Date and Stalking (10): Picking a Fight with a Stranger

Getting hassled by some random guy? For Sakuya, who was treated like a celebrity even by the rough-and-tumble sports clubs, this was an utterly unfamiliar experience. Sure, there were jealous groups, but with the coach and team captains watching her back, no one dared mess with her. And even if they tried, she wasn't the type to just take it lying down.

Maybe that's why Sakuya stared at the man with genuine curiosity.

"Huh?"

The middle-aged guy glared at her, eyes bulging. He was a bit chubby, but his menacing face and sleazy gaze made him intimidating enough.

"Who the hell are you?"

He stopped sorting the cheer gear and swaggered over to her, hips swaying.

The closer he got, the higher his gaze climbed. Sakuya's height advantage meant he had to crane his neck more and more to look up at her.

"Pardon?"

Sakuya flashed a friendly smile, devoid of any hostility. Even in this powder-keg situation, she didn't seem tense at all—maybe because he was just another person.

"Wh-what the...?"

The man faltered at her bold demeanor, then quickly schooled his expression into feigned nonchalance. He jabbed a thumb at his chest.

"You know who I am?"

"Nope!"

Sakuya declared it proudly, still smiling. Her brazen response nearly knocked his glasses off his nose.

"Then what? You got a death wish? You know who I am or what?"

"Sana-something?"

"Ahh! So you do know Sana! That's a whole different story!"

The middle-aged man's attitude flipped on a dime. Tae-il was dead certain Sakuya had no idea who Sana was.

"Hehe. I'm Shionji Tsugutoshi, number zero member of our Sana's fan club here at Central Dogma, where she performs regularly!"

"Whoa, really? That's awesome!"

Sakuya clapped like she was praising a child, clapping her hands in delight. Classic Sakuya. Affinity level maxed out, as expected, Tae-il thought with a wry smile.

"Ahaha! Y-yeah, right? This girl's got taste!"

Shionji squirmed shyly at her enthusiasm, a faint smile creeping onto his face. Getting real recognition for your oshi activities was never easy. Fans turned haters in the blink of an eye. Hardly anyone viewed "fancams" or "stan accounts" positively. Liking Japanese idols—who were more entertainers than artists—usually earned you pitying looks at best.

Fortunately, Sakuya harbored no such prejudices.

Buoyed by her continued warm responses, Shionji suddenly declared with resolve.

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

"Sana might've been grinding as an underground idol for over five years, but I believe in her."

Her vocals were the real deal, ready to explode onto the major scene anytime. Shionji spat as he hyped up his idol Sana.

Tae-il slipped away from the scene, thinking how mortified Sana herself would be hearing all this.

"Can I order now?"

"Of course."

The shopkeeper, who'd been grinning at Sakuya and Shionji's exchange, handed Tae-il a menu with a smile.

After some deliberation, Tae-il ordered a ricotta cheese salad, pasta, and a combo of french fries. According to his vast database from both lives, pasta never failed when treating a girl to food.

"Grab any seat. Bored waiting? I can fire up some anime on the stage screen. Plenty of time till the first act."

"Haha. I'll check with my group."

"Heh. Rare to see a girlfriend like that."

The shopkeeper chuckled, pointing at Sakuya. The world was full of couples and spouses, but ones who openly shared otaku hobbies? Still a novelty.

Tae-il blushed and denied it.

"Sh-she's not my girlfriend...!"

"Oh yeah?"

The shopkeeper's tone screamed disbelief. Tae-il knew all too well how complicated things were between him and Sakuya. No third party would get it, even with explanations. Too close for "just friends." Not quite lovers, since their feelings weren't balanced.

Why's a catch like Sakuya so endlessly kind to me...?

Her boundless affection both touched and terrified him.

"Just school friends. Pretty close ones."

"Hmm? For real?"

"Totally..."

Tae-il gave a bitter smile, fielding a few more probing questions from the shopkeeper before glancing back. Shionji, who'd been chattering away with Sakuya, slunk to a corner as more customers trickled in—probably overwhelmed by the stares.

With Shionji gone, Sakuya let out a soft sigh and looked over. Their eyes met, and she strode up, pulling Tae-il into a ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠tight hug.

"W-wait... Sakuya, not out here...!"

"Haha. What's wrong with us?"

The more Tae-il squirmed, the tighter she held him, refusing to let go.

"Because it's us...!"

