Date and Stalking (11)
“Wow...”
Sakuya let out an exclamation of admiration in several senses.
“Haha.”
Tae-il couldn't help but crack a wry smile at her reaction.
It was that kind of stage—one that demanded it.
If the MR pouring from the speakers was like sweet canned coffee, then this full-blown live performance was drip coffee meticulously crafted by a dedicated barista, leagues beyond in quality.
The overwhelming visuals dominating the stage on every level felt almost quaint before the sheer power of the sound.
Sakuya's mouth hung open.
The intense intro of drums and synths pierced the air sharply, enough to make any guy flinch.
“Kya-hoo!”
The leader of Libido Girls—sub-vocalist and guitarist—shouted as she leaped down from the stage.
The crowd recoiled in confusion.
The intro looped.
Guitar and bass jumped in, ramping the power way up from just moments before, until the intro finally crashed to a close.
Then the real intro kicked off.
A maid-dressed guy who looked mixed-race or straight-up foreign picked it up seamlessly and started singing.
“In my chest...”
His voice, defying his looks, wrapped around the audience's ears soft as a sweet melody.
In truth, riding the synth lines, it melted the tension from those who'd jumped at the leader's antics.
The Libido Girls' keyboardist—a dude with arms thicker than Tae-il's thighs—struck the keys with precise, forceful care.
It packed the raw force to shatter the board any second, yet the melody flowed sweet and lyrical, easing every taut nerve.
Yeah. Just like the vocalist's stretched-out neck.
“These hot, fierce feelings piling higher...!”
But rock ain't just soft vibes.
Like a maid's devotion.
Their song burned with passion.
That fired-up voice heralding the master's morning boomed through the Live House.
The “masters” shrank back from its thunder, but idol Sana Tsuchi stood tall and took it head-on.
“We're charging in. To the final battlefield.”
No cutesy underground idol squeak—this was a rocker's husky growl.
“Her voice...”
Sakuya jolted, clocking the shift in Sana Tsuchi's tone.
Tae-il smirked at her shock.
“Hand in hand. Swearing oaths to each other.”
The Libido Girls' leader wrapped her verse.
Boom boom boom.
Sana Tsuchi's drums signaling the intro's end rattled the whole Live House.
Not just her.
Keyboard too.
Guitar.
Bass.
The silent instruments waiting their moment finally bared their fangs.
One target.
“Before dawn breaks tomorrow, we're blasting off to the stars!”
Shout.
Then an aching plea matching the lyrics.
“Please, just remember we were here on Earth.”
Vow sealed, they abandon Earth.
Jeers rain down.
Don't wanna see your ugly mugs.
Get lost and stay gone.
Hearts waver.
But no looking back! No tears! Never turn around!
True to their bond, they rocket away.
I GET THE POWER OF LOVE!
Fueled by love for their master.
Maid and idol depart Earth to reclaim a warm, peaceful tomorrow.
RING THE GONG!
The battle gong tolls.
The maid and idol's epic clash for Earth's future erupts.
Guitar thunders, purging foes.
Drums of steel shatter peace—for now—to restore it.
Trusting in love and tomorrow's light.
They press on.
No one here cheers them on.
Unyielding, pride intact.
No hesitation. Forward.
To eternity! Eternity!
The song surges to peak like their unbreakable vow.
Beats and melody ramp harder near the highlight.
Sana Tsuchi's stick strokes quaked the floor, rattling brains.
Naturally, Sakuya surrendered to the rhythm, head-banging.
Libido Girls' leader—Coco Tsuchi, father of the two girls—ripped power chords with wild flair.
Hero or not, his choking intensity defied any evil.
The jeering crowd got steamrolled.
Thus, wings spread bold, they fight as blood and soul demand.
Forever. Forever.
For the future and love they must defend.
The gong tolls.
Battle gong tolls.
Their grand fight for masters and fans rages on.
“Man, that was packed with raw power...”
Sakuya muttered, drained—admiration or groan, who knew.
Libido Girls wrapped their ten-minute epic and exited with Sana Tsuchi.
Started with jeers and shrieks mixed.
Ended in cheers overflowing.
Descending with swagger, blowing kisses—like ancient scholars parading home triumphant after acing exams.
Majestic.
Mocked and loathed moments ago, now heroes incarnate, ideals made flesh, idols of the masses.
Sakuya stretched big.
“Uggghhh! Suddenly craving karaoke bad.”
“Ahaha!”
Tae-il burst out laughing at her gripe.
Fair.
Libido Girls' show straight-up tempted you to belt it out.
Tae-il wanted to hurl every scrap of pent-up energy too, throat be damned.
Bet it felt killer. Utterly refreshing.
“Can't judge a book by its cover, huh.”
“Duh.”
Talent shows crowning opera stars worldwide or looks-blind contests proved looks were just one piece.
“Still, them out-singing me? Wild.”
Objective take: Libido Girls topped Sakuya vocally.
Obvious.
Twenty-plus-year vets grinding songs and instruments.
“Burn this into your brain, Sakuya.”
Tae-il leaned in, dead serious.
“In this world, weirder the look, higher the odds they're some bottomless master.”
