Reena sat stoically on the train, her music playing far too loud for the people around her. A smile played across her lips as she tapped her fingers to the beat against the faded guitar case she had tucked between her knees. Upon opening her eyes, she noticed a boy no older than 19, his eyes closed intently, tapping along to her music quietly on his knees. Without meaning to, Reena continued staring until the boy opened his eyes. He instantly looked away, his face growing flushed at having been caught. Reena just continued grinning, however, and switched to a new song. The boy’s eyes snapped open again, and he nodded along to the beat. People began to look concernedly at him, but he smiled to show that he was fine. A bell rang softly, and a voice announced their arrival at Shibuya station. Pocketing her music player and shouldering the old guitar case, Reena exited the train, watching the boy for what seemed the last time—until he put his own bag over his shoulder and followed her off the train. He went to pass her, but Reena caught him by the elbow.

“Wait, you know DeathPiT?” she asked, referring to the music they had been listening to on the train.  The boy turned red.
“Yes, I know them…” he stammered politely.  Reena squealed happily, “I can’t believe you know them! They’re so ‘Underground’—“
The boy stared at the ground.  
“I don’t know, I just like their style.” He said uncomfortably. Reena began pulling the boy by his arm, her blue-tinted bun swinging behind her as she went. The boy looked confused.
“What are you doing, miss…” he fumbled.
Reena stopped. Glancing over her shoulder, she laughed, “Ah, sorry. My name’s Nakamura Reena—I’m the guitarist for the band Fire Exit. We’re based in Shibuya. Who’re you?”
“I’m Haruki.” The boy said quietly. Reena waited for more of an introduction, but was only met with silence.
“Just ‘Haruki’?” she asked.
“Just ‘Haruki’.” He answered.
“Well then, Haruki,” Reena continued, “I’m taking you out for dinner and afterward, we’ll meet the band for drinks. If you like DeathPiT, you’re gonna love us.”
Haruki shook his head.
“Thank you, but I can’t accept your hospitality—it wouldn’t feel right.”
Reena waved his comment away easily. “Well, I’ve already decided. Get your ticket, you’re coming with me. Besides, the guy’s need a distraction. We just lost a bassist.”


At dinner, Reena drilled Haruki with questions about music, composition and instruments. She discovered that he played classical piano at a professional level, but preferred to play both keyboard and synthesizer. Reena, without giving a second thought, remarked, “Well, you’re no bass-player, but hey—you should try out for Fire Exit! The guys can be jerks, but if you’re good enough, they’ll treat you all right.”
Haruki thought about it, chewing his food slowly.
“I’ll have to meet them first.” He said decidedly.  
Reena smiled, paying the bill and walking out, Haruki trailing her heels. While things had happened very suddenly, it just felt right. Haruki, though he was quiet, seemed as if he would mesh well with the rest of the band. He just needed one shot to prove himself.


Reena led Haruki to the front of the building: a brightly polished steel sign bolted over the door read “moNster” in uniform block letters. A sign posted in the front window stated that minors wouldn’t be served. Haruki stopped as Reena opened the heavy, glass-plated door.
“I can’t go in, I’m still underage.” He protested. Reena rolled her eyes, grabbing his hand and pulling at him pleadingly.
“I won’t make you drink, I promise. The rest of the band is already here.” Reena reasoned. Finally giving in, Haruki allowed Reena to drag him into the bar, and scanned the dark, smoky room with a quick glance. A man, probably around 22, with long purple hair lounged on a long leather couch, his legs so long that they reached the far end of the coffee-table he rested them on. The man pushed his hair out of his face with one hand, and took a swig of beer from the bottle in his other. Upon seeing Reena, the man waved enthusiastically and stood up. He was a head taller than Haruki.
“Oi, Reena—who’d you drag here this time? Another bassist Boy-Toy?” The man asked, playfully draping one arm around Reena’s shoulders. She elbowed him hard in the stomach, and he landed back on the couch with a thump.
“Not a boy-toy, not a bassist. Rei, this is Haruki. He plays piano, keyboard and synthesizer,” she motioned happily, ”Haruki, this is Oomori Rei, our drummer, and gothic Lolita enthusiast.”
Haruki looked confused. He’d heard of Lolita, the clothing style, before, but why would this lanky, masculine man try to pull off something so… different?
“But… you’re a man.” Haruki couldn’t stop himself from replying. Rei cocked his head to the side.
“Why would you dress that way?” Haruki continued. Rei grinned.
“For the girls, of course. Do you know how many girls in our corner of the market go crazy over cross-dressers?” he laughed, drinking more beer.
“Oh, hey Reena, long time no see.” Another, much younger voice interjected. A boy, maybe 16 at the most, plopped down next to Rei. The boy looked fairly dressed up, but his hair was tousled and he looked fairly relaxed. He scratched his head in a noncommittal way and sighed softly. His hair was an odd color—much like the other members of the band, but his seemed more… natural. It was a dusty gray color, different than Haruki had ever seen.
Reena squealed with delight.
“My Harley missed me!” she squeaked, pouncing on the gray-haired boy and draping her arms around him. He started pushing away from her, snapping, “Did I say that? No—!“ then he looked at Haruki.
“Who’s this, then?” he asked, giving up as Reena clamped onto his shoulder.
“Ah, I’m Haruki,” he stated formally, “I play keyboard and synthesizer. I’d like to try out for your band.”
Harley looked surprised. “I didn’t know we needed a keyboardist,” he said, throwing a look at Reena, “but… I guess it’d be good to take our minds off of our recent loss.”
Rei muttered bitch under his breath and took another drink. Reena shot Rei a look full of daggers, then motioned to a piano in the smoky corner of the bar, “Show us what you can do, Haruki!”
She smiled, though her eyes didn’t show it.