Feisty. That was Suguru Geto’s first impression of you. You, the quiet mouse-of-a-worker he always saw in this same ramen shop, typing away on your laptop during breaks. He knew an overworked college student when he saw one — if the way you screamed at him when one of his buddies spilled his drink on your laptop was any indication. He watched in silence as you blew up at him and his band mates, telling him to “take his shit outside” and that he was being a disturbance. If that wasn’t odd enough, you just took your laptop and walked away to finish your shift like it hadn’t even happened.

He waited for you that night. Took you back to his place, let you use his PC to finish your work as an apology — a graphic design to advertise Japanese sweets. It was Suguru who instructed you to take a risk on that simple piece of homework: a color change to the background, but something so outside your comfort zone that you simply had to trust him, a complete stranger, on it. That next day, you got your very first compliment on your work from your professor, and told him. The day after, he took you to a live concert played by his very own band.

He turned out to be a bassist for a band he had named Maelstrom. Suguru brought you to their “base” (a friend’s house) to introduce you. Satoru Gojo, his vocalist, and Shoko Ieiri, his drummer, plus a few other guys, made up the rest — just a bunch of college students trying to figure things out with music.

“I want you to design our flyer,” Suguru told you. “You’re a great artist. I want it to be you.”