Concert (11): Grasping the Hand of Our Idolized Star
Just imagining it felt like an honor. Tae-il would have no regrets in life if he could shake Paul McCartney's hand—even if it meant dying right after. Iris probably felt the same way. To outsiders, it might just look like a celebrity shaking a fan's hand, but for her, shaking hands with Izumi surely carried profound meaning.
As a die-hard ryute and BARD otaku, holding Izumi's hand was an irreplaceable glory for Iris. From a reader's perspective, it was easy to sense this would become a deeply symbolic scene.
Cool, Tae-il thought. Just picturing it lifted his spirits. Since it hadn't happened in reality, the image had carried a romantic allure, something he'd only dared to dream up in fanfiction. Of course, it was a bit disappointing.
He'd put off joining the fan club, but he was still an unofficial ryute acknowledged by BARD. Not to Iris's level, but Tae-il adored singer Izumi just as much. If it came down to pure fan affection, he might even surpass his own band, Burning Blaze. Unlike Burning Blaze, where he'd built up goodwill through the original story, his love for BARD stemmed purely from being captivated by her vocals at first sight.
But if his rival was Iris, there was no helping it—he'd have to yield. Whatever, not like it's a big deal for me...
Shaking hands with Izumi wasn't some monumental event for Tae-il. Sure, he'd feel a twinge of regret, but that was it.
Why's everyone making such a fuss over just holding hands anyway...?
He reined in his emotions. Tae-il felt a slight annoyance toward Ayane and Sakuya for chiding him over something so trivial.
"Yah-hoo!"
"Guhk!"
A sudden impact slammed into his lower back, sending him into instant panic. If he hadn't subtly braced from behind to keep the attacker from toppling, they both would've gone down.
Squish! The overwhelming physical pressure pressing into his back from that soft, plush sensation.
This is...!
His cool-headed judgment pinpointed the culprit. Obvious. The only one with comparable physique right now was standing next to Ayane.
Tae-il turned around with a sullen expression.
"Iris...?"
"Yup! What're you three doing, leaving us behind?"
"Leave us out of it."
Rena, arriving late, tacked on that she was opting out. Iris tilted her head.
"But Rena-chan and I are two peas in a pod?"
"Two peas my ass."
Rena growled that their bodies and minds were separate entities.
"Ah, ahaha..."
"Don't just laugh it off."
Iris grabbed Tae-il's cheeks from both sides and yanked them wide.
"What were you guys talking about?"
"A-ah(ow)!"
"Sorry, pulled too hard."
Iris released his cheeks, then pressed her thumbs firmly into them instead.
"Spill it quick? What were you talking about?"
"N-nothing much..."
"Band performance stuff!"
Ayane jumped in with a swift answer, prying Iris's arm from around Tae-il's neck. With her arm unlinked, Iris plopped down to the floor.
"Performance?"
"Yeah. We were hearing about BARD's show features."
"Oh? Like what?"
"Handshakes and photo ops?"
"Really?"
Iris giggled, never dreaming they'd been thinking the exact same thing.
"Great minds, huh? I was thinking the same."
"Same thought?"
"Handshakes and photo ops, yeah. So..."
Iris trailed off, glancing around. She was about to mention the intriguing connection between Shin Tae-il and Tenma Izumi, choosing her words carefully.
Do these guys know about those two's relationship?
First, Ayane—glaring at her with a pouty face.
She's 100% in the know...
No need to debate that. She turned to Sakuya next.
"Why'd you stop mid-sentence, Iris?"
Sakuya looked baffled. She knew there was something between BARD and Tae-il, but not the details.
Finally, Shin Tae-il—expression full of dread over what she might do next.
Well, maybe I'll hold back on Tae-il a bit here...
Better not say it outright. As irritating as he was, she didn't want blowback reaching Izumi.
"We're..."
Iris boldly linked arms with Tae-il.
"...hardcore ryutes. Pretty early join dates, too."
"I-Iris!?"
As Tae-il panicked, Iris secretly pinched his side—stay still.
"Eep!"
