Concert (14): Cringe
"Cringe. It's the verdict that pops up every time I watch a Japanese drama. Over-the-top acting bloated with excessive emotions, paired with dusty old scripts that force-feed you contrived感動—it's a nightmare combo. And when they tack on a moral lesson to top it all off, you've got the holy trinity of Japanese dramas."
BARD's tie-in drama was cut from the same cloth. A boy who despises adults, the world, and himself finds redemption through a girl lingering in his memories from the past. Change his emotions wrong even a little, and the whole plot crumbles into pure cringe.
But surprisingly, some rookie actor pulled it off. Critics and the internet alike showered praise without restraint, showing everyone what truly moving acting looks like. It proved just how vital an actor's power is to a work. Her overwhelming performance, far beyond a newbie's, breathed life into the drama.
Really. Internally, the drama speaks for itself. Now, eyes from the public and critics alike shifted outward—to the staff's capabilities, the OST, and more.
Hoo... Izumi finished her song and descended from the wire. She hadn't made it all the way to the second level, but she'd circled the arena once, swooping right up to the fans' faces, locking eyes and waving. Every time she approached, cheers erupted. Some fans, overcome with emotion, wildly waved their yellow lyre-shaped light sticks.
Good thing I pushed for it. The wire stunt, straight out of the drama, was an unqualified success. Sure, the swing became a wire, and the little girl grew into a full-grown woman. But hey, if the fans were happy.
Still, once she was down, her legs trembled uncontrollably—no helping that. She'd double-checked safety a dozen times, run flawless rehearsals. And yet...
It was scary... Izumi belatedly realized, at her age, just how unnerving that empty space under your feet could be. She quietly steadied her shaking heart, then turned back to the fans still waiting for her. The concert wasn't over yet.
"Good work."
"Yeah."
Yahiro patted her back and stepped forward. They'd just wrapped the mini-album tracks, so now came a short talk time disguised as a break. Izumi awkwardly smoothed her dress hem and followed him.
Four chairs were already set on the thrust stage. Izumi sat primly in the center first, with the members filling in on either side.
"Dear Lutes, good evening everyone!"
Yahiro's impromptu talk show during the break kicked off.
The talk show began. Light chit-chat about the members' recent updates led into struggles from the album promo.
"It's your fault!"
"Sometimes people need bold adventures..."
Then the mishaps from prepping this concert—the stuff fans craved. Izumi's wire glide over the arena came up a lot.
BARD had always won with pure musicianship, no flashy staging. This change felt fresh to fans.
"We could've invested more in the wire, actually..."
"I was scared..."
"You went up stone-faced in rehearsal, then whined about being scared—hilarious."
"Even Akitora went up once, and the wire snapped..."
"We agreed not to mention that... um."
The banter drew easy laughs. BARD kept a mysterious aura—Yahiro aside, members rarely interacted with fans. No TV exposure either, so fans cherished these concert glimpses of their chemistry.
"Rena-chan, does flying around on a wire like that scare you a lot?"
"If I shook my tits like you, I'd get scared even if I wasn't."
"That's mean!"
Iris was glued to BARD's talk too. Everyone but Tae-il.
If I'm curious, I can just ask myself... Thinking of Yahiro's random 3 a.m. LINE messages, production details didn't intrigue him. Tae-il, not even involved, knew insider scoops like an insider. Yahiro had held back on stage specifics, saying "see it live."
So when Izumi wired out, Tae-il blanked. Not awestruck—stunned. A flood of worries hit.
What if she falls? Concert falls happened, wires or not. Performer slips, staff errors, freak accidents—arenas were disaster magnets. No reason it couldn't hit Izumi.
Plus, that otaku law: narrative convenience. In stories, tragedy strikes for plot. Izumi's model, ZARD's Sakai Izumi, died in a crash. Original story had her exit the same way. Tae-il couldn't not worry.
Until she landed safe, he forgot to breathe, heart in throat.
