"Is this the place, Mana-san pestered us about?" A deep voice that made all heads turn to the back.
He was as tall as Hagihara, his body more muscular than any kid here, there were snippets of tattoos peeking out onto his neck from his long-sleeved grey shirt. With a bald head and pierced eyebrows... ah, this guy... There's no way he's a high schooler...
"...Betelgeuse?" I muttered.
"You know them?" Shirai glanced at me.
"No..." Getting involved with someone like him wouldn't be good for my heart.
I scooted off the stage.
"We should go." I whisper.
A question sign hung above their heads.
A hand rested on my shoulder. How did he get over here so fast? I turned my head slightly to see everyone had made way.
Like Moses before the Red sea...
"Hold on, where do you think you're going? You're the organizer of this thing here, right?" That buff dude asked.
"Huh, I'm not actually-
I looked in their direction, but Shirai suddenly became interested in the ceiling and Tanjiro waved at Akira. "Huh? What's up?" Even though Akai's and Hiro's back was turned to him watching a video on the phone.
GUYS!
My mouth hung open!
"Huh? Speak up, is this that place where the other bands play together or what?!"
"Urm, well, yeah." I pulled at my neck collar, finding it hard to speak or breathe, my gaze shifted elsewhere.
The delinquent sighed.
"This chickenshit fellow, can't you speak any louder?"
His insult struck a chord in me.
My eyes flickered to his out of agitation. "Yeah."
But his mean ass gaze made me want to swallow and watch my tone.
"It's the same guy I told you about." The redhead girl called Mana told him.
What was she talking about?
"Oh Yeah? Then, let's give him a go."
He got on stage and sat himself at the drums while a short guy followed after him.
"Hey, Mr. Chicken Shit why are you just standing there?"
Ugh. They were all looking at me.
"Hey who're you calling a chicken shit?!" Akemi piped up. "Only I get to badmouth him!"
Does she have a death wish? Still, I felt slightly better from her saying something.
"Like I give a shit." He brushed her off so casually, his eyes gluing themselves back to me. "Hey, we doing this or what?"
"..." I looked in the direction of Mange but all of them were all united in a corner looking elsewhere.
I sighed.
My nerves made me climb on stage, I had difficulty because of my trembling hands.
"Ah, this was yours, right?" the redhead handed me back my guitar. I couldn't help feeling some resentment towards her as she was the one responsible for this.
"So, what're we supposed to do?" The girl asked. The scrawny-looking fellow reunited her with her own.
"Uhhh... well... anything..." I pulled at my collar.
"What was that?"
I sighed.
"It's impromptu, just make something as we go along."
They blinked at me. Their gazes were scorching.
"Then...I'll go first. Fwooo...." I exhaled.
Tanjiro and Shirai were giving me thumbs up and smiling. Damn traitors.
I bit my lip to swallow my agitation and began to play.
"Hey, what's with that chicken ass sound?" The bald devil snapped.
It felt like an enormous pressure was emanating from behind me, I felt agitated. This was supposed to be a fun event, how did it turn out like this?
I closed my eyes and imagined my inner Izanagi. Although he got nervous at times when it came to dealing with characters like these, he was always relaxed about it. Although, I know he was scared just as shitless as I was... how did he manage to center himself?
Ah, that's right.
("Just think of naked girls man. There's a really nice girl with a big rack screaming my name in the audience...there's a naked girl leaning against me rubbing herself all over my body...there's a naked girl with a nice ass dancing around me...there's-
"Ah! Okay, Okay, I get it!")
Is that really it?
I looked to the audience but the only thing that could come close was the overweight lunch lady peering out from the counter along with others. Well, she was a fellow comrade. She knew of Pop Sic. Pop Sic made me think of Mom. Mom made me think of her tantrum, there's nothing these folks can do to me without Mom getting back at them for it...
I will admit the thought was as comforting as it was humiliating to process. Humiliation. It made me think of Amara. She's giving me the thumbs up with a deadpan expression. I recalled the time she hugged me in the lobby with a genuine smile on her face. You're most beautiful when you smile Amara, I hope there comes a day where she can smile at me more often...
"Oi! What the fuck do you think you're doing?!" That person's scream sounded closer than usual.
I began to play in the moment, a melody that went with my mood. Gentle and unrushed. Indie in sound. Something that felt good, and made you want to tap your feet at the tune.
It couldn't compare to Betelguese's usual style but fuck them.
This was my stage.
If they wanted me to lead this program, they better make sure they follow.
I thought that way until the sound of that person's drumming light tapping of the cymbals threatened to swallow my tune, the trickling of a keyboard gave this simple melody some color, the beat started to pick up as well.
Hey, hey! If it's like this, I'm forced to switch up the tune right?
Welp. At least no one's yelling.