Date and Stalking (12): Libido Girls
Libido Girls. Though they were a boys' band with nary a girl in sight, their hearts overflowed with girlish sentiment. They were also a socialite band with plenty of experience in the scene. The stage name Koko was what he used for band activities. His real name was Kizuka Kyota. As the spiritual pillar and leader of Libido Girls, he currently held down a steady job at a mid-sized company while enjoying life as a married man with a fox-like beauty for a wife and two adorable rabbit-cute kids.
He'd started learning guitar back in elementary school, making him a veteran among veterans with a solid thirty years under his belt. As he clenched and unclenched his fingers repeatedly, the countless small scars from decades of grinding calluses proved his skill surpassed that of any run-of-the-mill band guitarist.
"Hm."
Among amateurs, they were veterans among veterans. Even pros acknowledged them—their shows had influenced entire generations. But unfortunately...
Along with him, his bandmates who'd stuck together for at least twenty years hadn't snagged the headliner spot for tonight's show.
After all the effort to drag Sana Tsuchi here onto our stage...
The performance had been perfect. The best. The entire floor had been jumping, chanting their name right up until they exited the stage. They'd stayed cool in those burdensome maid outfits, blending seamlessly into the gathering crowd on the floor—it was the kind of thing you'd proudly show your daughter.
But his gaze toward the stage held a hint of regret.
"Feeling bummed?"
"Hm?"
Kyota looked down at the timid voice. There stood a beauty. With all makeup scrubbed off and a hat pulled low over her bangs, she looked downright shady, but she was unmistakably stunning. And Kyota felt her voice was strangely familiar.
"Um..."
"Ah, hold on."
The beauty tilted her hat brim up slightly. She flashed a shy smile and struck a signature finger pose.
"Recognize me now? Key-llut?"
"Sana Tsuchi...?"
"Shh! Off-duty, call me Sarina."
"O-oh. That's your real name?"
Sarina nodded instead of answering, offering a wry smile. Kyota eyed her awkwardly.
"It's been five years since I first saw you around the scene, but this is my first time spotting your off-stage look."
"Haha."
"Want me to introduce you to my bandmates later? They're off changing now."
"No need. Just you knowing is fine, mister."
"Hm."
Mister. Normally, hearing that from anyone would bum him out, no matter who he was. But coming from a young, pretty thing like Sarina, it tickled his chest in a weirdly pleasant way. Like when his wife called him "senpai" back when they were dating, instead of "honey" or "Kyota-san."
"Hm, hm. Nice ring to it."
The maid-outfitted mister nodding to himself with arms crossed gave even seasoned fans pause.
Kyota lifted his head. His eyes stayed fixed on the stage.
"Yeah. It's a shame. Anyone would feel that way."
Headliner. The honorable title bestowed on the star of the show. For rock bands, nothing beat it—the ultimate glory. It meant the promoters and the crowd alike recognized you as the protagonist of the night. Libido Girls had the experience and chops to claim it in every way.
But they weren't tonight's headliners.
To a bandman, the headliner slot was pride itself. Even in a nothing-special neighborhood Live House like this—not some massive rock festival—Kyota felt a nick in his ego.
As the saying went, a sword master's greatest shame was a nick on the blade. It rang true. As Central Dogma's resident mainstay, failing to headline on a collab night like this was humiliating.
Sarina giggled at Kyota's stern expression.
"Your eyes are burning with fire."
"Erk."
Kyota forced a smile to mask the intensity in his gaze.
"It's not like their skills are lacking. Performance aside, their vocals and song choices outshine ours, honestly."
If Libido Girls were concept-obsessed, their rivals were the real deal—serious pros. It made sense. They were a tribute band infamous for betting their lives on quality. Devoted fans of hide, core member of Japan's legendary visual kei band X Japan, who'd banded together. Their gear was plastered with signature models, and their look screamed end-of-the-century edge. Spiky hair exploding upward like they were about to yell "Nani it!" any second.
"Hm."
The more he pondered, the more their overwhelming visuals—second to none—drew a groan from Kyota.
Sarina, who'd been watching the stage, murmured offhandedly.
"Kinda amazing, though."
"What is?"
"Being able to bare it all like that, right there on stage for everyone."
