A Date That Stands Out (4)
He could feel the stares.
Wherever he went, eyes cold enough to sting the skin pinned themselves on Tae-il.
He muttered to himself.
Have I ever stood out like this before?
He had, a few times. Maybe a handful of moments in his past life, up on a stage? Even those had lasted only as long as it took the vocalist—the band's leader—to introduce the members one by one.
Bassists were always like that. Online, everyone loved to run their mouths about how pitiful you were for not understanding the beauty of bass, but even flashy fingerwork in a solo held the eye for nothing more than a heartbeat.
Tae-il's presence was especially thin. No matter how desperately he practiced some dazzling technique and then unveiled it, the crowd's reaction stayed faint. More precisely, he was buried under a guitarist with greater skill and a flashier performance.
At first, he'd been glad of it. He was still turning ideas over, expanding his repertoire, but he simply wasn't good enough to become an iTube star or one of those first-rate players the whole world acknowledged.
By the time the stage felt familiar, it had started to rankle. Every hour he'd poured into practice felt denied outright, each time the audience looked away.
And yet back then, when he'd screamed inside for someone to look at him, they wouldn't have glanced his way if he'd died for it. Now, of all times, they were giving him more attention than he could stand.
At the moment, that attention sat heavily on him. A band guy drawing eyes not for how he played, but because he was close with members who stuck out like neon, and because he was the only man among them—it stabbed at his conscience.
Even so...
He had no intention of meekly throwing away attention that had already come to him.
First.
"Just give up. It's easier if you give up, isn't it?"
More than anything, after the incident with every member, he had very nearly given up exactly the way Sakuya said.
Second.
"I think of this as an opportunity."
Tae-il fully intended to put that attention to work for Tales Tale's popularity.
Even so, he still believed the ones who ought to shine on stage were the members, not him. Iris, especially. He wanted to see the dream she hadn't been able to reach.
Not her alone.
All of Burning Blaze, up on a stage together, finishing a live show, then taking a photo with the fans to prove it had happened—that kind of dream.
He didn't particularly like photos, but after Yuuya came into their lives he'd remembered how much a record mattered, and that was why he left a picture every time. Ensemble practice, their first busking, their first live, and every single day he lived alongside the members. All of it would become memory. All of it would become the footprints of Tales Tale, something to show the fans.
Thinking of the future, Tae-il endured the trouble in front of him and worked out plan after plan with Yuuya.
But even so...
"Hey, their group picked up another one?"
"Who... isn't that Mori?"
"Who's Mori?"
"You know, the girl from the animal care club. The one who got famous off that accident at last year's Cultural Festival..."
"Oh! Right! So the animal care club's still around?"
"Pretty sure. But was she always that pretty?"
"She's pretty to begin with, but maybe she dressed up?"
"Her? Dressing up? No way..."
"Whoa, then that bastard really...?"
"Should we actually kill him?"
Whisper, whisper.
God, this is miserably uncomfortable...
If they were going to badmouth someone, they could at least do it where he couldn't hear. Being muttered about right out in the open felt as grating as Class 1-7 charging in with cardboard weapons every time Sakuya started something. Tales Tale's every move was already the talk of the school, and now that Yuuya, a second-year, had joined them, the muttering only grew louder.
And in the middle of it...
"Nnh..."
The members, popular from the start, were used to being pointed at and whispered about. Yuuya wasn't. Awkward, she kept hunching her shoulders.
Unable to watch any longer, Tae-il held his hand out to her as she fixed her eyes on the floor like someone guilty of a crime.
"Senpai, want to hold my hand?"
"Eh—huh!?"
He didn't wait for an answer. He caught that hand.
"T-Taichi...!?"
Yuuya short-circuited, stammering, completely lost.
Tae-il spoke.
"Don't worry about what people say. If anyone's getting cursed out, it'll all land on me anyway."
"He's right. The curses all land on Tae-il anyway."
Saying so, Sakuya latched onto his other arm for everyone to see. The arm she tucked between her breasts came as a bonus.
Tae-il pushed his lips out and complained.
"You do know I'm catching extra curses because of you, right, Sakuya...?"
"My lips are really itchy right now. How about we have one nice, deep kiss right here?"
"I was wrong."
The moment Tae-il bowed his head and apologized with perfect courtesy, the members giggled, thoroughly entertained.
"A k-kiss...?"
