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The familiar sounds of “Mayoi Uta” filled the practice room. Anon’s fingers slid along the frets, and the vague pressure of the strings pressed into her recently-formed calluses. She navigated the chords with a practiced confidence, a feeling she couldn’t have imagined a few months ago. But now she was, like, easily the best guitarist in her class! She had only misplayed like one note so far! And she’d only fallen off tempo twice! Was it any wonder she was MyGO!!!!!’s leader?
When the song came to an end and the last notes faded out, she looked around the room at her band mates with a big smile. “That sounded great, everyone!”
“Says the girl who lagged behind for a few bars in the second verse,” Taki said, scowling from behind the drums.
Ha! Taki hadn’t even noticed when she’d been a little fast during the bridge. That gave Anon the confidence to talk back.
“Oh c’mon, Rikki, lighten up! It was only like a millisecond. I doubt anyone would even notice!”
“I noticed.”
“Yeah, but you wrote the song, so you’re extra sensitive to it.” She turned to Soyo. “Soyorin, did you notice me falling off at all?”
“Obviously,” Soyo said, shooting her a flat stare.
“Geh,” Anon grimaced. “There’s no way—I don’t believe you!”
“My whole job is to keep the tempo, so of course I noticed.”
“Um… I didn’t really notice anything,” Tomori said.
Anon beamed at her then shot a smirk back at Taki and Soyo. “See! If Tomorin didn’t hear anything weird about it, then no one in the audience would!”
Soyo rolled her eyes while Taki’s scowl deepened. Man, she’d be so much prettier if she smiled more. Not that girls always had to smile! Anon hated when people told her to smile when she didn’t want to. But sometimes Taki took the whole “tough facade” way too far. It wasn’t like all of them weren’t aware she was a huge softie at heart by now. So why not let it show a bit more?
Ah, there we go, she stopped making that mean face. After a big sigh, her normal resting face returned. “Whatever. Despite that mistake, it was still a good warm up. Let’s work on ‘Tanebi’ next.”
“So we’re definitely playing that one at the next show?” Anon asked. With how flighty Taki could be about their setlist, it didn’t hurt to make sure.
“I don’t see why not,” Taki said. “We’ve gotta play it for an audience eventually.”
She had a point. The song had been done for a while now, but a lack of shows lately had left it in a weird limbo. They’d practiced it a lot (a far cry from when they first started out), so it just made sense to finally play it in a show.
“Good song,” Raana said. “Wanna play it.”
“Me too,” Tomori said.
“Then let’s practice it some more so we can play it well at the show,” Taki said.
Everyone took their places. Taki glanced around the room one last time before counting them in.
Anon really liked “Tanebi”—especially the intro. Her and Raana played very complementary parts, and it almost let her pretend that she was also the lead guitar instead of just the rhythm. It didn’t last, though. Once the others jumped in, it became very clear that she was still very much the rhythm guitarist. The chords themselves weren’t super difficult, but “Tanebi” was filled with all these little bursts of super fast strumming. She’d sucked at it super hardcore for a while, and it still wasn’t uncommon for her to get those parts wrong.
And if that weren’t enough, she had so many singing parts, too! And talking parts! She had always loved listening to Tomori’s sort of spoken word lyrics, but trying to do them herself was super hard! And! And! There was so much English at the end, too! Sure, Anon was pretty good at English (though she could do without the country itself), but trying to speak/sing in English while playing guitar?! It was super hard!!
But maybe that was also why she liked the song so much. Getting through the whole thing while only making a few mistakes felt suuuuper satisfying.
The first run-through ended, and Taki spent time giving everyone feedback. Anon didn’t even argue or make any snarky comments; everything Taki had called her out on was something she had noticed while playing. That in itself provided a sort of satisfaction. She was getting better at reading and assessing her own mistakes!
They played through it several more times, and each time, Taki had fewer and fewer notes for her. The second verse still tripped her up more than she wanted, but she had already made some significant improvement in this one practice session. It should only take her one or two more to feel truly comfortable with it.
“Alright, I think that’s enough for now,” Taki said after their fifth time. She wiped some sweat away from her face. “We’re almost out of time, and I wanted to leave a little bit at the end to hand out the new sheet music for ‘Ichijitsusenshu’ and let everyone look over it.”
