Chapter 26

The world is all one ! !

"(How many seats do you think that is?)" Ami asks of anyone who would answer.

Ryuuguu Komachi stands on stage and faces the empty auditorium. The trio are side-by-side with their manager speaking with whom they believe is the Stage Manager. Right now everything is silent except their business chatter and the loud, echoic footsteps of those pacing around. With the houselights up they can see every single seat, and every seat they need to fill. Ritsuko undoubtedly knew the answer to Ami's query, but she's distracted with work. Jordan, who can't seem to sit still for some reason, might also know, but he couldn't understand her question. Iori had her guess, but Azusa, who's since recovered from her motion sickness, takes the opportunity.

"(I think it's about 2,000.)"

Roughly did Iori guess the same.

Two-thousand tickets to be sold. In the height of their career Ryuuguu Komachi had sold out an even bigger house, but that was a joint production with the other idols of 765. On their own they might have been able to do so in the past, but with their present standings it would have been very difficult. In the present day they have to fill each of these seats in a foreign country where nearly all haven't even heard their name before. Iori hoped that everything they'd done in the past couple days was enough to get their name spread.

Jordan continues to march around, his heavy footsteps pounding in her ears like a hammer.

"Will you cut that out!" Iori lashes out in irritation.

"I guess this lighting is adequate," as if that response was somewhat relevant or appropriate.

Making himself right at home, Jordan leaps from the stage and begins shuffling through the seating area. Doing Lord knows what, Iori decides to ignore him and leave the curious man to his own devices.

"(This is it, isn't it?)" asks Ami.

"(Yeah,)" Iori answers. "(It took a long time to get here, but this is it.)"

"(Do you think we'll sell well?)"

"(We have to,)" the leader didn't say. Instead, "(Of course we will!)"

When Iori confronted her president, Junichirou Takagi, back in Japan, he confessed that too many of their eggs was placed into this basket. That time seemed like another life ago. Did any of the others truly understand the pressure they were facing? Failure of this concert very well could spell the failure for 765 Productions. At every cost must they expend themselves to bring their goal to fruition. And have they? Have they done absolutely everything they possibly could to make this event a success? In the end it came down to time, and the clock's nearly reached the final hour. No longer did they have the luxury of promotion, now they must ready for the actual concert itself. This Las Vegas adventure had long left the beginning, and the middle has now passed. This was the beginning of the final act. The beginning of the end. Now they could only worry about the conclusion.

Iori knew what she had to do, what she had to do from now on. Turning to Azusa, the young leader checks to make sure her companion is ready. This morning they suffered an accident. Thankfully it was minor in scale, but the weight of the mistake must no longer weigh on Azusa's mind.

"(How about we practice?)"

Her proposition surprises the other two.

"(What, right now?)" Azusa seems to know this is directed at her. "(Nothing's set up.)"

"(It's alright, we can do this. We might not have our costumes, stage, or music, but it doesn't mean we can't practice.)"

If they were novices, this would have been a disaster in the making. But since so many hours have been put singing their songs, dancing their routines, they can still perform perfectly even without the music to help keep the timing. Or at least they should. This was a direct challenge to her two partners.

"(I'm game!)" Ami enjoys the prospect.

For a brief moment, Azusa appears worried. Her expression is loose and distant, but like a pro she washes it away with a flourish of determination. The slow-paced and often tired aura disappears, replaced by the ever-rare serious and focused temperament that can even make even Ritsuko back away. Nobody could stand against the elder idol when she was like this.

"(Yes!)"

Iori smiles and gets into position. There isn't even a need to discuss beforehand which song to perform. Proving their unity, all three silently decide on the same thing. After suffering through a slight mishap, they wouldn't allow it to stand any longer. To redeem themselves, they do Smokey Thrill.

As it happens, they needn't do without. Stage workers were arriving and they would have been delayed only a few minutes to set up the music and sound. Regardless, the stars from Japan push forward a cappella.

Picture perfect was their routine. No missed steps, no off timing, no error in the lyrics. Everything was at it should, and if an audience filled the theater they would have stood in applause. Actually, Jordan did (he was off in a corner of the room for some reason).

What they'd just done was for themselves. Now they must do it for the sake of the concert. After they finished their first song, Ryuuguu Komachi was approached by Ritsuko and some of the stage hands. Through Richie's translation they were told some sound tests need to be done. Each are handed wireless microphones/receivers. If everything went well, they could get this done after a single song. If there was a problem they'd continue until everything was worked through. Afterwords the set would be assembled and then they'd do a full rehearsal.

