Disclaimer: I own nothing except the fanfiction itself.
A/N: This story took a drastic turn from what I had originally intended, and while I'm still not entirely satisfied with how this chapter came out, I feel that it's at the best stage it can currently be right now. This story will have at least one more chapter, and it will all take place before SDR2. As always, thank you so much for reading and please leave a review!
People had always told Ibuki Mioda she was too much, and maybe they were right.
For as long as anyone else could remember, herself included, there had always been a gap between her and her classmates. They didn't avoid her per se, but none of them made any attempt to talk to her outside of class, and in some ways, that was worse than avoiding her. The only time they exchanged words was when they were randomly divided into groups to work on whatever tedious assignment the teacher had given them. Ibuki, a natural extrovert, would always rattle off whatever chain of topics came into her head to try and start a conversation, but no one ever replied with anything else aside from the occasional comment or grunt of approval. These kinds of social interactions, day in and day out, started to grate on her nerves and social skills equally.
The chatterbox was genuinely perplexed at what she was doing wrong. Was it her turn of phrase that put people off? Maybe her outrageous choice of style? Were her little idiosyncrasies, such as the way she referred to herself in third person for example, too quirky? Or maybe it was the gods themselves that were hell-bent on making her live her entire life in isolation? She certainly did feel like an outsider amongst the throngs of everyday life, but that couldn't be the sole reason. No, she already knew deep down what lied at the core of the issue.
She just wanted someone to talk to her as a friend.
Or, better yet, play music with her.
Oh god, how she wanted someone to play music with her! She had decided a long time ago that that was the one thing she wanted out of life. That is, if you excluded whatever albums her favorite artists released as well as extra guitars to smash and whatever else she impulsively desired.
Okay, so there were a lot of things she wanted out of life, but that one goal took priority over everything else.
Still, people were the one thing you couldn't walk into a store and buy, and that was quite the inconvenience. It was rather unfortunate that inconvenience stores didn't exist either; Ibuki had looked into that long ago to no avail. She couldn't call herself a band if it was just her, right? She needed to find somebody, anybody who was willing to not only spend time with her, but also match her taste in music (although she could work around that last requirement).
She wondered if that made her unique. Of course it did; nobody could deny that. But that made her a lot of other things too. It made her forgetful, lonely, and naturally, it caused her to feel despair. She may have known how to play a guitar or how to write a song, but for everything she knew how to do, there were five things she didn't. She didn't know how to stay quiet, how to interact normally with the rest of society, or how to put forth a professional image, just to name a few.
Despite those glaring flaws, the Light Music Club at her local high school, Shiba Academy, had begrudgingly allowed her to join, for not even they could deny that Ibuki Mioda possessed a special talent. The girls in the club had originally been skeptic of her musical skill as the guitarist strode into the audition room ever so casually, and those sentiments were bolstered when Ibuki handed in her application with the title "Goddess of Music" appended to the front.
"Is this girl for real?" was the concurring opinion amongst the three music club members. However, the brief audition Ibuki graced them with had shattered any notions they might have had about her skills, or lack thereof.
Her vocals, her songwriting, her guitar skills; why, the eccentric rockstar had demonstrated herself to be the very paragon of musical prowess! Add that to the fact that she had been properly trained in music theory and possessed an optimal sense of hearing, and the other band members knew that they absolutely had to admit her talents into the club.
Joy was not an accurate enough word to describe the feeling surging through the young guitarist's heart. In her eyes, all the silent torture she had withstood for the past sixteen years or so had now cultivated into something worth harvesting. Finally, her fingers would learn the warm sensation of another human being; they would no longer belong exclusively to the six, cold, stiff strings she was so well acquainted with, and that was okay. As she reached her hand out to meet the club leader's own, she could only think about the adventures they would have, the music they would make, and the conversations they'd have where someone would actually respond to her with more than one word. It was an overly optimistic stance, yet one that the idealistic guitarist had faith in; she would not let this opportunity go to waste.