“Oh, you finally got it done?” Anon asked.
“Last night, yeah. Lemme send it out. Take some time to read through it, and let me know if you have any questions. I expect everyone to do some solo practice so we can jump into a group run-through next time.”
The file arrived, and Anon pulled it up on her tablet. The score and accompanying tabs appeared on screen. Anon smiled to herself. She didn’t have the heart to tell Taki that she didn’t need the tabs anymore—not after Taki had gone through all the trouble of learning how to make them in her software.
She scanned through it, making note of the most common chords and the progressions. It didn’t look too bad, all things considered. The first verse was actually pretty sparse for her. More time to work the crowd a little, she supposed. Reaching the end of the second chorus, she paused.
Hold on, that didn’t look right. Where’d all her normal chords go? And what was with all the squiggly lines? It almost looked like…. She switched sheets to look at Raana’s score in that particular section. They were nearly identical. But this was normally where the guitar solo went….
“Rikki,” she said, looking up, “did you make a mistake on mine?”
Taki shot her a glare and a, “Haah?”
“I mean, it looks like you just copy-pasted Raana-chan’s solo into mine as well.”
“No, that’s right,” Taki said. “If you’d looked closer, you’d have seen that your part is the same melody with different notes, so you’re harmonizing.”
“But that’s her solo.”
“Haven’t you heard of a twin lead solo before?” Taki asked, looking at her like she was stupid. “It’s really common for bands with two guitarists.”
Anon blinked. Twin lead solo. Solo. Lead. Lead solo. Twin lead solo.
“Wait, you’re giving me a solo?!?!” she yelled, loud enough for Soyo to glare at her.
“Is that a problem?”
“What? N-No! Not at all! In fact, it’s about time you recognized my talent and gave me one!” Her confident laugh came out anything but, trailing away awkwardly.
Taki rolled her eyes. “Uh huh, sure. Don’t make me regret this.”
“You can count on me, Rikki!” Anon said as a small pit of anxiety opened up in her stomach. She pushed it down.
“Good. Any other questions about the score?” Anon shook her head. Taki looked around at the others. “Anyone else?” Nothing. “Then let’s get cleaned up and head out.”
It only took a few minutes to clean up the practice studio, but Anon spent the entire time running her brain in circles. Her thoughts flew around in a constant loop of “holy crap, I have a solo!” to “oh god, what if I mess up?” to “Rikki wouldn’t give me a solo if I couldn’t do it” to “but what if I’ve just been faking it this whole time?” to “that can’t be right, I'm a kickass punk rocker chick!” to “hell yeah, I deserve that solo!” and back again.
Someone touched her elbow from behind, and she jumped. Turning around, she found Tomori standing there, clutching her notebook.
“Ano-chan….” Tomori’s expression asked the question she couldn’t put into words.
“I’m fine, I’m fine!” Anon said, putting on the best smile she could. “Don’t worry, Tomorin; I’m just super excited to have a solo!” Which wasn’t exactly a lie, per say….
Tomori’s brows furrowed even more, but she nodded. “I believe in you.”
Her smile became more genuine. “D’awww, Tomorin! You’re so sweet. Thank you.”
They finished up shortly afterwards and went their separate ways home. Anon spent the walk trying her best not to fall back into that cycle from earlier. Sometimes she could distract herself by thinking about school or some new fashion magazine her friends had showed her, but the weight of her guitar on her shoulders invariably pulled her thoughts back towards music.
She had a solo. (Technically it was a twin lead solo (so was it really even a solo anymore if both her and Raana were playing?) but who cared about technicalities.) If she made a mistake, it’d be super obvious for anyone to hear. As much as she vocally lamented her role as rhythm guitarist, it was a sort of comfort to know that any minor mistakes she made likely wouldn’t get noticed by most people. (Not that she was okay with making mistakes! But knowing that she could make them helped.)
And if anything, this whole twin lead solo thing was probably more demanding than a normal solo! If it were a true solo, no one would be able to tell that any mistake she made wasn’t actually what she meant to play. But a twin solo? With Raana? If she fell out of harmony or off rhythm with her at all, then everyone would notice! It’d be a disaster! She might as well transfer schools if that happened!
