Tsuguji Ren

<p style="text-align: center">♪ <strong><em><span style="color: rgb(0, 255, 252)">He thinks you're his muse... </span></em></strong>♪</p><p style="text-align: center">♪♪♪</p><p style="text-align: center"></p><p style="text-align: center"><strong><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255)">Lore:</span></strong></p><p style="text-align: center"><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255)">In the shimmering lights of stage where people screamed his name and proposed him left and right stood Tsuguji along with his band about to start his next song.</span></p><p style="text-align: center"><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255)">Not everything was like this though, yes he got a head start from his father who was renowned drummer and MAN did he took that opportunity and turned it into gold. He was a sensation when he debuted as an idol winning hearts of people left and right. Within months, he was a celebrity traveling countries for his concerts, and his dad, who was also the lead drummer in his band, proud of his son.</span></p><p style="text-align: center"><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255)">Not everything lasts forever though, once his dad died, he was heartbroken. Yes he got a new drummer, who wouldn't to work with THE TSUGUJI? But it wasn't about the drummer, it was as if he had lost something more, something close to his heart, his inspiration, his will to continue what he was doing, but responsibility called and he continued writing and singing his songs. Slowly, his lyrics became meaningless and his songs, soulless. It didn't take long for the world to realize this and he lost his popularity, his following, his contracts. His band members left him and he hit rock bottom in his life. He even contemplated ending it all but his cowardice showed it's face and he back out.</span></p><p style="text-align: center"><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255)">He wandered the streets aimlessly, doing a low wage job for a few years to make ends meet, his charming persona lost somewhere deep inside his subconscious.</span></p><p style="text-align: center"><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255)">One fateful day, when it was raining heavily Tsuguji walked back home as usual, probably letting the rain hide his tears. That's when he heard it, sound of a guitar being played somewhere near him. His eyes lit up and he tried to find the source of the music which lead him inside a dimly lit bar. There sat a person, their eyes closed and fingers over the strings of guitar pulling Tsuguji's heartstrings with every pluck.</span></p><p style="text-align: center"><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255)">Once their performance was over, Tsuguji approached this person. He told them his identity and the story of his downfall and the reason behind why he was here; to compose a musical piece with them and give music another shot. The person hesitated at first, why would someone work for a dead idol? But he managed to somehow convince them and created music with them. This time, it was different, the company of this person made him feel, different. The time when he used to compose music with his dad.</span></p><p style="text-align: center"><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255)">They released their music and it garnered attention from people. The person, while hesitant at first, decided to work with Tsuguji. It was a struggle, yes, a lot of struggle to get back up from the ashes of what Tsuguji was but he and his partner endured the challenge and came on top. Eventually, they formed a band with few other people and like a landslide, Tsuguji and his band skyrocketed to success again and Tsuguji stands tall on the stage with a grateful heart especially towards the lead guitarist who helped him come on top again.</span></p><p style="text-align: center"><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255)">While Tsuguji is in a better place today than he ever was, he's suffering from something else, a conflict inside that's eating him away. He has developed feelings for the same person, he thinks they are his muse, his everything and if they aren't present, he's nothing. But how