Date and Stalking (9): Train Teasing and Otaku Holy Land
On the train, Sakuya kept teasing Tae-il relentlessly, dragging up horror elements yet again without showing any signs of tiring.
“So, Tae-il, you can't handle zombie games at all either?”
“I can play them themselves, but...”
“Really?”
“What the hell do you take me for?”
“Nooo.”
As Tae-il shot her a glare, Sakuya grinned sheepishly.
“Sorry. But when I think about how you acted, I just can't help it.”
“Hah. It's all my damn karma...”
Tae-il was starting to get worn out from arguing and rebutting. With a short sigh, he let his shoulders slump.
“It depends on the genre, but I can probably play them anyway.”
“That's so you, tacking on that 'probably' at the end. I love it.”
“I'm trying to be honest about even the little things now...”
“Ahaha!”
Sakuya pictured Tae-il playing games like Repocalypse, jumping at every scare—his voice lacked any real confidence. In pitch-black maps that limited visibility, he'd shrink back without realizing it. And when a named zombie appeared, he'd panic, firing wildly while begging to be spared and screaming his head off.
“Hey, Tae-il, after we eat, wanna hit up a PC bang?”
“No.”
“Aww, why not?”
“I know what you'd pull.”
“What're we gonna do at a PC bang? Play games. Right?”
“...”
It wasn't wrong, exactly. But hearing it from Sakuya of all people made Tae-il feel uneasy.
As Tae-il shot her a disgusted look without answering, Sakuya covered her mouth like a mischievous imp, grinning slyly.
“Aha? I get it. You just had a dirty thought, didn't you?”
“You wanna die?”
Flustered, Tae-il raised his fist without thinking. He couldn't even jokingly affirm that tease.
This girl's scary—she might actually pounce.
Recalling the dizzying incidents that kept happening whenever he was with Sakuya, Tae-il shrank back dramatically.
“Okay, fine. Just tell me your birthday or something. I'll prepare a surprise for you.”
“What kind of surprise?”
“A surprise is a surprise.”
“So what kind?”
“Secret.”
The fun of a surprise came from not knowing. Revealing the contents would halve the thrill, so Sakuya clammed up.
“Now you make me wanna tell you even less.”
“Scared?”
“...”
“C'mon, you are. Real stuff doesn't scare you? All talk again? Man's pride?”
“Fine, whatever you say is right...”
Tae-il gave up resisting. He had zero confidence in out-talking Sakuya.
Until they arrived at today's destination, Akihabara, he just endured—and endured some more.
Only hoping that the weakness she'd learned about him today wouldn't spread to the other members.
Akihabara.
Though its heyday had faded, it was still the first place that came to mind when anyone in Japan thought “otaku”—the so-called holy land of otaku.
Maids handed out flyers on the streets, cosplayers roamed even on non-event days, doujin shops thrived online and off, and local idols like AKB48 performed.
“It's buzzing, huh?”
A short walk from the relatively quiet Akihabara Station, and the noisy street welcomed them. Hobby central. Cute, bouncy electronic tunes like Kawaii Bass leaked from everywhere.
Sakuya looked around the Akihabara streets with the innocent face of a country girl visiting the big city for the first time.
“It's been a while—feels super unfamiliar.”
“You don't come here much?”
“Nah. I hit up Ikebukuro more.”
Ikebukuro.
Tae-il's expression darkened slightly. Not a street with great memories.
“Ikebukuro means Otome Road, right?”
“Yep.”
If Akihabara was for male otaku, Ikebukuro was for fujoshi.
“Especially Mandarake. I could order online, but my cousin always begs me to grab stuff directly.”
“Mandarake...”
“The one you know, yeah.”
Mandarake. A doujin shop infamous as a holy land for the rotten subset of fujoshi. For guys, it was one of Ikebukuro's scariest spots, right up there with lingerie stores.
“Your cousin orders that stuff?”
“Yeah. I owe her a ton anyway. Did I mention? My cousin's a pretty big-name yaoi mangaka in the industry.”
“Huh.”
Tae-il nodded calmly, face unchanged. He already knew. But hearing it straight from Sakuya felt oddly different from knowing via the original story.
“What, not as shocked as I thought?”
“What's to be shocked about?”
“Guys usually hate yaoi tropes and gay stuff, right?”
“Live and let live with tastes.”
As long as it's not forced on him. Just not forced.