I'm dizzy... He'd warned her repeatedly against leaning on railings. Like a kid told no, she did worse. Tae-il resented her for risking more than railings now, oblivious to his glare.
"?"
Sensing Tae-il's intense stare mid-talk, Izumi smiled faintly and waved.
Kyaaa! Chaos erupted in section A at her smile. Not guys—piercing dolphin shrieks from female fans made Rena wince, hand to head.
"You okay?"
Tae-il worried; Rena shook her head.
"Wish I had earplugs."
"Uh..."
Drinks, fan, towel, painkillers—even pads for Ayane's cycle. Everything but earplugs.
"Got wet wipes—stuff your ears?"
"What kind of wipes? Might consider if you plugged them with your hands."
"Want me to?"
Iris covered her ears; Rena swatted the hand away, scowling.
"I'm fine."
Iris shrugged. "You look fine."
"Ah, haha..."
Ayane peeked from behind giggling Tae-il, thumbs-upping Iris's save.
"Tch."
Rena clicked her tongue. Always clueless where it counted, despite sharp instincts otherwise.
Bleeeh...
Why the pout? Deflate your cheeks.
Yahiro poked Izumi's puffed cheek.
Pfooo...
Fans squealed at her cute new side. In the end, through the talk show...
Izumi's cheeks never deflated.
And Rena's furrowed brow never smoothed.
"How do we make the stage flashier?"
"The stage?"
During tour planning, Yahiro tilted his head at Izumi's sudden question.
"Why stage out of nowhere?"
"Our stages are always so boring."
Boring. Insulting enough to rile anyone, but oddly, no member snapped.
"Ha!"
Yahiro snorted. "Saying something our Lutes would riot over, cool as ice, huh, our songbird?"
"Start with sets?"
Izumi feigned ignorance, checking other bands' stage vids, pressing on.
"For real...?"
Yahiro's mocking grin twisted, mistaking it for deadpan joke from earnest Izumi.
"Yeah."
She tapped the schedule with her finger.
"We adventured with the album."
First time. The mini-album brimmed with experiments. Izumi reworked vocals per members' wishes, even paid for expression acting and dance lessons.
"Stage needs life too."
Change style once, overhaul the stage to match. Izumi demanded adventure.
"You..."
"I'll pour max cash into this tour."
Bow to Next Generation and ING heads if needed. Shortfall? Her own pocket. Ads too—even the cash-strapped prez would cheer.
Izumi's eyes blazed. Yahiro hadn't seen that fire in ages.
When was it...?
BARD rode middling fame to school band disbandment. Yahiro prepped college; others lost purpose, wandered.
Failure hurts deepest in youth's vigor—worse than jaded adult flops.
Post-grad, aimless members pondered paths. Then Izumi rounded them up unannounced. Eyes crimson like sunset blaze, she herded them to rehearsal and declared:
"Let's try once more."
No romantic dreams from failure's survivor—just plain:
"Think of it as our last."
Facing truth and heart, she convinced them.
"Do everything you want as a band."
She'd fund it all. Pour out your hearts.
"Haha."
Precious memory. Recalling younger Izumi's vow, Yahiro grinned softly.
"Okay."
He clapped sharply, stood, scanned members.
"I'm in. We do Izumi's way. You?"
"Mm."
"Fucking ridiculous. If you decided, do it. What changes if we object?"
NA.IN's fact-bomb on leader/sub-leader loyalty cracked everyone up.
"Let's go."
The concert hit snags from jump.
"Huh? Sudden prez meeting?"
Manager first.
"Orchestra for concert? And? Hire a director? Live-stage director?"
Prez next.
"No sets, max flash? Possible, but why? Screens instead...?"
Then stage director.
Last:
"You're nuts? Fly over heads on wire?"
"Fan service."
"Crazy bitch. Fall, and we're done!"
"Agree, but tone it down."
"Mm."
Convinced wary members too. Every step bore Izumi's touch.
"Haa."
Her lips twitched endlessly. Day 1 success, despite worries, swelled pride uncontrollably.
