Hey everyone! Remember me? Sorry for disappearing; it was my final year at university, but I just graduated a couple of days ago! So I guess I have plenty of time for writing now (in between crying because I can't get a job related to my degree).

While I know I should continue working on my 50 other fics first, I just had to start writing something about Neil. I hope you enjoy it!

Sorta Like A Rock Star

The sun had barely risen beyond the mountains when Neil arrived at the Festival Grounds that morning. It was six A.M. – far too early to be awake, far too early for anything, especially an emergency town meeting.

Despite the hour, the townspeople of Echo Village had assembled in the audience seating area; most chatted amongst themselves, while some others were dozing off. Neil stifled a yawn as he glanced around for a seat. Somewhere in the back, out of sight, where he could maybe sneak in some shut eye –

"Neil! Heyyy Neil, over here!"

No such luck.

He couldn't even pretend that he hadn't seen the pet shop owner named Rod; the other man had risen from his seat, waving madly in his direction with both arms. Neil grumbled, and hurried over before the idiot could draw anymore attention to himself.

"How the hell can you be so energetic this early?" Neil asked as he dropped onto the bench. The movement caused the third man on the seat, Allen, to grunt in annoyance – at least he wasn't the only one finding the early morning hour difficult.

"How can you not be? The anticipation is killing me!" Rod laughed excitedly, still bouncing around like he was hyped up on ten cups of coffee,"Do you have any idea what this could be about?"

Neil folded his arms, "Beats me."

There was no knowing what was going on. Dunhill had yet to take the stage; the old man stood off to the side, along with Emma who was making wild and flurried hand gestures as she spoke. In Echo Village, 'emergency' meant anything from an escaped flock of chickens, to a bear on the prowl in the surrounding forest, to the news of an approaching typhoon.

Whatever it was, Dunhill needed to get a move on. Neil had better things to do – feeding the animals, brushing the cows and sheep, collecting the freshly laid eggs from the chicken coop; not to mention, he had to finish it all before he opened his stall at ten o'clock. His fingers drummed the arm of the bench, an impatient beat that grew quicker and quicker with every word that came out of Rod's mouth.

But then, Rod's eyes snapped forward and a hush suddenly fell over the crowd. Dunhill was finally making his way to the stage.

The old man stood silently on the wooden platform, his gaze sweeping over the sea of faces before him. At least, his expression didn't say 'the town is in grave danger, we have to evacuate,' (because that would be a major pain in the ass).

He cleared his throat. "Thank you, everyone, for coming out here so early this morning," He began, "I'm afraid I have some bad news."

The hush turned into a worried hum, as each villager turned to the person next to them to voice their surprised speculation. Even Neil involuntarily clenched his hand around his forearm. No one was missing, the weather seemed clear, the bears hadn't been seen lately – so what could it be?

Dunhill waited for the crowd to settle, and then, at long last, the reveal came with a solemn sigh, "It seems that the upcoming Music Festival will have to be cancelled this year."

The build up came crashing down, and Neil snorted loudly.

"Seriously? That's it?" He grumbled, "Who cares?"

Everyone else, by the look of it.

"Aww man, I was totally looking forward to it," Rod whined, sliding down the seat. Even Allen's half-asleep grunt seemed disappointed.

"What happened, Dunhill?" Hana, the elderly seed store owner, asked as she rose from her seat, "I thought the preparations had been finalized already?"

"That's true. Emma had volunteered to play this year, so I borrowed a piano from an old friend of mine," Dunhill explained. "But it sustained some damage during transportation."

"One of the pedals was snapped off," Emma added, "There's no way it'll be fixed in time."

"Can't we get someone else to perform then?" Rebecca suggested.

Dunhill nodded to himself, looking across the crowd again, "Iroha, I know we talked about you participating next year. Is there any way you can play this year instead?"

Iroha glanced away at the old man's request. She ruefully held up her right hand; it was bandaged thickly at the palm, with her index and middle fingers splinted together. "I'm sorry. Doctor Klaus says I must refrain from using my hand for at least a month."

"Oh dear." Dunhill's bushy eyebrows came together in a frown, "Is there no one else who can help out?"

The hum turned into a chorus of, "No, not me, I don't know anything about music," as one by one, Dunhill's hopes of beginning a new town tradition were dashed. Not that the old man should be making such a big deal about a festival – at least no one was hurt, nothing was missing, and it's not like the town needed to be evacuated.

