2

It was a wall-to-wall packed house in the tiny, inti-mate venue. From offstage, Kyoka Jiro watched her father beat the drums and her mother play guitar while belting out vocals. Kyotoku and Mika worked in the music industry, but this New Year’s Eve performance was more of a personal side gig for them. Since the students of 1-A had just been granted permission to go home for the holiday, Kyoka was able to be in attendance.

The deep, pounding drums rattled her guts, and the guitar wailed like a diva. Kyoka’s body internalized the rhythm instinctively; it came as naturally as breathing to her, since she’d been raised in such a musical family. The spirited crowd had also given itself over to the music and was clearly having a blast. Suddenly, Kyoka remembered she hadn’t come alone, and she spun around.

“Not too loud for you I hope, Ectoplasm Sensei?”

For these home visits, a pro hero had been assigned to each student as a bodyguard.

“Not at all. As a first timer, I find it refreshing and intriguing,” said her teacher.

“Want to join me over here, then? Your view can’t be great from back there.”

“May I really? If you insist …”

Ectoplasm moved closer to Kyoka and tried to find the rhythm again, though he was perpetually off the beat. His bumbling awkwardness brought a smile to Kyoka’s face.

“The patrons appear to be enjoying the show. But perhaps this warranted a larger venue?” said Ectoplasm, observing the cramped crowd.

“Well, this little club has some sentimental value since it’s where my parents met. So they play here every New Year’s,” explained Kyoka.

“I see. How inconsiderate of me to make such a suggestion, in that case.”

Kyoka smiled and shook her head as if to say, “Don’t sweat it,” before turning back and letting the music take her over again. The rhythm and melody formed the pulse of her life. Not only did music come as naturally as breathing to her—it felt just as vital. Even more so when she relinquished control and allowed herself to meld with the sounds. A moment later, Kyotoku was amping up the crowd and prepping them to start the big countdown to midnight.

Crud. What’m I gonna do for my kakizome homework?

Kyoka’s mind abruptly turned to the winter break homework from Aizawa Sensei, which was the traditional calligraphy drawn with an ink brush to usher in the New Year—ranging from a single kanji character to a phrase to an entire poem. More specifically, the assignment was to express an aspiration for the coming year. Naturally, Kyoka intended to tackle the year with the usual Plus Ultra spirit, but putting that sentiment into calligraphy was a little tricky.

“Happy New Year, everyone! Let’s rock this year!”

Kyoka winced with a grin at her father’s unabashed shouting, and her parents—still onstage—turned to her and winked. Kyoka didn’t know what to make of this, but her father soon made it very clear.

“And now, you lucky folks get to hear from a first-time guest performer … Our daughter, Kyoka!”

“Huh?”

Kyoka was frozen in place, watching her parents’ beckoning hands. They hadn’t mentioned that she was slated to be part of the show, so her immediate response to the surprise invitation was to shake her head in fervent refusal.

“Our daughter can be a little shy. Hang on, folks,” said Kyotoku. He and Mika walked offstage and were greeted by Kyoka’s whispered protests.

“How about a little warning!” she hissed.

“Please, Kyoka?” said her mother. “You sang at the School Festival, didn’t you?”

“Uh, yeah! And I sent you the recording!” said Kyoka.

“Which was great!” said her father. “But of course we wanna hear you live too!”

Kyoka couldn’t bring herself to let them down, given how earnest they were about it. In fact, a part of her had wished they could’ve seen her big moment at the festival in person.

“Fine. Same song, though,” declared Kyoka, finding the resolve deep in her gut. Her parents gave her a big hug, and the three members of the Jiro family strode out onto the stage together, where Kyoka introduced herself to the audience as quickly and awkwardly as possible. Then, with her parents providing accompaniment, she started to sing the song that had slain at the School Festival.

Kyoka was proud of her parents, who’d always given her support and encouraged her to do what she wanted, how she wanted, so she imbued this familial performance with all her resolve and gratitude. The crowd roared.

“Such a lovely voice,” murmured a delighted Ectoplasm, who was still in the wings. The karaoke-loving teacher had heard tales of Kyoka’s fabulous performance at the festival and had quietly been hoping for a chance to hear her live. It hadn’t taken long into the New Year for his wish to come true.

The final lyric left Kyoka’s lips, and the crowd went wild with cheers and applause. She was still feeling bashful about the whole thing but managed to turn to smile at her parents, who beamed right back at her. That was when Kyoka realized what kanji character she wanted to write for the kakizome assignment. Her aspiration for the coming year would be represented by 響 (hibiki/kyo), meaning “sound,” “reverberate,” or “resonate.” It also happened to be the first character in her first name—the kyo in “Kyoka.”

Cuz my heart’s gonna rock out so hard that those good vibrations bust down every obstacle this year throws at me. Even if Kaminari and Mineta will totally poke fun for using part of my own name.

Just as Kyoka had decided that anyone who dared to tease her would get a firsthand taste of her heart’s mighty reverberations, the audience started shouting for an encore. Stunned, she glanced around and realized that Ectoplasm and her parents were egging her on too.

“Really?” said Kyoka. “O-okay, one more song, I guess.”

It was now the New Year, and in that small music venue, the lovely diva’s voice rang out, resonating with one and all.