Prologue
The otaku community had been buzzing lately.
Japan's and Korea's top mega-hit, The Band ~Girls Do Band~—or TheBanShoBan for short—had finally wrapped up.
"It's really over, huh."
Tae-il voiced a rare pang of deep regret.
More than joy at its safe conclusion, what stung was that he'd never get to see his favorite series again.
As someone who'd dabbled in music himself, he had a decent grasp of otaku culture too, and TheBanShoBan had given him more than enough reason to dive in headfirst.
Sure, the pretty girl band combo was so overdone it reeked of stale cheese by now. But the author pulled off the impossible, covering every flaw with jaw-dropping artwork.
It started purely with those soul-stirring, gorgeous illustrations that quietly spread through otaku circles as meme fodder, building word-of-mouth buzz.
The rumors snowballed until one day, a globally famous K-pop girl group idol raved about it to her fans, catapulting it to sudden fame.
Of course, reality was harsh—the launch was more controversy than triumph.
With no official Korean release yet, haters pounced, accusing her of piracy and poor copyright awareness, turning it into a massive online firestorm.
In this surprisingly peaceful era, headlines like "Popular Idol Lacks Copyright Awareness?" even hit the evening news, leaving Tae-il dumbfounded.
Overnight, TheBanShoBan became Korea's hottest manga, its intrigue spiking as people wondered just how fun it had to be to cause all this drama.
Endorsed by a massively popular girl group, and with cover art so stunning even non-otaku normies went, "Whoa, the drawings are gorgeous," curiosity ran wild.
Tae-il was no exception.
He'd gotten into it through a session buddy who covered Japanese songs.
As Korea went nuts over "their" new hit, Japan finally took notice too.
Not everyone loved it—some were disappointed by its "ordinariness"—but the reception was mostly positive, the story holding its own.
Above all, "pretty art" meant "pretty characters," and their popularity exploded, dominating rankings on major illustration sites even if the series itself divided opinions.
TheBanShoBan's golden age truly hit two years into serialization, when the anime adaptation was announced.
A top-tier studio famed for visuals took the helm, casting a lineup of stellar voice actresses who could actually sing. They even roped in chart-topping composers with Oricon sweeps under their belts.
Fans fretted it was too much investment, but the project was dead serious.
And it exploded.
Big time. The anime wrapped, and Season 2 was greenlit on the spot. The next year brought a theatrical side story, simultaneous release in Japan and Korea.
Its OP, ED, and character songs dominated every major Japanese chart, leaving the mainstream music scene despairing at the otaku barrier once more—a bittersweet tale.
Somehow, this quake that shook both nations was nearing its end, announced two months back.
"Man, it's such a shame."
He'd read the manga casually enough, but the anime hooked him hard.
Especially Arisugawa Iris, the powerhouse lead of the core quartet. Her striking looks that tugged at guys' heartstrings, her energetic go-getter vibe, and above all, that voice.
Her voice actress nailed the exact rock-chick tone Tae-il idealized in a woman.
If he got the chance, he'd kill to collaborate—have her sing one of his compositions.
Stuffing down that urge, he kept fanning out, turning into the kind of VA obsessive who'd defend her to the death in any community.
The actress seemed to love TheBanShoBan too, maybe thrilled at the chance to sing freely—her live show count dwarfed even idol project regulars.
Big-name VAs juggle dozens to hundreds of roles, rarely pouring real passion into any beyond fan service. This was exceptional.
To Tae-il, it meant a lot on many levels.
"My first live viewing was thanks to TheBanShoBan, too..."
He'd seen his share—from indie bands to idols, top Korean singers and rock acts—but otaku live viewings were a total culture shock.
Otakge suge...
But even those memories were ending now.
In the finale, after their last live, the protagonists disband, vowing on graduation day to chase their dreams step by step.
A textbook, lingering, feel-good close. The author always played it safe like that—sprinkling intricate details but steering a straightforward plot.
"Leave it to your imaginations," she urged fans, calling it space for their dreams.
The clean ending avoided fandom meltdowns with each volume's close.
At the end of the day, it was just a pretty girl band manga wrapping up—maybe a zoo of cute animal girls.
How dramatic could the drama even get?
Tae-il felt a refreshing yet bittersweet pang.
Deep down, as a fan...
"I wish we'd at least gotten a side story."
He was dying to know the grown protagonists' futures.
Especially Ayane, the low-key member whose post-growth arc had been community fodder even pre-finale.
The series opened with adult Ayane's monologue, after all.
The others were all prodigies who'd surely thrive, but Ayane was pure everyman.
She crumbled mentally often, force-feeding readers frustration—hated by some—but as a fellow musician, Tae-il related to her struggles. Universal stuff anyone in the game faces.
Maybe it reminded him of his cousin.
Asymmetrical bangs, timid vibe lacking confidence. Black as her favorite color, bass her instrument.
"Hope he's doing okay..."
Tae-il thought of his mentor and idol, his cousin.
In the story, Ayane earns respect through grit.
The girl who'd boxed her talent in, riding her genius friends' coattails—crying she couldn't do anything alone—finally declares herself a musician with head held high.
Her resolute face through pearl-like tears delivered catharsis to frustration-weary readers.
In the steady narrative, Ayane's arc felt familiar yet profoundly moving to Tae-il.
"If he'd had friends like that..."
Tae-il gently stroked the shattered bass in the corner.
Even now, closing his eyes conjured his cousin on stage—the spark that ignited his hobby, still a respite and milestone in life.
But his mentor quit music.
Smashing the bass he cherished.
When Tae-il begged why, pleaded for him to stop, those bloodshot eyes glaring back terrified him into tears. Still a trauma.
He still wondered.
"If this weren't reality, but a world like TheBanShoBan..."
Could his brother have kept playing?
In a manga where protagonists conquer all, maybe?
Tae-il rubbed the snapped neck tenderly, full of longing.
"T-Tae-il! G-Get... up! It's... morning...!"
Tae-il felt someone shaking him wildly.
A sensation he'd never known since mastering alarm wake-ups.
After much groaning, he finally pried his eyes open.
"Ah, you're awake!"
There stood some kid.
"Did you sleep well?"
Speaking Japanese.
Japanese?