Ranko peered into the garage nervously. She found it devoid of the usual sounds of her bandmates warming up. “Um, hello?” 

She walked around the pickup truck that was still perched on its hydraulic lift with its tires removed, finding Crash sitting in a chair talking with someone she didn’t recognize.

Crash rocketed out of his chair. “Ranko! I didn’t think we were gonna see you.”

Ranko shook her head. “Nah, I got out of the hospital the same day.”

The guitarist nodded. “I meant, I wasn’t sure you were gonna come back at all, after what happened.”

She nodded slowly. “What happened was my fault. I asked for the stuff. All Kaz did was get it for me.”  She motioned to the other occupied chair. “Who’s your friend?”

The young man with the green fauxhawk and freckles stood, speaking haltingly in a thick accent. “Hello. I’m Jacob. I’m here on foreign exchange program from Australia. I play the new world.”

Ranko looked at him quizzically. “Uh, what?”

Crash leaned into him, whispering something in his ear. 

“Sorry. I play synthesizer. My Japanese isn’t perfect.” 

Ranko giggled. “Okay. That makes a lot more sense. Well, hi, Jacob. I’m Ranko. But we already have a synth player. Where’s Kaz?”

Crash frowned, nodding. “Kaz isn’t with us anymore, Ran-chan.” 

She frowned as well, sitting down. “Is it because of me?”

“It’s because of him. He’s been a mess for months; Shinji was about ready to kill him just for the gigs he’s missed alone. Letting you get hurt was just the last straw.”

The back door creaked open and Ken walked in, pulling off his Walkman headset. “Oh, hey, Ranko! How you feeling, star?” Ranko returned his wave with a smile. Ken sat down behind his drum set, which was covered with a beige canvas tarp that he didn’t immediately remove.

Crash looked down at his digital Casio watch. “Shin should be here any…” The door swung open, letting a sliver of light into the shadowy garage. 

“... second. Hey, bro.” Crash offered and received a fist bump as Shinji entered the room, giving Ranko a friendly squeeze around the shoulder. “Hey, kiddo. You holding up okay?”

Ranko nodded, smiling up at him. “Good as new.” She looked around the room. “It feels like it’s not the same Dapper Dragons anymore, without Kaz.”

Shinji grinned. “Well, technically, it’s not.”

She looked up at him again quizzically. “What do you mean?”

Ken grinned. “Well, while you were down for the count, the guys got together and talked about it, and we’ve decided to rename the band.”

The redhead nodded in understanding. “I guess I’m too new to get a vote, huh?”

With a chuckle, Shinji motioned to Ken. “Show her.”

With a flourish, Ken lifted the tarp from his drum set. The front of the bass drum, which had read Dapper Dragons in white paint since they’d chosen the name a few weeks back, now had additional words written above it in red. 

The singer blinked, reading the drum head. Her face turned beet red. “You guys, you must be kidding.”

Shinji shook his head. “We took a vote. It was unanimous. We can shred, but nobody comes to a venue to hear somebody rock a bass guitar. You’re our star, and we decided to acknowledge that.”

She walked tentatively over to the drum, running her fingers over the katakana as if trying to confirm it wasn’t an illusion.

“Well,” she said, blushing furiously. “What is the first song Ranko and the Dapper Dragons are going to practice today?”

Crash grinned. “We’ve been working on something, actually. Wanna hear?”

“Man, my name’s on the drum and I lost my first-pick privileges? What is this world coming to?” She giggled.

“Just this once. It’s a surprise.” Crash walked over to his spot on the dirty red rug, slipping his guitar’s shoulder strap over his head. “Ready? One, and two, and…” 

The band began to play. The pop song started quietly, with only Crash’s guitar. After a few bars, Shinji, Ken and Jacob joined in. There was a sadness to the main rhythm, but an energy, almost an anger, in the repeating rock-styled section that would have had to be the chorus. It made Ranko want to move. The notes seemed to call to her, to scream for her attention. They were desperate to tell her something, but she couldn’t figure out what.

In her head, she searched for the lyrics. She knew the beat sounded familiar, but she couldn’t place the words. They played through the whole four minute song, but she never joined them. 

“It sounds great, guys! But I don’t know it. How’s it go? I don’t think I’ve ever heard it before.”

Crash grinned. “Yes, you have. In fact, you’re one of the only people who has.”

Ranko blinked. “Huh? Was it something you guys used to practice at Takao’s?”

“Not exactly.” Crash unzipped his backpack, pulling out two pieces of looseleaf paper covered in blue ink, with scratch-outs and arrows everywhere. Ranko would have thought it was a ransom note if she hadn’t recognized the handwriting as her own.

“What the…” 

Crash moved his fingers on the front page, revealing the single word on the top line.

Ranko covered her mouth and sank to her backside on a fuzzy gray amplifier case. For the second time in as many minutes, she had searched for words and found none.