“The executives have all gathered,” Ian, my personal aide, tells me “They’re all waiting for you now,”
He’s standing by the door, hands clasped tightly behind his back.
I pick up the ornate hand mirror and sigh. I still remember how this all started. The thing that caught my eye, and how everything had changed that day.
A bridge held up by blue suspension cables, and a young man who sat with his legs hanging over the side as his mind told the tale of a future yet to come. A future he could only imagine.
A scream erupts through the air as the crowd cheers. Lights and banners sway back and forth, while the music blares and people chant.
“After! Life! After! Life!” “AAHHHH!!” “AfterLife 4ever!”
“Hey,” the man’s head jerked at the sound of the familiar voice, and he turned to greet his friends as they approached him, waving.
“‘Sup?” one smiled, in a way that didn’t seem at all pleased,
The man returned the wave, “Oh, hey guys! Why are you two here?”
“To pick you up, of course,” the other friend snapped at his nonchalant demeanour, throwing a kick at his shin, which he dodged by stepping out of the way.
“Yeah, ‘cuz you didn’t show up,” the first one added, offering a pensive smile at his friend’s failed attack and tapping his shoulder comfortingly, “And you wouldn’t pick up your phone,”
This was a daily occurrence for them. No wonder the boys were mad. With how many times I’ve watched it happen, I honestly couldn’t fault them.
“Heh, I turned it off,” the man chuckled, sticking out his tongue mockingly, and jumping out of the way as his friend swung at him again.
“Whatever,” he huffed, having failed a second time, “We should get going; everyone’s waiting at the studio,”
The man smiled and turned to look over the bridge, once more, at the water running beneath. There may come a day when AfterLife becomes a global sensation, and their songs are sung by everyone worldwide. But for now, he must fulfill his role as a member of the band, and their friend.
“Come on, slowpoke,” his friend turned to him, “We aren’t sightseeing here,”
His anger seemed to have dissipated, and he flashed an impish smile, taking backward steps so he could watch his friend as he walked.
He is Narumi Takahara, twenty-one years old. In his second year at Jumi University, where he studied Music and Economics. Stage name: Rumi. He is AfterLife’s lead vocalist. His Talent: Freeze.
Beside him, Reinhardt Keller smiled. Same age, same year, same uni. He studied Music and Fashion. His stage name is Rein, and he is AfterLife’s stylist/bassist. Talent: Flare.
Kubera Rishi sighed, picking up his pace as they’d demanded.
Also twenty-one years old, he’d started Jumi University straight out of high school, studying Music and Law. When all his friends had chosen to take a break. Stage name: Kubo; he is AfterLife’s songwriter/back-up vocalist. His Talent: Globe.
The studio room was silent when they stepped in, except for the rustling of a plastic bag, before a young voice spoke up.
“Whoa! Look who showed up,”
Seisyll Innes was twenty years old, in the same departments as Rein. His stage name is Sei, and he is AfterLife’s keyboardist. His Talent: Anima.
Two voices piped up then,
“KUBO!” they shouted, storming towards him with furious expressions.
Miranda Tapia, twenty-two, was in her third year of Jumi University studying Music and Art. Stage name: Miri; she is AfterLife’s lead guitarist. Her Talent: Panthress.
Two steps behind her, Juniper Kramer slammed her fist into her palm. Having just turned twenty, she was the youngest member of the group. Studying in the same departments as Rein and Sei. Her stage name is Juni, and she is AfterLife’s drummer. Talent: Bubble.
“Oh, h- hey,” Ariella Young stammered. She is twenty years old, studying Music and History. Her stage name: Ari; she is AfterLife’s secondary guitarist. Her Talent: Luminesce.
“About damn time,” Zephyr McCartney snapped, drowning out Ari’s weak voice, “Where the hell have you been?”
He was the eldest member at twenty-three years old, and also the last to start at Jumi University. He was finishing his first year in the departments of Music and Economics. His stage name is Zeph, and he is AfterLife’s composer/synthesizer. Talent; Spirit.
Kubo smiled as he greeted the girls at the door, but his face quickly dropped as Zeph’s voice reached him.
“And how’s that any of your business?” he retorted, “Just do your job and make music!”
“Don’t, Kubo, he didn’t mean that,” Rein started, hoping to pacify the situation before it became something bigger, but it was already too late.
“What did you just say!” Zeph steamed, gritting his teeth tightly,
“Come on, guys! Stop!” Rein tried again, only to have Zeph round on him,
“Shut up, Reinhardt!” he fumed, shooting him a glare before turning back to Kubo.
Kubo scoffed, “Is this what you’re defending?” he addressed Rein, pointing his finger at Zeph for added disrespect,
Rein didn’t answer. There was no point. Kubo and Zeph had never been able to get along in all the years they’d known each other. And they were both much too stubborn to be reasoned with. Once they’d got it in their minds to fight, there would be no stopping them.
Narumi, Juni, and Miri, too, all watched on in silence, while Ari stumbled to place herself in between them. At least that way she could stop things from getting physical. They would never go that far with one of the girls standing in the way. At least, Kubo wouldn’t.
“U- um, uh,” she stammered, trying to come up with something to say that might calm them both down. But it was Sei who eventually spoke up.
“Come now, guys, let’s stop this,” he chuckled anxiously, “I’ve got snacks?”
“Well, who says ‘no’ to free snacks?” Kubo shrugged, sticking his tongue out at Zeph, who was still glaring at him furiously, and gently taking Ari by the shoulder; he led her away from the door.
“YOU’RE ANNOYING!!” Zeph screamed at his back.
This was another daily occurrence. Hell would freeze over before those two would ever be able to be in the same room without fighting each other. Thank the lord for insulin.