Telling her fellow idols, Iori proposes, "(How about Futari no Kioku?)"

A vocal focused song, it was the perfect choice for a sound test. For the full rehearsal and actual concert, 765 hired local professional musicians to accompany their songs. Takagi really spared no expense in regards to this overseas show. However, for right now they had the Master CD, and that would serve it's purpose for this test.

Once the instructions were relayed to the Sound Engineer, they began. Futari no Kioku was a song from Iori's solo days before Ryuuguu Komachi. A smoother, softer song, it's focus was on Iori's vocals with Azusa and Ami doing backup. It's about finding a person in despair, helping them get back on their feet, spending time together, and then ultimately saying goodbye.

As she cycled through the lyrics, Iori's heart skips a beat upon a realization. This song that was crated over a year ago was about herself. Not as the winged angel who salvaged the person in distress, but the one being saved. The young idol can feel herself getting emotional, and her vision becomes blurry. She might be crying, but she's not sure. Even if this was practice or a test, she couldn't stop her song until it's over.

"Itsumademo wasurenaide iruyo; Zutto zutto sora de mimamotte iru yo...(I will never forget you; And I'll forever be watching over you from the sky...)"

Far within her zone, Iori couldn't tell that Azusa and Ami ceased singing backup. At the point where her emotions exploded, her voice and presence emerged onto a completely different level. Awed into submission, the pair lost their sense of presence and could only observe. Demanding such, Iori's ability rose to levels not before seen. Almost was this a completely different person from whom they've known.

"(Iori,)" Azusa weakly calls her name.

Knowing what her concerns were regarding, Iori wipes away her tears and faces her friends. Only does she smile, offering absolutely no explanation. Actually, Iori had no explanation to give. For a while something's been growing inside of her. A warm, deep, hidden treasure that allows her to tap into a well of amazing ability. Only slightly does the young idol understand it herself, but accessibility is becoming incrementally effortless. With continued use, then maybe one day she could find the words that best describe her feelings.

"(What's going on!)" was Ritsuko's urgent tone.

It didn't seem like their manager was commenting on Iori's new-found ability, but something of urgent, dire matter. Ritsuko's focus wasn't on the stage, but the near-empty auditorium. Specifically the pair at the very back. Jordan and the Sound Engineer. Hostility is obvious and the two appear to be arguing. Never had Iori seen Jordan this upset. Like a wolverine ready to strike, the former military looks about ready to pounce on the Sound Engineer and rip his head off, and the Sound Engineer, a scrawny guy about the same age, looks ready to fight back. Obvious to everyone but the Sound Engineer, Jordan has him completely outclassed. This very well could be pushed to a violent situation due to the professional's ignorance and unwillingness to back down. Only a disaster could this become.

Throwing the mic out of her ear, Iori leaps from the stage and sprints to the back of the auditorium and sound booth. The other follow, but without their friend's tenacity or energy.

She catches the tail end of the argument, "-and I'm telling you it's crap!"

The Sound Engineer doesn't take that laying down, "Who are you to tell me that my theater's crap? Before every performance I check every microphone, speaker, and every other piece of equipment to make sure it's always at it's best!"

To this Jordan retorts, "Oh, so it's not the equipment that sucks, it's you."

"You sonuva-"

"Stop this right now!" comes the booming voice of the Stage Manager.

Hostilities pause. The Stage Manager is an older man of an age Iori had mistakenly assumed of Jordan. Nearly all of his hair has fallen out over the years, and what little remained was as gray as could possibly be. Of the same stature as Jordan, what separated the two was their heights, with the former military only about 5 or 6 centimeters taller. Authoritative was the Stage Manager's aura and it was very difficult to disobey him. Of the two, Jordan was the least tempered so he hadn't a problem with yielding. Thankfully the Sound Engineer recognizes the threat his boss would pose, so he too backs down. Now that nobody's yelling they could get to the bottom of this conflict.

"First," the boss faces Jordan, "tell me who you are and why you're here."

Iori wanted to jump in and say something, but Jordan was in no official capacity with 765 Productions or Ryuuguu Komachi. He was a friend doing a good deed, but that gave him absolutely no authority on the legal level. The young idol couldn't think of anything to say.

"He's Ryuuguu Komachi's concert promoter," Richie translated for Ritsuko.

A lie, but it establishes his presence. At the very least he won't get kicked out.

After taking his cue to speak, Jordan handles the rest, "Jordan Huntsman, Concert Promoter."