"Order done?"

"..."

Tae-il stopped struggling and gave a tiny nod. The soft sensation against his chin was overwhelming. Not wanting to kill the mood by pointing it out, he relayed the shopkeeper's offer instead.

"Manager said if there's anime you wanna watch, he'll put it on the stage screen..."

"For real?"

Sakuya whined about missing third-quarter anime thanks to Interhigh. Tae-il was still hugged tight like a teddy bear.

"See? Told ya."

"..."

The shopkeeper beamed at them, pleased as punch about the anime offer.

Central Dogma. A live house named after a spot from an old robot anime. The manager was a notorious hardcore otaku. First-timers always did a double-take at her purple-dyed hair and red jacket—pure punk vibe. Fitting the name, she called herself "Lilith," name tag and all. Regulars teased her as "Misato," asking where her husband "Kaji" was.

Her stock reply? "Slaving away in the kitchen like a dog."

Apparently, no triple spy here—just head chef in this life.

"Mmm!"

"Finish chewing first."

Sakuya gulped down her pasta, daintily covering her mouth.

"This pasta's surprisingly good?"

"Right?"

Sakuya beamed, twirling more onto her fork and popping it in. She hadn't fully shed her feminine pride—always covering her mouth when opening wide. Still, watching her cheeks puff out as she savored it? Peak Sakuya.

Tae-il glanced at her plate. He'd asked for extra, but it was nearly empty already.

"Pasta not enough?"

"W-well... um..."

Sakuya scratched her cheek sheepishly. Without hesitation, Tae-il scooped some from his own plate onto hers.

"Th-thanks..."

She could've refused out of pride, but hunger won. She accepted gratefully.

"Embarrassing. Haha."

A faint blush colored her cheeks. Tae-il brushed a stray hair from her mouth and smiled faintly.

"No biggie. You must've been wiped since morning, right?"

Tae-il had never even dyed his hair—too timid—but musicians around him changed colors and styles constantly. He'd heard the exhaustion of sitting still at the salon.

They'd split a parfait at the cafe, and he'd barely touched popcorn at the movies, too busy laughing and soothing her. She had to be starving.

"Floor's packed already."

Tae-il changed the subject, eyeing the floor. The space below the stage was crammed, no room to breathe.

"Yeah. Way more people than I thought."

First time at a live house, Sakuya peered over curiously.

"Hey, how do bands get on live house stages? Auditions? Bookings?"

"Two main ways."

First: mochikomi. Outsider-planned live. House just rents the space. Time-based, usually by indie bands with buzz or rich organizers booking their faves.

"High-profile acts mean top-notch shows, but tickets sell out fast—their fans are already locked in."

"And the other?"

"You've heard of it. Ever read Beck? Super famous band manga."

"Beck?"

"Y-you haven't...? Dang."

Tae-il sighed a bit; she knew NANA but not this.

"Guess it's old-school. Tough for new gens. Serialized ages ago, big only in music circles... Anime flopped hard anyway."

"It got an anime?"

Sakuya whipped out her phone to search.

"Whoa, it exists..."

Outdated art style, sure.

"I'll read it later."

"Nah, no need."

Tae-il waved it off, but she insisted. With Interhigh over, she'd have tons of free time—no dates, anyway.

"Unlike NANA, it's finished?"

"Well..."

"Even better reason. Fun?"

"Yeah."

A proper ending meant popularity. Popularity meant quality. Reason enough.

Sakuya grinned.

"So? Besides mochikomi?"

"Booking live."

Houses have booking managers—sometimes the owner doubles up. Aspiring acts submit demos; manager picks.

"Most bands start here. Manager sets lineup, even headliners—house calls the shots."

"Better songs mean better odds?"

"Not just songs."

In Japan's massive indie scene, band intel spreads via blogs and sites. They check performance, frontman appeal, drama—everything.

Bigger houses, stricter filters. Indies are cutthroat: mountains of hopefuls, needle-eye slots.

"Plus noruma adds cash strain."

"Noruma?"

Noruma system. Ticket quotas for booking acts.

"House needs profit, so bands get pre-sold ticket targets."

"Can't hit it, you cover?"

"Yup. Pricey."

Music's a money pit, as Tae-il always said: gear, software, rehearsals, studios. Now stage fees too? Hell for young unknowns.

Scouted by an agency helps, but still gotta hustle.

"Tough, but they keep going."

