“I’ve asked the school festival committee members for an urgent assembly today for a very specific reason,” Shinobu Kocho, the committee chair, announced in the meeting room after school. The look on her face was more mysterious than ever. “There is concern about the possibility of a large-scale group poisoning at the festival a month from now.”
“Taking the season into consideration, we’ve given thorough guidance on hygiene measures,” Treasurer Aoi Kanzaki noted, her face serious. “Booths selling raw food, which would be more likely to cause food poisoning, have been prohibited,”
Secretary Senjuro Rengoku cocked his head to one side as he wrote on the blackboard. Had Kocho said group food poisoning?
As if to respond to this doubt in his head, Shinobu corrected her treasurer. “I’m not talking about food poisoning, Aoi. Just poisoning. If the word ‘sound poisoning’ existed, then that might be more appropriate.”
“Sound … poisoning?” Aoi had never heard of the idea before. She looked dubiously toward the vice chair, Kanao Tsuyuri, in the seat next to her.
Kanao shook her head, looking perplexed.
Senjuro, Aoi, and Kanao naturally all looked at Shinobu.
Seeing the question in their eyes, she sighed. “The issue is with this event.”
They looked at the flyer she pulled out and saw that it was for the Kimetsu Academy school festival’s most famous event, the Kimetsu Music Festival.
Because the grand prize was exceedingly grand, this event drew real excitement from the student body every year. The prize this year was credibly rumored to be a trip to Las Vegas, so the participating groups were really throwing everything they had into it.
“A band called Seedy Style Democracy is scheduled to perform.”
While Senjuro and Aoi nodded, the normally silent Kanao spoke up for once. “Oh. Tanjiro’s band.”
“Yes.” For some reason, Shinobu turned pitying eyes on Kanao. “The band is registered as having four members: Tanjiro, Zenitsu, Inosuke, and Mr. Uzui, the art teacher.”
“Is there an issue with this band?” Aoi asked.
Shinobu paused at length and finally said, “Yes. Well … I believe they’re practicing in the music room right now.” She had a thoughtful look on her face. “Seeing is believing, I suppose. Aoi, Senjuro, would you go and take a look? Be very careful.”
Senjuro thought it was weird that she asked just the two of them to go.
Aoi wondered the same thing, but the pair left the meeting room and headed off to the music room.
“This is where they’re practicing, hmm?” Senjuro remarked.
“I guess so.” Aoi nodded. “But the music room’s completely soundproof, so we can’t hear anything out here.”
“Why on earth did she tell us to be careful?”
“Maybe because they’re concentrating, so we should try not to disturb them?”
Whispering to each other, Aoi and Senjuro pulled the heavy door of the music room open.
It only took a moment.
What assaulted them was something not of this world … an explosion of sound like a wall of hatred and hexes.
“I completely—hrrk—understand.”
“This really is a prob … unnnh …”
“I’m sorry you had to witness that, Aoi, Senjuro. I’m glad you’re both all right.”
When Aoi and Senjuro returned to the meeting room covering their mouths, their faces drained of all color, Shinobu gently commended them for their efforts. The reason she hadn’t dared send Kanao was because she didn’t want to hurt her—not when she had fond feelings for Tanjiro.
“Kanao, I’m truly sorry, but we do need to report on the current situation,” Aoi said. “First of all, Tanjiro’s overwhelming tone-deaf vocals rub any listener’s nerves the wrong way, and Zenitsu’s hateful shamisen causes you to lose your sense of balance. On top of that, Inosuke’s arrhythmic drumming induces incessant nausea, and the roar of Mr. Uzui’s harmonica, powered by his superhuman lung capacity, strikes the killing blow.”
“If they were playing out under the blue sky instead of in the music room, I believe we would see significant damage. I’m sorry, Vice Chair Tsuyuri.” Senjuro turned toward Kanao and bowed.
Kanao fidgeted, her face pale. That was only natural. Even if you actually heard it yourself, it was impossible to believe that this kind of music pollution could exist in this world.
“I think—I believe—they must be eliminated immediately.” Looking like she was still quite nauseous, Aoi approached Shinobu while holding a plastic bag.
“But that would mean turning our back on the philosophy of our school, ‘Respect every student’s individuality equally,’” Shinobu noted.
“We cannot trade lives for that,” Aoi declared firmly.
“Poor … Tanjiro …” Kanao’s shoulders slumped dejectedly.
“I’m really sorry, Kanao!” Aoi hurriedly said to her friend. “But that band is a lethal weapon.”
It was harsh, but Senjuro understood what she meant too well. He wouldn’t have been surprised if the band were designated a biological weapon in the future.
