Concert (3): BARD Front Row Standing Tickets?
“Yeah.”
Sakuya, sensing the future, pulled her smartphone a bit away from her ear. Right then.
A screeching steam whistle, like a kettle boiling over, erupted from the speaker.
Sakuya's cousin Miki—a working doujin artist and cosplayer—let out a scream of pure envy.
Who knew? Turns out Miki was a pretty seasoned vet. Even if she wasn't as hardcore a fan as Iris, she'd been proudly claiming BARD fandom for years, so her passion ran deep.
Sakuya pictured her cute cousin—only a few finger-widths taller than Rena—cutely rolling around on her bed in a tantrum, and couldn't help but giggle.
Hearing Sakuya's laugh, Miki whined right away.
Sakuya burst into honest laughter at Miki's pained reaction.
From the way she's reacting, those tickets must be seriously hard to get.
Sakuya didn't know the full details, but judging from Tae-il's reaction when he handed them over, they probably weren't from any normal channel.
That guy's got surprisingly wide connections in weird places...
Outside of school, Tae-il had a suspiciously extensive network. Sure, knowing an underground idol when he wasn't some big celebrity wasn't exactly worship-worthy, but underground idols were notoriously treated worse than local location idols these days. With people saying virtual YouTuber debuts were better options, the fact that Tae-il had a personal friendship with one—teacher and student on drums, no less, a proper master-disciple bond—was pretty impressive.
Those kinds of relationships usually turn into...
Sweet, supportive couples who dote on each other and cheer on their dreams. Thankfully, Sarina—the one Sakuya had seen—didn't give off any weird vibes with Tae-il. No extra rivals was a huge relief.
Still...
She poked at a callus with her fingernail.
Tae-il's connections still felt like something out of a manga. Watching him made her heart race with anticipation for what he'd pull off next. Her brain filled with delusions that he might actually achieve something big.
“Haa.”
Sakuya let out a heated sigh as she pulled the crumpled ticket from her pocket and smoothed it out.
The concert ticket from Tae-il was proof pointing toward an opaque future.
“Miki-nee, how tough is it to snag five front-row standing tickets?”
“Ahaha. Yeah, figured.”
Sakuya giggled at Miki's reaction, then slowly closed her eyes.
Good. So he's tight with BARD staff too, huh...?
Tae-il's tightly wrapped secrets were peeling away layer by layer as time passed.
This is fun.
It felt just like playing a visual novel, unlocking target info bit by bit—her emotions surging. The target, naturally, was Tae-il.
Come to think of it, doujin artists were in peak busy season now—one of the year's top two crunch times. Sakuya pictured Miki, already skinny, turning gaunt and zombie-like this time of year, and made a pitying face.
“You always suffer coming up here, nee-san.”
In front of Tae-il, she played the gentle lamb, but Spartan-born Sakuya stayed strict even as the student. In short, getting involved with her in anything was exhausting and annoying.
Sakuya had started a band. When Miki first heard, she'd dropped her pen in shock. At the same time, she thought guitarist Sakuya suited her more than mangaka Sakuya—cooler, even.
She'd mastered Tae-il's basic homework code perfectly, had nothing left there, so now she was grinding chromatics hard.
Her self-deprecating tone lacked energy. Mangaka life wrecked the body easy—sitting wrecked back to wrists. Fame aside, it crushed people mentally and physically.
Yet Japan churned out aspiring mangaka nonstop. The job had romance.
Like bands.
Sakuya blinked, ignoring the passing thought. Her curtained room brimmed with manga stuff. Tablet and PC blinked on the desk; manuscript paper and pens piled under on the round table. Guitar borrowed from school leaned in the corner.
Sakuya turned to face the wall.
“Nee-san, use this chance to exercise. When you stay at my place, want me to help?”
Sakuya smirked at Miki's exaggerated freakout. Tae-il, top 5 weakling in her life, was holding up for days now. Stubborn Miki would do fine.
She believed that.
But Miki rejected desperately, like her life was at stake.
Sakuya panicked at Miki's desperate refusal. She'd assumed anyone could at least approximate her level with effort, even if not match it. Tae-il followed without complaint to the end, so she'd vaguely thought her schedule perfect.
She'd even shown her initial plan to her coach for advice—he'd said “Too weak?” and suggested ramping it up.
Coach lacks insight more than I thought...?
Coach mistook it for Sakuya's plan, earning a mysterious L for poor judgment.
More than that, remembering Tae-il gasping like he was dying this morning, Sakuya unconsciously bit her nail.
“Maybe lower the intensity a bit...”
As Sakuya muttered self-reproach, Miki snickered.
She got “good work” often, but thanks for morning help? Not really.
Negative thoughts opened the floodgates to worries.
Sakuya pouted evasively.
“Drop it. What time you arriving tomorrow?”
Miki's stuff was probably mostly clothes, toiletries, and cosplay outfits.
“Cosplaying again?”
“Tough life, nee-san.”
