“…Tomori-chan, is it?” Shifune sat back on her lounge chair. “Nice to finally see you up close. Have fun up there. But don’t let Raana lead you around too much.”

Even in her old age, as she sank into the leather, the legendary Shisen of MiraculouScarlet exuded a dazzlingly radiant aura. Tomori wondered, for a moment, if this is what people meant when they talked about “star power.”

Tomori gave a frantic little bow. “U-um! Thank you very much! I’ll… be in your care.”

Just beside her grandmother, Raana bounced impatiently on her feet; and once the pleasantries seemed to be over with, she darted past Tomori and ran up the staircase. She looked back as she went, beckoning Tomori with her eyes.

Upstairs, Raana took her guitar out of its bag and hopped onto the couch. “Here,” she said.

The upper floor of Tsuzuki Shifune’s Waseda duplex was split into two halves. One was a top-of-the-line private recording studio, lined from top to bottom with high-grade acoustic foam, and thousands of dollars’ worth of guitars and audio equipment.

The other was a listening room.

Its walls were blotted out by shelves upon shelves of perfectly-kept vinyl records. At the sides of the couch in the middle there were even two towering carousels all filled with record sleeves. And in front of it, the centerpiece: a beautiful vintage Yamaha hi-fi, a turntable hooked up to a full surround-sound system.

As she’d made her way up the stairs, Tomori’s heart begin to race.

What would Raana show her? What would she finally get to learn about her?

“W…what is all this, Raana-chan?,” she asked as she sat down.

Raana was reaching over the back of the sofa and rifling through the contents of the carousel to her right. “It’s music.”

“R-records, right? I… don’t think I’ve ever seen any in real life. Not… not this many.”

Finally, Raana found her mark and swiped it off the shelf. “CDs and stuff are… cold. Empty. This is better,” she said, authoritatively.

“R-really…?”

“Mhm. I keep telling Rikki we should sell vinyls.” Raana pulled the inner sleeve from within the jacket, which she handed to Tomori. “But she always says no. Too expensive. Boring.”

She stepped towards the turntable, opened its cover, and delicately slid the twelve-inch disc around the spindle, taking care not to touch a single groove on the wax. Tomori watched her with some fascination. Her agility was transfixing, to be sure, but more than that it was the care, the warmth she felt from Raana’s every move.

It felt every bit like… love.

She looked down at the empty jacket in her hands, searching for the name of the album or its artist. But she found nothing. “W-what is this, Raana-chan?”

“Led Zeppelin.” A muted crackle echoed through the room as Raana let the needle drop. “Fourth album.”

“W-wow.”

Raana leaned back, smiling from ear to ear. “Masterpiece, right?”

Tomori nodded. “I-it was… very impressive.”

“Listen, Tomori.” Raana looked Tomori dead in the eyes. “Jimmy Page is a genius. Don’t forget.”

“O-okay. I won’t. Um–so… is this how you… learned to speak English?”

“Sure,” Raana said, her accent mostly Tokyo but with a hint of the West Midlands mixed in. “If that’s what you wanna call it.”

“You really listened to this so much you… started to understand it…?”

“Mhm. For years. But not just this,” Raana began. “The Doors, Zappa… Oh, I know.” Her eyes glimmered, and she went searching for another record.

“W-what… is this song about, Raana-chan…?”

“Leaves,” Raana explained. “And how they’re sweet.”

“R-really?” Tomori stared fixedly at the spinning turntable. “I’ve actually… never tried eating a leaf.”

“I did. Not sweet at all.” Raana mimicked spitting something out. “But maybe they’re sweet in England.”

“Oh!” Tomori sat up straight. “I bet Ano-chan knows.”

Raana nodded. “Mm. Let’s ask her.”

They went on, playing record after record. Until day turned to night, Tomori learned of the classics, and of Raana’s dearest treasures.