And for a time, the four girls did exactly what Ibuki had hoped for and more. The other three members of the club (who she later learned were named Amisa, Sukia, and Taeko) had been kind enough to cater to her musical taste, so in return, she willingly played along with their pop-oriented songs as well; she still wasn't a fan of any of it, but she didn't want to feel the despair of being alone anymore. If sacrificing a small portion of her artistic integrity was all it took to guarantee camaraderie, then she'd do it. It's not like she was giving up heavy metal forever anyway, she reassured herself; as long as she could still keep playing her own brand of music, she was happy. Over the course of a year, the band jammed out, spent time together, and grew closer as a singular unit.
At least, that's how the young guitarist perceived it. The rest of the music club had never seen Ibuki Mioda as anything but extra baggage compared to what she possessed.
Was she talented? Absolutely.
In terms of instrumental skill, songwriting, and vocals, she outclassed them all, and that was exactly what they sought. Like leeches, they attached themselves to the musical prodigy and exploited her mastery for all it was worth. They sought purely self-advancement, how to improve their own image and prowess, sparing not even a second thought to the actual woman behind the guitar. They spoke and spent time with her only when necessary, but nothing more than that.
In a sense, it was as if nothing had changed at all. If Ibuki noticed their farce at any point, she made no effort to point it out; she could cope with this for now, she rationalized.
And she probably would have, if things had gone smoothly on that particular night.
December 25th was the day that Ibuki's destiny changed again. To most teenagers in Japan, that date marked the day that they could shake off the shackles of the education system for a few months until they would be forced back into their stuffy classrooms again.
For Ibuki however, it was the day her dreams would be either crushed or realized. It had long been an annual tradition, but this was the first time that Ibuki could officially participate in that event.
Every year, on the same day that classes across Japan ended, without fail, the CEO of Tomatsu Records hosted a "Battle of The Bands" event, although with the money he had, it resembled something more like a gala. He willingly opened his mansion up as a stage to the competitors and extended invitations out to nearly every big media outlet in the nation. The grand prize at the end of the night was nothing short of a record deal, a worthy prize to be coveted. There was only one instituted caveat that all competitors had to comply with: all members had to be currently enrolled in high school. The decision to target such a specific age group was rumored to have been made largely in part to compete with the rising "idol group" market in the music industry, but no one could confirm or deny it.
Ibuki was currently fumbling with her guitar in one of the many rooms reserved for tonight's contestants. The mansion was massive enough to the extent where every band performing had been allotted an individual room to themselves, but currently, she was the only member of her band residing in theirs. The other girls were currently attending to their own errands, so she sat on a stool and practiced a couple of familiar chords, her hands naturally moving up and down the neck of the guitar. She wasn't focused on the redundant task of practice, which worked out perfectly since her thoughts kept drifting back to her bandmates in the end. She wondered what they were going to play tonight; they hadn't discussed it yet, but they still had an hour or so before showtime, so she wasn't too worried. She suddenly remembered, as if she had forgotten, that they had already established a reputation for themselves with their single, "After School Poyoyon Hour".
Her next note ended up producing an irritating, strident sound, causing the guitarist to reflexively retract her hand and recompose herself. Her irritation at remembering their first single had caused her to press too hard on the fret, a beginner mistake.
She promised herself it would not happen again.
She had been opposed to that damn single from the very beginning, but her bandmates had pleaded with her incessantly to contribute to the product. In the end, Ibuki did grace the recording with her guitar and vocals, but she had no fun doing so. In her mind, it reeked of pop and blatantly pandered to the ever so "illustrious" music critics. It wasn't just that one song either; they had practiced several original songs, all with pop undertones (and done maybe only two or three of Ibuki's own songs). If their goal had been to kiss up to the media, it had worked; they certainly did attract the attention of the music industry, granted not in the way she wanted to. All they had to do to seal the deal was perform well tonight and there would be no doubt that they'd win that record deal.
