Chapter Text
Light always travelled faster than sound. That much was an established fact.
But the sweet burning ache of your muscles moving in sync to the music... Now that was much faster.
In front of the crowd, underneath the lights, everything you had. The stage was yours and yours alone. Strict smooth movements that felt like a memory. The smooth curated uniform jingling with the sound of soft twinkling bells around your waist and down your calves.
You glistened and you glowed commanding the attention allowing it to shine on you.
You were the mistress to the music, the commander of its waves.
But it was so damn hot!
Your imagination faded as the reality of the sweltering Louisan heat filled your senses all around you. Shorts feeling borderline stuck to your skin, shirt itching on your shoulders, your thighs beginning to slightly chafe.
It was hell!
Summer dance practice out in the middle of the green field.
It's not like dancing inside the building would make it any better since the practice room had its AC busted by some silly pranksters at the end of last month.
Sweat was pooling but the coach was not letting up today, and you couldn’t afford to cut slack today.
The band was warming up in the background giving the dancers an idea of what to expect on the upcoming field day
“Five, six–”
Snapping out of it you raised your chin on the beat in tune with everyone else.
It was late August and the admission period was rolling around so the clubs, societies and upcoming groups were making their rounds vying to look good.
Not only for themselves but for the school on the upcoming event.
It wasn't uncommon for alumni seniors to whizz by every now and then but the coach seriously had her head in the game before correcting form and position before allowing a quick water break.
Thankful sighs rolled out from everyone rushing to get under the shade. You exhaled, finally letting yourself move away from strict alignment, though your mind remained half on the next routine, upcoming classes after a few weeks, hell even the September house parties you had to plan to attend (if you could fit it all in your schedule)
“Y/n! Girl, you're frying out here,” a familiar voice called, teasing but warm.
Maki and Yuki appeared at the edge of the practice field, holding bottles of water and snacks from their respective clubs. They had come by to cheer you on, as they always did when schedules allowed. Maki leaned against the fence, fanning herself with a notebook, while Yuki waved a cool towel toward you like a knight offering mercy.
“Thought we’d give you backup,” Yuki said, smirking. “Or at least some moral support before you melt into a puddle.”
“Hey girls. Oh god,” you breathed, “I don't know if I’ll have time to stay here with you guys for long. Coach said ten minutes”
“Ten minutes?” Maki teased, stepping closer. “Girl, we’ve been standing in this heat watching you all work miracles. You need water. Can't have you fainting before all the new gawking students. What would they think of me?”
“Ignore her. She’s just jealous you’re hotter than the sun.”
“You wish,” Maki said, grinning
“You two are ridiculous,” you said, but the corners of your mouth twitched into a smile. Even through the sweat and the blistering heat, seeing them here, cheering you on like they always did, made it a little easier to breathe.
“You always act like we don’t know you,” Maki said, teasing. “We see the little grimace when the coach yells and the very obvious side-eye when someone’s messing up. You can’t hide from us.”
“It's like watching an episode of Hell’s Kitchen and y'all are her minions.” Yuki snorted
“Oh tell me about it.”
Maki wiped her forehead with the back of her hand, squinting at the line of dancers. “I swear, it’s like the sun is personally trying to kill us all today.”
Yuki laughed, fanning herself with a notebook. “Girl, if I had to move like that in this heat, I’d be face-first in the turf by now.”
The whistle blew again, snapping Maki and Yuki out of their banter.
“Back to reality,” Maki muttered, tossing her snacks into her bag.
Yuki groaned dramatically. “Reality smells like sweat and desperation.”
“At least it’ll be a hot dish” You groaned before heading back to the small huddle of people.
—
The next week came in a flurry of papers, schedules, and last-minute adjustments. Admissions day had arrived and the campus was alive. Students darting between booths, parents snapping photos, and banners flapping in the warm August breeze.
It was hot! So damn hot maybe even too hot for Yuuji as he made his way through the flurry of people.
Southern University? Seemed pretty cool so far.
Sukuna was groaning about him taking too long getting caught up in all the exciting clubs the university had to offer. It wasn't like there was anything new here he was missing.
A few new clubs here and there but Yuuji wasn't new to this. He was, after all, a student transfer.
Getting a feel of orientation and the new clubs was a sight to see.
Booths lined the quad like a patchwork of colour, each decorated with banners, balloons, and carefully stacked flyers. Prospective students milled around in groups, parents snapping pictures, volunteers waving and shouting their club slogans with practiced enthusiasm.
He had never seen anything like it. The energy was… electric.
A little overwhelming.
Every corner seemed to pulse with life.
Students darting between booths, laughter ringing across the quad, the distant beat of drums from the field.
He hadn’t meant to wander so far from the welcome tent, was probably gonna get an earful from Sukuna later.
Transferring had been easier on paper than in practice with the changes that seemed so drastic. A new campus, faces to learn and get used to.
And now he was here, standing awkwardly with his bag slung over one shoulder, wondering if anyone would even notice him among the swarm of people.
It was hard leaving the gaming field. Now he had to focus on getting settled into a new university.
Maybe he’d join the video gaming society?
He picked up a flyer from earlier reading it before his eyes widened.
$40 to sign up?!
Damn… how does a university have so much money but charge its students to join? This was going to take some time getting used to.
Yuji folded the flyer once, then again, before stuffing it back into his pocket.
Forty dollars just to sit in front of a screen with strangers who’d probably already formed their own groups?
He exhaled through his nose, a quiet huff, and adjusted the strap of his bag.