Okay, maybe not that drastic, but still! It would suck super hardcore!
Ugh, this sucked. But Tomori said she believed in her. And Taki had kind of indirectly admitted to the same thing by giving Anon this solo in the first place. So she just had to believe in herself, too!
Once home, she immediately pulled her guitar out to give this solo a try. Past her initial panic at some of the extra symbols, the actual notes weren’t anything too weird. She had probably played all of these notes at one point or another, and it wasn’t all that fast. If anything, it’d probably be easier since it mostly called for individual notes, not full chords!
But after almost an hour, she hadn’t gotten past the halfway mark without making a mistake. Her fingers weren’t moving the way she wanted them to—the way she knew they could. Through the calluses, a deep ache had settled in, reminiscent of those long, lonely nights of days past. Ugh, and she hadn’t even touched the rest of the song. If she showed up to practice tomorrow without doing at least a few attempts on her own, Taki would be so mad at her.
Maybe a break would help. It was getting late, so she should take her bath and go through the rest of the song afterwards.
When she went to bed several hours (and several run-throughs) later, at least she took comfort in the fact that her rhythm guitar skills hadn’t magically disappeared on her.
##########
“Stop!”
The music ground to a halt. Shame, frustration, anger, and a dozen other emotions boiled in Anon’s stomach. Her eyes stayed locked on her guitar, on the useless pick in her useless hand. She didn’t want to look up. She didn’t want to see the scowl she knew Taki wore, directed solely at her. She didn’t want to see the unamused look on Soyo’s face, or the concern on Tomori’s, or the apathy on Raana’s. Silence hung in the studio—deafening, suffocating.
A frustrated sigh broke it. “Let’s take a ten minute break,” Taki said, her voice unnervingly neutral.
The door opened and shut, likely Raana wandering off somewhere. Anon still hadn’t looked up from her guitar. Her left hand tightened around the neck.
“Ano-chan—”
“I’m fine!” she yelled. Even she flinched at the volume. “I’m fine. I just need some fresh air.” She put her guitar on its stand and half-ran out of the room, still staring down at her feet.
Once out in the lobby, she took a deep breath. It came out shaky. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t fucking cry. She could find somewhere to hide, but she didn’t dare cry.
A week had passed, and Anon still hadn’t played through the solo without making mistakes. Not even after three group practices and non-stop work at home on her own. It had been okay the first two practices; the song was still new, and Taki had no issues powering through mistakes to build repetitions of the song as a whole.
That grace had ended today. Taki called a stop for every little infraction: Soyo falling off tempo, Raana improvising too much, herself for a misplayed drum fill, Anon for a wrong chord. Through it all, anxiety built up in Anon's stomach. The first time they actually reached the solo, she screwed up the first note. In the subsequent half dozen tries, she never made it more than three bars.
And that was how she found herself outside on the fire escape, hugging her knees and pressing her face into them. The pressure kept the tears inside.
The door opened behind her. She flinched but didn't lift her head. After the door shut, no footsteps clanked on the metal; whoever it was hadn't moved.
“You wanna tell me what's wrong?”
Oh. Huh. Anon hadn't expected Taki to come after her. If anyone did, she would have guessed Tomori. She couldn't decide if this was better or worse.
“Isn't it obvious?” she asked back, her voice muffled by her knees.
“I mean, I can take a guess,” Taki said. She paused just long enough for Anon to think that was it before adding, “It's been a while since you've had this much trouble with a song.”
A fresh bout of shame roiled her stomach. “You think I don't know that?”
“So then what's going on?”
“It… it's too hard,” Anon said. The words made her teeth ache as they left her mouth. “I can't do it. You should just write me a rhythm section like normal and let Raana-chan have the spotlight.”
“I thought you were done running away.”
Anon's head shot up, and she spun around. “Haah?!”
Taki stood on the landing above her, arms crossed, but a not-unkind expression on her face. “That's what this is, isn't it? You're running away.”
“I am not running!” Anon yelled.