“Heh.”
Sakuya smirked and grabbed Tae-il's hand.
“Hey, why the hand?”
“Reward for the good boy. What, hate it?”
“Quit it.”
Tae-il shook his arm hard, but Sakuya locked her fingers like it was nothing and wouldn't let go.
“Heyyy!”
Then a maid handing out flyers came hopping over.
“Maid?”
“Yep! I'm Shushu, Master! If you have time, come visit our maid cafe!”
“Oh.”
Sakuya scanned the flyer excitedly and showed it to Tae-il.
“Look! There's an event at the maid cafe right now!”
“What event?”
Tae-il reacted indifferently. Maid cafe events for otaku were all pretty standard.
Unlike Tae-il, Sakuya seemed hyped for some reason.
“Visitors get a special maid experience!”
“Maid experience...?”
“Yeah. See here: 'Become a special maid for your loved one!'”
“Crazy...”
Tae-il checked the flyer details—it looked geared toward couples.
“Couples get menu discounts and commemorative photos too. C'mon, doesn't it pull you in?”
“Nope. Not at all.”
“Really? Even if I'm in maid outfit?”
Sakuya hopped up, hugging his arm and subtly pressing her chest against it. Her blatantly lecherous smile followed.
Tae-il read the cheeky confidence in her eyes: C'mon, you can't pass this up.
“Pass.”
Tae-il cut her off flatly. Maid outfits were a fantasy, sure, and Sakuya in one appealed. But it wasn't urgent enough to see today.
I've already seen her end-card version anyway...
Fall. After midterms, the culture festival began. Yuuma High's fest featured a legit cosplay contest.
If he really wanted Sakuya in maid gear, wait for that. Decent prizes too—good funding for Light Music Club activities.
“Do it plenty at the culture fest.”
“Culture fest?”
“Our school's got a cosplay contest.”
“Ohhh. But isn't that a crossdressing contest?”
“Nah.”
Tae-il recited details from the novel's inside cover.
“Heard it used to be a straight-up beauty contest, not even cosplay, till five years ago.”
“Really?”
“Cosplay was just a vote-grab tactic. But everyone started doing it, and it snowballed outta control.”
“But how'd it turn into a crossdressing contest...?”
Sakuya got the shift from beauty to cosplay—within bounds. But suddenly crossdressing? Weird.
The rules hadn't changed. Just that only guys entered, creating the vibe. Sakuya couldn't grasp the chain of events.
“Oh, that?”
Tae-il explained casually.
“A newbie beauty entered in plain sailor uniform and crushed all the popular girls to win.”
“So what?”
High school girls. Prime blooming season. Also when plain Janes metamorphose like caterpillars into butterflies.
A nondescript girl turning bombshell and stealing the show wasn't odd.
As Sakuya questioned, Tae-il smirked faintly.
“Problem was, that beauty was a guy.”
“...”
Sakuya shut her mouth. Hard to imagine a hormone-raging boy crossdressing to beat the girls.
“No way...”
Sakuya double-checked.
“Otokonoko?”
“Otokonoko.”
Tae-il confirmed flatly.
Otokonoko. Even for hardcore otaku Sakuya, the term felt unreal. That such a rare beast had existed at Yuuma left her speechless.
“Huh. It was real.”
Learning her school's senior was a mythical otokonoko gave Sakuya a weird sense of connection.
“Anyway.”
Tae-il shrugged.
“Get it now?”
“Yeah.”
Sakuya nodded firmly.
“You wanna see me in maid gear at the beauty contest. Right?”
“What the—?”
Tae-il couldn't even respond to the absurd claim.
As always, Sakuya flashed her most impish grin at him.
The reason Tae-il brought Sakuya to Akihabara was simple.
Not for the maid cafe. Not for otaku doujin shopping.
A trigger.
He didn't want Sakuya abandoning music like in the original. He wanted her more immersed.
Tae-il sought a trigger. He believed Akihabara held the drive to keep Sakuya in music.
“You like listening to music, Sakuya?”
“Sure do?”
Otaku Sakuya loved utaite and anime songs. Listening, anyway.
“Ever played an instrument?”
“Recorder?”
“Not the music class one.”
“Then nope.”
As expected. Like Rena, Sakuya lacked music ties in original or now. Her band join was forced—author admitted a tiny shift in events, no band for her.