Fashion trends shift wildly with the eras. Visual kei styles from the '80s just looked freakish now. But they owned it. No great looks to back it up, yet no fear in showing their faces.
Kyota kept his head straight toward the stage, sliding his eyes over to Sarina.
"You're no slouch up there yourself. Don't sell it short."
"Mine's fake."
"Fake?"
"That's what idols are, right?"
For the fans, they had to wear the mask. Pure, innocent, sly at times, endearingly ditzy at others—the perfect idol to cheer for. On stage, Sarina always wore one. Underground idol Sana Tsuchi. Big O Pumpkin's vocalist, Pumpkin. She was bound by the masks.
One AKB member at the peak of its golden age had quit showbiz entirely after graduating to preserve her perfect image. Sarina had once aimed for the same. Then she realized: Ah, I'm no crane—just a sparrow.
Maybe she'd gotten cocky, thinking she could sing decently and handle instruments well enough. She'd laughed at idols' onstage antics as clownish, mocked their variety show mishaps as pathetic. She'd underestimated them.
Stepping into the idol world showed her local idols faced brutality rivaling—or exceeding—bands or solo singers. She regretted her choices but couldn't stomach quitting, thanks to lingering pride.
"Sometimes I just wanna chuck it all and live free."
But she couldn't. Pride aside, she was hooked on the clowning. Because of that damn boy who'd seen through her—and the fans.
"That's why I respect you guys. You're awesome."
"Haha!"
Kyota burst into hearty laughter as Sarina gave him a thumbs-up. He got what she meant.
"Pretty face and all, but what a scaredy-cat you are, Miss Sarina."
"Looks don't matter..."
"They do!"
Kyota unfolded his arms and rubbed his beefy biceps.
"I'm no looker myself. Even young, I was this mug. Cops at the station always picking fights, asking if I was yakuza."
"For real...?"
"Hard to believe, I know. This face since middle school. Reunion pics had everyone cracking up."
Sarina paled at Kyota's eternally youthful—yet brutal—visage in another sense.
"Wasn't ripped back then either. Got called ugly all the time."
Lots of misunderstandings too, he added. Naturally, he'd shrunk back, unable to hold his head high.
But music changed him. The burning desire to form a band sparked his transformation.
"Back then, bands were for pretty boys. Saw a recruitment flyer on the school board but chickened out. 'Me, with them? No way,' I thought."
But he didn't just spectate. Kyota kept grinding until he trusted his playing. Until he built the strength to shrug off sneers and finger-pointing.
"No clue what you've been through, miss... "
He thumped his chest with a fist and grinned.
"Own yourself. And believe."
In yourself. Just like he had.
"Haha."
Sarina covered her mouth, smiling shyly. Total otaku cheer—embarrassing even to hear. His words drew laughs and strength, though worries lingered.
"What if fans call me a fraud or traitor? Especially the ones who liked me..."
"Cry."
"Huh?"
"Cry. A woman's tears are a weapon."
Anyone caught in them would be helpless, he said, pointing at her with his thumb. Sana Tsuchi might be offstage, but as a passionate listener, she was still front and center on the floor, cheering hard.
"Or run to someone you trust and cling."
Whining mattered. Spew it all out, and your chest lightens.
"Nobody's perfect. Everyone's got flaws."
"True. No one's flawless."
"That's why we lean on each other in this big society."
Ah, Kyota added hastily, as if just remembering.
"If someone's flawlessly perfect? Watch out. They just hide their weaknesses well."
"Haha."
She knew someone like that. The guy who'd stuck to that perceptive boy like gum, glaring at her. Flawed, sure, but so polished the flaws barely showed.
"Ahem."
Sarina cleared her throat, covering her mouth with a small fist.
"Thanks."
"Hahaha! If it helped, follow and retweet our band's new album on Twitter later?"
"Ahaha! Deal. I'll do it."
Summer waned. Autumn approached. Soon, the season to pile masks atop masks.
If I strip it all away...
It'd feel liberating, no doubt. But someone might hate it, get hurt by her choice.
Kyota's advice helped, but wasn't decisive. Cringey, even. She needed something surer.
The surest trigger for me is...