Ari straightened up in pain. One forced, the other grinning ear to ear. Their expressions clashed, but their actions screamed couple vibes, no matter how rocky their rapport.
Ayane's eyes went wide.
"Ha...!"
Whether speechless or not, she clenched her fist tight.
Even you, Iris...!
Her face seemed to scream it.
"Ah."
Sakuya, lost in her own thoughts, smacked her fist into her palm.
"They remember our faces 'cause we're OG fans?"
"Pretty great, right?"
Iris gave a vague, beaming reply—not quite confirmation, not denial. Classic her, leaving an escape route with ambiguous wording.
"Huh?"
Tae-il flinched. His gaze shifted to Iris, whose elbow was poking his side, her expression oddly smug.
She held back for me?
Yeah. Thanks a ton.
A subtle eye exchange only they understood.
"Urk...!"
"Remembering fans' faces, huh..."
Ayane struggled to keep her composure, while Sakuya dove straight into the next worry.
Rena, who'd been watching from a distance, urged the group as the crowd surged in.
"Hey, audience is piling up."
"Okay!"
Chance! Once the crowd filled in for real, no one would dare make a scene. Iris swiftly dragged Tae-il to the fence front.
Seats weren't random draws—they were assigned via tickets, marked strictly with tape and labels on the floor.
[A-9]
Middle of the five spots. Iris's pick for Tae-il.
"Shin Tae-il, this is your seat."
"I don't think it matters much, but my opinion?"
"Nope."
"Figures..."
"FYI, A-10 right next to it is mine."
"Then A-11's mine."
Iris and Rena claimed spots in a flash, leaving Ayane desperate as she shot Sakuya pleading eyes.
"S-Sakuraba, you know..."
"Haha. Okay, I'll yield this time, Katsuragi."
"Really?"
"I'm not petty like some people, even here."
"Thanks!"
Ayane lunged onto A-8 the second Sakuya yielded, hugging Tae-il's arm. Sakuya scratched her head awkwardly, partnerless now.
"Fast one. Was supposed to be sarcasm..."
She gave a wry smile at Ayane prioritizing gains over pride, then took A-7.
The once-spacious area filled up in a blink, like a lie. As sweat started beading, Sakuya fanned herself with her hand.
"Gets hot quick with this crowd density..."
"Want a handheld fan?"
"You got one?"
"Duh."
Tae-il pulled four from his bag leaning on the fence and handed them out one by one.
Rena waved hers.
"I already have one..."
"Gimme that. I'll recharge it later."
Tae-il snatched Rena's without hesitation and swapped his own.
"Th-thanks..."
Rena blushed, grateful. It was her favorite green one.
"Heh? Pretty prepared, huh?"
Iris shook her red one teasingly with a grin.
"Obviously."
Tae-il puffed out his chest proudly. Concerts demanded stamina from audiences too—not just artists. Multi-day rock fests or idol marathons were even tougher.
"Got water and snacks too. Holler if you need any."
"What are you, a quartermaster?"
"Gotta have supplies to win a war."
"Shin-chan says it, and it hits different..."
"Aww..."
Ayane, knowing Tae-il's future military stint, gave him a pitying look. He teared up.
"What? Supplies are basic war knowledge..."
Bzzz. Speaker feedback cut Iris off.
Then, as if on cue, the lights dimmed in unison. All eyes locked on the stage.
A glow lit the massive screen behind.
"Hourglass?"
Center and side screens showed hourglasses. Everyone instinctively knew.
Show countdown!
The hourglass flipped. Sand poured toward the narrow passage.
Thud.
Huh?
Distracted by the hourglass, sharp-eared fans spotted it on stage—a feminine silhouette. No mistaking: Izumi.
The screen's hourglass froze. Lights hit the stage.
Only Izumi stood there.
"I cried."
"'Cause I didn't wanna become some damn adult."
"But time pushed me forward."
In her usual casual clothes, Izumi sang a cappella.