"Okay," the Stage Manager accepts the (false) introduction. "Now what business do you have with my Sound Engineer?"

"He said-" interrupts the Sound Engineer.

"You shut up!" barks his boss. "Go ahead."

Jordan nods in thanks, "It's the sound coming from the speakers. It's unbalanced and sub par."

The boss turns to his underling to explain, "That's not possible. I EQ'ed only three weeks ago. Unless we're having massive speaker problems, which we're not, it's very unlikely that it could go bad that fast."

"Let's say it has happened. How long will it take to fix."

"Hours," Jordan overlaps the Sound Engineer's "An hour."

Jordan has become slightly irritated, but keeps his composure. The Sound Engineer laughs in a gloat.

"I can get it done in a little under an hour."

The Stage Manager scratches his chin, "That's a little more time than I would like to spend if it weren't completely necessary. Throw some music on there and let's take a hear."

Jordan sighs before giving his approval. As it's being set up Iori asks him about the situation.

"Prerecorded music isn't really the best we could do for a test, but I guess we don't have a choice."

"So what-" music interrupts before she can finish.

From what Iori can tell, everything appears to be fine. A quality-demanding orchestra is played and no abnormalities can she detect. However, the scowl on Jordan's face displays otherwise. What is it Jordan hears that she cannot?

After a minute the test ends.

"Everything sounded fine to me," the Stage Manager concludes.

"Don't tell me you can't hear it," Iori can tell Jordan's losing composure. "That was utter garbage!"

It's not so subtle that the man in charge can't tell Jordan's aggravation. What must be going through his head is something akin to when perfectly good food is sent back to a cook. All they have to do is slightly alter the presentation, then suddenly everything's magically solved. His decision is likely only to humor his customer.

"Okay, run the test. We'll set the speakers up again."

Groaning and clearly dissatisfied, the Sound Engineer agrees.

As they getting prepared to run the test again, Iori asks Jordan, "What exactly is wrong with the speakers?"

"It's the quality of the sound it's producing. Iori, I've heard you when you're at a 120%. In that song you did, I could tell you were in the zone. And by the awestruck expressions of Azusa and Ami, they could tell as well. But down here I couldn't hear it, feel it. If you were at 120%, these speakers are only at 80. It'd be-" Jordan stops mid-sentence.

Unsure what's going on, Iori follows his gaze to see the Sound Engineer setting up a stand-based microphone in the middle of the auditorium.

"Damnit," he curses under his breath, "I should have known."

Jordan marches towards the Sound Engineer with clear hostile intent. Everyone had been keeping a cautious eye on the "Concert Promoter" so when he starts to move, everybody was eager to jump on him. The Sound Engineer backs away defensively.

"Now what?" he makes sure to shout loud enough so everyone can hear.

"You can't run an accurate B-Chain with only a single mic!"

"What is it this time?" the Stage Manager is quick to interject.

"He says I can't run my test with a single mic."

"Haven't we always done it with a single mic?"

"Yes. It even says so in the manual."

Jordan's on the edge of losing his temper, "Whoever wrote the manual is an idiot. You need four-"

"You know," the Stage Manager interrupts, "Jordan Huntsman's no Concert Promoter I've ever heard of. And I know them all. From Don King to Chris Hornak, I've met, spoken with, and had meals with them all. You, I don't know. Now, I was trying to be kind because we have a foreign artists, but if you're going to push us all around and try to act a big shot, I'm going to have to ask for your credentials."

Jordan doesn't comply, but his steely expression is unwavering.

"Nothing? Well then, let's start all over again. Who the hell are you?"

Now Iori understood why Jordan said she must be prepared to drop him the moment he becomes an inconvenience. Here are professionals with many years of experience. If he were to be confronted by people of such caliber, it was impossible to emerge the victor.

"I'm an usher at a movie theater," Jordan boldly declares.

The two professionals laugh, and when hearing Richie's translation Azusa, Ami, and Ritsuko gasp. Upon learning the one who made this day possible swept popcorn for a living, how could they not?

"What, just because you work in a movie theater, you think you know how these shows run? This ain't no buck-fifty drive-in. I don't know what scam you've run to get yourself mixed in with these Japanese ladies, but you aren't welcome in my house! Get the hell out of here!"

How many times had Jordan faced this situation? Upon learning the truth, people turn on him. Iori tried to place herself in his shoes, run the same situation as if it were happening to her, but until she saw this scene she couldn't even come close to truly fathoming the scope of the terror it really represented. Helplessness. A situation she hadn't the ability to effect. So very badly did Iori wish to rush to his defense, but would anything she could say keep her savior from being rejected?

