Resolve (3)
“I’m home.”
Tae-il returned home after freeloading dinner at the Katsuragi house.
Unlike the warm, human touch of the Katsuragi home, his own house felt lonely and cold.
He sought out that warmth by heading straight to his room and flopping onto the bed.
Lying on the soft mattress, he closed his eyes and pressed his temples with his thumbs. The accumulated fatigue of the day seemed to ease a little.
“Still didn’t manage to ask in the end.”
There had been plenty of chances to ask.
But each time, some inexplicable fear had sealed his lips.
“Haaah.”
He pressed the back of his cold hand to his throbbing forehead and blankly stared at the stains on the ceiling.
“Does the original story even matter at this point?”
Ayane had changed way too much from the original.
If he inserted the current Ayane into the original story, it would probably collapse nine times out of ten.
Tae-il tilted his head back.
In his upside-down view, he spotted the calendar by his bedside.
July.
Final exams were just around the corner.
The D-Day from The Band ~Girls Do Band~ that he’d been desperately ignoring had crept right up to his throat.
The Band ~Girls Do Band~ was the one work Tae-il loved so deeply that even he—who barely bought albums and satisfied his cravings with streaming—splurged on the Blu-ray.
Not content with that, he’d fallen head over heels for the music spawned from the story and completely lost his heart to the voice actress who sang those songs. Tempted by rumors of her live performances, he even tried live viewing for the first time in his life and chanted along with fellow otaku comrades—something he’d never imagined doing.
The Band ~Girls Do Band~ was the lifeblood that kept him going.
Whenever he felt disillusioned with bands amid the cutthroat music scene, he healed his battered body and soul with that voice actress’s songs.
That’s how Tae-il scraped by another day in this filthy, ruthless industry.
Maybe that’s why he’d felt guilty so late and tried to restore the original— to reclaim the vitality he’d lost.
Tae-il muttered blankly.
“A Burning Blaze-less The Band ~Girls Do Band~…”
He couldn’t even imagine it. The most horrific world imaginable.
A sharp pang twisted in his chest.
This made him a failed otaku, not a successful one.
Deep regret washed over him.
“Should I not have helped Ayane?”
As the original timeline approached, the faith Tae-il had so firmly believed in—that he was right—began to waver.
The original Ayane in his memories was utterly unwatchable.
Lacking confidence and presence, with poor grades, she was ignored by everyone. Her timid, cowardly personality only reinforced the walls that kept others away.
Even when people approached out of pity, pretending to be friendly, her childhood trauma made her reject them.
With her acting like that, no one bothered to push past the rejection—not even the most persistent peers.
To everyone around her, Ayane offered zero appeal.
Her damn trauma and personality had already isolated her, and now the environment conspired against her too.
Until Arisugawa Iris—who acted like the ruler of all under heaven—dragged her forcibly from her shell, Ayane had kept herself locked in that tiny cocoon.
And even then, it took ages for her to regain her smile.
The cultural festival episode.
After a successful live performance, she earned approval from her parents and classmates alike, reclaiming her confidence.
That scene was one of The Band ~Girls Do Band~’s top highlights, later praised in the anime for surpassing the original.
But suddenly, a doubt crept in.
Is that famous scene really worth Ayane shoving her life into the gutter?
The Ayane he remembered now excelled in grades and had solid friendships.
Having caught the morals committee president’s eye and joined as a first-year, she’d risen from the mud to become a dragon by original standards.
See? I wasn’t wrong. My choice was right.
Tae-il confidently cheered himself on for choosing to help the girl doomed to misfortune.
Of course, it hadn’t been easy.
Even when Ayane threw hysterics, broke down into a “Kurone” mode, or lashed out at him irrationally, Tae-il never got angry. While others recoiled and clicked their tongues, he stayed by her side.
Thanks to Tae-il’s choices, Ayane was happy.
If he asked, she’d surely say yes.
No—she had to.
Otherwise, all his efforts would be for nothing.
But the cost of advancing her happiness wasn’t cheap.
The girl who’d dreamed vaguely of music and made it her life’s compass was gone.
Burning Blaze was gone too.