To survive this industry, you needed an exit strategy despite the grind. Sakuraba Miki's art lacked distinct style—standard shoujo with her yuri fantasies surprisingly selling enough to scrape by. Cosplay was insurance; selling pics on Patreon-like sites brought decent side income.
Miki muttered bitterly.
Five years. Long or short, in trend-shifting subculture, she'd lasted plenty.
No reply even when she sent Interhigh medal brag pics. Sakuya hadn't expected one.
Still...
The cold war wouldn't last forever. Someday her parents would acknowledge her.
Yeah.
The day her achievements got recognized.
“Getting hard to see your face lately, you rascal?”
“Ehehe...”
A hard-won reunion amid a friend ghosting on contacts and plans. Hinako poked Ayane's forehead like venting rage.
“Cut it out, Hinako.”
Misuzu, quietly reviewing English vocab next to her, chimed in softly.
“When you're busy, love trumps friends.”
Her glasses-glinted eyes turned icy.
Despite Misuzu's bold words, Hinako kept her bored stare and shot back.
“Hey, Ayane. You two in that phase now?”
“N-not that intense...?”
“See?”
“Tch.”
Misuzu snapped her vocab book shut, glaring contemptuously at Ayane. Ayane shrank under the aggressive gaze.
“You still haven't locked in with Tae-kun as a done deal? And you're childhood friends?”
“Misuzu-chan, too bold!?”
“O-oh...”
“If I were you, I'd have pinned him down ages ago...”
Misuzu crudely thrust index and middle fingers between her ringed fist.
“Like this. Got it?”
“Hic!”
Ayane's face flushed crimson, hiccupping at the graphic demo. Hinako, shocked Misuzu would go that far, scanned around frantically.
“Wh-whew...”
No one paying attention, she sighed in relief.
“M-Misuzu, even you—such vulgar talk in public...?”
“What? High schoolers that age have already done it with whoever. Not like fashion gals like you.”
“F-fashon gal...”
Hinako deflated at the harsh judgment.
“Misuzu-chan's changed over break...”
“Yeah, she's gotten savage.”
Misuzu adjusted her slipping glasses with an unflinching calm face despite her besties' assessments.
“Great girls don't get left alone. Hinako, virgin?”
“Wh-what kinda nonsense—!”
“Too direct? Fine, softer: Still no boyfriend?”
“You neither!”
“Heh.”
Misuzu smirked shortly at pointing Hinako, sipping coffee leisurely with suspiciously mature smile out the window. Ayane and Hinako gawked at the worldly grin.
“Misuzu-chan...?”
“Y-you don't mean...!?”
Misuzu flicked her hair back casually. Ears usually bare of accessories now sported one earring.
Hinako gasped.
“C-couple earrings!?”
“The Misuzu-chan who wouldn't even wear friendship rings as 'student no accessories'! And a half-heart you can't remove solo!?”
The shock doubled for her besties.
“Heh.”
Misuzu's smile screamed winner's arrogance.
“Unbelievable! The study-first, love-later Misuzu-chan...!”
Ayane covered her gaping mouth in disbelief. Hinako teared up at the betrayal.
“F-from today, I hate Misuzu...”
“Hinako-chan...”
Some had childhood friend love secured. Some snagged boyfriends over break, smug now.
“Only me...”
Hinako sniffled like a tragic heroine.
“Only I got no boyfriend...”
Misuzu extended a hand to dejected Hinako.
“Hey.”
“Misuzu...?”
Misuzu pulled out her phone—case plastered with stickers. Flipping it open revealed obvious couple selfies: contact-lens, bangs-down perfect beauty Misuzu arm-in-arm with shy-V-sign babyfaced boy. Clearly younger, Hinako's eyes widened.
As Hinako's pupils quaked, Misuzu grinned proudly.
“You can do it too, love.”
Fashion gal defeated by younger-guy-loving model student prez.
Concerts aren't orchestra or opera. No dress code.
Huge crowds, often standing—no seats—so comfy clothes recommended.
Thus.
“Seriously going in that?”
Rena couldn't help voicing concern watching Iris's fashion show in flashy furisode—rivaled by few.
“Why? Looks bad?”
Iris spun, checking herself for flaws. Her excitement obvious, Rena rubbed her temple.
“Suits you. Total noble lady.”
“Right?”
Iris twirled, flapping long furisode sleeves proudly. Even same-sex Rena held her breath briefly at the graceful beauty.
Furisode for strict formal spots—rare for youth. Tourist wa-fu experiences mostly.
So Rena affirmed.
“All good, but concert in that... still a bit...”
Overkill. Even as old-money Iris, not wedding or ultra-formal—full furisode too much.
And.
“Standing hours too.”
Rena pointed at Iris's high-geta.
“I know you're used to discomfort more than most girls, but still...”
“Viewers find it stifling too.”
Kiriko watching from behind piled on.
“Really?”
Iris eyed her full-mirror self wistfully as Rena and Kiriko opposed.
Still hesitating to ditch the kimono, Iris got nailed by Rena.
“We're not the stars at a concert.”