Understanding there was no longer a place for him here, Jordan turns to walk away.

"(Don't you move!)"

What surprised them wasn't the outburst, but whom came to his defense. Ritsuko stood blocking his escape. Richie, the translator, was even too shocked to translate. After far too long did he realize that everyone was waiting for him to tell them what she said. He began to translate normally.

Jordan was frozen in shock, unsure what to do. Surely this same scenario had played out before him many times before, but this was the first time that there was an interruption. No one had ever come to his defense.

"(This man has done more then I could even describe. I trust him more than anyone else in this country. I don't care if he's an usher or a criminal, he has my permission to be here. That's not a problem, is it?)"

Only one thing could possibly prevent Jordan's ejection, and that was a veto far overpowering the vote of the Stage Manager. Ritsuko Akizuki was the manager of Ryuuguu Komachi. More than that she represented Junichirou Takagi, the principle client. For this concert, Her's was the ultimate word. After all, the client is always right.

Seeing as there is no objection to her decision, Ritsuko continues, "(Jordan-san, why don't you tell us why we can't use only one microphone?)"

Flabbergasted, it takes a moment before he can properly respond, "Um, yeah. Right. See, if you use only microphone, all you really create is a sweet spot that can hear better than the rest of the house."

"But this is a mic that specifically adjust to the size of the room," the Sound Engineer tries to interject.

"That's a marketing ploy, and it's impossible. It might be able to make estimated adjustments giving the size of the room, but from a single location it's impossible to guess how the sound might bounce off of walls at different locations. You can't struggle against a room's natural acoustics, you have to use it to your advantage. The difference between the two will make a world of difference."

A Stage Manager was in no position to question the validity of his statements. He turns to his own expert.

"What he says isn't impossible," the 'Sound Engineer' meekly states.

"Not only is it 'isn't impossible,' it's the absolute truth. I don't care what manual you read, or what school you learned this from, you're only as smart as the one who passed on their knowledge. Or are you an innovator, someone who can just look at something, anything, and figure out ways it can be better?"

The Sound Engineer doesn't respond.

"The reason you didn't know any of this is that you're all too arrogant to admit someone could be better than you. Let me guess, you went to a very high-priced technical school for a degree nobody's ever heard of. Since it was a newly established course, there really wasn't any curriculum other than what your 'once in the industry' teacher set. The problem was, he didn't know what I'm talking about now, so you don't know it either. Then one day someone like you will become a teacher, and even less people will know the correct way to do this. All the while these shows degrade and Las Vegas as a whole suffers with each new generation taking the stage. Any of this sound possible, or familiar?"

Was it really necessary for Jordan to lay it so thick and tease them? Probably not, but this must have been years of frustration accumulated into this grimy muck of resentment. This was fun for Jordan.

"This technology going into theaters and concerts hasn't really changed in over 30 years. Especially in regards to sound. It starts with cutting costs and cutting corners. They think they're making something easier and cheaper. One microphone that can substitute for four. But the quality decreases a little each 'technological innovation,' that nobody can even remember how good it used to be. All of you work very hard and try to give the ticket-holder 'the best,' but do you even know what 'the best' is anymore?"

Not one to back down, ever, the Sound Engineer says, "Can you believe this bull-"

"Shut up Daniel!" shouts the Stage Manager. For a while he's quiet, deep in his thoughts. "When I was a kid, my parents took me to Vegas and I saw Elvis live and on stage. That was weeks before he died. I remember telling myself, 'I've never seen anything like this.' Now that I work with and see more shows than I could have even dreamed, nothing has even come close to what is was like back then. So you're saying it's over-complicated in it's simplicity that we've actually forgotten what really made stars like Elvis stand out? Kind of like these computer programs that help all these kid stars sing? I understand what you mean, but can your method really make that much of a difference?"

"It's an old method. Nobody really knows how to do it properly anymore. It takes too much time to get it set up. That's why you see the one-microphone install in manuals."

The Stage Manager takes a moment to think. It doesn't take terribly long for him to reach his verdict,

"What do you need?"

"You can't be serious!" objects Danial, the Sound Engineer.

"Danial, go home."

His scrawny body jolts in shock, "You can't be serious," he weekly says.

"I am. Go home for today. I'll talk to you tomorrow."

"This is bull! You can't fire me!"

