'I've always liked Hayate, but this kinda joke's on another level,' remarked Ryo, studying the letter once I'd handed it to him.

'I don't think it's a joke.' replied Touji. 'See that signature?' He pointed to below where the letter signed off. 'Looks official enough to me. And if it's not, it's a pretty illegal joke.'

'Whatever it is, it sounds like a good opportunity. It almost sounds like you don't want it to be true, Ryo,' Jiro interrogated.

I spoke in Ryo's place. 'It got delivered to us by the vice president of the school council. I don't think its a fake. And I do agree with Jiro, it is a good opportunity. We always declined to perform at our old school though Jiro, how come you're so enthusiastic now?'

Jiro paused.

'Girls.'

'Of course.'

Ryo defended himself now, perhaps a bit too late.

'Surely it's a bit fantastical? I mean, we haven't even been called up to perform at our own Christmas festival yet.'

'That's true,' Touji affirmed. 'But debating whether it's real or not won't bring us anywhere, we'll find out when Jess sends an e-mail. So let's have a vote, first if we want to perform there, then here. All in favour of performing here?'

Everyone but Jiro raised their hands.

'All in favour of performing at the girls' school?'

Now everyone raised their hands.

Touji pressed on. 'So that's settled. We'll perform at both venues. By the way Jiro, how come you don't want to perform here but you do there? Don't just say 'girls' this time.'

'We're more likely to get judged here,' he replied, more coolly than I thought he would.

'Fair enough,' I shot back. 'Though we'll only get judged badly if our song's shit.'

I paused.

'So seeing as we're set on performing, we need to decide: will we perform an original? Or something we already know?'

Jiro responded. 'Well, every time we've been at our old school's Christmas festivals, which one have the bands usually performed?'

He answered his own question.

'Their own songs. So surely we should get to writing our own?'

We all murmured in agreement.

I added on to what he was saying, after some thought. 'Though we can't write anything too heavy, I doubt an audience full of girls would enjoy it.'

'I actually think it should be on the heavier side, seeing as that's what we're into. But something upbeat as well. We can throw in as many drum fills and crank up the distortion on the guitars as much as we like, as long as the crowd can sing and clap along to it,' Touji countered.

'I suppose,' I returned.

Ryo jumped in. 'How're we going to write a song though? It's not like any of us have ever done it before.'

Jiro answered. 'Well, what's the backbone of any song?'

I knew the answer already, having provided it for the past three years. 'Bass?'

'Exactly. That's why Jess can write a bassline first of all. He can structure the song however he likes and provide a bassline for it. Something upbeat, remember. Then, Touji can write a drum line based off of it. Something fast.

After that comes Ryo with rhythm guitar. The chords are important because they set the tone for the whole song, right?'

We all stared stunned at Jiro and slowly nodded.

'Then once that's all done, that's when I come in. I'll write a lead guitar line over the top of everything and maybe even a solo, if Jess leaves room for it. Then once that's done that's the instrumentation covered, so we move onto lyrics. Obviously Ryo's gonna be singing 'em, but I propose that we all write a sample verse and then nominate whoever's is best to write the rest. Sound good?'

No one answered. Even Touji was lost for words at Jiro's sudden spurt of leadership.

Until he wasn't.

'Have you always been this thoughtful and just act a retard, or did you take something this morning?'

Jiro chuckled.

We agreed to Jiro's proposed plan, which left me having to start the work. I was given a week by the others to finish it up, so for the first time, I willingly left the clubroom early that afternoon. I first replied to the e-mail saying we'd accept their invitation. I'd receive one back the next day saying that they were glad we'd accepted and that further details would be disclosed at a later date. I then downloaded a music program onto my computer that would allow me to write onto it whatever I'd composed. I messed around with it for a couple hours and got to know how it worked before I actually plugged in my bass and began brainstorming.

A song that was catchy, upbeat, but also heavy on the instrumentation? One word flashed in my head: rapid.

I played around with my bass that day and eventually went to bed without coming up with anything worthwile.

I admitted the same to my friends the next day and was reminded of my week's deadline.

I went home that day, completely skipping going to the clubroom this time. I played around more precariously with my bass, and whilst playing random notes I discovered a small progression that actually didn't sound bad. I played around with it a bit, added a few octave jumps in some places, and eventually I had solidified a few bars' worth of bassline. It was pretty complicated so I reserved it for the choruses. And then I went to bed.

The third day of composition came and went. I wrote down what I'd thought of onto my program and solidified the structure along with it. It went:

Introduction - Verse - Bridge - Chorus - Link - Verse - Bridge - Chorus - Link - Instrumental - Verse - Bridge - Chorus - Outro.

