Concert (10): Whispers of the Crowd
Murmurs rippled through the air. Footsteps pattered excitedly, piercing the buzz and drawing closer until they suddenly halted. Then, as if on cue, the waiting room door burst open with a clatter.
A young staff member who’d opened it wiped the beads of sweat from his forehead and shouted, “Audience entry starting now!” He was panting hard, his face lit with a grin fuller of joy than anyone else’s—clearly thrilled for the live show ahead. “Get ready to head to the stage!”
“Sir, yes sir!” Yahiro shot back a playful salute, prompting the guy to nod firmly. Having delivered his message, the young staffer dashed off to the next section. After all, BARD wasn’t the only act performing today.
A heavy silence settled over the waiting room.
Finally.
Izumi closed her eyes, feeling her heart pound. Nearly ten thousand fans were flooding into the arena. Thud. Thud. The sound of their advance. Lute’s triumphant fanfare merged with her heartbeat, resounding in her ears. The excitement of the fans seeped into her skin.
Clap clap! Applause snapped her from her thoughts.
“Eyes up here, everyone.”
When she opened her eyes, Yahiro stood confidently in the center, the band’s traffic cop as always. In a room full of nothing but musicians, he scanned each member’s face one by one. Finally, he smirked and raised his voice. “Alright. It’s party time—the one we’ve all been waiting for.”
Party time. Izumi couldn’t help a faint smile at Yahiro’s words.
“No need to tense up. This is a festival to enjoy with the fans who love us and cheer us on.”
Lute. And BARD. When the two came together, there was only one thing to do: throw a music-fueled bash.
“You think it makes sense for musicians to get nervous playing at a festival?” Yahiro swept an arrogant gaze around the room.
NA.IN, lounging alone on the sofa, snorted at that. “True, but coming from you, it’s just annoying as hell.”
“Ugh…” Akitora let out a groan, clearly torn on how to respond. He was eyeing Yahiro, but his expression screamed agreement with NA.IN.
“Anyway.” Yahiro chuckled to himself, figuring he’d poked the bear a bit too much. His gaze soon shifted to Izumi, who’d been quietly keeping to herself. Tenma Izumi—the woman whose minimal expressions made her thoughts a mystery.
Not anymore.
The years together hadn’t been wasted; Yahiro could now read her face. Today, she was visibly tense. His mouth itched to speak, so he did. “Our leader all set?”
“Yeah.” Izumi nodded coolly. Her calm face belied the tension in her clenched fist.
So even you get nervous…
The Now I’m Here concert—from start to finish—was Izumi’s tour. She’d led the preparations more than anyone, so the responsibility weighed heaviest on her.
“You’re not nervous, are you?”
“Nope.”
“Way fewer fans than last time, if we’re counting heads?”
Ten thousand was still a lot, but for BARD’s stature, it felt small.
“Numbers don’t matter.”
“Right.”
Numbers didn’t matter—a romantic line, but sadly, reality was far from poetry. Concerts were massive cash cows. Even in Japan, where albums still dominated, live shows raked in the dough. With the world’s second-largest music market, they pulled in even more. K-pop idols from Korea and Western stars alike craved Japanese stages.
But this tour? They’d poured in astronomical sums, leaving the budget tight. Even with sold-out tickets, recouping costs was iffy. That’s why they pushed merch hard despite not being idols—pure investment recovery.
BARD always walked the tightrope between art and commerce, but this time, they’d leaned hard into the business side.
“If we flop, it’s all tie-ins and label orders from here on out?”
“Yeah.”
They’d have to greenlight every collab request, grind through every agency demand. TV appearances would skyrocket, whether they liked it or not. BARD’s mystique? Gone.
They’d traded a guaranteed bright future for this uncertain one. That was the Now I’m Here tour.
The reason? Simple. BARD wanted to be the inescapable topic on everyone’s lips.
Inviting friendly artists as fans and guests helped too.
Izumi’s crimson eyes gleamed coldly. “We’re climbing higher. No doubt about it.”
“Damn right.”
First, conquer Japan’s peak. Then the world. Like a Voyager probe hugging Earth’s remnants as it hurtled into deep space, they’d push endlessly, spreading BARD’s name across the stars. An absurdly grand goal for their level.
His heart raced at the thought. Yahiro extended a hand, imagining them shoulder-to-shoulder with global legends. “Ready, ladies of BARD?”
“Of course.” Izumi clasped it firmly.
* * *
“Shin-kun, this place is way bigger than I thought!”
“Don’t run.”