“Umm.” Senjuro raised his hand timidly. “How about we cancel the music festival itself?” That way, they wouldn’t have to tell Tanjiro and his band the truth.
Senjuro was very fond of all three of the upperclassmen. And he liked Uzui as a teacher, although he did have that tendency to explode. If they could avoid it, he’d rather not hurt any of them.
Shinobu shook her head.
“One of the other groups is a brother-sister band made up of Gyutaro and Ume Shabana. They played last year as well, and Ume’s so popular that boys from schools all over, not just ours, come in droves to see her. I hear that the traditional Japanese band led by Mr. Kyogai has gotten a lot of praise from critics overseas. But more than anything else, the girl band made up of Nezuko, Makomo, Kiyo, Naho, and Sumi is immensely popular with all the students. If we unilaterally cancel the event—”
“But if we don’t do something, we’ll see hundreds of casualties—urrp,” Aoi interjected with a pale face. Perhaps picturing the sight, she covered her mouth with the plastic bag again.
Senjuro nodded silently.
Seeing her fellow committee members like this, Shinobu hesitated for a moment. She then spoke like she had made up her mind. “We have only one choice. We fight poison with poison.”
“What do you mean? Me and Gyutaro don’t get the final slot?!”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa, Little Miss Chair. Who even are these jerks with their seedy whatever baaaand?”
The “poison” Shinobu spoke of was the Shabana siblings, the most delinquent of the delinquents at the academy.
They were supposed to have the coveted final performance spot of the day, and Shinobu had just informed them that there’d been a lineup change due to various circumstances. Even as they closed in on her, glaring furiously, Shinobu was unperturbed.
“Mr. Uzui has formed a band with three students. Tanjiro is on vocals, Zenitsu is playing shamisen, Inosuke drums, and Mr. Uzui is on harmonica.”
“You can’t be serious!” Ume snarled. “What’s that group of uggos gonna do with a band?! Just a bunch of amateurs! Who wants to hear a garbage band like that?!”
Kanao looked clearly put out by this declaration.
“That Tanjiro’s especially annoying! Complaining when he’s that ugly! Acting like he’s all love and justice! I hate that guy!”
Kanao took a half step forward.
“Kanao,” Aoi said softly, and rubbed her friend’s back to pacify her.
Senjuro watched over the proceedings on tenterhooks. What if something happens and I have to protect them because I’m the boy?
“Uh? Isn’t Uzui that hot teacher who’s got those three hotties waiting on him hand and foot?” Gyutaro raised dubious eyebrows. “And now he wants to take our spot on the stage and our trip to Las Vegas? Not a chance. Not a chance in hellll!”
“Right, Gyutaro?!” Ume agreed.
“Yeah. Any two-bit punk who tries to get in our way, I won’t stop raging until I’ve peeled the skin from their living bodies and spilled their guts on the ground!”
“P-please calm down, Shabana.”
“M-murder is not appropriate.”
Not only was the younger sister Ume all worked up, big brother Gyutaro was also getting in on the action.
While Senjuro and Aoi fidgeted nervously, Shinobu turned to the furious pair and smiled like a blooming flower. “In that case.”
“Why don’t the two of you go and discuss the matter with the members of Seedy Style Democracy directly?” Shinobu suggested.
Brother and sister ranted and grumbled and complained, and finally threw open the sliding door, knocking it right out of the wall, and stormed out of the room—most likely going straight for the music room.
“Gyutaro and Ume were quite angry. Do you think Tanjiro and the others will be all right?” Senjuro asked no one in particular as he set the door back on its tracks.
Kanao stood up, her chair clattering. “I’m going to go and take a look.”
“You don’t need to worry about them,” Shinobu told her, calm as ever.
“But—”
“Mr. Uzui’s with them. However he might look, he’s absurdly strong. Apparently, he was leader of the biggest gang in the area when he was at school here. He knocked out two hundred delinquents on his own or something like that. And then he went to an art university, refused all the enthusiastic offers he got from professionals in the field after he graduated, and came to work as a teacher here.”
“Is he really that strong?” Senjuro recalled the face of the art teacher, who had been his older brother’s close friend since they were at school together. If anything, he would have put it in the “gentleman” category.
“Yes.” Shinobu nodded. “Very much so.”
“In that case, if it does turn into a fight, won’t that actually be bad?” Aoi asked hesitantly.
True. If this turned into something larger and the incident were found out, it wouldn’t just affect Seedy Style Democracy. The Shabana siblings would also be banned from playing. If that happened, it might eventually interfere with the operation of the event. Shinobu narrowed her eyes slightly.