Concert (6): "Shall We Wrap It Up?"
With the lyrics' direction set and a lively exchange of ideas from the members wrapped up, Tae-il checked the time and casually suggested calling it a night.
"Already?"
Iris, who had been burning with enthusiasm since lyric-writing turned out way more fun than expected, jumped in surprise at his proposal. She had completely lost track of time.
"Can't we stay a bit longer? The vibe's perfect right now! Inspiration's flowing like crazy! Right? Isn't it?"
"Well..."
Tae-il made a troubled face at Iris's pleading. They'd already hashed out most of the lyric ideas while bouncing thoughts off each other. All that was left was polishing them to fit the rhythm. And Tae-il preferred handling the final tweaks alone, in a quiet space if possible.
But bluntly turning down Iris, who was clearly hooked on lyric-writing, didn't sit right with him either.
What to do...
After a moment's thought, Tae-il decided against a direct refusal. Better to soften it and persuade her gently.
"It's getting late. Look at the clock—it's already 4 p.m.?"
He pointed to the clock above the blackboard. By the time he got home, showered, scrolled on his phone a bit, it'd be dinnertime.
"Muuu..."
Iris pouted like a sulky kid. Tae-il chuckled.
"Don't make that face. Tomorrow's the BARD concert. We gotta rest up and go in full form to enjoy it properly. Standing up front for two hours straight? You'll be wiped."
"Staying longer tonight won't make me tire out tomorrow or anything..."
At most...
Iris's grumpy glare flicked from Tae-il to Rena next.
"Ahaha."
Tae-il inwardly flinched, knowing he was one of the weaker ones stamina-wise here. Honestly, the morning training sessions with Sakuya were starting to wear him down more than anything, but he wasn't dumb enough to bring that up now.
Rena, whose drummer role already drained her stamina just from practice, didn't hesitate. She kicked Iris lightly on the butt without a second thought.
"Ow!"
"Got a problem?"
Caught off guard by the kick, Iris started to snap back but shrank under Rena's fierce glare, shaking her head vigorously.
Rena eyed the pouting Iris with half-lidded eyes, then let out a soft sigh.
"Jeez. Just say it straight..."
"Rena-chaaan?"
"Nothing. Shin, you'll finish the lyrics at home on your own, right?"
"Yeah. I'll run it by you all at the end for feedback."
Feedback. Meaning if anyone had issues with his polished version, they'd get their say then. Tae-il hadn't taken input on the music itself, but he was open to suggestions on lyrics. That alone convinced Rena he respected the members plenty.
If even Shin wants to wrap it solo, he's got his reasons.
Rena shot Iris a side-eye. Her face screamed lingering regret. Iris hadn't gotten real band experience back in middle school. She must be parched for it. But that thirst would quench over time, with everyone here.
These sessions will be routine soon enough.
That was the issue. As her childhood friend, Rena knew better than anyone. Iris wasn't the type to listen to words. So...
"Hey."
Rena opted for brute force on the stubborn kid.
"Kyaa!"
"Shin! We're heading out first! See ya tomorrow!"
Rena waved as she bolted from the art room, dragging the subdued Iris along.
"Wait, Rena-chan!? Kyaa! That hurts! Why'd your grip get so strong all of a sudden... See you all tomorrowyyy!"
Iris's fading cries echoed down the hall, instantly turning the room awkward.
"Uh... excuse us. We'll be going."
Kiriko, a beat late on the vibe, bowed hastily and chased after them.
"Miss!"
Tae-il asked the dazed group with a wry smile, her booming voice trailing behind.
"Shall we call it...?"
Obviously. No one objected.
The moment he got home, Tae-il showered quick, scarfed some cereal, and flopped onto his bed.
"Haaah."
Home sweet home.
"Snuuuurk... Ah."
He inhaled deeply, then froze. A sweet scent lingered in his room—one he didn't usually smell. Ayane's trace, from all her recent sleepovers.
"Sprayed deodorizer and it's still like this..."
He hadn't noticed till now, but a person's lingering fragrance didn't fade easy.
It wasn't unpleasant, that faint trace.
"Deodorizer."
But it bugged him enough to distract from solo work.
"Deodorizer's gotta be here... Ah, found it."
He spritzed the bed liberally and lay back down. Comfy now. Her scent gone left a bit of emptiness, though.
"Hope she's having fun, Ayane."
Tae-il saw her as a true social butterfly, hanging with friends right now.
Past life. To survive the cutthroat field full of hyenas, he'd desperately faked being one. At first, it wasn't even fake—he loved people, volunteered for meetups. Drinks and shady organizer roles? All him. Girlfriends came easy too.
Trouble hit when his music slump deepened. People joke about "demons" possessing obsessives. Tae-il was legit bass-demon-possessed. Practice till the limit, over and over. Wrists aching in agony, but he pushed. Hilariously, his skill regressed hard.
Probably then stress crushed him. Meeting people turned emotionally draining, tormenting him nonstop. Already swamped with practice, managing social crap? Everything annoyed him; he got snappy.