“Then you're giving up. Is there really that big a difference between those two things?” Taki's expression didn't change.
“I—!” Anon bit the retort back. “I'm not… I don't want to. But if I can't play it….”
“So why can't you?” Taki asked.
“If I knew that, I'd fix it!”
“You said it was too hard.”
Anon looked down at her hands. She clenched them, her nails digging into her palms. “Whenever I try to play it… my fingers don't do what I want them to.”
“That doesn't necessarily mean it's too hard,” Taki said. She left the landing and descended the steps to sit down next to Anon. “I may not actually play guitar, but I've written enough parts and seen you play enough to know for certain that you've tackled harder stuff. So maybe there's something else going on?”
Something else going on…. Anon took a few deep breaths.
“Maybe? I don't know.” Except she did. Or at least she had a feeling. But actually admitting it to Taki? Ew, barf.
“Well, just… keep it in mind or something. Maybe if you can figure that out, you can figure the solo out, too.” Taki stood up and brushed off her skirt. “Now c’mon. Break’s almost over.”
Anon grimaced. “Are we gonna go back to ‘Ichijitsusenshu’?”
“Nah. I think everyone’s tired of playing that right now.” She held out her hand.
Anon stared at it a moment before taking it. How on earth were Taki’s hands so soft and smooth? Did she sleep with them in a bucket of moisturizer or something? Anon would kill a man for hands that soft, but noooooo, she just had to play guitar and develop calluses. Drummers had it so easy.
Taki pulled her to her feet and let go. Too many neurons in Anon’s brain told her to take it back—to keep enjoying the softness and the warmth—and the rest of her that had sense had to wrestle back control. What the heck? Ugh, her brain must be worse off than she thought.
But still, Taki had been sorta nice to her….
“Thanks, Rikki,” she said, straightening her own skirt. “For coming to check on me.”
Anon caught the way Taki’s eyes widened before she crossed her arms again and turned away. “Whatever. It’s nothing.”
Holy crap, the tips of her ears turned red. What the heck, that was so cute. Anon smiled for the first time since practice started.
“Even after everything, you’re still such a tsundere.”
“Haaah?!”
Anon laughed and stepped past her offended friend to return to the studio.
##########
They took a break from working on “Ichijitsusenshu” during group practices. Taki never offered an explanation, and no one bothered to ask for one. That didn’t stop Anon from practicing it at home, though. Or at least the solo. She honestly felt pretty good about the rest of it.
But that damn solo….
Well, whatever. She had time to figure it out. It wasn’t like they were gonna play it at their next show or anything.
“I… I want to play ‘Ichijitsusenshu’ this weekend.”
Shit.
“I think… I think it’s important,” Tomori added, looking between them with that determined expression she sometimes got. It was Monday, meaning they'd only have two practices left before that show.
Taki’s eyes darted over to Anon before focusing back to Tomori. “Really? How come?”
She clutched her skirt and looked down. “I… got a letter at school today. And.” She swallowed and lifted her head. “I want this song to be my answer. I want these words to be free. I need them to be heard.”
A fresh stab of fear rammed itself in Anon’s stomach. Great. As if the pressure for this song wasn’t big enough already.
But she made no protest.
None of them could say no to Tomori, after all.
Wednesday’s practice went as well as Anon expected: which was to say, bad. After five failed attempts, Taki threw her hands up in defeat, and they switched to the other songs in the setlist. They had one more group practice on Friday before the show.
Anon made up her mind.
As they all left RiNG that evening, she grabbed a hold of Taki.
“Rikki, can I come over to your place tomorrow after school? I want your help with this solo.”
“Hah? Why can’t you just practice at home?”
“Yeah, because that’s worked sooo great till now,” she said, rolling her eyes.
Taki gave her a long look. “Okay, but why me? Why not ask Raana for help? She’s the other half of it, after all.”
“Do you really think Raana-chan is capable of teaching people?”
“Okay, fair. Then why not Tomori?”
“I love Tomorin to death, but I need a little more than encouragement right now.”
“Soyo?”
“C’mon, Rikki, just help me!” Anon said. “I promise I’ll try super hard!”
