This is my first chapter of MUSICAL MEASURES, my Zervis prequel to Musical Chairs. This story will be split into two parts and will show how the musical program was established. Also, despite taking place 93 years before Musical Chairs, technology is mostly the same. You don't need to actually read Musical Chairs to read this. Please enjoy.

Author: Epicocity

Rating: T for language and innuendos

Pairings: Zervis (main) with side helpings of Yuri/Rita.

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Fairy Tail. Those rights belong specifically to Hiro Mashima and Kodansha.

MUSICAL MEASURES

A Fairy Tail Fanfiction

Prequel to Musical Chairs

PART ONE

Chapter 1

"Hey, Mavis, when do you think you'll be done?"

Pushing her blonde bangs out of her eyes at the voice, Mavis Vermillion looked up to see the teenaged girl poking her head into the bathroom. She smiled at the girl and sat up on her knees, wiping her wet and wrinkled hands on her shorts. Before giving an answer, Mavis looked around the bathroom. Toilet bowl, clean. Floor, washed. Windows, spotless. Medicine cabinet, organized. That just left one thing to clean.

"All I've got left is the mirror, Zera," Mavis announced cheerily. Zera frowned at her, blowing at her brown hair while she leaned against the doorframe. Mavis stood to grab the dirty floor water, lifting it only a foot off the ground. Zera stepped aside to let her pass to the small room at the end of the hall, which was more of closet. Mavis kicked the door open lightly, taking a brief glance at her quarters, dimly lit by a single bulb but covered entirely with posters. Smiling again at the poster for the National Orchestra, Mavis turned into the tiny cabinet that was her bathroom. She opened the toilet and poured the dirty water down it.

"Why do you do all this crap before school?" Zera asked after she had left the bucket in her room and was going back to the bathroom. Zera had left a towel and glass cleaner out for her. "My dad's not gonna be back before we're home, and he's always gone before we leave in the mornings."

"It's just habit," Mavis admitted with a shrug of her shoulders. Zera sighed and left Mavis to her duties. Truly, Mavis didn't mind cleaning the whole house every morning. It kept her mind busy and helped her feel grateful for her downtime whenever she got it, even if it meant waking up at four every morning before school. Granted, the only reason she had to do this was because of Zera's father, the man who'd taken her in after her parents had died in an unfortunate car crash. She was allowed to live in the household in exchange for all the work she did. At first it had been difficult, since she was only nine when it happened, and Zera had been an insufferable brat back then.

All of it changed when the two girls were forced to attend the same school at Magnolia Middle School. Mavis and Zera ended up in the same class…then came the fateful day of auditions for band.

"I brought your bag," Zera announced lazily, dropping Mavis' bag next to the door along with a pair of clothes and shoes. Mavis finished wiping the mirror down in time to give a glance to the footwear. "Dress code, Mavis."

"I know…I just feel more comfortable without shoes," Mavis confessed. Zera flinched but said nothing as Mavis tossed the rag she'd used. Sighing at the inevitability of the situation, Mavis peeled her filthy shirt and shorts off to change into the black blouse and cream skirt. Zera didn't bother looking away, considering that Mavis changing was the most interesting thing all morning. As soon as Mavis finished, she slipped her shoes on and the pair of girls headed for the door.

Mavis stole a look to the girl that was undoubtedly her best friend, who was currently popping a bubble in boredom. How the dark-haired girl had transformed from a spoiled brat to the laid back teenager she was now was hardly a mystery. Simply put, the two girls had bonded over a love of music. Mavis had loved band since her parents were alive, and living in the house of a man who owned the local music store just enhanced it. Zera had picked up a love of music as well. When the two girls learned this about each other, all animosity fell away and they became closer than sisters. They played together, did homework together, even bathed together. Mavis was glad to have someone so close, especially when Zera would start to help her with her appointed chores, occasionally sneaking her dinner, too.

"Can't believe were sophomores already," Zera commented when they reached the front door.