"Yeah."

Love for music trumps all—office workers form bands with friends, sometimes hit big. Like Higedan.

"Today's acts famous? First time hearing Sana."

"Haha. Booking live tonight."

Two hours: underground idol opener, then indies.

Tae-il propped his chin, eyeing the side stage. Screen down, airing quarterly anime. Some zoned out watching; others clustered on the floor, chatting.

Sakuya, low on social practice from otaku lurking, found them fascinating.

"Hey."

She tilted her head at the buzzing floor.

"Special reason?"

"Reason?"

"For coming here."

Sakuya wiped sauce from her mouth.

"If just eating, maid cafe would've been fine."

True. Live houses weren't prime date spots. She guessed his motive but wanted him to say it.

"Hm."

Tae-il set down his fork. Lights dimmed; murmurs hushed.

"Huh?"

Sakuya looked around; Tae-il quietly took her hand, finger to lips.

"Stage."

She followed his gaze. Screen rose.

Behind it: a girl in flashy gothic dress Sakuya would die before wearing.

Multicolored lights hit her; she beamed.

"Everyone, long time no see?"

"Sana!"

She waved cutely; Shionji and fans up front roared.

"That's Sana?"

"Probably."

Tae-il smirked behind his hand, eyes twitching. He knew something.

Sakuya eyed him suspiciously, then the girl.

Sana chatted with fans pre-song.

"Thanks for coming to see me! Busy lately—won't be on stage much after today..."

Fans groaned in unison.

"So I'll make today extra special!"

"It's fine!"

Shionji shouted encouragement.

"We'll wait two months easy!"

"Sana! Sana!"

Club chanted; non-members smiled wryly. Festive vibe.

Sana grinned wide.

"Haha! As expected of Shionji, my #1 fan! I'll return winter with killer tracks—so buy my winter album, yeah?"

"Of cooouuurse!"

Sakuya leaned in conspiratorially.

"Didn't that uncle say he was #0...?"

"Pfft!"

Tae-il stifled a laugh—true. Sakuya turned serious.

"You know something too? Pals with Sana?"

"Who knows?"

He dodged.

"I could sing my song, but starters gotta be the one recent VTubers made huge...!"

Fan service.

Speakers blared music.

Intro ended. Sparse tune swelled rich. Sana flowed seamlessly.

Fans waved glowsticks, singing along—Shionji leading.

Sakuya hummed too.

Haniwa: Producer collab from Inutag, chart-toppers once. Series spawned novels, anime, diehard fans. Teen dreams, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠love, friendship—itchy-sweet; Sakuya binged it.

Tiny stage. Solo, no band.

Not solo—fans filled the sound.

Artist-fan proximity intense. Solo morphed to chorus; intro brought the classic otage dance. Shionji front and center.

Sana beamed back with cute choreography. Tae-il saw it as fanchant moves, but everyone vibed—pure fun, kid-like.

Yet her chorus vocals? Pro-level, not underground amateur.

Applause thundered.

"Clap! Claaap! No time—next song, go!"

Unfamiliar melody from speakers.

"Original, huh."

Fans moved in sync. Crowd backed up, giving space.

"Yay!"

Sana bounced; track kicked off. Airwave pop, mega catchy—by end, even Sakuya hummed.

"Weird."

Heat reached despite distance. Sana's skill surprised, but something else...

Streaming felt different live.

Tap-tap. Sakuya's finger drummed the table to the beat.

Sana's set ended—or not. She yanked a stick from her hair (no hairpin).

"Not yet! Sana's turn ain't over!"

"Wooo!"

Cheers. Then—

Crash! Cymbal smash doused them.

"Sad news! Next up: crossdressing dude band, Libido Girls!"

"Nooo!"

Hairy-leg guys in maid outfits stormed the stage amid chaos.

"My eyes!"

Shionji's scream pierced from front row.

"Hah! But...!"

Sana gripped the mic, pointing accusingly.

"Special today! Sana's guest drums ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠for Libido Girls! Cheer loud!"

"Yay! Everyone, cheer!"

A furry maid hyped—response? Ice cold.

"Wooo..."

Forced as hell.

Sana stuck out her tongue, winked.

"Leave and you're dead?"

Sakuya swore Sana eyed her while saying it. Eye contact: wicked grin.

'Welcome.'

'First time at my live?'

Sakuya could've sworn she heard it for real.