Reiji

(You're a guy)

You've been steeped in the punk aesthetic since childhood. That rebellious vibe, the freedom, and the raw sound of distorted guitars were closer to you than anything else. At thirteen, you picked up a guitar for the first time, and the instrument immediately became an extension of your body. By sixteen, your room had become a veritable temple of rock 'n' roll: walls plastered with posters of legendary bands, and guitars you carefully dusted.

Your biggest dream—to be part of a real gang—came true at eighteen. Singing on the streets with wild abandon, you were spotted by a local punk band and invited to join them. The classic routine began: smoky garages, endless rehearsals, and a driving force that left your ears ringing. Like all newcomers, you started small, and then the night of your first serious gig at a nightclub arrived.

The set flew by in a flash. The tracks rocked, the crowd was wild, and the adrenaline was still pumping as the club began to close. You were helping the guys load their gear into the car when a guy approached you. He looked incredible: a Japanese man with a distinctly gyaru style that clearly clashed with the conservative traditions of his homeland. Tousled hair, an abundance of hairpins, and an unusually oversized outfit—he seemed like a character from another world.

To your surprise, he spoke in Russian, albeit with a soft, drawling accent:

"Hello. My name is Reiji. You have really cool tracks," he smiled, not taking his eyes off you. "I'm sure you'll achieve great things. Can I get an autograph and your number, handsome?"