Seishun Buta Yarou Series - Volume 10 - Chapter 4.2

2

Mai made a few detours on the way to the concert venue, and they got stuck in a few patches of congestion, but they made it to Odaiba just past five, as the sun began to set.

She’d certainly given Sakuta a fright when she said, “I heard you and Hirokawa went on a date?” but being alone with Mai in a closed car was a novel experience, and he enjoyed every second.

“We just went to Misakiguchi, ate some tuna, and rode bikes around the daikon fields.”

“That’s what we call a date.”

He made excuses but had been thinking the same thing the whole day, so he changed the subject as soon as possible.

Traffic had picked up around Odaiba, but by five thirty, they managed to find a parking garage with vacancies and drop the car off.

By the time they got out of the garage, it was 5:40.

The concert itself was supposed to start at six. The gates were already open, and the lobby was likely packed with fans desperate to see their favorite idols.

Sakuta and Mai were in no hurry, and they took their time walking along the sidewalk.

They had always planned to slip in at the last second, avoiding attention. The roads had been more crowded than anticipated, but arguably that meant they’d arrived right on schedule.

It being Saturday, Odaiba was filled with pleasure-seekers. The crowd definitely leaned young. Lots of twenty- and thirtysomethings. And many foreign tourists.

Mai was walking next to him. She’d swapped her fake glasses for a hat and mask. She’d worn a cute sweater in the car, but now she had on a baggy jacket, hiding a figure the envy of women everywhere. Neither her expression nor silhouette was anything like the Mai Sakurajima everyone knew. Perhaps for ease of driving, she was wearing skinny slacks down below—so this look really emphasized her long, slender legs, baggy jacket or no. Even in disguise, Mai always managed to project an aura of beauty.

As they crossed a busy intersection, Mai put her arm round Sakuta’s, her fingers lightly resting just above his elbow.

“So you don’t get lost,” she explained.

“I don’t have a phone, so don’t you dare let go.”

It was crowded enough that they had trouble not bumping the pedestrians crossing in the other direction. If he lost Mai here, it was all over.

“You been here before, Sakuta?”

“Nope. Never had a reason to.”

So he didn’t really know where they were going.

Mai seemed to be moving with purpose, so he was following her lead.

“You come here often?”

There was a TV station nearby, so he could see why she’d know the lay of the land.

“Not often, but occasionally. Mostly for work.”

Soon enough, he spotted a large shopping mall up ahead. There was a giant robot standing out front that looked like it was over twenty yards tall. Parts of it were glowing red. Sakuta couldn’t help but gawk.

DiverCity Odaiba didn’t mess around. This place had everything. A regular cornucopia.

“It transforms,” Mai said.

“Seriously?”

That sounded worth seeing, but Mai didn’t even slow down. She pulled him past the robot to the concert venue beyond.

Inside, Mai spotted the reception for staff and friends.

“Go on,” she said, letting go.

“Me?”

“Didn’t Nodoka tell you there’d be two tickets under Azusagawa?”

“She did not.”

Putting the tickets under Mai Sakurajima would likely attract unwanted attention.

Sakuta headed over, and a woman in a suit asked, “May I have your name, please?”

“Azusagawa.”

She checked the list on her table and found his name right away. He could tell from the look in her eyes.

“Here’s two tickets. Head right on in.”

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

He left the desk and rejoined Mai, and they headed farther in.

Down a short passage, they opened the soundproof doors and were in the concert hall itself.

The standing area was already packed to the brim. Even at the back, there was no elbow room. This was still less than two thousand?

They moved along the back wall, finding a tiny pocket to occupy. And as they did, an announcer started reading the rules.

No recording, no climbing onstage, don’t bother those around you, get hype but not too hype, etc.

This concert was a joint one, with four different idol groups performing three or four numbers each. Sweet Bullet was the second group on. He’d heard a man near the reception—likely another concertgoer—say he’d heard there was a secret guest, so there might be one last group.

But the secretest guest was likely Mai herself.

“Any moment now,” she said, checking the time on her phone.

A second later, music started pounding, and the first group ran out onstage.

“Let’s go, Odaiba!”

Six girls in all, dressed all in black, their music rough and powerful.

Not all idol groups were cute, clean-cut, and poppy. There were groups leaning into rock, metal, or punk styles.

Uzuki had said there were thousands of idol groups out there. While many followed the major trends, it stood to reason there’d be some that bucked the vogue. That kind of competition helped create new things and the trends of the future.

Not everyone in the industry had what it took to be the next Mai Sakurajima. Mainstream superstars like her were far and few between.

Sakuta turned to look at her, and she picked up on his attention, looking back at him, her eyes asking, “What?” He shook his head, indicating nothing. She rolled her eyes with a laugh.

Nothing special about that back-and-forth, but it was a happy moment nonetheless.

The first group sang three songs.

Their fans were yelling the names of members, and their cheers reached the stage. The girls waved back and then dashed off.

