Chapter Text
In the backroom of a bar, Saturo sat across from Suguru, watching as he twists the pegs on the neck of his guitar before strumming a few chords, attempting to get the proper tune. The guitar was a pretty dark purple with black airbrushing along it. Suguru had paid a hefty amount for the thing.
He worked at the same string again and again, until eventually sighing and setting the instrument down next to him on the couch.
“That doesn’t sound exactly in tune,” Satoru comments with a sly look on his face.
“Not exactly but it’s good enough. I’m also just a perfectionist, so,” Suguru shrugs as he pushes at the jewelry pierced through his eyebrow. It’s silver with little spikes on the ends, matching the two rings in his lips.
Saturo examines his expression and shifts in his spot on the couch, bouncing his knee slightly.
“Trust me, I know,” he says. “You’ve been doing that a lot lately,” he gestures towards Suguru’s eyebrow piercing the boy was fidgeting with.
Suguru huffs, a small smile forming across his lips, “I guess I have. It’s just healed.”
“Damn, it’s really been eight weeks already?”
“Yeah, I’m changing the jewelry tonight,” Suguru says. “You coming over?”
Saturo nods in response. “Yeah,” he says. “I’m offended you're replacing it after I picked it out” he jokes.
Suguru rolls his eyes and leans back, stretching his arms behind his head, “You’re so annoying.”
Satoru smirks at his remark and reaches for his camera, which is already prepped for the performance. But he does his "last checks" just to do something with his hands.
The singular lightbulb hanging from the ceiling above them flickers slightly. It casts a dim light onto the two couches they sat on and the table in between them. Tonight is another Friday night spent at the Moon Palace, the local bar unfortunately owned by Naoya Zenin’s family.
The local bands did a lot of shows there, but it’s been blatantly obvious for a while that Overtime, Nanami’s band, disliked coordinating with the Zenins, instead preferring to do garage shows or perform in different bars all together.
The backroom is decently sized with brick walls and concrete floors that allowed performers to move equipment around easily. Everything was illuminated with a few old lightbulbs hanging from the ceiling and crappy track lights. Graffiti decorations covered the walls of the building inside and out.
Behind Suguru, Saturo notices Hakari adding his own mark on the wall with a thick graffiti mop. He writes out his signature “fever” tag, black ink dripping down the brick wall. He looks over at the two on the couch, tossing the mop onto a nearby table before strolling over to the back of Suguru’s couch.
He leans forward, arms resting on the top of the soft cushion, “You ready, Suguru?” He asks with a soft clap to Suguru’s shoulder.
Suguru glances up behind him, adjusting himself to face Hakari.
“Just about,” He laughs as he greets his bandmate with a dap and light pat on the back.
Hakari grins and looks forward, “Saturo?”
Saturo holds up his camera, “Of course. I’m excited to see the new song.”
“Me too, shit’s gonna be great. Yuji and his crew here?” Hakari asks.
The condensation from the Coke can wets Suguru’s fingers as he grabs it from the table and takes a sip.
Satoru falls on his back on the couch, holding the camera to his chest, “Yeah, they got here not too long ago.” Hakari nods.
The sound of the backdoor behind Satoru shutting drew the trio’s attention to Shoko, who was returning from her smoke break.
Usually, a vocalist would be warming up before a performance rather than having a smoke, but those were really one in the same to her.
She gives a small wave to the group as she sits beside Satoru on the couch, “Sukuna about done with his visceral attempts at fry screaming on stage?”
Hakari chuckles. “Yup. Nanami is already waiting with his drums by the door.”
The group chats amongst each other while they make their way over to Nanami by the door, a familiar excited, charged air between them. “Overtime,” the band formed by Nanami, consisted of himself, Suguru, Shoko, Hakari, and Satoru for pictures.
Other bands had their equipment stored back here while they listened to the other performances in the main area. Everyone knew each other. Everyone enjoyed performing with each other, and were genuinely friends - they talked, helped each other set up, write, adjust sound, tune.