True to that, she never took music seriously. During Ayane-Iris clashes. Post-Izumi band music philosophy fights. Rena's art growth from music inspiration.
Sakuya stagnated. Zero depth or worry about music.
She could do it. Practiced faster than anyone.
Her sound, tone philosophy? Mimic pro guitarist videos. Done.
Crowds cheered her proven performances. She didn't scorn effort.
“Good at recorder?”
“Obviously. Practiced till perfect.”
She could still play, wiggling her fingers lewdly with confidence.
Practice. Effort.
Sakuya took them for granted. Geniuses couldn't match her without them.
Like vending machines spitting prizes for coins. Effort yielded results because she could.
No regrets. At end, unlike Rena's bittersweet farewell, Sakuya seemed relieved.
“What do you think of the band, Sakuya?”
“Dunno?”
She shrugged.
“Never really thought about it.”
Still. Her music link was thread-thin. Could snap anytime.
Conviction. What Tae-il craved most now.
“Here?”
“Yeah.”
He wanted something to bind Sakuya to the band for sure. People weren't enough. If so, shiny star bands wouldn't suffer member swaps and quits. Families wouldn't break.
So.
Tae-il wanted to give her a trigger.
“This is our spot today.”
They veered from hobby street into alleys packed with niche used doujin shops, TCG stores, underground idol live houses.
Sakuya shaded her eyes with her hand, tiptoeing to scan the dense signs.
“Food place here? Wild.”
“Live house, technically.”
“What?”
Sakuya panicked. Understandably—dinner for hunger, but destination was a live house.
“You'll see.”
Sakuya followed suspiciously but obediently.
“Japan's got a shit-ton of live houses, as you know.”
“Fewer than before, though.”
“Right.”
80s. Bubble economy boomed J-pop. Golden age—artists, mostly bands, flooded out.
Bands boomed socially, spawning hordes of aspirants. Live houses sprang and died chaotically to meet demand.
Most self-run spots tanked in recession, but quirky survivors lingered.
Tae-il's target was one such odd live house.
“Visual kei idol bands that ruled Japan and influenced Korea crashed.”
Their void filled by emotional, hopeful bands comforting people and society.
“Prime example: R'z under ING Records.”
“National band.”
“BARD's same label, FYI.”
Iris later soloed there too. Tae-il smiled wryly.
“Bands still dominate Japan, but not with old passion.”
Back then, band music was self-expression, wealth symbol. Now, everyday staple—lost status.
Modern freedom, diversity exploded outlets. Money methods too.
Fewer bands, recession hit live houses hard.
“Owners innovated.”
More than live houses: extra services. Broader acts: stand-up comedians (geinin), rock bands, dance groups, underground idols.
Countless rose and fell here. Bands still poured youth into chasing past glories.
“Ever been to a live house, Sakuya?”
“No need.”
Modern culture boom. Abundant enjoyment. Varied music, ways to consume.
Sakuya streamed over live shows. Tae-il's bass shifted her a bit, but stage experience nil.
“Good.”
Under a pitch-black sign with fluorescent letters. At dim stairs to basement, Tae-il grinned.
“Don't freak out.”
“Haha.”
Sakuya's expectations had dipped knowing it was a live house. But Tae-il kept hyping.
What's with the confidence...
Escorted by Tae-il, she descended. Old building—high steps.
Faint yellow lights amped eerie vibe, tinting her scalp.
Gripping his hand tight, slowly, carefully.
“Here.”
Bottom: bright light poured from open steel door.
“Whoa...!”
Sakuya's eyes sparkled.
Personal-run spots usually felt dingy, not sleek clubs.
Otaku Sakuya loved hot-blooded sports manga, but knew band manga “classics.”
Thus, indie band poverty. Live house cruelty, crap facilities.
“This a live house?”
“Surprisingly.”
Inside evoked a collab cafe her cousin dragged her to years back.
Clean white-gray furniture contrasting gloomy entrance. Walls papered in character bromides.
Tall display cases crammed with figures. Rear: cozy stage, wider than expected.
And front: middle-aged man in white headband reading “Love Sana's Land!” in crimson, setting up cheer gear. Empty since opening.
He screamed “oshi”—Sakuya yelled unwittingly.
“Whoa! Real-life 'oshi'! First time seeing one!”
“Huh?”
The man glared at her shout.
Bad vibes incoming—Tae-il facepalmed instinctively.