Sakuya shot a mischievous wink at Yuuya, who'd gone blank at the word.
"Around here, the shameless one wins, Senpai."
"Y-yeah..."
"Hey. Don't turn Senpai Yuuya into someone like you."
"That depends on you, doesn't iiit?"
"Ah. Is that so..."
Taking every insult the crowd had to throw, their Cultural Festival tour began in earnest.
The first stop was Class 2-5. Festival-style, they'd set out toy guns for shooting dolls and targets, and goldfish scooping with paper nets over a wide pool. The group started with the goldfish, since all of them could take it on together.
"Woohoo! Shin-chan! Look at this! Ayane's already on her fifth!"
"That's something..."
Unlike Ayane, who succeeded on every try, Tae-il failed on every try, and he eyed the torn hole in his paper with deep suspicion.
Did they give only me a defective one...?
If it was that senpai who'd radiated displeasure the instant he saw Tae-il, it was entirely possible.
"Rena-chan, don't tell me you haven't scooped a single one? Heheh?"
"Nngh...!"
By a small mercy, Tae-il wasn't the only one failing.
"Senpai, are you all right?"
"Mm."
Yuuya showed him a clear plastic bag packed full of goldfish. She'd been so quiet he hadn't noticed. No need to count—she'd caught far more than Ayane.
"The little ones are sweet, so they just let themselves get caught."
"What?"
Did a fish really have the brains for that? Curious, Tae-il quietly watched her go for another.
"Ah."
The paper tore. By any common sense, the goldfish should have slipped right out through the hole.
And yet.
"That can't be real..."
Torn paper or not, the goldfish hung on the frame of the net and let itself be hauled in by force. Tae-il spat out how wronged he felt.
Meanwhile, Sakuya had caught nearly as many as Ayane.
"Over here, like this!"
If Ayane scooped by experience and Yuuya by embrace, Sakuya was pure technique. She competed on skill alone.
"If you've got the knack, you still catch plenty. Like this! Don't give the goldfish any gap to slip out, and just scoop it straight—"
"Hey, that's not technique. That's athleticism."
When Rena objected, Sakuya tilted her head.
"Is it?"
"..."
Once the goldfish scooping was done, it was the toy-gun shooting that boasted a long and storied tradition at festivals.
"I just shoot it like this?"
Sakuya, most confident when it came to using her body, stepped up first. Already set in a proper shouldered stance, she asked the senpai running the booth.
"Yes! And just so you know, it's three hundred yen—girls get ten shots, guys get five!"
The boy explained it beaming, thoroughly thrilled. Tae-il understood. How many chances did you get in a lifetime to have Sakuraba Sakuya's face that close to yours? Put him in that senpai's place, and he would have reacted the same way.
Having heard the rules, Sakuya nodded and aimed. Watching that textbook form, Tae-il was impressed.
A born athlete, as expected...
Just as when he'd taught her guitar, a simple explanation was enough—her stance was already set. At that level it went past understanding. Her body had simply woken, on its own, to the optimal posture.
"Hah!"
The rubber pellet she fired struck right around the seven-point ring.
"Ooh! As expected of Miss Sakuraba! Incredible! A seven on the very first shot!"
The male senpai whooped at her shooting and smacked the booth again and again with a folding fan. Anyone could see straight through him, but Sakuya only smiled and fired off the rest.
Eighty-five points in all. Even accounting for a toy gun's piss-poor accuracy and the fact that it was her first time, it was marksmanship close to miraculous.
"Congratulations! Eighty-five points! Your prize is a Cultural Festival exclusive five-hundred-yen discount coupon!"
"Oh, Tae-il! I won five hundred yen!"
"Congrats."
"What should we buy to eat with this?"
"You ate that much this morning and you're still not full?"
"Yep!"
The instant she had the coupon, Sakuya beamed at Tae-il and clung to him, and the male senpai clicked his tongue.
"Tch...!"
Tae-il did the math.
"Entry fee three hundred yen, coupon five hundred... so two hundred yen in the black."
"Hmm. I thought the discount was pretty generous. Hearing you say it, it does feel a little thin."
"Still better than nothing. Good work."
"Yep!"
Basking in the praise, Sakuya looked thoroughly pleased with herself. Rena, who had been watching, swaggered up to the booth.
"What, it's easier than it looks. I'll take a shot too."
"Rena-chan, you sure?"