"I know…" Mavis giggled out. She grabbed the flute case sitting on the mantle while Zera grabbed her clarinet case. "Before you know it, Precht is going to graduate."

"He's section leader for the trumpets this year, right?" Mavis made a noise of affirmation and Zera turned to lock the door. Then they walked down the garden path toward Magnolia High School. "I can't believe I only got fourth chair…"

"That's better than last year, right?" Mavis said cheerfully.

"Coming from Miss Second Chair Flute," Zera joked back teasingly, adding on an affectionate nudge. Mavis nudged her back before she felt a sharp jab in her foot. She stopped and took the shoes off, slipping them into her bag. Zera rolled her eyes but Mavis didn't care when she felt the cool ground underneath her feet. It was so freeing, in the way that music was, and Mavis hooked her arm with Zera's, tromping along toward school, which was rapidly approaching.

Magnolia High was, as it was every year, brimming with many students. All of them were split into the various cliques that Mavis imagined every school was made of. A group of gamers were huddled under the tree in the entrance courtyard, trying to grab the shade, while some cheerleaders were in the middle of the path giving a rather exuberant entrance cheer. Other students were catching up with friends from summer and still more were just trying to get into the school.

"Super busy…as usua-Hey!" Zera snapped as someone bumped into her side, pushing her into Mavis.

"Sorry," the offending boy muttered without even a glance back. Mavis pushed Zera into a more stable position and watched the boy's back. She only had time to notice he was dressed like the school was a private institution before someone more unpleasant interrupted them.

"Well, Vermillion and her girlfriend," jeered a rather sniveling voice. Mavis wrinkled her nose but still turned to the source of the voice. "How often do you two girls have a little action under the sheets?"

"I could get some of that. Two hot chicks-"

"Perv!" Zera snapped, beaning the second commenter in the face with her clarinet case. "You're sick!"

"He's just expressing his desire to be part of such a feminine love," said the first again. Mavis narrowed her gaze. "You're practically attached at the hip."

"We're like sisters, Geoffrey," Mavis said calmly. Geoffrey leaned back to let out a condescending chortle. When he finally decided to look back at Mavis, he pushed his goggles up his face before affixing her with a leering grin.

"Don't look that way to me," he snickered, the other boys behind him joining in. "Next we'll be seeing you making out in the locker rooms while taking a shower and feeling each other up. Let us know beforehand and we could charge a viewing fee."

"Sicko," Zera reiterated. Geoffrey looked at her dismissively before turning his eyes to Mavis again. He stepped forward and ran his hand across Mavis' cheek. She resisted the urge to shiver and stared the football team's captain and quarterback in the eyes with matching cold ones.

"Well, there's always you band geeks entertaining us. We'll get you to let loose," he jeered lasciviously.

"I think there's a .0001 percent chance of that actually happening," Mavis said coldly, her eyes leaving his for just a moment. Geoffrey sneered. "Also, if you don't remove your hand from my face immediately, there's a seventy-five percent chance you'll meet with an unfortunate accident."

"What acci-"

"Heads up!" cried a voice across the courtyard. Seconds later, a large black shape sailed into Geoffrey Lord's face from the air. His hand disengaged from Mavis' face and he fell back into his lackeys, his nose bleeding onto his jersey. Shortly after this event, someone slid into the space that was now vacated, his blond hair briefly covering the bruise forming on his face. "Oh, hey Mavis, Zera! I didn't hit you, did I?"

"Morning, Yuri!" Mavis greeted cheerfully. Zera disengaged from her to grab the thing that had hit Geoffrey: a music case.

"Isn't this Precht's?" Zera asked casually. Yuri smiled sheepishly.

"Yes, it is," boomed Precht as he approached the trio, his purple hair slicked back as usual. He was backed up by another boy with black hair that was waving and a girl that ran to Yuri's side. "Yuri, next time you want to play hot potato, I'll use your head if you touch my trumpet case again."

"Sorry, man," Yuri apologized. Precht scoffed and gratefully took his case from Zera.