"I'm not firing you! You're too hopped up right now. Take the day off and I'll talk to you tomorrow."

Danial doesn't take his lightly and makes a noisy exit, cursing all the while.

The Stage Director sighs, "Kid's too high-strung. You hurt his pride a little too much with that. But either way, he's no good to anyone right now. Better to give him time off so he can avoid you."

Iori figured Jordan must be snickering on the inside, but he gives a grateful, "Thanks," as his reply.

"So you were saying what you needed?"

"Yes. We need to get a multiplexer, but I know where-"

Only for a moment does Iori see the blur of an image from the corner of her sight before it strikes. Daniel returned in a full sprint and slams his fist into the back of Jordan's head. The tall man topples over but catches himself as he falls to a knee. Disoriented, he's helpless as the assaulter tackles him and mounts himself on top. A couple punches he lands before he speaks.

"You think you're so smart! Then how come-"

This doesn't last long. Ritsuko swiftly steps in and grabs the scrawny man by his shirt. Using her own weight as a pivot, the female producer twists her body and flings him off Jordan in a Judo-perfect maneuver. Caught by surprise he's helpless against the throw, but he manages to keep his balance when he lands a couple meters back. Unfortunately he isn't given the time to completely recover as Ritsuko drives an elbow dead center into his chest. Stunned, he's also helpless against the sweeping overhead kick that lands on the side of his neck. After that powerful blow Daniel crashes to the ground. For a moment he tries to move, but after a failed attempt he slumps over as he's lost consciousness.

"Are you okay?" of all the phrases she could have possibly learned, this was what Ritsuko asks Jordan in broken English.

Jordan, who's less shocked about getting attacked than by whom he was saved, is slow to respond, "I could've handled it myself."

She might have asked the question in English, but she didn't understand the answer. Before Richie can translate, Iori tells her that Jordan says he's fine. The small young woman offers her hand to aid in his return to his feet, but it should have been quite obvious Iori had absolutely no chance of supporting his weight. Jordan got up on his own.

"Stupid kid," says the Stage Director. "Would have still had his job tomorrow if he wasn't such an idiot. The Union's so tightly knit I couldn't replace him even if I wanted to. But attacking a member of a preforming band, there's nothing that can save him from that."

Because Ritsuko stood up for him, Jordan's association was firmly tied to 765 Productions. While not a member of Ryuuguu Komachi, he was a part of their staff even if only temporary. Attacking Jordan was the same as attacking Ritsuko or one of the other girls. There was no way Daniel could keep his job after this. Once Iori realizes these connections, she wonders if Jordan provoked Daniel on purpose expecting this outcome. No. For once she was giving him too much credit. If so he wouldn't have allowed Ritsuko to save his butt.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" Jordan could tell something none too flattering was going on in Iori's mind.

"Nothing. I just thought that for former military you'd put up more of a fight."

"I was a UAV operator! I've never been in a fight my whole life! The most dangerous thing I had to worry about was diarrhea from the crappy food they served."

"Former military?" the Stage Director asks, unable to not overhear their conversation.

"Army. Long story."

"I see. Well, I don't know if you're a Concert Promoter or an Usher, but I'm down a man and could really use a hand. But you were already expecting that, weren't ya?" he extends his hand to be shaken.

"Yeah, happy to help."

As they shake, "Name's Steve Moon."

. . .

Things got hectic after Daniel was removed by security. Warning them that it couldn't be interrupted after being started, Jordan instructed the staff to assemble as much of the set before he returns. Leaving to "retrieve" this multiplexor from parts unknown, the man's absence lasts over an hour. Shortly after his departure did the hired musicians arrive for the rehearsal, but they weren't able to do so because things were now being done out of order and the schedule was wrecked. Thankfully they work it out with the Casino/Hotel and were given a temporary stage on which they could practice. Certainly were these musicians professionals as it took little effort to combine into a harmony with Ryuuguu Komachi, whom they only met today. They must have used to working with other talent as they adapt quickly. How many other concerts have these few played in a similar manner?

Upon Jordan's return the stagehands were given about a half-hour while he set up all the equipment. Once he was done they had to leave and couldn't return until he was finished. His overly-technical explanation indicated that any bodies present would disrupt the microphones. Plus he was going to flood the speakers with static-like Pink Noise and nobody would want to listen to that for very long.

Time was passing at an alarming rate. The closer they were coming to the curtain call, the faster the hour hand moves. Before Iori knew it, it was already noon; then afternoon. They were busy practicing, switching the playlist around, and making additions to the show. Several fresh ideas were coming to Iori now that her sights was set squarely on their performance. No longer did they have the opportunity to bid for a larger audience, only could they do what they could for the audience they did have. Thus her focus is narrowed.