I made sure to make the last chorus twice as long to ensure audience participation, surely they'd've memorised the lyrics to it at that point?

I went to bed happier that day, satisfied with my productivity.

On the fourth day I developed a simpler bassline for the introduction and links, using similar themes for both. I wrote them onto my program after.

On the fifth I constructed a simple galloping rhythm for the verses and bridges. I wrote them down too, and all that was left to do now was the instrumental. I wasn't sure whether to leave it as a collaborative project between all instruments or just leave Jiro to pave the passage into the final verse. I thought about that for a few minutes before going to bed, thinking that I'd worry about it the next day.

And worry about it I did. On the sixth day I decided that the instrumental would be split between a bass solo followed by a guitar solo. The bass solo would be simplified and would continue into the guitar solo to back it.

So that was all well and decided, and all that was left now was to actually compose it.

Easier said than done.

I played around again with what I'd already made for the chorus, but anything I did just made it sound worse.

I personally had no clue of musical theory so I had nothing really to go off of, so I decided to start off with what I liked about my chorus: octave jumps. After developing a small progression, I added octaves on top of it, and started improvising. A small chromatic melody between suddenly came about which I quite liked, so I wrote it onto my program and called it a day. The song was finally laid out.

The final day came.

All I did was tweak a few parts of the song, made different sections meld together better and made the bassline develop as it went along, making it faster along the final chorus.

And so it was done.

I felt nothing but relief as I downloaded the score and sent it to Touji - it was his turn to suffer now.

The withdrawn contempt I felt as he strolled into the clubroom on his second day out of his allocated week was fierce.

Was he joking or was he actually done?

He told us he'd sent it the score to Ryo and me.

Was this some talent only drummers had? Or was he just... better? I was positive he hadn't done this before, but when I went home and listened to it, it genuinely sounded perfect. He'd somehow interpreted my entire thinking process based off of my score alone and converted it into his own part. It was fast when it needed to be and sped up when we needed to build up. He'd added a fair amount of syncopation and emphasised any notes that I'd wanted to without me telling him.

Now it was Ryo's turn.

He turned his version in within a couple of days - a simple chord progression was nothing complicated, but as I listened to it, I was amazed how far the song'd gotten, and how good it sounded already with just a chord progression added to its backbone.

Ryo sent the file to Jiro and we waited a week to see what he'd deliver.

And deliver he did. On the seventh day, like me, he sent a copy of the score to everyone. It's been up to him to decide where vocals went and he did it well, adding small, catchy hooks every so often to reel the audience in. His solo sounded freshly original and built off of mine really quite well. We listened to it as a group in the clubroom, together for the first time in over a month.

We sat in silence until it ended and remained like that afterwards. It was wild how we'd actually managed to do it.

Now all that was left to do was add some vocals on top of it.

'So, are we going along with Jiro's plan on how to write a vocal line? Because I'm happy to do it myself,' remarked Ryo.

To be honest, anything that got me out of writing vocals worked for me. 'If you think you can, then go ahead.'

So he did. Though instead of abstaining from going to the clubroom to write them alone, he did them with us, asking for words that rhymed every so often as he did.

For some reason he decided to write the choruses in English and somehow roped me into writing them with him. He had a rough idea of what he wanted and I was relieved that I wouldn't have to come up with anything original, only flesh out his basic sentences into more complex, flowing ones.

And then it was done. We gave ourselves a week to memorise our parts and after that, for the first time, we stepped into our clubroom with our only intent being to practice.

I felt a feeling similar to that when we'd listened to the performance in Isaac's garage.

Were the sounds filling up the clubroom, flowing around the walls and brightening them, really produced by us? I looked around and it didn't seem like anyone was playing, only doing whatever felt right with their instruments. And it did feel right and it did sound right and it was wonderful.

We practiced a few times every day as November drew to a close.

I received the promised further details at that time too. We were given a date and our performance slot. We personally didn't mind when it was, as long as we got to miss some school time.

Speaking of school time, Yasu had walked in on us practicing a few days earlier and given us the same details for our performance here. Which was a day before the one at the girls' school.

We ended November practicing and started December the same. We had about 3 weeks before we performed.

Whilst we joked about how badly our reputations would go down the drains if we fucked up in front of the girls, I wasn't laughing when I thought the same at home, in bed, staring at my ceiling, sleepless.

Light hearted weeks moved by and the frost on the edges around our windows progressed.

