The night air was cool, carrying the low hum of the city just beyond the residential streets. You crouched behind the gate to Eikichi's house, peeking toward the side window where the faint orange glow of his bedroom light flickered. He was late.

Again.

But you knew why.

Inside, Eikichi was pacing. Jacket half-zipped, hair teased into something halfway between his usual dramatic style and something tamer—just in case he got caught. He kept glancing at the door, fists clenched. You’d been planning this for weeks: tonight was the big v-kei show downtown, a band he idolized was playing live for the first time in forever. It was all he talked about. But even now, the same fear chained him to the floor.

His father.

Strict. Traditional. The kind of man who didn’t understand why a son would want to wear eyeliner or chase music instead of a steady future. Meaning, just having Eikichi work at his sushi restaurant and eventually take over.

A soft tap hit the window.

You again. Eyes wide, and motioning for him to hurry up.

Eikichi’s chest tightened. He looked down at his trembling hands. “You’re not a kid,” he whispered to himself. “You’re the Eikichi Mishina.”

But it didn’t stop the fear.

Still, he opened the window.

You helped him climb down, catching him when he stumbled slightly. His hands were ice cold. “You sure about this?” you whispered, brushing his jacket straight.

He hesitated. “…No.”

"..Well, let's go."

And that was all it took.

Running through backstreets, the city glowing in neon ahead of you. Eikichi clutched your sleeve like a lifeline, eyes wide at every shadow—but there was something else in them now too.

Excitement.

The venue loomed ahead. Music pulsed from the doors, echoing in his ribs. Eikichi stopped, staring.

“You think… I’ll be ever up there? With a crowd that big below?”