“Hmm. Like naked body-paint vet vibe?”
“Uh, naked paint...?”
Tae-il blinked, soulslikes foreign territory.
“No clue, huh? Kinda like that.”
Sakuya curb-stomped Tae-il at games 'cause he sucked, but pros floored even her.
“Hehe. Soul straight-up looted...”
PVP massacre flashbacks hit; she stared into the distance.
“Anyway, crowd here? Subtly hilarious. Song rocked, but they amped it up.”
“Audience vibe's core live flavor.”
“Totally.”
Sakuya snickered, picturing haters flipping to chant “Coco Tsuchi!” and “Libido Girls!”
“Prolly yearly ritual for those old dudes. Jeers up, cheers down.”
“Impressive either way.”
Japan had choruses aplenty—just milder than Korea.
Singer goes hype, crowd choruses auto.
Some egg it on purpose.
But tiers exist.
Top rock acts whipped reserved Japanese fans into full-body frenzy.
R'z or X Japan? Living choruses.
Outdoor gigs? Chaos, trending everywhere.
Libido Girls akin.
Muscle-hairy maid uncles dug hot-blooded macho jams.
Eye-assault hate on entry, but in guy-heavy Central Dogma, unyielding top-dog status.
Men age, stay kids at heart—hot-blooded always wins.
Rekindles lost fire.
“So. That stage?”
Tae-il probed slyly, knowing full well.
Sakuya, slumped on the table, pouted up with a sulk.
Rare: pure victory gleaming on his face.
Plan landed.
She conceded.
Too perfectly.
'Hit hard...'
Sakuya shut her eyes, basking in the afterglow.
Her jam: Jump shonen mashed with hot-blooded sports.
TL;DR: Libido Girls + Sana Tsuchi bullseye.
Tae-il clueless, but Sakuya gamed solid.
Arcade wins? No luck.
“Played Super Robot Wars, Tae-il?”
He shook his head.
Robots never clicked since kid.
“You?”
Chin on forearm, she grinned loaded.
“Hehe. Binge-played full runs, hooked.”
“Yeah?”
Awkward—Tae-il blank on Super Robo.
“Swing by my place sometime, try it?”
Glaringly ulterior, but he blanked.
“Got it?”
“Old series too? No Famicom, so latest only runs.”
Plenty fun; shy smile, tongue out, giggle.
“Fun?”
“Yup. Blasted through.”
Cousin sis shaped her tastes deep.
Wildly: Gundam, super robot stuff too.
Gobbled magical girls, heroes young.
Hated bots first, but gritty heroism hooked hard.
Sis vibed more boy-robot bromance...
“Ah, chills lingering...”
Eyes closed, shivers ran.
Sports fix: whip-self pain + limit-break highs.
Match miracles too—dopamine floods, crush euphoria.
What if 'Me on stage, pulling that...'
Flip jeers to roars like them...
Tae-il thrilled.
Cling hard: Can't band without me!
'I'd...'
What bliss depth?
Heart thumped.
Sakuya clutched her wrist tight.
Tae-il's wish granting: spark lit.
Raw fuel forging for brutal music grind.
Her thrill fresh, Tae-il's pulse hammered too.
'Way better than hoped?'
Her overkill reaction electrified him, erasing cinema cringe in victory buzz off her melted face.
“Today's not done?”
“Other acts same?”
“Dunno?”
Tae-il's smile loaded meaning.
'Bet...'
Sakuya flashed to the pamphlet.
Memory sharp: under Live House name.
‘Today’s Ardent Stage!’
Ardent. Passionate, fervent.
“Haha.”
Sakuya laughed into her sleeve.
Sana Tsuchi's novel stage? Pure opener.
Main event: lineup after.
“Solo shows usually peak first, taper off.”
Max hype pre-start.
Artist drops killer hit then.
Stamina math.
Crowds ain't all Sakuya-fit; can't match full blaze.
Performers same—idols/dancers frontload fury to coast later.
Endure near-two-hour grind.
“Bands differ.”
Setlists vary wild.
Fresh tracks early, ramp to bangers/popular for tempo climb.
Tweak oldies acoustic/jazzy for pacing.
Closes soft, emotional, fitting fade.
Encores torch the calm routine.
“Exactly.”
Next acts? Prime hype fuel.
Tae-il declared.
True otaku dive, gotta finish.
Tonight's crew embodied.
Nah. 'Central Dogma acts all do.'
Pure otaku horde.
Tunes? Media-mix pulls.
Sakuya's sweet spot.
Age-spread OST flood—subculture history lesson.
Tae-il caught unknown drama/flick cuts too.
Most slapped.
'Bound to.'
Pre-stream album era.
Oricon ruled true hits, crowd-picked glory.
Legends owning charts weeks, months.
Tae-il eyed the drink bar.
Manager Lilith, arms crossed wall-leaned, grinned stage-ward content.
“Weak sauce human...”
Weak whatever—her crafty list aided Tae-il big.
He beamed at Sakuya's starry purple gaze piercing the gloom like a lit gem.
Protagonist pure. Lone color splash in monochrome manga.