MHA 2025!

The fluorescent lights of the UA High practice room buzzed overhead, a stark contrast to the turmoil brewing within Kyoka Jiro. Her guitar lay abandoned in her lap, its usually inviting curves now felt heavy and accusatory. Three songs. Three original pieces she had to write and perform for her music class project. It was supposed to be a challenging but exciting task, but right now, it felt like a mountain she couldn't even begin to climb.

She sighed, the sound lost in the echoing space. Lyrics eluded her, melodies felt stale, and the frustration was a thick blanket suffocating any creative spark. What was there to sing about? The bland walls of her practice room? The boring repetition of daily life? She wanted something real, something that resonated, but she felt frustratingly blank.

"Alright, guitar, you're officially in timeout." She muttered, placing it carefully on the floor before slouching against the wall, her headphones dangling uselessly around her neck. She closed her eyes, hoping to somehow coax an idea from the depths of her mind, but all that came was the familiar hum of disappointment.

Then, the subtle scrape of shoes on the polished floor pulled her back to reality. Kyoka opened her eyes to see two figures standing just a few feet away. They were clearly older, maybe post-graduate, and their presence surprised her; usually, the practice rooms were quiet and solitary. She took them in, one with a shock of bright blonde hair that seemed to catch the light, contrasting sharply with his piercing black eyes, and the other with dark violet hair and similarly intense black eyes. Her eyes darted back and forth between the two. They were strikingly similar, almost mirroring each other.

They approached hesitantly, their twin-like features becoming even more pronounced as they drew closer. The blonde one offered a shy smile, his eyes twinkling. "Uh, hi… are you… Jiro?"

Kyoka blinked, caught off guard. "Yeah… That's me. What's going on?"

The violet-haired twin spoke, his voice a slightly deeper echo of his brother's. "We're… well, we're your older brothers. We are what you might call… Talented Twins." He finished with a flourish that bordered on theatrical.

Kyoka's jaw dropped. Older brothers? She had never known about them, never even suspected she had siblings. Her head spun, trying to process the outlandish information.

The blonde one quickly added, "Our real names are Haru and Kenji, but we go by the stage name 'Talented Twins' now. We were at a musical professional camp ever since we were young to pursue our dreams as Japanese idols." He explained, holding his hands out as if to placate her.

Kyoka was speechless for a moment, her mind reeling. Idols? Her brothers were idols? It was so…unexpected, so dramatically different from anything she had imagined. "I… I don't know what to say," she stammered, "I never even knew I had brothers."

The twins nodded understandingly, their faces softening. "We understand. It's a long story," Haru said, sitting down cross-legged beside her, while Kenji sat on her other side. Then, Kenji continued, "But we heard you were practicing, and we wanted to finally say hi. We were in the area for our next concert."

A strange feeling began to bloom in Kyoka's chest. Shock quickly gave way to curiosity, and then, surprisingly, to a small thrill of excitement. She looked from Haru to Kenji, taking in their slightly nervous smiles, and felt a pull of something… familial.

"I… I guess I'm glad to meet you too," she said, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips. "So… you're both musically inclined?" she inquired, gesturing to the space where her guitar sat, like an introduction to the topic of music.

"Well," Haru began, "that's a bit of an understatement." He chuckled.

"Yeah, we've been living in the world of music for practically our entire lives now," Kenji added.

This unexpected revelation gave Kyoka a much-needed spark of energy. She then told them about her project, explaining her frustration and her creative block. "I just don't know where to begin," she said. "I'm feeling like a total failure right now."

Haru and Kenji exchanged a knowing glance. "We've all been there, Kyoka," Haru said, "That creative block can be a real pain."

"But," Kenji added, "There are ways to break through it. We have some… tricks of the trade."

The twins started sharing their strategies, explaining their processes for songwriting, how they drew inspiration from their experiences, and how they developed melodies that resonated with emotion. They talked about different chord progressions, lyrical structures, and the importance of finding your unique voice. Kyoka listened, captivated, her initial frustration melting away.

As the night progressed, the practice room buzzed with a different kind of energy. The three siblings talked for hours, sharing stories, dreams, and passions. Kyoka learned about her brothers' lives as Japanese idols, the long hours of practice, the pressure of performance, and the thrill of connecting with their fans. She, in turn, shared her own aspirations, the music she loved, and the challenges of being a hero in training.

She began to see, in their stories and experiences, a wellspring of inspiration. The fear of the blank page began to dissipate, replaced by a sense of excitement, and the feeling of genuine connection. By the end of the night, melodies were forming in her mind and loose lyrics flowed easily from her lips, her guitar feeling lighter in her hands than it had all day.

The three siblings sat there, the night air growing crisp, their voices low but animated. And in that moment, surrounded by the instruments and the shared love of music, Kyoka realized that she wasn't alone. She, the girl who had felt so lost and frustrated just hours before, had found something she never knew she was missing – a family and the beginnings of her own unique symphony. This was just the beginning of a song that was finally, and beautifully, hers to sing.