The Hall was actually an old warehouse on the Obitsu River in Kuzuma, across the bay from where I lived in Ota. I got out of Sachi’s Mercedes and breathed deep the damp sea air. Spring was nearly over and the rainy season was on the horizon but for today, at least, the sun was shining and the humidity was bearable. The building looked rather rundown and plain on the outside but as we stepped through the door and into the cool fashionable corridor I was reminded how we had pooled our money with our management team to convert it into a place for us to practice, record and write music or even to just hang out and watch the river flow by outside the windows.

            It had been Sachi’s idea but we had quickly fallen in love with the concept of a place of our own to do everything required of us. We had several stages to test pyrotechnics and design for concerts as well as rooms for photo shoots. Upstairs we had offices for us and management, conference halls and break rooms for the employees who worked more closely with us and preferred it to the management offices in Edogawa.

            Our band colors of Purple, Black and Silver ran along the walls in ribbons, tying the whole warehouse together. Sachi didn’t believe in doors with each other so the only doors were in the conference rooms upstairs, the bathroom and the ones leading outside. The entire effect made the disparate areas to resemble a single room broken into different parts. We walked through the well-lit and official-looking hall, past a reception area and into the central room we had called the vault.

            Mari and Yukiko looked up from where they sat chatting to Hiroto and another man I didn’t recognize. They waved at me warmly and I gave a little wave back, covering my eyes slightly with my forearm. The light from the tall windows lining the second floor looking down on our main practice area caused my head to throb. Sachi gave me a look of concern and I smiled broadly in return. I can do this, I thought. I have to.

            “So, this is our hopeful, huh?” Mari grinned as we drew closer, coming to enfold me in a warm hug. “Welcome back, Akarin. We missed you.” I hugged her tight and smiled.

            “I’ve only been gone a couple of days!” I protested, smiling in gratitude.

            “Well, I’m like a dog with no concept of time,” Mari grinned. “You’ve been gone forever! I counted!” I giggled along with Mari and Sachi. As soon as Mari stepped aside Yukiko was holding me tight, her chin on my shoulder like she was last night. She said nothing, just held me close for a long moment before stepping aside and glancing sidelong at Sachi.

            “Go ahead and start warming up, Akarin,” Sachi said with an encouraging smile. “We’ll be over here. Let us know when you’re ready.”

            “You’ve got this, Akarin,” Mari patted my back and followed Sachi back to the table we used to go over choreography and costume design.

            “Be safe, Akari,” Yukiko laid her head familiarly on my shoulder before following the other two. Hiroto gave me a thumbs up and I smiled hesitantly before turning to head toward the practice area. I was already dizzy and trembling. The light was blinding me and felt like daggers in my brain. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. I had to calm down. My body would do what I wanted, I thought. I can do this. I have the will. My body knows what it has to do even if my mind was a little unsteady.

            I dropped my duffel bag against the wall after removing a towel from it and began to stretch my muscles out, feeling the tension in my shoulders; back and legs slowly begin to ease. I can do this, I told myself over and over as I bent over, nearly losing my balance for a brief moment before recovering and putting my palms against the floor. I felt the blood rush to my head but fortunately I’d take the anti-nausea medication the doctor prescribed. I took another deep breath after stretching my arms and walked to the microphone.

            “We’re going to simulate a concert setting,” Sachi called, gesturing at Mari. The blinds drew closed on the windows and the spacious room glowed dully in the ambient light. Mari took her place slightly behind me and to the left at another microphone set up there. “We’ll be doing “Fuller”, Akari. Let us know when you’re ready.” I took a deep breath. Of course it’d be “Fuller.” I had apparently written the entire song in one sitting at a maid café in Akihabara on the back of a menu. It also seemed to be the most complex song in our repertoire. I took a deep breath, the exhalation of which the microphone picked up. The sound of my breath echoed through the room and I closed my eyes. I can do this. I can do this. I can do this. I repeated the mantra over and over in my head, a lifeline I felt I needed to cling to in order to keep my head above water. I nodded and the lights lowered, bathing the room in darkness.

            “Let’s do this, Akarin,” Mari whispered behind me, clasping my hand briefly for support. A moment later the first notes of the song echoed through the room and a spotlight burst onto me like the light of a sun. I raised my head, struck the first position, smiled dazzlingly and began to sing.