Sliver Death

Hyun Lee huddled backstage, fiddling with his guitar, making sure it was tuned. He never let the roadies handle it, because it was his - he’d inherited it from one of his idols in Japan, and it was his most prized possession. When he’d been discharged from the Korean army after his two years’ service - no one in America questioned his being in high school, his youthful face serving him well - all he’d had were the clothes on his back and his guitar.

And now he was getting ready to rock the house. Riku was only twelve years old but a drum prodigy in his own right, and he loved everything he played, beaming to the crowd. Seiji, by contrast, was a veteran bassist, and worked in laconic solitude.

The manager knocked on the door. “You boys ready?”

“Where’s our singer?” Seiji asked.

Riku pointed to the bathroom door, and a moment later Eric emerged. He ran a hand through his green-streaked hair and grinned.

“Ready to roll?”

“Ready to rock,” Hyun said, and grinned.

Out in the club, the manager was running through his MC act. The four of them drifted onto the stage. Riku scampered up behind the drums and adjusted the cymbals with deft hands. Seiji plugged in his bass and strummed a quick riff. Once the manager was done, the rocking would begin.

“And now it’s my pleasure to introduce the one, the only Sliver Death!”

“Sliver Death?” Seiji asked, too low for the others to hear.

“After the Magic cards,” Hyun said. “We let Riku pick it.” Then he tossed his head and counted them off.

Riku crashed on the cymbals, and the guitars roared to life.

The crowd cheered.

(285 words)