"Hey, blond bozo, you hit me in the face!" Geoffrey screeched. Yuri looked up from the ground and nearly cracked up at the sight of blood dribbling from Lord's face.

"What's your point? You look more the part of a thug now," Yuri commented honestly. Geoffrey looked ready to blow, but he just whipped his letterman's jacket around his shoulders and led his cronies elsewhere. "That guy's got serious control issues."

"You're an idiot, Yuri," said the last girl of the group, her fingers lightly touching the bruise on his face.

"But I'm your idiot, Rita." Mavis smiled at the touching interaction by the lone couple of their little group.

Their "little group", which had yet to decide on a name for itself, had been around since the middle school days. Since the band program had been largely unpopular, and thus small, all three grades had been lumped into one. This meant that Mavis and Zera had met all four upperclassmen because they were all in the same program together. There was Yuri Dreyar, the most exuberant and friendly drummer of all time, and his girlfriend, Rita, both of whom were a year above Mavis and Zera. Not that Rita was Yuri's girlfriend at the time; that only happened once they were high schoolers. Mavis, in particular, loved Rita as a mentor of sorts as she was the first chair flutist. Then there was Warrod Sequen, a junior year trombonist who had a penchant for being soft-spoken and making lame jokes. Then there was Precht Gaebolg, their slightly surlier and standoffish senior that was leader of the trumpets. All of them had met in middle school, and they'd yet to break apart, even if they argued over stupid things from time to time like most friends did.

"I'm not sure if their couple's routine is sweet or sickening," Zera said in response to Rita helping Yuri up. "Honestly, you two should just get engaged and be done with it."

"They would if Rita was pregnant," Warrod said mildly. The group gave the wispy, tree-looking boy an astonished glance, with Yuri's eyes actually bugging out of his head. "Just kidding."

"Ugh, not funny, Warrod!" Yuri snapped, slipping his hand into Rita's. Overhead, a bell rang, indicating that the students should start heading to classes. "Well, see you guys at lunch."

"Yuri, not so fast," Rita complained as her boyfriend dragged her off.

"They're probably going to go neck before class," Precht observed dryly.

"Didn't need that image," Zera said with an offended swat to Precht's shoulder. He just laughed in response and began leading the remaining members of their group into the school. Once they were past the entrance hall, Warrod said his goodbye and Precht split away soon after. "We have gym first, right? Ugh…who wants to get sweaty first thing in the morning?"

"Come on, Zera, gym is fun!" Mavis giggled out as they reached the girl's locker room. Geoffrey's words came back to Mavis as she shoved all her stuff into her gym locker, but they quickly flitted away when she was dressed in her gym clothes within a minute (shoes, unfortunately, included). Mavis joined the throng of girls heading out to the gym at large, Zera by her side and suppressing a yawn. A number of boys were already out and playing around, others were trying to hit on some of the girls, but Mavis noticed one kid in particular that was sitting against the wall with his head buried in a book, only his black hair visible. It was a little odd, but Mavis shrugged it off as something odd that you could probably see any day of the week.

"Hey, pissants, in line!" called the gym teacher. Zera made a noise of discontent and even Mavis almost found herself scowling. The gym teacher, who also happened to be the football coach, was not a particularly pleasant man. With his tanned skin and tattoos, he cut an imposing figure and his hair was long and unruly, making him out to be just a little more vicious. Mavis usually reserved her judgements, but after suffering through the man named as "The Black Tyrant" for gym class last year, Mavis had next to no kind thoughts about the man. "I'm your gym teacher this year. You can call me either Teacher or Coach Acnologia. My job is to make sure you don't become fat slobs, though I see some of you let yourselves go over the summer."

Mavis frowned but didn't say a word as Acnologia raked his eyes over the students. Here and there he would stop and make a comment about some kid's appearance, but it was never for more than a few seconds. He didn't care to learn most of the student's names, either. There was only one student that he stopped at for an extended period of time, but considering he never said anything, the blonde had no idea what it was about. Acnologia did, however, offer both her and Zera a smirk when he saw them. It was no secret that the football coach hated the band program. "All right, I want thirty laps along the gym track now!"

