldn't describe.
This grey-haired girl and this white-haired girl, side by side — together, they burned with a light that belonged to them alone.
"Tomori! That was amazing…"
Yoshiiro Chiose had completely abandoned any pretense of backup vocals and was now doing everything she could just to keep up with Takamatsu Tomori's performance.
She seemed not to notice that her guitar playing had, in that moment, surpassed every practice session she had ever had.
"That was so beautiful…"
Takamatsu Tomori's voice moved between tension and release with perfect command — finding order inside chaos, shifting from delicate tenderness to untamed wildness — yet no matter what she did, the audience was helplessly, completely ensnared.
Those who had lost their way could feel a lighthouse blazing in Tomori's singing. Those who carried regrets could find themselves making peace with who they were.
The song came to an end. The world outside was swallowed by the cheers of the audience — but on the stage, the world was utterly still. The two girls looked at each other through tear-blurred eyes.
The audience, the results, the ending — none of that mattered anymore.
In Tomori's world, there was only Yoshiiro Chiose.
Her eyes were full of Chiose. In her ears, faint and lingering, the sound of Chiose's guitar still played.
Only Chiose mattered.
Only Chiose…
"Tomori! This is a massive success! I told you drinking would help… and also…"
Chiose set down her guitar and tilted her head to one side, smiling softly.
"Happy birthday… my dearest big sister."
____
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