Her breathing became irregular, but she quickly amended it. The forceful throbbing in her chest was proof enough of her anxiety, but now was no time for cold feet. If worst came to worst on stage, she could improvise any of the metal songs in her repertoire and lead the others. She had to give it her all though, just like her friends would as well. As if on cue, the rest of her bandmates entered the room.
"Heyheyhey girls! Are you ready to dazzle the world?" Ibuki greeted them in her usual energetic manner. "What am I saying? It doesn't matter if you're set or not! Speaking of sets, Ibuki's genius has struck again! She-"
Before Ibuki could even finish her sentence, someone had pushed a sheet of paper at her face. Unable to speak without risking a paper cut, she slowly reached up and seized it from the other girl's grasp. Tracing the arm back to its owner, Ibuki realized that it belonged to Amisa, their other guitarist and also the oldest member in the band, currently in her junior year.
"That's the setlist for tonight," the rhythm guitarist bluntly announced. "Make sure your guitar's tuned right."
"Eh?!" Ibuki's expression changed to one of shock as the sheet hung limply in her hands. "Shouldn't we discuss this as a band?"
"We have," was the response from Taeko, the band's drummer, "and we decided that that's what we're doing tonight. Don't worry, it should be short enough for even you to remember."
That last sentence seemed to be dripping with venom, and Ibuki raised an eyebrow at her. She thought about inquiring further, but decided that reading the words in her hands was a better use of her time. She scanned through the page quickly until she reached the end. Her grasp on the sheet tightened, crinkling the edges as it dared to tear in her grip.
"Wh…what is this?" Ibuki choked out.
"It's what we're playing tonight. Come on, they're not hard to play," Sukia finally chimed in with her commentary. Ibuki turned to look at her in disbelief before returning her gaze to the paper in front of her.
There had to be a mistake. This was what they were going to play?
The list was composed of no more than five songs, but they were all what Ibuki dreaded: pop songs. Never mind that they were all originals that she regrettably had a hand in making either; their opening number was supposed to be "After School Poyoyon Hour", something that she simply could not abide by. There was even a cover from that pop group led by Sayaka Maizono for god's sake! If this wasn't "selling out", the metalhead didn't know what to call it.
Her throat grew dry and her eye twitched as she realized what this spelled for her. She would begrudgingly play along to their tastes in their jam sessions, but here it was different; this was meant to be a showcase of what their band really was, not just another practice in some classroom. They were about to perform in front of nearly every media outlet in the country, and there would be no doubt as to how the music industry would react to them. They'd end up being tagged as one of the many other pop groups across the country.
No. The Goddess of Music was not about be shoved under the genre of fucking "pop music".
"I'm not playing this," She told her bandmates crudely.
A stifled laughter came from the bassist, Sukia. "Why not? It's not like you can't play it; you've done them so many times before! Or is the issue something else, I wonder?" She directed a malicious smirk towards the devil-horned girl, already knowing the answer.
"If we go out there and play this," Ibuki swallowed hard before continuing, "then I'd have to stop playing my music. We'd be marked as a pop band!"
"So?" Amisa gave her a quizzical glance in return. "This is for the sake of the band, Ibuki. We need to get that record deal, no matter what. Those suits could give less of a shit about music; they're just looking for something that sounds catchy and will sell, and that's what we're going to give them."
"We're just playing the game on their terms," Taeko reaffirmed her superior's reasoning.
"But this isn't our music!" Ibuki yelled back and threw the setlist to the floor. "W-what about metal, or rock, or-or-or-?!" Her protests grew unnaturally raspy due to the strain on her unlubricated vocal cords.
Why was her mouth so dry? She stole a quick glance at the vanity on the other side of the room and noticed a water bottle set atop the desk. Her legs carried her across the room, her mouth desperate for any kind of liquid. As she grabbed the plastic bottle and struggled to remove the cap, Amisa's next words materialized her fears.
