Hajime no Insho
sho juroku.
In a way, it was difficult to believe that they were trying this again. After numerous failed bands all around, it had almost been a question if it was simply time to give up and look for different careers. But of course, none of them could allow that, and this idea that they had, a concept they’d titled ‘Gazette’, seemed like it had potential. Granted, they were practically sidestepping any mentions of ever disbanding because it was such a tedious subject, but nonetheless, the idea of a new band seemed to give the five of them hope.
And of course, meticulous planning had gone into the months previous to the other two officially even being in the band. They’d spent some time as a whole, going out and hanging out to be sure that they could get along, and it was almost a honeymoon period before the beginning of the band. And the air about them was usually lighthearted and playful, and by some miracle, they’d found that they could be friends.
And among all of this planning, Artia had given their final performances, quietly disbanded, and then Yuu and Yune had, for better or for worse, signed on to begin their project.
Takanori had never felt more nervous in his life than in the long moments the other members had spent looking at the lyrics for their only song; something he’d written as a way of moving on from whatever he’d felt for Yumiko. He’d called it ‘Wakaremichi’, and the title meant ‘Road of Farewell’. And he’d put quite a bit of himself in it, and since he wasn’t entirely used to the role of lyricist, seeing four other pairs of eyes scanning over his work was, for lack of a better word, positively nerve-wracking.
Last to see the lyrics was Akira, and the minutes that he spent reading seemed to be the longest of the day, and it was for a reason that Takanori couldn’t really pin down, but he also didn’t allow himself to be bothered with. The bassist read the words to himself, his voice barely above a whisper, and he was smiling. And Takanori assumed that it meant that, like the other three members, he approved.
The words were handed back to him, and he couldn’t help but smile.
“Those are…really beautiful lyrics, Takanori. Seriously, I’m impressed.” The bassist was still smiling, and then his voice was softer. “It’s you and Yumiko, ne?” When Takanori nodded, Akira placed a hand on his shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. “She’s missing out on one hell of a guy.” Another smile, and he ruffled the singer’s hair, chuckling as he was on the receiving end of a glare, and then he winked and headed in Kouyou’s direction.
Takanori could only imagine the ideas that the rest of the band already had. The words would work well with any kind of song, really; Takanori was used to heavier, grungier music, but he was fairly certain that a new band meant a new sound. He thought that maybe it would be some sort of a half-ballad, and the thought wasn’t incredibly unpleasant.
But really, the most he could think about was that he’d just written Gazette’s first song, and the lyrics hadn’t been terrible, and all of his anxious, nervous pacing the night before had been for nothing, as always. He supposed that he’d have to learn to control his inner perfectionist, and he supposed that he would have to work at silencing his inner pessimist as well. He would have to learn that yes, he could write, and yes, he could sing, and he was, in fact, rather talented for someone his age. Not many twenty-year-olds that he knew of were in bands such as this one that made each member feel the way he and the four other members felt.
And if they were, they probably didn’t have the close ties or the determination of the five men that had become ‘Gazette’.
And it was incredible, seeing the way that Yuu and Yune had wound their way into the group. Yuu and Kouyou were obviously Gazette’s version of Kouyou and Tetora, except less graphic and more affectionate than anything, and Yune, though the oddball, seemed like the perfect kind of person to beat the hell out of a drum set in any kind of song. It was a trait that Takanori admired; hell, it was the kind of drummer he had been, and he could imagine that it was that kind of trait that Kouyou had seen in him.
Kouyou certainly had one hell of a way of picking members, just as anything else he did, and he really hadn’t given much explanation of his choice except for ‘I think I’ve finally found the right members’, and in reality, more explanation wasn’t completely necessary. Yuu and Yune seemed to know why they had been chosen, and that was enough for everyone else; their only goals now were for the betterment of their project and for an even closer friendship among the five of them.
Because as long as the members could remain friends, the band would do fine, and Takanori had plenty of faith in that fact. He trusted Kouyou’s judgment, and somehow, he knew that this band would do great things.
And of course, meticulous planning had gone into the months previous to the other two officially even being in the band. They’d spent some time as a whole, going out and hanging out to be sure that they could get along, and it was almost a honeymoon period before the beginning of the band. And the air about them was usually lighthearted and playful, and by some miracle, they’d found that they could be friends.
And among all of this planning, Artia had given their final performances, quietly disbanded, and then Yuu and Yune had, for better or for worse, signed on to begin their project.
Takanori had never felt more nervous in his life than in the long moments the other members had spent looking at the lyrics for their only song; something he’d written as a way of moving on from whatever he’d felt for Yumiko. He’d called it ‘Wakaremichi’, and the title meant ‘Road of Farewell’. And he’d put quite a bit of himself in it, and since he wasn’t entirely used to the role of lyricist, seeing four other pairs of eyes scanning over his work was, for lack of a better word, positively nerve-wracking.
Last to see the lyrics was Akira, and the minutes that he spent reading seemed to be the longest of the day, and it was for a reason that Takanori couldn’t really pin down, but he also didn’t allow himself to be bothered with. The bassist read the words to himself, his voice barely above a whisper, and he was smiling. And Takanori assumed that it meant that, like the other three members, he approved.
The words were handed back to him, and he couldn’t help but smile.
“Those are…really beautiful lyrics, Takanori. Seriously, I’m impressed.” The bassist was still smiling, and then his voice was softer. “It’s you and Yumiko, ne?” When Takanori nodded, Akira placed a hand on his shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. “She’s missing out on one hell of a guy.” Another smile, and he ruffled the singer’s hair, chuckling as he was on the receiving end of a glare, and then he winked and headed in Kouyou’s direction.
Takanori could only imagine the ideas that the rest of the band already had. The words would work well with any kind of song, really; Takanori was used to heavier, grungier music, but he was fairly certain that a new band meant a new sound. He thought that maybe it would be some sort of a half-ballad, and the thought wasn’t incredibly unpleasant.
But really, the most he could think about was that he’d just written Gazette’s first song, and the lyrics hadn’t been terrible, and all of his anxious, nervous pacing the night before had been for nothing, as always. He supposed that he’d have to learn to control his inner perfectionist, and he supposed that he would have to work at silencing his inner pessimist as well. He would have to learn that yes, he could write, and yes, he could sing, and he was, in fact, rather talented for someone his age. Not many twenty-year-olds that he knew of were in bands such as this one that made each member feel the way he and the four other members felt.
And if they were, they probably didn’t have the close ties or the determination of the five men that had become ‘Gazette’.
And it was incredible, seeing the way that Yuu and Yune had wound their way into the group. Yuu and Kouyou were obviously Gazette’s version of Kouyou and Tetora, except less graphic and more affectionate than anything, and Yune, though the oddball, seemed like the perfect kind of person to beat the hell out of a drum set in any kind of song. It was a trait that Takanori admired; hell, it was the kind of drummer he had been, and he could imagine that it was that kind of trait that Kouyou had seen in him.
Kouyou certainly had one hell of a way of picking members, just as anything else he did, and he really hadn’t given much explanation of his choice except for ‘I think I’ve finally found the right members’, and in reality, more explanation wasn’t completely necessary. Yuu and Yune seemed to know why they had been chosen, and that was enough for everyone else; their only goals now were for the betterment of their project and for an even closer friendship among the five of them.
Because as long as the members could remain friends, the band would do fine, and Takanori had plenty of faith in that fact. He trusted Kouyou’s judgment, and somehow, he knew that this band would do great things.