Then again, Echo Town was still recovering. Even after a year, even with so many new faces around and flourishing businesses at every corner, they seemed to continuously teeter on the fragile fine line between stability and chaos. After all, the town had been a no man's land for so long; one wrong move and it could easily slip into disrepair again.

Neil squirmed uncomfortably in his chair.

"Just as I thought," Dunhill sighed from the stage, "It's a shame, but the Music Festival must be –"

"Actually, there is someone who could help."

The voice rang out across the clearing, drawing in the gazes of everyone around her – and awakening a sense of dread in the pit of Neil's stomach. Just for once, stay out of it, he pleaded silently. Just for once, keep your mouth shut.

With all the attention on her, she stood up from her seat. Her purple eyes did a sweep of the crowd, searching each face, until she found the one she was looking for.

But he wouldn't look up. Wouldn't give her any self satisfaction from knowing she had him beat.

Nor would she ever let him win.

"Neil plays bass." He'd known it was coming, but the sound of his name still stopped his heart in his chest.

Neil felt as every pair of eyes shifted focus and settled on him. He tried so hard to ignore it, yet nothing could stop the blush that was steadily creeping up the back of his neck.

But like always, when it came to Macie the farmer girl, he found himself giving in.

Neil's red-eyed glare slowly lifted, and Macie met it straight on.

"You'll play for us, won't you?"

On a scale from one to Allen, Macie was somewhere around an eight in terms of people who annoyed Neil.

Of course she wasn't arrogant or obsessed with hair like Allen ("It literally pains me to look at you," He said every time he attempted to force Neil into his salon chair) but she had her irritating quirks. She never took no for an answer, for one – the wrong combination of determined and stubborn – and ever since Dunhill put her in charge of the town restoration, she'd been sticking her nose into everyone's business, running around like she owned the place.

No one would dare complain about her either, considering it was thanks to Macie that the town had been brought back from the brink of extinction. With the help of Rebecca and her blueprints, the farmer girl had practically single-handedly built the stores and homes that lured newcomers to choose Echo Village as their new home. In turn, the renewed interest in the town caught the attention of some former residents who had been more than happy to return.

Okay, so maybe Macie wasn't all bad.

Her determination made her a hard worker, and from what Neil could see, she truly cared about her animals. Cared about the townspeople too.

Even him.

Not in any significant way or anything. She made daily visits to his animal stall (which was nothing special because she saw Rod every morning too) and she always seemed to have a canteen of milk ready whenever Neil was in need of a drink.

Why she bothered to be friendly with him, he had no idea. Most people (most smart people) learnt to keep their distance after a few minutes of conversation with Neil, yet Macie kept coming back for more. Maybe she was one of those masochists or whatever they were called.

She irritated him though, in ways that Allen and Rod never could.

This had all started months ago, the day he made the mistake of letting her inside his house. She happened to catch him in a rare good mood – a clutch of chicken eggs had hatched that morning, and if anything could make Neil smile, it was the soft peeping of newborn chicks. So when Macie showed up at his doorstep, wearing an almost pretty grin and offering another canteen filled with fresh milk, he didn't turn her away.

That was his first mistake. Left wide open, she took the opportunity to pounce, daring to push the limit.

"Isn't it about time you invited me inside?" She'd asked. The suggestion had been cheeky, like she could laugh it off the moment things went south.

And while Neil had baulked, spluttered, and scoffed, another thought crossed his mind. Why not? It wasn't like they were friends or anything, but Macie was the person he spoke to most often (runner up was Dunhill, and that was kind of sad actually). Besides, he owed her for the other day – she'd stuck up for him when some dumbass customer tried to claim that Neil sold him a sickly cow.

Still grumbling, Neil had moved aside. Macie seemed just as surprised by his relent, but it only lasted a moment. She stepped inside, and for the first time, she almost looked a little unnerved.

"So this is what your place looks like on the inside," She observed, as she twisted one of her pigtails around her finger.

"Ain't nothing special," Neil said with a shrug. A kitchen, an adjoining dining area, a small living room and a bedroom, just like any house in this backwater town. Simple but comfortable; good enough for him.

Still, Macie wandered away from the entrance, taking in every detail like she was carrying out a surveillance operation. And she had a good nose for information; she headed straight for the living room, where her prying eyes immediately honed in on the bass guitar sitting next to the sofa.

"Is that yours?" She asked curiously as she crossed the room for a closer look.

"…Yeah?"

"Do you play?"