"No, that's your music, Ibuki."
The girl stopped struggling with the bottle in her hand and froze. Trying to turn her head to make visual contact was a futile effort when her own body refused to cooperate, so she had to make do with only hearing her words.
"Look, let's just…cut to the chase, as they say: Did you honestly think you were one of us, even after an entire year? Your obsession with that trash you call 'music' was sooooo annoying for all of us, y'know? Yeah, we catered to you and all that, but like hell we're going to build a career off of that kind of noise! Oh, don't misunderstand, Ibuki- your guitar skill and singing voice are top-rate, but I really could do without seeing your ugly fucking face every day."
For the first time in her life, Ibuki Mioda cursed her excellent sense of hearing. She didn't want to hear this.
"Well, at least you managed to rub off some of that awesome talent on us. I mean, we don't actually need you now, but…we're not that cruel. You can come along for the ride if you want to. Oh, but you'll have to get a makeover! We don't want people associating us with that fashion sense of yours. You understand, right?" Amisa flashed a smile that would have normally been received as warm and friendly.
Ibuki's neck finally craned around, allowing her to gape at Amisa and her bandmates. What the hell was she saying? Weren't they friends from the day she auditioned for the Light Music Club? They played together, sang together, ate cake together, done this and that together; what had she failed in doing? What part of their friendship "contract" did she fail to satisfy? Her mind initially thought that she must have misheard things, but she instantly knew that to be a lie: if there was anything that she could trust in this world, it was her ears. She really needed a drink now before her throat started shriveling up. She quickly opened the bottle and began drinking, although the liquid struggled to traverse her cramped throat.
It felt like her throat was being crushed.
Miraculously, the rockstar's voice found a way out, and after a minute or so of chugging, she wiped her mouth and spoke.
"…I understand."
She didn't understand.
"Excellent. So," Amisa glanced at a clock across the room, "we have about fifteen minutes until our set. Let's grab our stuff and head to the foyer so we can start on time."
The other two girls nodded and began to follow orders, pleased that things had gone so smoothly. Ibuki, on the other hand, felt hollow.
She thought she had finally found friends—bandmates, even! Now she was being told that she was worth nothing. That all their laughs and smiles had been nothing but a façade. Things were supposed to change in high school, weren't they? This sure looked a lot like the rest of her life, funnily enough. The small guitarist tried to convince herself to disregard their words, but her efforts provided little solace in the face of encroaching despair. Her bandmates had essentially exiled her from the band; they made it extremely clear that as long as she held onto her passion for metal and rock, there would be no place for her on stage. Was there nothing they saw in her?
Ibuki recalled that the girl had complimented her musical talent… But perhaps that would have been better left unsaid.
She strapped on her guitar and left the room, making her way towards the stage. In hindsight, it was rather insulting to call it "just" a stage; it was a battlefield on which dreams clashed. Countless musicians were vying for glory on that battlefield, and Ibuki was just another warrior in the midst of it. The guitar was her weapon of choice, and she could only hope that she wielded it better than anybody else. She knew she'd have to crush other people's dreams in order to get to hers; collateral damage, they called it, but she'd be damned if she was defeated by anybody else's hand but her own, which was exactly what she had in mind.
If everyone wanted a show from Ibuki, then Ibuki would give them one.
As she mulled over her plan, a bittersweet pang of emotion surged through both her body and soul, but it was quickly stifled under her inexplicable resolve. Her spirit and determination were in tatters, that much was true, but some other ethereal force compelled her legs to keep walking. Perhaps it was fate? Magic? Kismet? Or maybe, the gods were truly bestowing a gift unto her?
Well, if any gods were watching, they had best be shining down on her tonight; the tribulations of mortals are prime entertainment for divine beings.
Ibuki Mioda would commit rock 'n' roll suicide.