Could she not be Peter Pan of Neverland? Growing up terrified her—opposite of kids bored with routine, dying to mature faster. Pessimistic, pitying her reality-pushed self, that's how one became an adult. She hated that boyish side of herself so much.
"Hate it."
Her syllable cut, acoustic guitar rang out. While eyes were on Izumi, NA.IN had slipped onstage. Under stark white light, he stole the spotlight with a guitar solo.
"Different staging from usual..."
"Yeah."
Tae-il and Iris whispered; Ayane perked her ears.
"Different how? What's that mean, Shin-chan?"
Tae-il glanced around, cupping his mouth to murmur to Ayane.
"BARD lives are usually Izumi-san's solo show from start to finish."
"Not now?"
"They're highlighting other members."
Ayane looked back—
"Huh?"
Izumi's light was off. Only NA.IN dominated with his acoustic guitar.
Iris propped her chin on the fence.
"Song doesn't have a solo this long."
"Yeah. Rearranged."
Sulking. Uncharacteristically powerful and intense for BARD. First track showing Izumi's raspy vocals too. Tae-il had been shocked—too experimental?
Peter Pan syndrome: adults clinging to childhood. The boy-narrator says,
"Don't wanna be a violent adult."
Abused by parents, adults were twisted in his world. Media lied—no heroic Supermen saving anyone. So what if they were adults? Powerless to save even one persecuted boy. Thus,
"I wanted to be like Peter Pan."
Cooler than adults, true kids' hero and icon—free as a bird from its cage, living emotions raw. Lights dimmed again. Izumi's teary voice faded; NA.IN's flashy solo simplified to basic riff. Lights reignited—Yahiro.
"Big bro Yahiro."
The screen showed his confident smile, hat off. Matching NA.IN's flair, he unleashed dazzling bass lines—techniques honed through endless practice, poured out freely. His smile vanished; serious face locked on bass. Unblinking on screen, he seemed to shout,
I'm this great a bassist!
His left arm squeezed tight. Tae-il glanced at Ayane, stage-mesmerized. Amber eyes drank in Yahiro's play. Envy. Beginner or not, she'd learned bass—his level was untouchable at a glance.
Famous band lives had sparked three reactions in Ayane: Good. Hard. Looks easier than it is? Variants like With a bit more practice, I could too.
J-pop bass was flashier/melodier than most, but bass fundamentals were root notes, laying foundation. Easy—teach basic chords to any guitarist in a pinch. So she'd gotten cocky watching pros: No biggie? Or Won't be that bad. Tae-il's advice barely registered; she couldn't grasp his skill obsession.
No. Watching Yahiro now, the skill gap wall loomed clear. They could do it but don't.
"..."
Bass solo peak. Mocking slap-fanatics, Yahiro tapped hyper-speed with harmonics. Clear, sweet bass sound rivaling acoustic guitar. Boyish sulk pierced by slaps of raw emotion.
Ayane bit her lip. Tae-il gripped her hand tight, but the tension in her eyes didn't fade.
Lights on. NA.IN upped the ante competitively. Finally—
A hulking figure atop the high stage, crashing cymbals under light.
Boom!
Not a sizzle—pure boom. Drums raged harmony-be-damned, screaming I'm the star!
Members competed. Skipping leader-vocalist Izumi, they vied for top dog. Izumi fans gawked at the mad instrumentation.
"Gonna lose it."
Tae-il's mutter drowned in the noise. Total mess. Harmony tossed to dogs. Yet it meshed. Pros—even solo, tightly linked. Tae-il's meticulous rhythm-splitting paled in intensity.
Lights flared—Izumi. Her blank face on screen was scary.
"Hate it."
Thick sulk quelled the session frenzy. Showboating instruments snapped back to original vibe. Mad party reorganized around vocals.
Sulk, flail, deny reality—all end the same.
"In the end, I realized."
"More than anyone, I didn't wanna grow up."
Even with flashy, varied arrangement,
"But deep down, I thought like an adult most of all."
BARD: no matter how wild the session, it always circled back to Izumi. Thus, however ornate the arrangement,
Izumi delivered the finishing blow, BARD-style.