Section A, right by the thrust stage’s left edge. Lucky enough to beat the crowd, Ayane’s eyes sparkled as she stepped in first.
She wasn’t a huge BARD fan, but know your enemy and you’ll win every battle. Someday, she’d share a stage like this with Tae-il. Scoping out band setups couldn’t hurt.
“Shin-kun, this our spot?”
“Yeah, right there.”
Close to the stage meant a clear view. The platform was higher than expected, obscuring the far end—drummer territory, no big loss.
“Falling from here would hurt bad, huh?”
“Don’t jinx it.”
“But they’d probably catch you anyway.”
Ayane leaned against the barrier, stretching forward. Arms out straight. “Shin-kun, look! Super close to the stage!”
“It is.”
“This close, wouldn’t the crowd catch anyone who fell?”
“The arms doing the catching would snap…”
Falling objects from height weren’t light. Stage performers were adult-sized—manage your weight like an idol, and you’re still 45kg minimum. Unless it’s a gym beast below, no one walks away unscathed.
“And don’t lean too hard on the fence. It’ll give.”
“If Ayane falls, Shin-kun’ll catch her, right?”
“We’d both go down.”
“Wah. Shin-kun’s no fun.”
“I’ll try harder.”
She giggled at his honesty. He really was working on it. Sakuya had half-forced the workouts on him, but his stamina was improving bit by bit.
“Shin-kun, once stamina’s up, you’ll do strength training too?”
“Why strength outta nowhere?”
“Sakuraba’s been gunning for it.”
“Ugh…”
Tae-il rubbed his temple wearily. Stamina, fine—but strength? He couldn’t see the point.
Later, dodge Sakuya’s pitch with some excuse.
“Pfft. Want Ayane’s help?”
“How?”
“Secret. I’ll tell ya then.”
“What kinda answer’s that?”
He snorted. Ayane flashed a sly grin, picturing the future. Strength training. She had ways to “help.”
“Heehee.”
She giggled, scanning the stage again. She got why Iris loved being this close. “Singing right in your face, huh.”
Her first Izumi live flashed back. Balcony seats, but the small venue let her see well. The live house stage was tiny compared to this thrust setup anyway.
Should be even clearer today.
Ayane leaned further, arms outstretched. Tae-il braced the fence with his foot and steadied her back lightly. “Could almost touch it.”
Close enough to catch a faller meant handshake range.
“Not almost—totally touchable.”
“For real?”
“Lucky fans even shake hands with artists.”
BARD concerts featured Izumi handshakes as rare highlights for Lute fans. True to ING’s mystique strategy, they shunned fan meets and signings—indie days, they’d vanish like wind post-show. But service wasn’t zero. Mid-live, Izumi would randomly hop down for handshakes. Post-major leagues in arenas, dedicated photo and handshake times emerged—Lute’s sole shot at touching Izumi or snapping selfies.
Success stories flooded fan sites. That’s why front standing tickets rivaled idol wars.
Ayane, clueless, tilted her head. “Handshakes?”
“Yeah. Selfies too, I hear.”
Mystique or not, BARD delivered at concerts—concentrated fan service. Izumi memorizing faces? Part of it. Separate from ING’s sales tactics, it hit hard.
“Really? So Shin-kun’s shaking Izumi-san’s hand too?”
“Huh? Me?”
“Yup. You.”
Tae-il explained excitedly; she puffed her cheeks jealously. He blinked, baffled.
“Why ask that…?”
“You really don’t know, Shin-kun?”
Ayane smiled, but her eyes didn’t. Amber gaze dulled, dead-fish stare locked on him. Cold sweat beaded as she closed in, noses nearly touching.
“Shin-kun?”
She pressed. Tae-il panicked for any answer—
“Whispering secrets over there?”
“Sakuya!”
Savior arrived.
“Huh?”
Tension shattered; Tae-il welcomed her effusively. “Tch.” Ayane clicked her tongue at the interloper.
Sakuraba looked puzzled. “Tae-il, what mess’d you make now?”
“Why assume that…?”
“Not?”
“Super unfair…”
He glanced at Ayane—guilty as charged.
No answers from him. Sakuya eyed Ayane expectantly.
“No biggie.” Ayane shrugged. “Shin-kun said there’s photo and handshake times midway.”
“Oh ho?”
Sakuraba grinned mischievously, sensing the vibe. “Ah.”
Tae-il knew: totally screwed. He backpedaled—fence blocked him.
“Get what Ayane asked now?”
“Kinda? You’re BARD-connected, right?”
“Eyes like yours don’t miss.”
“I’m good at that.”
“Duh, bad instincts kill workouts,” Sakuya added with a smirk.