At his old school, he wouldn’t have hesitated.
People used to recognise him, call his name chanting when he'd win medals and awards.
Out here, he was just another person moving through the crowd, it was a bit odd, but it was most definitely relieving.
He drifted away from the gaming booth, letting himself be carried by the flow of students. Voices overlapped, music blared from portable speakers, laughter burst out loudly.
Someone bumped into his shoulder, muttered an apology, and kept moving Yuuji not really minding (being too much of an airhead)
Then he heard a loud rumble behind.
It wasn't like the loud pop music spilling from the party tents or the DJ booth near the quad.
It was a beautiful rhythm that announced itself into the air.
Drums.
Cymbals.
Trumpets and brass.
His fingers twitched at his side, phantom energy buzzing under his skin, he turned around to follow the sound.
Curiosity never really killed anyone. Right?
Near the edge of the quad, a booth stood apart from the others with its live instruments gleaming under the sun, polished to a mirror shine. A bunch of students were clustered nearby, some laughing, some stretching, some tapping rhythms against their thighs or the rims of cases.
A banner stretched overhead.
Marching Band Society
He told himself it was just curiosity, that he was only here to take a look. But that thought quickly disappeared. It wouldn't be too bad right? He might as well find something to occupy his time and mind outside of classes.
A shadow fell across the pavement in front of him.
“Hey, sorry, man. You look like you’re enjoying the art here.”
Yuji blinked and looked up. A guy stood there, around his age, wearing a band tee already darkened with sweat, a drumstick tucked behind one ear like a poetic flower with a huge smile on his face
“Uh, sorry. I was just –”
“Listenin'?,” Takuma finished for him, grinning. “Yeah. We get that a lot.”
“Yeah,” Yuji said, glancing back toward the instruments. “It uh, sounds… good.”
The guy laughed. “That’s ‘cause it is.” He stuck out his hand. “Takuma Ino. Percussion.”
“Yuji.”
Takuma nodded once, approving. “You new?”
“Just transferred, second year”
“Yeah, I figured. Not every day you see someone walking around with that gloomy expression” Takuma teased as his gaze followed back toward the group.
“Band’s usually what gets people lingering like that.”
Yuji shifted on his heels. “I’ve never played in a marching band before. Let alone an instument”
Takuma nodded. Reaching into the tote bag slung over his shoulder and pulled out a flyer, holding it out with two fingers.
“Well, if you’re interested, we’re holding interest meetings in two weeks once everyone's settled in past Move-In week. Tryouts aren’t scary, I promise.” He grinned, “Y’clocked the sign-up fee? S'twenty-five. Most students want to know how much it costs to join.”
Yuji took the flyer, eyes dropping to the bold print at the top.
MARCHING BAND SOCIETY
JOIN TODAY — $25 SIGN-UP FEE
That was… better. Manageable, even.
“That covers uniform maintenance, music access, and equipment use,” Takuma continued easily, already half-turning to greet someone else who’d wandered too close to the booth. “We keep it cheaper than most clubs.”
Yuji nodded a soft grin lifting, thumb running along the edge of the paper. “Yeah. That’s not bad.”
“Exactly.” Takuma grinned, nodding like they were sharing a private joke. “That’s the reaction I like to see!”
Compared to the forty-dollar gaming fee, it felt like a small mercy.
“I saw another booth not too far from 'ere charging sixty,” Yuji muttered, shaking his head. “Sixty. For monthly meetings.”
Takuma laughed, loud and genuine. “See? We’re saints!”
That earned a real smile from Yuji. He folded the flyer again, neater this time, “Yeah, I mean… I was expecting worse.”
“A lot of people do,” Takuma said. “Band gets a reputation for being expensive. Instruments, uniforms, all that. But we do our best not to scare folks off at the door.”
He hadn’t really planned on joining anything this semester. The move alone had drained him all mentally and emotionally. He’d told himself he’d keep his head down, go to class, go home.
Not dragging in any new commitments or gaining more expectations.
“You don’t have to decide right now,” Takuma said, misreading Yuji’s pause.
“Interest meeting next week Thursday. No pressure yeah?”
“Two weeks?” Yuji repeated.
“Mm-hm. On a Thursday. We’ll run through the basics, let you hear the section leaders talk. You can leave whenever. Starts at four” Takuma tilted his head, “But you look like someone who appreciates structure.”
Yuji swallowed. “I used to play sports.”
“Cool! What kind? Varsity level?”
“Yeah... Uhh mixed arts” Yuuji spilled sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck
Takuma didn’t press (Thank goodness...)
Behind them, someone counted off again. The drums started up again relentlessly.
Takuma glanced back over his shoulder, then returned his attention to Yuji.
“Anyway,” he said, tapping the flyer lightly with two fingers, “Twenty-five gets you in the door. After that, it’s just time and effort.”
Yuji nodded, “Thanks,” he said. “I’ll… think about it.”
Yuji glanced back down at the flyer, skimming it once more. Practice times, locations, initial rules. They were all things he could get behind on.
At the very bottom, in print so small it nearly blended into the background, sat a short line of text.
Additional fees may apply for travel, performances, and equipment replacement.
Yuji obviously didn’t see that.
He slipped the sheet into his pocket, the steady echo of drums still settling in his chest as he moved on.
Twenty-five dollars didn’t sound so bad.
Was the most affordable so far.
Not bad, not bad…
Now he just had to find Sukuna before he'd get a yelling at.