Once the stage was clear—the lights turned off. Intentionally.

“Ooooh!”

The audience’s anticipation was like a low rumble rising from below.

A moment later, a soft glow lit the stage. The vacant space now filled with the five members of Sweet Bullet, their backs turned to the crowd.

One at a time, they turned around, singing a brief solo. The last to turn was the girl in the center—Uzuki. The song had started with an arrangement of the chorus, but now the main musical riff soared out high.

The fans’ voices echoed over the intro. “Zukki!” “Doka!” “Yanyan!” “Ranran!” “Hotarun!”

But they didn’t want to ruin the song itself, so when the main melody kicked in, they stuck to waving glow sticks, moving with the music just below the stage itself.

The group was boosted by their fans, though it was Uzuki who pulled the group’s vocals along.

Her voice caught each note and captured the emotion behind each lyric, and the rest of the girls followed her lead. She was the core of the act, and it was her performance that brought the song together. Even at concert volume, five voices in harmony felt oddly comfortable.

It had been a solid year since Sakuta had been to a Sweet Bullet concert. During summer the year before, some family business had made Kotomi Kano drop out last minute, and Kaede had forced her ticket into his hands. He hadn’t been back since.

It was clear they’d made dramatic improvements.

All of them were better singers now.

They could really belt it out.

Their choreography had always been polished, but it was even more unified now. From the tallest to the shortest member, all movements were as one, in sync.

That level of polish really caught the eye. It was hard to look away.

Even audience members here for the other groups were sucked in. He could see jaws dropping around him.

But even with this level of magnetism, Uzuki had said they were a long way from the Budokan. They needed five times the fans they had right now.

What more could they do?

He didn’t think Sweet Bullet’s performance power was in any way inferior. They had the skills, so why was their growth stymied? Sakuta was hardly the one to find the answer. If the solution was so easy to figure out, they would’ve already solved it and been onstage at the Budokan now.

As these thoughts were running through his head…

…Sweet Bullet’s flawless concert started to unravel.

At first, it was minor, almost like he was imagining it.

But it felt like Uzuki’s dancing alone was lagging slightly behind.

Maybe that was the intent.

It only became obvious when Uzuki and Nodoka swapped positions. Nodoka’s eyes momentarily looked concerned.

He checked Mai out, and she was frowning.

Something was wrong.

The fans were starting to pick up on it, and the glow sticks grew unsteady.

All eyes turned to Uzuki.

Uzuki kept dancing slightly off the beat, her eyes staring into the distance. Her smile didn’t fade, but she wasn’t looking at the fans.

Sakuta was getting real concerned.

He didn’t know what was going on.

He didn’t know if anything was about to go down.

But at the least, he felt this was objectively not something that could be put down as “in bad form today.”

And that instinct proved right.

As they hit the second chorus, it happened.

Uzuki’s voice broke, like the words caught in her throat.

Her mic caught a rasp. Almost like a grunt of pain.

But Sweet Bullet’s song didn’t stop. Nodoka and the other members took over Uzuki’s solo.

Uzuki was in the middle of them, still holding her mic and singing.

But it didn’t look like her mic was picking up any sound.

“Audio problems?” Mai whispered. But she was clearly worried about something else. The same thing he was.

The first number ended.

All members of Sweet Bullet were facing the crowd in a row.

“Hello, everybody!” Yae Anou said, like nothing was wrong. As expected of the group’s subleader, she easily took command.

“We’re—”

“—Sweet Bullet!”

All members cried as one. But the microphones only picked up four voices.

Uzuki’s was not among them.

She moved her lips, but Sakuta couldn’t make out a thing. He likely wouldn’t have even if he’d been right up front.

Possibly because she was aware of the problem, Yae kept the patter brief, saying, “We’re short on time, so let’s get back to the music! We’ve got two more songs for you!”

Before the next song began, everyone but Uzuki exchanged quick glances.

There was a lot of meaning packed behind each look, a testament to how much time they’d spent together.

Sweet Bullet got through their second and third numbers without major incident.

Like during the first song, Uzuki alone was slightly out of step and clearly just moving her lips—but they showed no signs of canceling the performance.

The whole time they were onstage, they were all bright and shiny like idols should be, smiling away.

As they ran off, the third group took the stage, not letting the hype die down.

Before their first song began, Mai said, “Let’s go.”

And Sakuta followed her out to the hall.

Little noise made it past the soundproof doors. It was like a different world out here.

Like they were back in reality.

They left the building and walked toward the parking garage.

As they crossed the first light, Sakuta forced himself to speak.

“Mai, was that…?”

“I think her voice died.”

He’d wondered as much.

“I doubt we’ll get a reply soon, but I’ll text Nodoka,” she said, and she stepped off the main path. Sakuta stood next to her, Mai’s words echoing through his mind.

 “I think her voice died.”

He wondered what that meant to someone who sang.