Because it was a community, a group of people all working together to make some music and be mad at the injustices of the world, each person with their own.
The heart of the scene was fueled by the reckless teenagers who just wanted to watch the world burn, scream out to an angry crowd, bounce their energy off each other, - kids who wanted a world without oppressive authority and freedom to run wild.
Which was why it was so eternally frustrating when rich kids who had never struggled, who take advantage of the weak, whose whole existence is a contradiction to what they preach and what this scene is about, come in and try to role-play like they fit in.
A prime example being Toji and his band of fellow fraternity assholes Sukuna, Naoya, and Mahito, known as “Split Souls.” The worst part, they were actually really instrumentally talented. Too bad, they used AI to write all their lyrics and wear all fast fashion while claiming to be "anti-consumerism."
The group had just finished their set, leaving the entire place blazing with the hum of the instruments - the boom of the bass, banging of the drums, the cutting boom of the guitar, and the harsh vocals of Sukuna.
Toji pushes himself through the backroom entrance, Sukuna close behind with his arms behind his head and a cocky expression on his face.
As they walk away, he eyes Shoko and gives her a wink, earning an annoyed expression in return. The protective, angry energy of the boys behind her was apparent, their piercing glares only fueling Sukuna more.
Nanami knew it then, and despite his shared vexation, nudged his band, determined to keep the place from breaking out into another fight.
“It’s fine,” Shoko says, calm and collected, in an effort to dissolve the tension.
Mahito and Naoya file in right after, each lifting their guitars over their heads, unaware tension of the situation they were walking into. They made their way over to their equipment area with less fuss than their bandmates.
Nanami is quick to get his own equipment set up in replacement, replacing Toji's cymbals with his own. Unsurprisingly, Split Souls left immediately after they finished their set, no regard to support the other bands.
As Overtime began setting up, Hakari’s partner, Kirara, strolls into the bar. Dressed in their typical black pants, studded belts, spiked choker, and white sweater, they scan the room for Hakari and light up at the sight of him.
“Hey Kin, baby!” They hurry over to the stage to help set up.
They beam as Hakari places a hand on their waist and pulls them in for a light forehead kiss.
Since Kirara was there to take on the role of stage assistance during sound checks, that meant Saturo had the freedom to roam around.
The main performance area of Moon Palace is a rectangular shape, the stage in the front of the room. The usual tables that occupy either side of the room were now pushed in lines against the walls on each side in an attempt to make as much room as possible for tonight's large crowd.
Saturo observes the sight typical in between sets: lights dim while a random song plays passively throughout the venue and groups of people mingle, while others file out in lines for smoke breaks. He makes his way over to a distinct group of juniors.
Yuji, distinguished by his pink spiked hair, combat boots, and sleeveless denim jacket laced in patches, pins, studs, and the smell of smoke, was speaking excitedly to Megumi.
Megumi’s presence, characterized by his quiet demeanor, was inherently conflicting with Yuji’s. Angsty, indefinitely irritated, and nonchalant was his signature look; though a few minutes of further observation makes it obvious the act was mainly a cover for his anxiety. His dark hair, drowned in hairspray, was teased and stuck upwards, but not in apparent spikes like Yuji's. His bangs were brushed forward, right eye barely peaking out.
Nobara, who absentmindedly listened with her chin resting in her hand, was as sociable as Yuji yet infinitely less edgy than the two boys. Her light brown hair, split in a side part, fell across her shoulder, black nails reaching to swipe it behind her ear again.
Inumaki, Yuta, and Maki sat in the group as well, but more involved in their own conversation than whatever Yuji was saying.
Megumi’s dark eyes glance to Saturo as he yanks an empty chair from a table beside them and sits himself in the groups circle.
“One hundred percent agree, Yuji,” he butts in over Yuji, nodding thoughtfully.
Yuji, mid sentence, shoots him a teasingly tense glare for the rude interruption. Saturo breaks into a giddy grin at the sight, and Yuji is unable to hold his own serious mien as an irrepressible smile takes over.