For a moment, she truly thought Taki would refuse, but then she looked away and sighed. “Fine. I have work tomorrow after school, but I should be home by seven. Don’t be late.”
Anon flashed her winningest smile. “Yay! Thank you!”
The next evening, she arrived at Taki’s house at seven on the dot. On the walk over, it struck her that she’d never actually been to Taki’s place before. What would Taki’s room look like?
She found out in short order as Taki let her inside and led her upstairs. It was a pretty simple room: a bed in the corner, a desk next to it, a few storage shelves, and a low table in the middle. All told, it fit her, not that Anon would ever say that to her face. Knowing Taki, she’d think it was an insult.
“Alright, let’s get started,” Taki said, taking a seat at her desk.
With nowhere else to sit, Anon plopped down on the bed and got her guitar out. Her nerves flared up the instant it rested in her hands. Maybe this was a bad idea…. If she couldn’t play it on her own or with the band, what made her think playing for Taki by herself would improve the situation?
But she was already here, and she’d rather die than let Taki see her run away from this. Taking a deep breath, she launched into attempt one.
Two hours went by, much the same as the previous two weeks.
“Okay, seriously, are you cursed or something?” Taki asked as another discordant note rang out.
“I don’t know!” Anon said, throwing her pick across the room to vent a little frustration.
“You’ve played every bar individually just fine, but the instant you try to string it together, it falls apart.”
“I told you, it’s like my fingers stop listening to me!”
“So then what’s going on?”
Ugh. This sucked. Maybe she shouldn’t have come here to practice. She should have known Taki would try to dig into things again. Though… maybe that was exactly why she came.
Tomori cared about her but had a hard time pushing. Soyo had no trouble pushing if she wanted, but she rarely wanted to. Raana was Raana. But Taki… Taki could push her because she cared, no matter how much she tried to deny it.
As much as it made Anon want to curl up and die, maybe voicing what was going on in her stupid brain might help.
She put her guitar to the side and flopped back onto Taki’s bed. Staring up at the ceiling, she finally said, “I’m scared of making a mistake.”
A beat of silence.
“You’ve been making nothing but mistakes since you got the sheet music,” Taki said.
“Wow, rude,” Anon said, sitting up just enough to shoot Taki a glare. Then she laid back down. “I mean during the show. This song is like, super important to Tomorin, and I can’t just fade into the background while playing a freaking solo, so any mistake I make is like twice as bad. So when the solo starts, my stupid brain is all like, ‘Oh, better not mess this up! Everyone will hear it if you do! Especially because Raana-chan is this little guitar savant, and you’re just stupid old Anon who always cracks under pressure.’ And once that happens, my stupid fingers just do whatever they want, and I mess it up! It sucks, and I hate it!”
“…Wait, that’s it?”
“HAAH?!” Anon shot up. “I pour my heart out to you, and that’s how you respond?!”
“You say you’re scared of making a mistake as if that’s not something completely normal to be scared of,” Taki said. “Besides, you make mistakes during shows all the time.”
“I do not!” Anon said. Taki gave her a Look. “Okay, but none of those were during a solo!”
“What difference does that make?”
“Ugh, drummers. Of course you wouldn’t understand.”
“Ugh, guitarists. Of course you'd be overdramatic about this.”
They glared at each other. Taki broke first, heaving another heavy sigh. She pinched the bridge of her nose.
“Look. While you're definitely not at Raana's skill level—”
“Rude.”
“—you’re still a really good guitarist. And as annoying and insufferable as you can be—”
“Rude.”
“—I wouldn’t have given you this solo if I didn’t believe you could play it. If I didn’t trust you.” She paused and broke eye contact. “So… try believing in yourself a little more, or something. It’s weird not seeing you be all overconfident and stuff.”
Anon stared at those reddening ears. She pinched herself; not a dream. Taki had really just said all that nice stuff to her (in the most Taki way possible). What the heck?!
Taki believed in her. Trusted her. Sure, Anon had assumed that to be the case, but actually hearing Taki, the queen of emotional constipation, say those words out loud with her mouth left Anon’s chest all fluttery. Way more than it had any right to.