"Why not. I get ten shots."
Rena pointed at the scoreboard with her thumb.
"Even if I do badly, I'll get fifty."
According to what was written up there, fifty was the minimum for a prize. Brimming with confidence, Rena stepped up to the booth.
And then a cold sweat broke out. The counter was higher than she'd thought.
"Um..."
Seeing her stranded awkwardly in front of the booth, the senpai frantically chewed out the friend beside him.
"W-we'll get a step right away! Hey! What are you just standing there for? Go get the step!"
"O-okay...!"
After a brief, awkward wait, Rena climbed the step, got up to the counter, and gripped the gun. She corrected her stance awkwardly several times, then looked for Tae-il.
"Shin, is this how you do it?"
"No—a little more into the shoulder... Is the gun too heavy?"
"A little?"
"Want me to hold it for you, just a bit?"
"Yeah."
Rena, fumbling awkwardly with the gun, demanded his help without a shred of shame. The intent was obvious enough that Ayane flared.
"That shrimp, she—she—that...!"
Iris soothed the fired-up Ayane and covered for Rena.
"Calm down, Ayane. Rena-chan's never been to a festival once in her life."
"Eh!? Th-that much...?"
"Mm-hm. So let's cut her a little slack. That's okay, right?"
"Mrrgh..."
If it was her first festival, there was nothing to be done. While Ayane swallowed her anger, Tae-il wrapped around Rena and supported the gun.
"I just hold my breath and shoot like this, right?"
"Yeah."
Tae-il nodded.
"Hhh...!"
Not content with Sakuya hanging off him, now he was perfectly at ease with Rena too, and the senpai running the booth wept tears of blood.
She aimed. Then she squeezed the trigger.
Pop! Pop!
Seven of the ten shots hit. Three flew wildly wide. Of the seven, four scored five points and three scored three. Twenty-nine in all.
"Ah..."
Having charged in full of confidence only to face a miserable result, Rena scratched her cheek, embarrassed.
Tae-il stroked her head.
"It's fine. For you, that was a good shoot."
"Really...? If you're lying just to comfort me, I'm getting mad."
"Really. I'm telling you, Sakuya's the weird one. You can't use her as the standard."
"Hey now! Correct that, please? I'm not weird, I'm a good shot. Okay?"
Unfazed by Tae-il jabbing a finger at her, Sakuya put a finger-gun to her mouth and blew across the barrel, cowgirl-style.
Next, in order, came Ayane and Iris. Ayane first.
"N-ninety-two... Congratulations, that's the top score!"
"Woohoo! Shin-chan! Ayane did it!"
"Congrats."
True to form as someone who got around and had piled up plenty of shooting along the way, Ayane proudly set a new high. Then Iris.
"Thirty-two points. Thank you for playing."
"Eek!"
Her chest got in the way more than she'd expected, and she could barely shoot. The senpai, who had recited the score without a flicker of expression, turned out to be hopeless with women; he flushed and couldn't meet her eyes.
"Senpai Yuuya, want to take a shot too?"
"Mmm."
At his suggestion, Yuuya shook her head.
"You shoot for me, Taichi."
"Me? Well, what are you aiming for?"
"That."
Yuuya pointed at a turtle plush. It was the near-mascot monster from that famous game and anime that had swept the whole world.
"Hmm. With that tail, not sure it'll tip..."
"Is it hard?"
"No. I'll give it a try."
The toy gun was heavier than it looked. Tae-il took it up and stepped to the booth.
"You get five shots."
"Haha."
He gave a wry smile. When the other members had stepped up, the senpai had been grinning like a fool. The moment Tae-il did, the reply came clipped and packed with irritation.
Hell of a double standard.
He complained only on the inside, set his stance, and steadied his breathing. It was only a toy gun firing rubber shaped like a cork, and the sights sat a little off, but even that was familiar. Five seconds, then ten. He fiddled with the gun until he had a rough feel for it, lined up on the target, and fell into a quick rhythm—fire, reload, fire, reload.
The first three shots hit not the head or the belly but the turtle's short arms, one after another, and the plush tilted at an angle. The last two caught it under the chin, and it dropped backward, limp.
"Whoa...!"
Yuuya gasped and clapped.
"Oh..."
Even Tae-il, having fired the shots, was impressed with himself. At festivals there was often cheating—tape or Velcro stuck secretly under the prizes—so no matter how many rounds you put in, they wouldn't fall. Fortunately, this place seemed free of that kind of rigging.