The fight was followed by a moment of silence. The band sat around, quietly munching on their snacks before passing them on to one of their friends and for a while, the only sound that could be heard was the crinkling of wrappers until Juni let out a sudden giggle.
“Miri, look,” she slipped an engagement ring gummy sweet on her finger and flaunted it in the young girl’s face.
Miri cocked her head, then a mischievous smile spread on her lips, and she jumped forward, biting the soft diamond off of her friend’s hand.
Kubo watched the two girls squabble and sighed, finally feeling the weight of his earlier outburst, I guess. As much as Kubo was hotheaded, he never actually wanted to hurt his companions, and having them so down and morose must have been weighing on him.
So, seeing the girls playing as they usually would, he breathed in relief.
“So, Rein, do you know where we’re doing our next performance?” he asked, if only to keep up the light mood, reclining on the sofa, nonchalantly.
“Oh yeah!” Rein exclaimed, springing up from where he sat on the floor, sharing a packet of potato crisps with Sei, “It’s Bluerise,”
“Blue-Rise, huh?” he chuckled as Narumi grunted beside him,
“Hmm, where we picked you up,” he said, inspecting the packet of the lollipop he’d just put in his mouth. He’d assumed from the green label that it would be apple flavoured, but he was wrong.
“Ugh, watermelon,” he groaned, dropping the wrapper back down and turning to his friends, “So, tomorrow on Blue-Rise, is everyone good with that?”
The room rang with a chorus of excited responses,
“Yeah!”
“Alright!”
“Woohoo!”
“Yep!”
“Sure,” Rein answered calmly, and Zeph responded with a blank,
“I’ll be there,”
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The three boys walked down the street with slow, heavy steps, and as they neared the bend in the street, Narumi’s feet slowed to a trudge.
“Welp, this is where I leave you,” he sighed, tilting his head questioningly, “Are we meeting at the studio tomorrow?”
“Sure,” Kubo smiled, and Rein shrugged,
“Why not?” then rounding on Kubo, he ordered, “And don’t be late!”
Kubo laughed, sticking his tongue out mockingly. Narumi shook his head at the exchange and started down the road towards his home.
“Oh no, he left,” Kubo exclaimed, pushing away Rein’s hand that had grabbed him by the collar.
Poor Narumi, leaving the warmth of his friends for his cold, lonely house. But we’ll get back to him.
Anyway… the two friends trudged home, still bickering about Kubo’s lack of punctuality and Rein’s incessant nagging.
“Seriously, you’re not my mom! Are you my mom?” Kubo grumbled as Rein reiterated yet again the need to be on time, “I thought my mom would be prettier,”
“What are you even talking about?” Rein frowned.
Kubo shrugged, turning to look down a dark alley where he could hear a loud scuttling sound. He pressed his lips together and contemplated going down it, but in the end he never needed to, as the reason for the sound came running out at them of its own accord.
It was a man well into his thirties and more than twice their size. Veins bulged in his face, and he seemed to be in quite a rush.
“Wha– Who the hell are you?!” he screamed at them, then, without giving them time to answer, “I’m busy! Get out of my way!”
Kubo grinned; he knew this kind well. The kind that thought that power equalled worth and that strength gave them the authority to treat people as they pleased. He hated them, more than anything in the world.
“Huh? Oh, are you talking to us?” he asked quizzically as Rein looked between them as if trying to decide whose side to take. As if it wasn’t obvious.
“Yeah! Now get moving!” the man roared.
Kubo tucked in his bottom lip, momentarily silent. His biggest tell, if you knew him well enough.
That was his moment of mercy. The man should have apologised. He didn’t.
“Well… I really wish you hadn’t,” he mumbled.
Rein sighed. He seemed to be wishing the same thing, but the man still didn’t pick up on it.
“Great, now go cry to your mommy! I’ve got things to do!”
“Oh?” Kubo shrugged, “But I don’t think you’ll be doing them, right, Rein?”
Rein furrowed his brows. He wasn’t like Kubo and Zeph, who took every opportunity to start a fight; he preferred to avoid confrontations such as this one. Especially when they were entirely unnecessary.
He tilted his head at Kubo. A plea, but the man misunderstood it.
‘Good! Looks like the other one’s scared,’ he smirked, ‘Now to finish them!’
He charged forward, his arm raised. He intended to handle them both with one blow. He misjudged, badly.
A bright orange light flared up, lighting the night. Eight streams of a glowing substance protruded from Rein’s back, something like fire yet somehow malleable.
They wrapped around the man’s wrist and torso, lifting him up into the air.
“Oh… right,” Rein answered, finally.
Kubo chuckled, “You had me worried for a second there,”
He raised his hand and allowed his power to activate, creating a vacuum in the centre of his palm, compressing the space around him.
“H– Huh?” the man grunted when he felt the vacuum’s pull, and within seconds he was sucked in. With that, the compression was complete.
Kubo caught it and raised his hand to inspect it. A snowglobe. And lying in the centre of that snowy wasteland was a very small, very angry man.
In all honesty, the space he compressed could be turned into anything. But unless he consciously made it into something else, it always formed a snowglobe. He didn’t know why; he wasn’t even sure he wanted to, but it had been that way for as long as he could remember.
“Well, that’s done,” he turned to Rein, who merely offered a grunt in reply.
But just as they turned to leave, another sound reached them from the alley. But this time what emerged was not one, but two fairly younger men.
Rein pursed his lips, biting down on his annoyance, and Kubo frowned.
The younger of the two, a man with silk red hair and a round baby face, was the first to speak up.
“U– uh, have you seen… a man?” he asked, nervously looking between them, “Um, a big one?”
