The Audio Club room was less of a "sanctuary" and more of a technical disaster zone. It was a cramped space in the old wing, smelling of ozone, dust, and the lingering scent of vanilla tea. Tangled black wires snaked across the floor like a nest of hibernating vipers.
"Alright, 'Prince Charming," Sakura said, slamming a heavy, rusted metal crate onto the central table. CLANG. The sound echoed sharply against the foam-padded walls. "Since you're so eager to join, let's see if you're actually useful or just a pretty face with a broken funny bone."
I leaned against a stack of dusty amplifiers, crossing my arms with a praticed smirk. "Trust me, Sakura-san. I'm like a high-quality subwoofer. I bring the bass, I've got class, and I'm incredibly hard to replace."
The room went dead silent. A fly buzzing against the window felt loud. Sakura stared at me with a look of pure, unadulterated pity.
"That was painful," she finally whispered. "Physically, emotionally, and spiritually painful. Someone give me a pair of noise-canceling headphones so I can drown out his existence."
Rikko, huddled in her oversized hoodie in the corner, didn't look up from her tablet, but I noticed her pen pause for a split second. Was she judging me too? Probably.
"Now, now, Sakura-chan," Shiina said, gracefully pouring tea into five mismatched mugs. She watched me with a gaze that felt like she was reading the fine print on my soul. "Everyone starts somewhere. Izumi-kun, your first task is the 'Cable Graveyard.' Untangle them, coil them, and categorize them. A disorganized cable is a noisy signal."
I looked at the crate. It was a chaotic mess of XLRs, quarter-inch jacks, and TRS cables.
"Easy," I said, rolling up my sleeves. "I'm an expert at untangling things. My life is basically one giant knot I'm still working on."
"Is that a joke or a cry for help?" Sakura asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Yes," I replied with a wink.
An hour passed in relative silence. I was struggling with a particularly stubborn 20-foot XLR cable that seemed to have a personal vendetta against me. That's when Shinobu crept over.
"U-Um, Izumi-kun?If you pull it like that, the copper core will fray," she whispered.
I turned. Shinobu was standing there, her long black hair shimmering under the fluorescent lights. When she looked at the equipment, something changed. Her posture straightened. The nervous flickering of her ruby eyes settled into a focused, professional calm.
"Here, let me show you," she said. Her voice-it dropped an octave, losing its shaky, hesitant edge. It became steady, resonant, and hauntingly melodic. "It's called the 'over-under' method. You have to follow the cable's natural coil. If you respect the equipment, the equipment respects the sound."
I froze. That resonance. For a heartbeat, I wasn't in a dusty school room; I was back in my dark bedroom at thirteen, listening to the radio.
"Shinobu-san... your voice," I started, my 'perfect' mask slipping. "It sounds... different."
She blinked, realizing I was staring. The spell broke instantly. Her face turned a violent shade of pink, and she began to stammer. "E-Eh?! I-I-I was just—! I mean, cables are important! Sound is everything! I... oh no, I'm talking too much!"
In her sudden panic, she turned to grab a roll of gaffer tape from the shelf. Her foot caught the edge of a heavy monitor stand.
"Wah—!"
"Watch out!"
I lunged. I caught her shoulders, but my own foot got snagged in the very 'graveyard' I had been cleaning. We tumbled backward, a mess of limbs and black wires. I felt the sharp hit of the linoleum against my back, but I made sure my arm was tucked firmly behind her head.
Thump.
Shinobu was pressed against my chest, her breath warm against my neck. I could feel her heart hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird. Or maybe that was my own heart, reacting to the ghost of a voice I had chased for four years.
"Are you... still in one piece?" I wheezed, the air knocked out of me.
Shinobu slowly lifted her head. Her ruby eyes were wide, shimmering with tears of pure embarrassment. "I... I... I'm a walking disaster! I'm so sorry, Izumi-kun! I should be banned from electronics!"
"At least you fall with style," I managed a weak grin.
"GET UP!" Sakura's voice barked. "This is a club room, not a romance manga! Izumi, you're laying on the gold-plated connectors!"
"Priorities, Sakura! Human life over gold-plating!" I shouted back, helping a trembling Shinobu to her feet.
As she scrambled away to hide behind Shiina's skirts, I noticed something glinting near the base of the equipment rack—something that must have been dislodged when we fell. It was covered in a thick layer of dust, suggesting it had been lost for a long time.
I picked it up. It was a small, golden star keychain. On the back, faint engraving was still visible through the grime: Miracle 98.5 FM.
My heart skipped a beat. This wasn't just a coincidence. This was a piece of the past, hidden in this very room.
"Izumi-kun?" Shiina's voice was soft, but her eyes were fixed on my closed fist. "Did you find something under all that dust?"
I shoved the keychain into my pocket, flashing my most dazzling, fake smile. "Just my dignity, Shiina-senpai. It's currently tangled in the 'Cable Graveyard' along with my pride. Anyway, anyone want to hear a joke about a broken radio? No? Good, because the punchline is too static."
I laughed, but as I felt the cold metal of the star in my pocket, the silence in my soul finally felt like it was starting to tune into a new frequency.