"Tch. Here's your prize."
"Thanks."
He accepted the cleanly toppled prize, bowed his head, and handed it to Yuuya.
"Here. You asked because it looks like Toto, right?"
"Y-yeah..."
Yuuya smiled shyly and hugged the plush.
Sakuya smacked her own forehead.
"Oh, right! I should've asked for one like that too."
"You? A plush...?"
"I've got a maiden's heart too, you know?"
"You...?"
"..."
Sakuya shut her mouth. Now that she thought about it, a perverted otaku whose room held nothing but manga and erotic manga, and the words a maiden's heart, lived very far apart.
"Tch! Should I have kept a few dolls at home too?"
"Way too late, idiot."
While Rena needled her without mercy, Iris marveled.
"As expected of a Korean. You shoot well, too."
"Ah."
"A-ahem!"
At the unexpected praise Ayane flustered, and Tae-il cleared his throat. Honestly, having never served in the military, showing off with a gun embarrassed him.
"Shin Tae-il. You any good at games, by any chance?"
"Uh..."
Without meaning to, he looked at Sakuya and Rena. Those two knew. They knew the sight of him in Gunma, mouthing off that he was pretty decent at games, then screaming last game, for real dozens of times while getting his soul picked clean in the ugliest way possible.
Openly covering her mouth as she chuckled, Sakuya asked Rena.
"Rena, is Tae-il any good at games?"
"Hmm. For the sake of Shin's honor, I will exercise my right to remain silent."
"Excuse me!? That's just admitting I suck at games!"
"Puhaha!"
The moment Rena declared, dead serious, that she would remain silent, Tae-il flared.
"No! I'm telling you, Sakuya's the weird one!"
"Says the guy flashing his old rank frame."
"That's rich coming from a sandbagger in an armchair!"
"Heh."
Sakuya snorted and preened. Something in him snapped. Of all things, being looked down on over a game set Tae-il off like a fire.
"Ugh. Then we settle it in StarCraft! StarCraft! Korea's national folk game!"
Unable to admit a loss, he was a truly ugly sight.
So he has a side like that, too...
Watching him get dead serious about a game, like a child, Iris smiled as if he were adorable.
"Ayane. Is Shin Tae-il bad at games?"
"Ayane doesn't really know either..."
"No?"
"Well, Shin-chan hardly plays at home."
Tae-il basically didn't play much of anything, whether at home or anywhere else. Even the console in his house had probably been enjoyed more by Ayane and her friends than by Tae-il himself. She hadn't even known he had any gamer pride.
In truth, that pride came entirely from his past life, so it was only natural she wouldn't know. Games were the same as music. Rest too long, and skill and judgment rusted on their own. Tae-il had been away from games for nearly ten years, so his play falling apart was, in a sense, inevitable. But anyone who had ever touched a high tier liked to argue the point.
I hit Ladder A, and you dare talk back to me...?
A toothless old tiger who'd be gasping at sixteen hundred points—and that was exactly his mindset.
Rena, as it happened, was worried about him in just that way.
"Shin, if you keep this up and Sakuya cleans you out at that Star-whatever too, what exactly are you going to do..."
"She's not cleaning me out!"
"Ahaha! Want to play a match? I'll need time to practice, too... so, roughly a week from now."
"Call!"
Pathetic. Watching him strain himself to prove his skill at a game, that was what Rena thought. And at the same time, another thought occurred to her.
Boys really are sensitive about being told they're bad at games.
The switch that set him off was a strange one.
"Good! Then a bet has to be part of this, right? Loser grants the winner one wish. No take-backs."
"Obviously!"
Tae-il burned. What was a mere game, that it set him ablaze even harder than talk of music?
Watching him lose his reason all at once, Ayane broke into a cold sweat.
"Somehow it feels like Shin-chan's making a promise he can't take back, and Ayane's scared..."
"Puhehe! You too, Ayane? Me too."
"Sh-should we stop him...?"
"Leave him be, Senpai. It's a man's pride."
"Y-yeah..."
Clutching the plush Tae-il had won for her, Yuuya nodded.
Just get out already, you damned bastards... Because of you, the next customers aren't coming.
Watching Tae-il get cozy with a flock of pretty girls, the senpai cleaning up behind the booth grumbled it to himself.