After a moment, the two gain composure again. Saturo turns toward Inumaki, “Inumaki! It’s nice to see you again. This is your first show, yeah?”
”It is!” He confirms with a tight nod and poorly-composed smile. Saturo beams, leaning forward to give the boy a pat on the back.
“Dude, awesome. I remember my first show,” he says, drawing a sigh of irritation out of Megumi, and one of second-hand embarrassment out of Yuji.
“What?” Saturo whines, smile playing at the corners of his lips as he thought back on the memory and held back laughter. “It wasn’t that bad!”
“What happened?” Inumaki inquires, and Yuji takes the opportunity to recall the event with enthusiasm.
As a freshman, Yuji was already super into the community. Loosely friends, he decided to invite Saturo to a local hardcore show. He was hesitant to tag along, being so unfamiliar with the environment, but Yuji has a way of breaking people out of their comfort zone. That night, he met Suguru. Despite the fact that they went to school together, were both sophomores, and already knew of each other, that night they actually interacted.
He'd never tell Yuji how eternally grateful he was from getting him out of his routine that night, introducing him to this world - giving him the opportunity to meet his now best friend.
They invetibaly had mutuals, and the connection just strengthened with every word, every show, every moment. Suguru was always so suited for the hardcore scene and Saturo ultimately tagged along with him and his other alternative friends, including Yuji's group.
But he never felt he was "apart" of the scene. Even now, he’s just the photographer, yet he didn’t give himself much credit in the bigger picture. He loves the community, of course. The music, the people, the environment, the lifestyle, the movement - everything.
He just never felt he earned the title of saying he was apart of it.
”I told him to drink a gatorade or some shit before, so he wouldn’t get sick. But he didn’t listen! He said he’d be fine,” Yuji continues, Inumaki leaned forward and head slightly tilted.
“Oh my god!” Saturo laughs. “I got mosh sick! I fucking threw my guts up!” Saturo proclaimed, urging to finish the story.
A shocked expression covers Inumaki’s face as he looks between Maki and Yuta, who look equally as surprised and amused.
Megumi snorts, a smirk bashful for Saturo’s sake covering his face.
“Dude, holy shit, quit saying mosh sick!”
The group is overtaken by laughter, with Saturo defending his past-self and Inumaki grateful he wasn’t in a similar situation.
“Literally just say you were sick! You don’t need to have a stupid ass phrase!” Megumi sneers through the group’s fuss.
The lighthearted air floats among the group after they come down from the moment’s humor.
“So, moving on, what’d ya think of Split Souls?” Saturo asks the group, grabbing the attention of Yuta and his trio.
Inumaki raises his brows. “Oh, I thought they were pretty good,” he replies.
Nobara scoffs, ”Unfortunately.” She rolls her eyes, Inumaki’s excitement faltering slightly.
Saturo smirks at the remark, but took this as his chance to be the bigger person.
“Talking shit about them makes us just as bad as they are,” he states.
Megumi rolls his eyes.
“Oh shut up, you’re only being like that because you wanna save face in front of them,” he referred to the group beside them, earning a laugh from Yuji.
Maki raises an eyebrow, “I’ve never cared what Gojo thinks, for the record,” she says slyly.
Megumi ignores the comment for the sake of his argument.
“Unfortunately you’re both right,” Yuta comments, amused with the banter. Nobara nods in agreement.
Saturo fell from his mental high horse, his eyebrows shooting up and mouth falling open dramatically as he looks to Yuji for backup. Yuji snickers at him, offering nothing but an amused shrug.
He pouts slightly, “Still, guys.”
They continue talking as each member on stage does their sound check, Saturo eagerly waiting. After sitting through many rehearsals of the new song, he couldn't wait to take pictures of the group performing it live.
Stage lights flicker and feedback soaked chord shoots through the bar. Anticipation skyrockets as everyone begins floating over to the front, leaving a distinguished circle in front for the pit.
Shoko stands in front, her red nails clinging to the metal microphone pole.
“Hey there, Moon Palace."