And despite how sorta clichéd the advice itself was (seriously, just believe in herself more?) it struck her that she really… hadn’t believed in her ability to play the solo from the moment she got the sheet music. She had simply latched onto how awful it would be to make a mistake. It was like one of those self-fulfilling prophecy things.
Okay, so maybe Taki was right. But Anon couldn’t just outright say that; it’d be admitting defeat! But she couldn’t not say it, either; she had to acknowledge when she was in the wrong. So she decided to open with a quick jab, first.
“Rikki, that’s pretty gay.”
“HAAAH?!” Oh, her flustered face was way too cute. Guh.
“But thanks,” Anon added before Taki could truly respond. Taking a deep breath, she added, “Maybe I have been psyching myself out too much. Do you mind if I give it another shot?”
Taki, face still red, sat back in her chair and nodded.
Anon took a deep breath. Then another. And one more for good measure. Turn brain off, it was only getting in the way. Her fingers clearly knew how to play it, so just let them play.
The first notes filled Taki's room.
Then more and more and more and more until there weren't any left.
Her timing needed work, but she made it through.
She opened her eyes and found Taki's smile meeting her. Man, Taki really was a lot prettier when she smiled. Then it hit her. She'd played the whole solo, just like that. Like it was nothing.
“See? I knew you could do it,” Taki said.
“I did it…. I did it! Rikki, I did it!”
Anon launched herself off the bed and towards Taki. They almost toppled over from the force of the impact, and only the chair hitting the desk kept them upright. All of the accumulated stress and anxiety in her chest burst into peals of laughter. Annoyance flashed across Taki’s face, but on hearing Anon’s utter joy and relief, her expression softened. They shared a smile.
Then the reality of their present position hit. She sat on Taki’s lap, practically straddling her in her desk chair. Her arms were thrown around Taki’s neck. Taki’s hands were on her waist, presumably a leftover from keeping them upright. Heat rushed to her face. The situation must have hit Taki, too, as her eyes widened to an almost comical degree.
They separated at light speed. What the hell was that?! Why is my heart racing? Why can I still feel the press of her fingers against my waist? Why did seeing her smile like that at me make me so happy?
Taki cleared her throat. The noise shook Anon out of her crazy thoughts.
“That was good,” Taki said. Her voice came out a little shaky. “Your timing was a bit off, but that should be easy to fix. Want to try it again?”
“Oh! Uh. Yeah, definitely! I definitely want to give it another go. Gotta prove it wasn’t a fluke, right?” Her strained laughter made her cringe. At least Taki didn’t comment on it. Rather than risk saying anything even stupider, Anon started another attempt.
She ran through the solo several more times. Once or twice, she missed a note again, but unlike before, she didn’t let those singular failures spiral into more. After six straight runs of earning Taki’s seal of approval, Anon knew she could do it during the show.
“Thanks for all the help, Rikki,” Anon said as she packed her guitar away.
“It’s not like I did a whole lot besides sit here and listen,” Taki replied, having trouble meeting Anon’s eye.
“Oh c’mon, give yourself a little more credit! You gave me a kick in the right direction. I thought you’d be pouncing on the chance to say ‘I told you so’ or something.”
Taki rolled her eyes. “I’m just glad you got it in the end. It sounded even better than I thought it would when I wrote it.”
Such a simple compliment. So why did it make Anon’s heart skip a beat? She tried to laugh it off. “Ehehe, I’m sure it’ll sound even better with Raana-chan!”
“I’d hope so.”
Anon stood up and slung her guitar bag over her shoulder. Shifting her weight from foot to foot, she and Taki looked at each other without actually looking at each other. Something in Anon’s brain screamed at her to say something, but it hadn’t bothered to provide what she should say. What could she say that she hadn’t already? She’d thanked Taki for the help; what else was there?
“A-Anyway, I should probably head home,” she eventually said. “It’s pretty late.”
“R-Right.” Taki stood up. “I’ll walk you out.”
Down the steps to the font door. Anon put her shoes on. She opened the door.
“Thanks again for the help,” she said.
“Don’t mention it,” Taki replied. As Anon stepped outside, she added, “Hey, um. Since it’s so late… let me know when you get home.”