“Ah...”
We're not the stars. Spot-on.
Artists on stage are. Iris finally nodded reluctantly.
“Too bad...”
Still lingering on sleeves, she sat obediently.
“Whatever, BARD concert you love so much—fine to be hyped. But tone it down, pig.”
“Muu.”
Iris pursed lips, hunching at Rena's nagging.
“Honestly, overdoing it. Not your first BARD live. Veteran, right?”
“Well, yeah, but...”
Iris wasn't always like this. At first, ticket in hand, she'd bragged veteran tips, calming timid newbie Ayane-types. Even Tae-il listened to her pro tips.
But as concert neared, she got weird. Peak: yesterday's practice—shaky pitch, botched power chords, mess.
“Arena-scale front row's my first too...”
Still embarrassed recalling yesterday, Iris avoided Rena's eyes, twiddling fingers.
Rena shook head at pathetic friend.
“Where were you usually?”
“Uh...”
Kiriko answered for fumbling Iris.
“A-seats.”
“What's concert A-seat like? I see orchestra front row always 'cause height...”
“Barely see faces.”
“That's it?”
“Eh, not romantic for me...”
Kiriko wrapped up: vivid sound aside, just hassle.
“Hmm. Kiriko-san says so. You too?”
“N-no comment!”
Iris X-fingered her lips, dodging Rena's probing.
“A-anyway! Couldn't pass up legally hyping my face in band scene!”
Iris clenched fist, nodding firmly—perfect chance.
Rena ignored her, eyeing Kiriko.
“Don't get it?”
“No worries. Me neither.”
“Idiots!”
Iris thumped chest frustrated.
“Front row's blessed—eye contact with artists, lucky light touches!”
Plus, BARD real leader Izumi close to Tae-il, knows Iris as 0th gen fan. Guaranteed eye contact mid-show, fan service likely. Camera'd catch it. Izumi liked Tae-il, so probably include. Arena live = BD/DVD release.
“Simply put...”
Iris shot up, chest out.
“Dressed sharp front row cluster? 100% stand out!”
“Woo.”
Rena clapped soullessly to Iris's passionate declaration.
“Mm!”
Iris puffed chest.
Japan TV/press digs old choir vids for celebs. BARD concert cutie? Viral gold.
“Four hotties! Two already famous!”
Issue guaranteed. Maybe viral as next-gen idols pre-debut.
“Exactly! Not debuting via that, so we milk the buzz shamelessly!”
Pre-debut hype possible, Iris declared.
“Add my vocals? Major debut locked! Even Shin Tae-il'd approve!”
“...You got zero romance, Iris.”
Rena meh'd at unromantic fame path.
Iris deflated, whining at bland reaction.
“Romance shmance—no choice!”
Graduation: year and half left.
“Papa'd pressure via elders sophomore year? Right?”
“Why ask me...?”
Kiriko backpedaled as Iris glared.
“Dunno. Honest! Unfair!”
“Hmph.”
Iris crossed arms, sat.
“Get it roughly?”
“Mm.”
Rena stumped too.
Strictly, I'm unqualified too...
Her modern artist fame: looks, background, Arisugawa PR push over skill. Commercial genius couldn't critique Iris.
“Debut on skill best, sure. But world ain't merit-only. Use what you got.”
“Shin agreed?”
“Haven't asked. 100% no.”
“He's painfully honest.”
“Right?”
They giggled.
“Still.”
Rena spoke, deflating post-laugh.
“Talk to Shin first. He's leader.”
“...”
“I get you're anxious. He probably is too. Gotta trust him then, right?”
Trust empowers, but burdens sometimes. Tae-il bore heavy load already—could snap anytime, per Rena's reads.
Yet he endured: Sakuya's Sparta, Ayane's asks, Iris's stubbornness, Rena's whining.
'Cause he trusted members. Eyes showed deep faith.
Sadly, only Ayane truly reciprocated effort-wise. Others not yet.
“Gloom girl trusts Shin, tries hard—we can't slack.”
“Muuu.”
“Sakuya follows Shin's lead, intentions aside?”
“Shin wrote song for me...”
“Keep that up, don't blame me if he hates you later.”
“Ugh, seriously!”
Iris jumped up irritated at Rena's bait. Face unseen, Rena pictured it: pouty lips, teary sad eyes. Pride stung most.
“H-hate's fine, whatever! Shin Tae-il totally likes me anyway!”
“Pffhaha!”
Called it.
“D-don't laugh! Dead serious? Song proves he's smitten...!”
Desperately, Iris insisted psychological edge over Tae-il to Rena. Laughter swelled.
“Ahahaha! Never seen almighty Iris pleading a boy fell for her!”
“Eek!”
“What if tables turn later? Then what?”
“Rena-chan idiot? No way! Me fall for playboy like—!”
Iris flipped script—you lot liking him should suck up to me. Rena near laughter death.
Kiriko watching despaired.
Please, not worst case...
Funny: praying to dodge worst, yet unsure what worst was.