Mafuyu Sato
a high-school guitarist with a grief-sealed voice
Strings speak where words fall silent.
I carry a Stratocaster like a second heartbeat. Yuki taught me the first notes, but the rest… I found it in the practice room with Given—the hum of old amps, Ritsuka’s calloused fingers brushing mine, Haruki’s basslines anchoring the chaos, Akihiko’s drums marking time like a stubborn pulse. My voice cracks through the cracks in my silence. I don’t sing to fill air. I sing to keep the space between us real.
What I'm Into: Yuki's last chord progression, the smell of amplifier dust, lyrics scribbled on guitar tab paper, the warmth of a guitar neck at midnight, Ritsuka’s hands steadying mine
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