Mavis shook her head, completely expecting the insane demand. She tied her hair up into a ponytail and started on her day. Thankfully, gym was the worst class she really had, all things considered. Normally, she'd enjoy the chance to be a little active but Acnologia's version of that was ridiculous. Other classes weren't as bad, and allowed Mavis to clear the cobwebs out that had formed over summer. Not that Mavis didn't like learning or studying, because she did. She simply focused too much on her music over the holidays. Either way, she and Zera walked away with at least two classes worth of homework by lunch time.

Lunch was as busy as ever, with all the groups sitting at their tables. Mavis greeted a few other band students that she recognized from the previous year on their way to the table where Yuri and Warrod were playing a small card game named Legendia that they'd learned over the summer. Rita was watching while Precht, being so studious, was working on a paper.

"So, heard you guys have Coach Acne as your teacher again?" Yuri said as he sucked on his tongue.

"Yup, and he's got as much of a stick up his butt as usual," Zera commented, taking out two lunches and sliding one over to Mavis. "What exactly is his problem? Gym has to be the easiest class to teach."

"Rumor has it that there's someone at the school this year who's making him nervous," Warrod commented, placing a card down. "Just kidding. There is no rumor."

"Rumor or no," Precht said sternly, "we should just worry about what crap Acnologia will try to pull on the band program this year. You know he hates us, and we're so small, the program's barely hanging on as it is."

"I wouldn't worry," Mavis chirruped, digging her plastic spoon into a cup of pudding. "We'll make the band program better than ever this year."

"We say that every year," Rita lamented with a sigh. "We've just continued shrinking every year, instead."

"She's right," Precht said in response before lifting a sheet out of his bag and sliding it across the table, interrupting the card game. Yuri gave him a middle finger as a response. Precht ignored him. "That's the list us section leaders got this summer. We're ten shorter than last year."

Mavis took the list and started reading the mostly familiar names. Her eyes caught on the second chair trumpet under Precht. It was unusual for a freshman to be a second chair. Mavis knew, herself, since just about every upperclassman had placed above her, regardless of her natural talent, last year. Yet the second chair trumpet was an unfamiliar name. "Hey, Precht, who's your second chair?"

"No idea. Haven't met him in a class, so…" Mavis frowned at his answer and passed the sheet back to her friend. Yuri and Warrod returned to their game while Zera started a conversation with Rita about a book. Mavis just turned back to her pudding and observed the crowd of students. She noticed Geoffrey and his posse acting as obnoxious as ever, and other students giving them a wide berth. Then she saw that mop of black hair from gym and the book in front of his face. It was intriguing, especially when he never lifted his head once. He was like a variable she couldn't calculate. She watched him a couple minutes until the bell rang, then she forgot about him.

Instead, she thought about the name on the band sheet that was unfamiliar: Zeref Dragneel. An odd name, if only because she thought she knew everyone in the program…They weren't exactly large. Nonetheless, it was obvious that Mavis was thinking hard about it because she was chewing on her pencil eraser in English and Zera had to poke her with a ruler.

"What're you thinking about?" she whispered underneath the teacher. Mavis turned her head, realizing she actually had a pencil in her mouth. Smiling in embarrassment, Mavis took the pencil out and decided to just focus on her lessons the rest of the day. Zera's interruption did her much good and she no longer thought of anything else until, at long last, the bell signaling the final class of the day rang.

"Hurry up, Zera!" Mavis cheered, her flute waving behind her like a flag. Zera rolled her eyes and followed her friend quickly to the band room. "Hello, Mr. August!"