Three hours before showtime, Jordan calls everyone back to the theater.

"(Please tell me I didn't waste these past several hours,)" Ritsuko begged of Jordan.

It was a huge gamble with time as the ante. Before she allowed him to do his adjustments, Ritsuko asked him if it was completely necessary. Jordan answered "No." It wasn't so bad to negatively effect the concert, and honestly, very few had the ears to properly tell from poorly EQed speakers. However, even if they don't know it consciously, it does effect their mood. To truly give the audience Ryuuguu Komachi's best, this had to be done. Now their manager needs reassurance.

"Oh, don't worry about that," and Jordan's tone is as confident as ever. Then turning to Iori, "Remember that I said the speakers were at 80%? Well, this is the difference of 20%."

Jordan plays the same classical song that was used before.

Assigning a number couldn't accurately portray the difference made. Before, it was alright. Normal. Nothing seemed amiss and was as expected. What they experience now, however, was almost like a completely different creature. Jordan was completely right, they'd forgotten how good "Good" can be.

What they heard wouldn't have been expected from speakers or a CD. Not did they feel as if they were listening to prerecorded song, but from a live orchestra with dozens of artists molding music into harmony. Most of those who were now listening do not have an experience with which they could compare. However, Iori knew of this and knew it well. Only could this quality be expected of an open-air amphitheater's passive sound amplification. This wasn't listening to music, but feeling it all the way to her very bones. Sitting in the Hollywood Bowl, her family by her side, on that warm summer night, listening to over 100 musicians. No, after digging deeper through her memories she found it wasn't quite the same, but still very impressive. Iori might even dare to say, "very damn impressive."

After a few minutes, Jordan saw fit to cease the test. He too seemed lost in the passionate wave in music, but only for a little while.

"I've never heard my showroom sound so good," Steve Moon, the Stage Director told him.

But a sacrifice was made.

"(We don't have time to do a full stage rehearsal,)" Ritsuko announces to everyone.

Jordan worked as fast as he could, hoping he'd finish before they hit that point, but quality has it's price. It was his failure.

"It's alright," Iori allows Richie to translate for her, as this way everyone can hear what she's saying. Separating herself from the group, she turns and faces her friends with the stage as her backdrop. "Our entire time in Las Vegas has been by the seat of our pants, so it wouldn't feel right if our preparations went smoothly. This trip isn't a steady train that arrives at it's destination on time and on schedule, but a jet-propelled dragster that we're happy didn't blow up before we crossed the finish line! By miracle, somehow we've made it to this point, and we're going to make it to the end. Because it has been so difficult, because so much trouble has found it's way in our path, this concert cannot be anything but a complete success! All our effort, hard work, and sincerity has been noticed."

Switching to Japanese, "(Raise your head, and everyone smile. Combine your strength, and aim for the light. There are friends in this world. Friends walking together with you- Don't forget it!)"

Jordan might not have understood the sudden switch, but that part was not meant for him. Was there a deeper meaning in what she said? Not particularly. In fact it was downright plagiarism; but in doing so Iori told her friends that there was only one thing left to do, in what they could put their trust: Their songs. Have faith in their singing, their dancing, and their songs. Ryuuguu Komachi would never have made it this far without those, and those were all that was left to be asked of them. What they must do now is of their best. After everything they've endured thus far, from this point on should be the easy part.

Iori extends her hand, hovering horizontally over open air. Ami and Azusa look to each other and nod, then pile their hands over their center's. Ritsuko comes in fourth, but she leave the circle open, incomplete. Looking towards Jordan, Iori motions her head telling him to, "Get over here." Joining them, he practically drags Richie with him. Both men place their hands in the pile, thought the translator seems uneasy. Ritsuko, who had initially voiced the most content to these two outsiders presence, gave the young man a nod in acceptance. Next the signal was given to Steve Moon, in whose house they were playing. Though a new arrival, he was given the same warm approval as the two others who've already contributed much to their efforts.

Six hands were piled on top of Iori's small and delicate own, though at the moment it possesses the strength to support all the lot. In a moment they will cheer, and Iori tells the English speakers with which phrase they would. Jordan and Steve laugh as if it were amusing, but Richie seems to understand it's significance. Well, Iori could explain it afterwords.

"Okay," Iori Minase announces, "3, 2, 1, -"