Sarina glanced back subtly. Even from the floor's rear, the food court tables were visible. A boy sat there. Across from a girl so pretty even Sarina had to admit it. Girlfriend? Or that childhood friend he raved about? Didn't matter now.
It was good.
She hummed the song he'd sent. Despite his plea for detailed feedback, she'd given cliches. He'd griped, but that was her limit.
It really was great.
Why gild the lily? The near-finished track just needed vocals, mixing.
Formed a band too, huh?
Soon. The boy who'd trailed quietly from afar was suddenly closing in. Toward her stage.
He strode straight. Suspiciously purposeful strides—her short steps might not keep up.
She'd half-expected him to catch up eventually.
But.
"Haha. If he laps me already, I'd feel a bit robbed..."
Time to widen the gap. Half-baked as it was, she'd show her disciple some teacherly dignity.
Autumn neared. Her season.
* * *
Sakuya wiped the cold sweat trickling down her nape.
Sweat...
Raising her arms overhead, cool air brushed her fingertips. AC blasting.
It'd felt chilly at first. Now? Sweating buckets.
Her body radiated heat against the cold.
Under Tae-il's lead, they'd descended to the floor. Amid the crowd's body heat, they pushed forward to savor the stage.
Tae-il was right. Central Dogma's acts outdid Libido Girls, pounding her heart.
Some songs puzzled her, but the beam-projected anime openings made it click.
And why Tae-il brought her here? Crystal clear now.
So honest, our leader.
A bit dense and gloomy, but his brutal sincerity was the issue.
"Everybody, together!"
Sakuya joined the unknown vocalist's chant inducement, gently grabbing Tae-il's hand.
He looked at her. She plugged her other ear.
Too loud. No yelling, no reaching him.
Or...
Maybe better if it didn't. Opportunity.
A romcom cliche flashed: love confessions never land under fireworks. She spilled her guts amid the dazzling lights.
"Y'know? I already toasted with Iris about joining the band."
"What?"
Couldn't hear? Tae-il leaned in, frowning.
Thud-thud. Band roar and crowd drowned her out. Ears fuzzy like underwater.
Perfect. She grinned.
"Katsuragi knows too. She figured I'd join ages ago."
"Sakuya?"
"Made me pretty happy."
Tae-il starting a band had her inwardly fretting less time together. But Ayane's slip revealed he'd eyed her long before.
Admitting my feelings weren't one-sided.
Thanks to Ayane's obliviousness.
Ten years. Ayane's childhood friend history with Tae-il. Sakuya had smugly claimed she could catch up quick, but envied their story deep down.
Her life ahead dwarfed the past. In this endless race, victory meant eons with him. Whether her heart ran that deep? No telling.
"Whatever, time'll tell."
"Time?"
Tae-il floundered, clueless. Sakuya beamed refreshingly.
She closed her eyes.
"I'm no idiot. Not wasting our time together."
Ayane wasn't alone in sensing crisis with him lately.
Sakuya turned, facing him squarely. Her heated purple eyes locked on his perpetual doofus face.
"Tae-il."
"Y-yeah? I hear you. What?"
"One favor. Stroke my pride."
"What?"
His "I'll hear you out" look drew her grin. She cupped his face with both hands.
Leaning in, purple eyes filled his view.
"Y'know? I know exactly what you were gonna say to me today."
"Sa...ku...ya?"
You'll invite me to join the band. Fine, I'll say yes. But too easy, and I look cheap.
"Gonna claim a price."
"Price?"
Question marks floated over his head. She laughed.
Romcom rule: confessions fail under fireworks. One exception.
"Fair warning: cafe doesn't count. This is my real first."
"Wh-what?"
His face twisted at the curveball. Feigning stern, she smiled shyly, inching closer.
"Wai—!"
Too late. He sensed danger, shoved her hands, tried backing off.
But the packed floor left no escape. His strength couldn't match hers anyway.
So.
Resisting the soft press on his lips? Impossible.
Breath stopped. Tae-il's eyes bulged.
Conversely, Sakuya's half-lidded gaze curved up slyly.
Lips aren't enough.
That brazen childhood friend might've claimed them. Deeper. Richer.
Sakuya aimed to leave her mark where no one else had—deep and indelible.