Anon blinked. For a second there…. Ugh, whatever. It couldn’t be. So she just gave Taki her most convincing grin and a thumbs up before heading off.
Once safely back in her room, she sent Taki an “I’m home” sticker. Within seconds, she received a sticker of a panda giving a thumbs up. It made Anon smile. It really was unfair how cute Taki could be without even trying.
####################
A small sea of penlights undulated before her. Anon stood in the darkness of the stage and looked across it. Her guitar hung from her neck, its weight now a familiar comfort to her. She tightened her grip on its neck. The strings pressed into her fingers.
Her heart hammered in her chest, but this, too, was a familiar comfort in its own way. No matter how many times she stood here with the desire to run coursing through her veins, she had yet to do so, and she’d die before doing it this time. She had promised everyone she was done running.
Taki tapped her sticks once. Twice. Thrice.
The stage lights kicked on as Anon ripped out the opening chord of “Ichijitsusenshu.” A burst of cheers cascaded through the crowd. Their support buoyed her through an absolutely flawless intro section.
As that transitioned into the first verse, Anon swayed to the music, enjoying the rhythm section’s time to shine and waiting for her part to come back. She smiled out at the audience, throwing a few winks at random for good measure. These little moments happened in a few of their songs, and Anon always kind of liked them. Obviously she liked playing more, but sometimes it was nice to work the crowd some without any distractions.
Alas, that brief fun ended as her rhythm guitar part returned. (She totally nailed the re-entrance, by the way.) From there, all those days of practice kicked in. The rest of the verse and the chorus flew by (still totally mistake free, obvs), and she nailed her backup vocals, too.
Needless to say, she was really feeling herself. So much so that in the second verse, she threw in a little flourish and a wink to the crowd on her whole note in bar seventy-eight. The cheers picked up intensity. Obviously. She was a master of playing the audience after all.
Throughout the second chorus, the bad kind of nervousness tried in vain to claw its way out of her stomach. The solo is approaching. You better not mess it up, it tried to “warn” her. Every time it tried, though, a voice from her memory sealed it away.
“See? I knew you could do it.”
She could do it. She could do it. She had already done it a dozen times in that small, cramped, spartan little room. If she could play it there, she could play it at the Budokan. This was nothing.
The chorus swelled. Out of the corner of her eye, Anon saw Raana sauntering over to her side of the stage. The stray cat moved with such a swagger, and that unshakable confidence infected Anon, too. She turned to face the other half of her impending twin lead solo.
She could do this.
The first notes rang true, harmonizing both with each other and Tomori’s belted note. Her fingers moved on their own, moving along the frets in a beautiful dance that had seared itself into her very bones. She looked up at Raana, who sported one of the most manic grins Anon had ever seen.
At the halfway point, she motioned with her head, and Anon understood the intent in her soul. They both turned to play back to back. Raana leaned into her. Anon leaned back. Excitement, joy, and pride burst in her chest.
Anon was, in that moment, a rock star.
The solo ended (“See? I knew you could do it.”), and thank goodness the bridge reined in the intensity; she needed a moment to slow down her heart rate. But as things ramped back up, she rode that high all the way to jumping atop the speaker in front of her clear through the transition back to the chorus.
(And so what if she was a little late returning to her mic for the backup vocals? Not even the impending chew-out session from Taki after the show could tank her mood right now.)
The rest of the song—and the remaining setlist—flashed by. She absolutely nailed all the precise bursts of strumming in “Tanebi,” and not even the English lyrics at the end could stop her. It was, without a doubt, the best show she had ever played. By her own metrics, she hadn’t made a single mistake. As befitting the best guitarist in her class.
As they gathered at the front of the stage to make their bows, she saw Taki reaching for Tomori’s hand. A surge of… something rushed through her, and she charged forward to take Tomori’s hand first. Then Anon turned towards her shocked friend, arm outstretched. Past the eye roll and facade of annoyance, Anon swore a blush tinted the tip of Taki’s visible ear.
Taki took her hand. It was just as soft and smooth as Anon remembered. She squeezed it. Taki squeezed back. The gesture sent unspoken words straight to Anon’s heart, echoed by the rueful smile on Taki's face.
“See? I knew you could do it.”