And the voice Tae-il adored so much would never sing again.
“Haha.”
Tae-il decided to face reality.
Ayane knew of BARD but didn’t love them.
Last year, to pull her out of her exam slump, Tae-il had barged into her room.
Unlike the original Ayane’s walls plastered with Izumi bromides and merch, her room back then was cute and tidy in a girly way—messy in spots, but no sign of Izumi, not even a B from BARD.
“Scary.”
Tae-il closed his eyes.
Darkness.
A future without Burning Blaze felt pitch-black to him.
The Band ~Girls Do Band~ centered on the girls’ growth, but it was closer to a daily-life slice with a beautiful girl animal garden vibe.
In such a world, even if the original shattered, nothing catastrophic happened.
World-ending crises? Inevitable deaths? None of that mattered to a daily-life original like The Band ~Girls Do Band~.
Maybe that’s why he’d lived so carelessly.
The original Ayane was unhappy.
She even said outright that her life wasn’t happy.
Tae-il, a mere reader, agreed.
Her radiant teenage youth wasn’t great until meeting Iris.
So he’d changed it.
Look at Ayane now. She always wore a smile. The gloomy original expression was gone, replaced by a bright high school girl loved by all.
He wondered what original Ayane would say seeing her now—she seemed that happy.
But what tormented Tae-il was that he’d erased one of her brightest possibilities.
What if an Ayane who doesn’t make music ends up less happy than the original?
If so, it’d all be his fault.
Tae-il groaned in agony. He didn’t regret it.
Even if he went back, he’d make the same choice.
Ayane’s life had been pitiable enough without the bullying.
Maybe even those feelings stemmed from the arrogance of a transmigrator looking down.
“I don’t know.”
No conclusion.
Tae-il gave up thinking.
Instead, he picked up his guitar.
There was nothing stupider than carrying unresolved worries.
He strummed idly with a hollow laugh.
Call it escapism. He wanted to clear his head.
He tuned until satisfied, then opened his notebook of original songs and memos.
Flipping through worn pages nearly to the end revealed an unfinished score.
“Hm-hm-hmm. Hn~.”
He hummed the melody’s start and end.
His fingers traced the notes and chords.
No fixed theme, but it evoked a confession of love—poignant yet leisurely tempo.
“Okay.”
Recap done, his left hand gripped the neck, right pinched the pick, and swept down the strings. Years of practice made the original song flow flawlessly—until it cut off abruptly at the highlight.
Twang!
Tae-il slapped the fretboard, frowning as he hummed the unfinished end.
“Here it’s like…”
He tapped the guitar body rhythmically, mumbling an awkward melody.
Forgetting his original-story torment, he forced work despite no inspiration.
“Okay.”
He strummed to resume the melody.
But the airborne notes and faint chords scattered uselessly, vanishing.
Wrinkles creased his brow.
“…”
No choice—he played from the start again.
The unsatisfying melody repeated until exhaustion; he set the guitar down.
“So damn blocked. Maybe sample hunt…”
His mind buzzed with static.
Even resting on the bed, his hands wandered for work.
They found his smartphone.
Mindlessly fiddling, he launched the composition app as if entranced.
No thoughts—just fingers capturing melodies.
A distinctive rhythm emerged in the mechanical motions.
“Huh?”
Tae-il’s wandering mind snapped back.
Eyes wide, he replayed his recording.
The keyboard data rang with an oddly clear backdrop.
Electric guitar leading like a leader.
Heavy bass subtly supporting behind.
Drums piercing ears with razor-sharp beats.
And explosive lead guitar shred in the highlight.
“Pfft-haha!”
Recognizing the familiar melody, Tae-il exhaled a laughing sigh.
The Band ~Girls Do Band~’s opening.
“Right. No The Band ~Girls Do Band~ opening here, huh.”
And probably no Burning Blaze songs either.
It stung.
By setting, Burning Blaze’s tracks were all Ayane and the members’ creations. They covered hits but stubbornly stuck to originals.
Tae-il stretched arms skyward on the bed, staring at his phone screen.
“Fine. If I’m switching moods anyway…”
He bolted upright.
His hands already held a ballpoint pen and notebook.