"Mavis, Zera, good to see you again. Good summer?" Mavis led Zera in answering positively while they set up their instruments. In the meantime, other students came into the room. Some said hello to the pair of girls while others went to setting up their instruments. Mavis greeted each of them gleefully. There was something about being part of the band program that filled her with an indescribable joy. Maybe it was that in such a small program, everyone knew each other and made friends, but every member also loved music immensely. There was a tightness and a sense of solidarity that Mavis truly believed didn't exist elsewhere. Music was something that Mavis cherished above all else.

More than once, the blonde sophomore had thought about her future with music. There were plenty of possibilities, though Mavis knew that most of those possibilities were limited given that Magnolia's band program was hardly top of the list. If anything, it was bottom of the barrel, which meant limited recognition for any potential colleges or an orchestra. Still, Mavis loved it deep in her heart and had decided early on that imparting the gift of music to the next generation in order to share it with many people was a likely life choice. Thinking about this, Mavis took her seat next to Rita, who smiled at her as their teacher, August, began handing sheets of paper along the rows.

"I'm handing each of you the layout for this year's program," he announced. Mavis took the thick stack of sheets and picked off a relatively thin packet before passing it on. "As usual, it's a short show, ranging about five minutes. For all you freshman, we'll be performing in the middle of halftime at the football games, between the cheerleading team and the student council's pep rally squad. It's not a long performance, but I'd still like all of you to do your best."

"It never is long," Mavis complained underneath her breath. Rita offered her a sympathetic smile.

"That said," August continued, taking his place at the conductor's stand, "your music is contained in your packets and I expect you to start memorizing it right away. Tomorrow we'll have the field open for practice and we'll also start nighttime practices once a week on Monday." Mavis nodded her head, knowing the information was just the same as last year. She couldn't take it, so she raised her hand. "Yes, Miss Vermillion?"

"What about contests?" she asked loudly, the question echoing around the band room. Multiple murmurs arose at the question: some indignant and others surprised. Mavis flicked through the packet, her eyes very briefly raking over the schedule as she spoke. "I don't see any on the schedule."

"That's because we don't participate in contests," the teacher reminded her. "Our role as the band during the fall season is to prepare an entertaining halftime show for the spectators at the football game. After that, we will prepare for the winter and spring concerts for your parents. We're not a competition band."

"We aren't? Or we're not allowed to be?" Judging from the eyes on her after that question, Mavis feared she may have pushed it too far. August, however, remained calm and understanding.

"Suffice it to say, we as a program have not been invited to participate in any contests. Now, if we're done with questions, please bring up your sheet music so we can run through it as a band."

Mavis relented to the inevitable and put the sheet music on the stand she was sharing with Rita. Looking over the composition, it was hardly a complicated or flashy piece. Even its title, "Phantom Fanfare", was rather simple and uninspired. Yet another example of how little effort was put into the band program. She knew that August was a skilled composer. She'd seen some of his more complicated pieces that shone with energy. This piece was just dull and lame by comparison. From just a cursory glance, Mavis could see where she would change just a few bars here and there to make a stunning piece…but that wasn't what their band was about. They were little more than a set piece for the glorious stage that was the football team. Resigned, Mavis raised her flute to her lips and joined her fellow musicians in practicing their ridiculously short show. By the end of the period, Mavis had already memorized the piece, and had also calculated a thirty percent chance of the show actually being received warmly.

"Well, tomorrow we'll work on that footwork. Until then, try to work on memorizing the piece. Take care." The teacher was the fastest one out of there. Mavis sighed as she packed up her flute in seconds.

"Just relax, Mavis," Rita said gaily, moving slower than her friend. "I know you don't like it, but-"

"I just want the program to actually mean something, you know?" Mavis told her, choosing not to look at her. Instead, she watched Precht packing up his trumpet. "If we just had a chance, I really think our program could do something great."