He cut ties himself. Isolated to grind bass. Naturally, contacts dwindled outside a few close ones. No one came knocking. Girlfriend dumped naturally—dreams would've ended it anyway, just sooner.
He learned then: obsession meant isolation.
But Ayane? She'd refused meetups forever, yet everyone sought her. One appearance, and love calls poured in. That's what real insiders were, Tae-il realized. Watching popular Ayane, he felt grateful yet like his past self was a fraud.
"She's amazing. For real."
Self-mockery made him smirk as he sat up slowly.
"Jeez. Who am I to judge. Better polish these lyrics. For Iris's sake, make 'em perfect."
With Ayane out, perfect alone time. Prime work window. He pulled a crammed file of papers from his bag.
Fun jamming with everyone, but solo work felt mentally easiest.
And tomorrow—finally, BARD concert with all of them.
"Hope they like it..."
Tae-il trusted Izumi's talent. Original story's depictions—her expressiveness, vocals, stage presence—were spot-on, no hype.
Diva material. Not solo, but she deserved Japan's pop queen title.
If not for that tragic accident with her muse singer...
She could've shattered band limits, claimed diva status as Ray-era icon.
So he believed in her. If she was true diva stock, Ayane's heart would stir—not just for him, but her own music drive.
Not just Ayane, either.
Rena and Sakuya would change too. That's diva power. Tae-il wished her eternal lighthouse, guiding lost ships.
If she vanished...
Ships lost in endless seas, no harbor.
"The accident... won't happen, right?"
Tae-il gnawed his thumb anxiously.
Izumi wasn't outsider anymore. Not minor original-story face. They'd bonded deep, meetings or not.
Same accident...?
"Hoo."
Deep breath steadied shaky hands.
"Right. Stay sharp."
Stages bred accidents often. Artists, staff, fans—common. Idol fandoms especially; lax security sparked scandals.
Never relax. Anywhere.
"Atchoo!"
Izumi's sneeze made Yahiro pause mid-coffee sip, frowning visibly pissed.
"What? Live tomorrow—catching a cold?"
"Dunno."
"Come on, if you don't know, who does? Hey, Basara! Fetch Masato quick. Drag her to the doc."
"Don't call me Basara! It's NA.IN!"
"Like that matters between us. Basara."
"That's why it's not Basara, sh—!"
Basara. NA.IN's real name, BARD's guitarist. He hated it—total DQN name, mortified by it.
"Hey, Izumi! Come on! Can't stay with this guy!"
"Why, Basara?"
"Not you toooo!"
Basara—no, NA.IN writhed in agony. Izumi and Yahiro snickered.
"Jokes over. For real, no cold?"
"Nah. Feels fine."
Izumi touched her forehead. No fever—maybe cooler from nerves.
"Phew, good."
Yahiro scratched his messy bird's-nest hair, sighing relief.
Concerts thrilled artists but wrecked bodies—staff too. Post-tour burnout common.
This tour? Izumi pushed hard; tight schedule demanded condition care.
"Manage yourself. Your shape decides the tour."
"Got it. No disappointments."
Members, staff, fans.
And that boy last.
"It'll succeed. We'll climb higher."
"Yeah..."
Yahiro smirked at her sharp side, rare under usual airhead vibe.
"Still, bundle up sleeping? No kicking blankets."
"I don't."
"Bull. Everyone knows you and Akitora got the worst habits."
"Pervert Yahiro..."
"Hey."
Yahiro got serious; Izumi covered her mouth, shoulders shaking, turning away laughing.
He sighed, eyes closed.
"Ugh. Drives me nuts. Leader like this? Tears."
"You forced it on me. Want it, Yahiro?"
"Nah."
Izumi asked Basara, still OTL on the floor.
"How 'bout Basara? Try leader?"
"Gaaah! No leader! No cap! Stress-free composing! Rock 'n' roll!"
"Ehh..."
Yahiro knew. She played leader in public, but lacked the chops.
"I know my place. Not leader material. Skill-wise too."
"Yahiro?"
"I'm lacking compared to you all."
He nudged rolling Basara away with his foot.
"My only edge here's this face."
"Kinda punchable."
"Sue me."
Yahiro scowled at Izumi's jab. In BARD, minus looks, he lagged everywhere. Playing, composing, lyrics. Bass overlooked, but stage presence? Miles behind NA.IN, Izumi, Akitora.
"Nature's curse—no leader fit."
His bass-unfit personality loved showboating. Self-priority maxed. Leader virtues? Short. Tried acting it, but impulsive core burst out. Fame-bred ego unchecked in showbiz.
"Gotta admit. Never leader. But skills sharpen."
He knew her goal since kids. Diva dreamer.
You could do it.
But diva in a band? Questionable. Skill gap with members too vast. Even fans missed it—their private awareness.
Close it a bit...
For members. And seniors above.
Yahiro grinned sheepishly. His sharp gaze hit Izumi's mock-surprised face.
"What? Me serious weirding you?"
"Nah."
She smiled at his resolve, despite the tease. Bright as a flower in full bloom.
"Thanks."