"Ow..."
God descent, wire, dance—legs gave out. Izumi plopped onstage.
Low view made the world huge. Arena vast, empty now.
We filled it all... Today. Tomorrow too—sold out. Explosive response.
Like teacher spotting classroom slackers, Izumi saw it all: tears,感動, cheers.
Especially:
They loved it so much...
Talk time ignored her, irking a bit. But performance restart? Eyes laser-locked on her, ignoring rotating beauties beside.
Heehee. She twirled loosened hair, tugging to hide grin. Savoring afterglow amid heavy steps echoing.
"Still here?"
Tae-il. Izumi startled, dropped hair—grin exposed.
"Ah, haven't gone?"
She hastily fixed hair, averted eyes.
"Told you."
Tae-il approached slow, arm on stage edge. Face weary.
"Iris... our vocalist couldn't snag limited merch, so getting it separate..."
"Aah."
"Probably all with Hatsukawa-san now."
"Could've sent separate..."
"Haha. She's a huge Izumi fan..."
Whined till Tae-il bent rules a tad. Yahiro's okay was lucky.
"Stubborn, she'd camp overnight for tomorrow's sales."
"That far...?"
"Huge pride. Single digits as a Lute."
"Hehe. Thanks."
A bit cheeky, but Iris ferried the boy to her. Izumi smiled faintly, stood, brushed butt.
Passed main stage to thrust, neared arm-draped Tae-il. Then...
Squatted nose-to-nose, hugged knees. Her gaze higher, but his face crystal-clear. No more hiding—she grinned freely.
"How was our stage?"
Tae-il lifted lips, double thumbs-up. No need for words.
"Best."
"More specific."
"Uh..."
Prodded, he scratched cheek, replayed.
"Orchestra cover was insane. Old song could've dragged, but operatic vocals? Wild."
"My idea."
Izumi, dubbed Iris upgrade, had killer volume.
"Dancing was fresh too. Thought you were no dancer. Moved great."
"Pretty?"
"Huh? Y-Yeah... sorta."
Flowy dress, sweating with backups—not pretty, more...
Ahem!
Tae-il coughed. Guy's view: too form-fitting, "pretty" felt off—too revealing.
"Keep dancing?"
"Probably?"
If chance, gladly. Old days: song alone wouldn't cut it. Excel everything for national love, top charts.
Izumi steeled for Tae-il, but his unexpected fluster amused.
"Uh... try not. Never on TV. If must, looser clothes..."
"Noted...?"
She nodded, puzzled.
"Tomorrow too, ideally..."
"Yeah. Got it."
Not sure why, but his advice rang true. Izumi trusted fully. Brain already listing pants/shirts for home.
You bastard...! How dare you!
Tae-il heard phantom Lutes sobbing over missing tomorrow's hype.
Sorry...
He looked up.
"Anyway, overall killer. Felt like your unique charms just for me."
"Hehe. The wire?"
"Hm?"
Expectant eyes prodded.
"Wire? My masterpiece."
"Oh, that..."
Tae-il's face twisted first time.
Should I...? Perfect opening. Little scolding not bad.
But wire core tomorrow too—no banning. Instead...
Firm advice: no railings, heights ever.
"Good. Pretty, great fan service..."
"Yeah, yeah."
Izumi beamed puppy-like for praise. So...
"I know it's overstepping..."
Tae-il agonized, forced words.
"Don't do it again."
"Huh?"
No praise—criticism stunned her. Rocking expectantly, strength drained. Already spent from high intensity, crouched legs buckled.
"Wha?"
Vision tilted.
Weird? Tae-il's eyes widened. No—he loomed closer.
"Wait—!"
Panic. Not tilt—she pitched forward sudden.
Thrust edge. Dodge, and Izumi faceplants meter drop.
Tae-il's legs rooted.
"Ah...!"
Arms out to stop—but...
"Gah!"
Strength failed against overhead weight. No block chance...
Thud!
Huge impact echoed empty arena.