Rita didn't give a response, doubly so when Yuri had sidled up to her. Mavis was grateful that neither said anything about what some would just consider impetuous whims. She just finished watching Precht pack up and moved her eyes to the only other moving thing in his vicinity, which turned out to be his second chair. Mavis' eyes widened fractionally as she recognized the black mop of hair that she had been spotting all day. The boy was pale and idly wiping his trumpet down gently, his black eyes drawn to the brass surface. He was dressed rather nicely with black pants and a black sports blazer over his collared shirt; definitely not normal dress for a public school student. There was something else about him that Mavis couldn't put her finger on.

"Hey, are we heading to the tavern or what?" Precht said. Mavis almost jumped, not even realizing that he had been there. "I'm pretty starved and I can't stay long. I've got college applications to fill out."

"Uh…sorry…but I've got to make dinner tonight," Mavis apologized. Yuri rolled his eyes.

"You have to make dinner every night. Do you even get to eat any of it?" he asked with a touch of both concern and irritation. Mavis puffed her cheeks out at the insinuation.

"I eat just fine! By the way Precht, how's your second chair?"

"In a word: antisocial. He said barely two words to me and he didn't even look up. He just scribbled in a stupid black notebook of his until it was time to practice."

"Sounds like an asshole," Yuri remarked. He stole a quick glance at the boy in question and amended his statement. "He looks like an asshole."

"I don't think so. He looks kind," Mavis observed. Both Precht and Yuri looked at her like she'd gone crazy.

"And what have you been smoking, Mavis?"

Mavis disregarded Yuri's rude comment and instead walked over to where the boy was packing up his trumpet, his black notebook on his lap. Upon closer inspection, Mavis noticed that he was skinny, or at least far skinnier than any other guy she'd met. If she had to do a comparison, she figured that he was about as skinny as she was. He also did exude an aura of particular standoffishness, but there was something else that Mavis finally recognized. Perhaps it was because of years of feeling it herself, but he looked lonely. He had no friends, and it almost seemed like he didn't want any with the way he acted. None of that stopped Mavis from holding her hand out to him. "Hi, I'm Mavis Vermillion!"

"Excuse me?" the boy said, his voice light and somewhat melancholy. Mavis puffed her cheeks again.

"My name. I'm second-chair flutist Mavis Vermillion. Who are you?"

"Nobody," the boy replied, snapping his trumpet case shut and standing up.

"That's not true. Everybody's a somebody. You must have a name." Of course, she already knew it from earlier in the day, but decided to show some respect and not seem creepy. The boy watched her a moment, ignoring her still outstretched hand.

"Zeref," he said to her. She smiled.

"That's a nice name." Zeref blinked a few times before he turned away abruptly.

"Yeah…Bye…" Like that, he was walking away. Mavis didn't follow after and just watched him until Warrod came next to her and put his hand on her.

"Don't let it get to you," he said kindly. Mavis smiled up at him.

"I'm not! He's just a little lonely." Warrod patted her on the head affectionately, prior to joining up with the rest of her older friends. Zera came up to her next, holding on to their bags and her clarinet case.

"You ready?" Mavis nodded and gratefully took her stuff. Zeref was now long gone, so Mavis thought ahead to what she'd be making for dinner. It would have to be something simple if she wanted the tine to do her homework. Unfortunately, Jezelf wasn't a man with simple tastes. Unlike his daughter, Jezelf refused to eat something as simple as macaroni and cheese; if he were to have pasta, it would be something fancy. Not that Jezelf would ever lift a finger to do anything like that himself. He had Mavis to do all the cooking and cleaning around the house. Mavs didn't let that get her down and decided on making chicken parmigiana for dinner, knowing that she had the ingredients for it.

By the time she had decided this, both Mavis and Zera had arrived back home. Standing in the foyer was Jezelf himself. Seconds later, Mavis found a rag being thrown into her face that smelled vaguely of glass cleaner. When she pulled it off, she looked up to see an irate Jezelf staring at her. "Why is it that I found this rag in the bathroom waste basket instead of in the garbage cans outside?"

"Um…I had to-"

"No excuses!" Jezelf roared angrily. Mavis swallowed thickly and shut her mouth. "Because of your indiscretion, I'm made to live in a sty! No dinner for you tonight. Prepare our family's meal and then re-clean the entire house from top to bottom."