Ayane stuck out her tongue. “Eww, you’re such a smug jerk.”
“Am I?” Sakuya propped her chin on her fist, smirking faintly. “Katsuragi’s no slouch in smug either.”
“Fake news.”
“…”
Sakuraba went silent, face screaming otherwise.
“Ahaha.”
Tae-il laughed awkwardly between them. They traded barbs effortlessly, pure camaraderie. If only it wasn’t aimed at him.
“Anyway, you grabbing Izumi’s hand?”
“Dunno.”
“Cool. Guess we’ll ask from now on?”
“Rare agreement?”
Tae-il gulped at their sudden unity—like sworn enemies teaming up. Sure enough, they turned in sync, eyes smiling but faces terrifying, boring into him.
“Right! Gotta hit the bathroom before—”
“Haha, where you headed, Tae-il?”
“S-Sakuraba…?”
She grabbed him to block escape. Ayane locked fingers with him like a vice.
“Shin-kun, time to answer?”
“Urk…”
No running. Crowd trickled in behind—bad optics. No choice. Tae-il squeezed his eyes shut and nodded. “Fine. No hand out to Izumi-san…”
“Good boy.” Ayane petted his head.
He bowed deep. “We’ll leave handshakes to Iris?”
“Yeah… perfect.”
Photos and shakes for Iris. Ironclad excuse.
* * *
While Tae-il endured interrogation, Iris was frantically snapping arena pics. Filming halted once the show started. She crammed in souvenirs before Section A filled and restrictions kicked in. Rena trailed, trying to rein her in.
“Iris, done yet?”
“Almost.”
Iris finally looked up after reviewing shots. “Checked! Let’s head back!”
“Sigh.” Rena shook her head.
“Grand tour,” my ass—same Section A, right by the group. Rena grabbed Iris’s hand, dragging her along.
“Obsessed much? Still not enough after all those pics?”
“Yup!”
The stage filled Iris’s vision. Her lips twitched. No refined lady now—she wanted to grin like a fool.
“Just smile already.”
Leash-master Rena’s nudge unleashed it—ears-to-ears. “Knew it…!”
Iris gripped the barrier, hands trembling. Pure ecstasy radiated from her.
“VIP seats are the best! Night and day from the back!”
“Obviously.” Rena doused her flatly.
“Rena-chin’s too unfeeling!”
“Hm. That so…?”
“Exactly!” Iris pointed back. “Look there!”
Balconies and distant seats.
“Know how huge the diff is between far-view standing and nose-to-stage?”
“Nope.” Rena shrugged indifferently.
She wouldn’t. As an artist, “inspiration” got her VIP invites galore—always front row. While Iris obsessed over spots, Rena found it standard.
“It’s a massive thrill, but you’re way too chill.”
“BARD doesn’t move me like you guys.”
“No thrill? For real?”
“First live—duh. Dumbass?”
“Oof! Getting called dumb by exam-cramming Rena-chin in break? My head’s ringing!”
“Wanna die?”
“Hehe, kidding.”
Rena tsked at Iris’s half-serious vibe. She’d rewatched BARD’s Blu-rays endlessly—curse of being childhood friends.
BARD’s great, sure.
But that’s it. Legendary lives lose punch via screen, like any band. Rena’s BARD? Meh. Stage looked a tad different from vids, but whatever.
Still, Iris stayed upbeat. “At least you’re set to love it now!”
“What?”
“Snagged front row so Rena-chin can bask in BARD’s charm!”
“Front’s comfy all around.”
“No back-of-head blocks? Thrill enough!”
“Fair.”
Rena conceded. She’d suffered that most.
Thrust-adjacent prime spot. Perfect for watching—and eye-locking with Izumi.
Good instincts.
Tae-il requested tickets, but Izumi sent them. She knew their spot. Linking eyes with your idol? Fan nirvana. Couldn’t not hope.
Izumi-san’ll glance our way, right?
A waving smile mid-song? Dream come true. Prime Lute brag material.
To up odds…
Iris eyed Tae-il, sandwiched and suffering between Ayane and Sakuya meters away.
Stick by Shin Tae-il and…
Izumi’d look, even if annoyed—like at the cafe. Fervently. Maybe jealous.
Jealous…?
Iris paused. Idol jealous of her?
…Kinda hot?
A unique rush no other Lute could claim. Her chest tickled oddly, swaying her.
Stealthily. She crept up, watching Tae-il’s woes, stifling her presence.
And.
Spotting his unguarded back—
“Yah!”
Iris pounced on Tae-il.