Even though Yasu and Hayate had given us their full confirmation that our song was 'perfect', would it still appeal to the audiences we were performing to?

Even if the claps were synchronized, the cheers deafening, would there still be someone blind to us, someone who had a no reason to dislike us, yet did?

These were the thoughts that progressed as did we as a band.

Time too, progressed, quicker than it seemed.

After over a month of reciting our song it was suddenly the night before our performance at our own school. As anxious as I was though, I never expected to fall asleep with my bass in my arms. And to wake up next to it as if it were my lover.

I packed it into its case, grabbed my lead, and set off like any other day. I met with Ryo, who also had his guitar strapped upon his back and we got to walking. We got into school with Touji and headed directly to our clubroom, where we were pleasantly surprised to see Touji already waiting. We had permission from Yasu to be able to abstain from helping with half-assed stalls, so we could practice. Some of those stalls were curiously operated by girls wearing their own uniform. I supposed that was all part of this new unifying project, although those stalls did seem to get a lot more attention than the male-operated ones.

We'd walk up onto that stage a few hours later having plugged in our instruments in the clubroom and moved no further. Nerves were at an all time high as I walked up the steps to the stage, to greet a sea of people morphed into one by the lighting pointed directly into my eyes.

Their grey faces went unnoticed by me, as did Ryo's introductory speech. The only thing that could have and did bring me back to myself were the steady clicks of Touji's drumsticks clicking together. It was a sound I'd grown well accustomed to and one that I knew meant that what was coming should be nothing short of perfect, unless Touji's criticisms were something you enjoyed.

We launched into song. Verses came one after another and as planned, we made sure each chorus coming was more energetic than the last.

The solos were perfect and I managed to not somehow fuck mine right up, despite playing in what seemed like some sort of trance where entire sections of the song would skip by entirely, where my playing felt as if I put no effort into it, as if some deity was guiding my fingers onto the fret board as they needed to be. It made sure that my playing became more and more powerful towards the end and ensured that our final note that would resound into the hall and would trigger applause and appreciation from our audience.

It left when we ended, it seemed like I had taken my first breath for the first time in an hour. I sought the appreciation of our school council friends and was satisfied to see their approval in the forms of ecstatic cheering. We thanked our booming audience and walked offstage, still breathing.

We made our way back to the clubroom and collapsed into our seats. I lay my head back onto my beanbag, practically spread-eagled on its soft furry surface, and kept breathing.

Each exhale seemed louder than our performance was, no one spoke a word and the only sound filling the room was breathing.

We forgot about the others and only became aware of our own breaths.

This blissful monotony ended abruptly with Touji's commendation.

'Good work, guys.'

We then each proceeded to commend each other individually on our performance and spent the rest of the day in the clubroom, only exiting it to grab some food from one of the stalls without bothering to explore further - being content with each other's company was filling enough.

I walked home that day with my muscles more relaxed than they had been on my morning walk to school.

I fell asleep in that same state, expecting the next day to truly wake me with thunderous appraise.

Though to greet it, in silence I walked to school.

And to greet my friends, I did. In the same sullen manner.

Perhaps I was more anxious about our upcoming performance than I was letting on, even to myself.

After lunchtime, we were walked to the girls' school by Yasu. A twenty minute walk did nothing to defrost my fingertips nor my eyes, which seemed to be frozen in mindless thought.

Yasu caught on.

'Nervous?'

'Pretty much.'

'How come? It's gonna be perfect, our audience at home loved you, and so will they. You'll leave 'em begging for more, I know you will.'

'Ya think?'

'I'm certain. I'll be in the audience watching you, and believe me, seeing as you're all boys, let's just say the cheers'll get wilder. Even if you mess up. Which you won't.'

'How do you know that?'

'I know that you're the ones brave enough to go on stage, and they're the cowards basking in your glory. So savour it.'

That resounded in me. It was true after all, they were all the ones sitting down, never being singled out. If anything, we were brave.

We were the ones lit up by the stage lights, they sat in the dim moor unlit by the distracted lamps.

It seems I was already being shone upon by those lamps even as I walked through the school's front gate. I strolled in with renewed confidence. Realistically, was I not worrying about nothing? Would I not fall asleep grinning ear-to-ear?

Would the little man in my fucking brain shut up for once and see I was worth something?

Worth the friends around me?

Worth the guitar strapped upon my back, and the melodies I so loved to make with it?

Worth not having to think these thoughts any time he tilted my life askew?

So he did shut up. He was the one sitting in the back of my head and I was the one in the spotlight. Perhaps blinded, but still glorious.