"Of course…" Mavis said. How could she have been so stupid? Something like forgetting to put the used rag in the trash wasn't a mistake she usually made.

"Come here, Zera. Tell me all about your day." Zera walked to the open arms of her father, giving a look of apology to Mavis while the blonde proceeded to her room in order to dump her bag and flute. Not long after she was in front of the stove, preparing both the pasta and chicken for the dinner that night which she wouldn't eat. It was all so typical, being forced to slave away for not even a scrap of food.

The steam reached her nose and caused her to sniffle a little. She wished, in some part, that her parents had never died in that car crash, or maybe that they had caught the guy who'd done it. Mavis also wished that Jezelf hadn't been an acquaintance of theirs (because she wouldn't call him a friend). Were her life any different, she would almost think she resembled Cinderella from the fairy tale. Mavis loved fairy tales growing up. Her fondest memories had been of her parents reading them to her. Life was no fairy tale, though, and Mavis was no Cinderella. She didn't want to be Cinderella. Mavis had friends that weren't animals and Zera was no longer like an ugly step-sister; she didn't want her toes chopped off or eyes plucked out. No, life, as it was, was good enough.

With the pasta and chicken done, Mavis set the table for two and went to the closet to take out her cleaning supplies again. A sigh passed her lips when she smelled the dinner she'd made and her body ached a little from doing double cleaning. She refused to take any breaks, knowing that if she did, she wouldn't finish in time to get any sleep, but she did have to take care of the filthy pots and plates. It was near midnight when Mavis finally dragged the trash bags out, making sure that nary a speck was left for the next morning. Done at last, Mavis collapsed on the front stoop of the house and looked up to the stars, twinkling with their infiniteness.

"Hey, I saved you some dinner without dad knowing," Zera said, sliding a reheated plate of dinner into Mavis' lap, complete with a fork and knife. Mavis thanked her and began to eat silently, staring outward. Like it always did, her thoughts trended towards the lame show they'd be performing that year. "What are you thinking about?"

"Hmm? Oh…just…don't you find this year's show a little…boring?" Mavis asked, putting a final piece of chicken in her mouth.

"I know you do, but I honestly try not to think about it," Zera responded. The two girls sat a moment before Zera let her hair out of her pigtails and let it trail down her back.

"We need to get into some competitions, otherwise we're just a sideshow for those monkeys on the football team," Mavis finally expressed in agitation. "I want our music program to be more than it is, but right now we're all little groups of friends that hardly encourage each other to play any better, so we never improve as a whole."

"Well, that's how it is," Zera told her. "Band has never been anything more than a complement to the sports teams, even with Homecoming and all that stuff. The whole concept of competitions for bands has barely gotten off the ground as it is. We're just not good enough to do that stuff. We're barely good enough to perform a half-decent show at a football game."

"That's what I want to change!" Mavis declared just a little too loudly. "I want to make a band program that everyone will look at and say 'That's what I want to do with my life'. I want band to be like an eternal adventure where the whole band can rely on each other."

"For that, you'd need a teacher gutsy enough to defy Acnologia, and good luck with that. So, for now, let's keep our heads out of the clouds, huh?"

"I know, Zera," Mavis conceded at last. She didn't say anything else to her, but Mavis' mind didn't stop thinking of all the possibilities for the program.

And somewhere along the way, Mavis came to the conclusion that this year was going to be a great one.

Author's Note: I had the idea for a Zervis prequel (which I've supported since 340, really) since chapter 450 came out. This is what became of it. As you can see, there's two parts to this story but I won't tell you why. On a note, I by no means, hate football teams, I just needed an antagonist that was different from the other stories. Also, don't expect a super-consistent update schedule because I am working on three stories at once. Anyway, that's all I have for now. I hope you enjoyed and do check out my other stories including another story in this world, Musical Notes, but be sure to leave me a Review and Dare to Be Silly.