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Kyoka straddled her large case and retreated into Mr Yamada's music room. She laid her large case on the floor and took out her acoustic guitar. Glancing over, Kyoka began strumming out one of her father's favourites, 'A Pillow of Winds' by Pink Floyd.
Music made her at ease while her mind wandered. It's Friday, marking the end of Kyoka Jiro's first week at school. Including herself, there are twenty students in her class. She knew all six of the girls' names and a few of the boys' too. She befriended a girl named Momo and learned from a classmate who was smarter than anyone else. She forgot his name, but he wore glasses and stood to attention at all times. She chuckled at recalling his exaggerated poses. Others blended into obscurity. She is fraught at the possibility of joining them. Momo is walking away and finding a new friend who can hold a conversation, rather than giving short answers.
Her fingers hit the wrong note—a brief pause. Kyoka took out her mother's Rolling Stones Songbook, turned the pages, and began playing 'As Tears Go By'. The first verse is stable, but her string composition on the second is a struggle, and then she fell apart on the third. Tapping her foot, Kyoka strummed a straightforward piece, 'Play With Fire'. She gave up on that, too.
Her head fell into her hands.
"Wow! You play guitar?!"
Kyoka swung round. A boy! She sat next to him in class but couldn't recall his name — only his annoying presence. He oozed attention, from his jet black jacket and jeans, the bolt-shaped dye in his blond hair, and his big, stupid smile.
"That's awesome!!" He beamed loudly. "How many songs can you play?! Can I-"
He stepped forward. Kyoka shirked off her stool, backstepping until she hit the padded wall. The Boy froze mid-step. His classmate covered her face with her instrument. Her nerves were higher than when Mr Aizawa introduced her to the class on Monday.
"Are you okay?" His voice lowered. "I didn't mean to scare you or anything. I…”
Oh, god! He's seen me play. No one should know. No one. Not now.
The eyes of one seeing her at her most personal are far worse than twenty eyes watching her at her most vulnerable.
"You're Kyoka, aren't you? The new girl?" Kyoka nodded. "Right, can you put the guitar down, please? Before you break something or someone."
Kyoka lowered the guitar but kept her eyes on her feet as she did.
The Boy relaxed, "Phew. Alright. You okay, Kyoka?" She lied. "Good. I'll leave and let you play in peace." He shrugged. "I'm sorry I ever-"
His foot brushed against something on the floor - her mother's songbook. He picked it up and took a look at the bookmarked pages. Her eyes lowered back to her shoes as her cheeks got heated, and her knee began to twitch.
"Is this what you were trying to play?" She shrugged. "If so, I can show you how."
Kyoka's head snapped up. The Boy scratched the back of his neck.
"You can play?"
"Few songs." He shrugged. "I'm not great, but I try." He took up a small banjo and thumbed out a few notes. "Do you wanna try? With me?"
"Yeah." Kyoka found herself smiling.
As the student sat back on her stool, her new master sat on a beanbag. She adjusted her mother's book. The Boy tapped her stool with his foot.
"Here, you watch my fingers. I'll start slow, you follow, and then we'll work our way up. Start with the first one, right? Okay."
As he said, the Boy played, and Kyoka followed his example. Focusing on his fingers and her chord progression. If she found a particular piece difficult, the Boy paused, then played the section again at a slower pace. Once overcoming her difficulty, Kyoka and the Boy resumed their steady pace. In short succession, the two played in almost perfect unity, despite differing instruments.
Kyoka turned to the 'Play with Fire' page. But the Boy shot up. "Shoot! I gotta go! My parents are going to kill me." He threw his banjo into the beanie bag. "I'll see ya Monday! BYE!"
He runs out before Kyoka can say either 'thank you' or 'see you too'. She stares from the door to the banjo, then back to her instrument.
One more time won't hurt.
She sighed, and her fingers slid. She hit all but the last three notes. Eyes closed and with no help, Kyoka stood off from her stool and went all-in with blistering fingers. By the previous verse, Kyoka recalled the Boy's finger playing too well; she mistook it for her own. With one last flick, Kyoka stood with her pick hand in the air. She is like another of her father's favourite guitarists—victory stance, as her parents called it, after she learned her first song on the instrument.
She opened her eyes. He stands before her, heaving with awe.
"I thought you-"
"Before I forget!" He raised his hand. "I need to tell you something." He stood rigid and bowed (a perfect imitation of the student with the glasses). "I'm sorry. When I came here, I wanted to tell you, Kyoka, you are so cool. I heard you playing, and I came in to tell you how cool you are. I loved hearing you play, and now you're not. Kyoka, you are so AWESOME!!"
It's all becoming too much for young Kyoka, but she took the compliment, despite its embarrassment. He is about to run away again until she grabs his long sleeve. He faced her, his forehead covered in sweat. Nerves are overtaking her. Kyoka looked at her shoes once more.
"Thanks, and what's your name?" She asked, tugging her sleeve.
“Denki. Denki Kaminari.”
His lips turn up. No teeth. Only a smile.
"See ya Monday!" He called back as he ran out the door.
"What about-"
"Only if I'm not grounded. BYEE!"
"Denki. Denki Kaminari." She whispered with a smile.
Jiro listened to him run out the exit door before returning to rehearsals. Luckily, Denki never got grounded and got permission for after-school activities. Thus, Denki helped his new friend Kyoka learn all the songs from her mother's playbook.
With that, Kyoka Jiro befriended Denki Kaminari, a name she would never forget, even on some days when she tried to ignore it.