He snorted and folded his arms across his chest, "Nah. Don't you know, my cow Bessie, she's real famous for her bass guitar skills. Even has a band with a couple of the chickens and a sheep."

Macie had just rolled her eyes. She plucked at the strings, producing a few strained, sad notes. "Play me something."

"What do I look like, your personal jester or somethin'?" Neil deadpanned, "It's gonna take more than just you asking to get me to play."

Amusement played on her features, "Is that a challenge?"

"It's nothing, is what it is." Even though he practically growled at her, the impish smile remained on her face, "It means I ain't gonna play for you, or anyone else for that matter, all right?"

"Why not?" Macie strummed the guitar again, "I mean, look at you. You play the bass guitar and you're dressed like you've gotten lost on the way to a rock concert."

"So what? I like what I like."

"But you don't make any sense!" She'd looked him up and down, "I've seen you, Neil, sitting at your stall day after day. The way you stare into the distance, with your fingers drumming at the counter… it's like you want to be somewhere else. You can't tell me you're just an animal trader!"

Her smug tone rubbed him the wrong way and Neil bristled. His second mistake.

So she'd said hello a few times and brought him a drink every now and then; that didn't mean she knew him. Not as a friend, not even as an acquaintance, and certainly not enough to make assumptions like that.

"Who I am and what I do ain't your business," Neil said coolly, "None of this –" He gestured around him, to his house, "Is your business, so just leave, okay? Before I end up saying something you really won't like."

Macie blinked, her eyebrows raised high into her hair. To her credit, she dropped the issue, slowly lifting her hands in surrender. "Okay," She said simply.

Neil stomped over to the door and held it wide open to further illustrate his irritation. He remained on guard as Macie stood up – granted she was in no hurry; she leisurely wandered around his living room before finally heading to the entrance.

Just as she stepped outside, Macie paused and glanced over her shoulder. "I think I'm going to get to hear you play. Sooner or later," She said airily.

"Yeah, well… you're not," Neil retorted. He slammed the door shut, but the damage had been done. He'd buried his face in his hands, feeling the heat of embarrassment burn his fingertips, "…Dummy."

"…Well, Neil?"

The sound of Dunhill's voice pulled Neil from the memory and dumped him right back in the middle of a nightmare he would never wake up from.

Neil swallowed thickly but it did nothing to loosen the lump in his throat. So this was her plan. Humiliate him in front of the whole town. Macie had probably broken the piano pedal herself, just to make this happen.

It was never easy to stand in front of the town, even at the seasonal Animal Festivals where Neil played the role of judge; with everyone focused on the animals, he could tolerate it for a few hours then. Now, however, every eye in town was on him, and he just knew they were all waiting for him to make a fool out of himself. His fingers took on a new rhythm, a tremble that traveled up his arm and resonated through his voice.

"Y-Yeah… I can play," He admitted, "But there ain't much point. Bass parts aren't made for the spotlight."

"What do you mean?" Someone behind him – Soseki, maybe? – asked.

Neil scratched the back of his neck, "The bass guitar is more about… keeping the other instruments in time. The rhythm, ya know."

"I was afraid you'd say that," Dunhill murmured. "I suppose it'd be easiest just to cancel after all."

Neil almost breathed a sigh of relief. But then –

"Wait a second, Dunhill!"

The far too loud exclamation came from the blond man next to him. Rod jumped to his feet, his far too wide grin gleaming with something sinister.

"Neil, that thing about the rhythm… you mean the bass guitar works better in a band, right?" He asked breathlessly.

"P…retty much?"

"So, that means you'd play for everyone if you were part of a band?"

"Uh…" Caught off guard, Neil frowned, "I… guess?"

"We could do that!" Rod said with a snap of his goggles, "It'll be kind of hard since there aren't many people who can play an instrument, and we only have like, a few weeks to prepare, but it'd be fun right?"

On a scale of one to Allen, Rod was about a nine and a half. Yet Neil couldn't hate him, no matter how much he tried; he was too dumb, too naïve, too harmless. Kind of like the puppies he sold in his pet store.

But he never should've underestimated him. There was one thing he'd forgotten about Rod, after all: he was one of Macie's best friends. Every puppy needed a master after all, and she had everyone in this town well trained.

Neil's frown eased into a look of dread. "What… are you talking about?"

Rod looked him straight in the eye, his stupid smile unwavering, as he repeated the words slowly, "I'm saying we could form a band and back you up! We could all perform, together!"

Neil found it difficult to hate him – until now.