Seishun Buta Yarou Series - Volume 10 - Chapter 4.5

5

When he opened the curtains, there were mountainous clouds drifting slowly from west to east.

Every now and then, a patch of blue would show itself. Was it partly cloudy or partly sunny? It could go either way.

“Which way will today’s concert go?”

Sunny? Cloudy? Or would it rain? Was a storm coming?

He’d checked the weather forecast yesterday, and there’d been both a sun and a raindrop. Sunny with a chance of rain—a very summery kind of unpredictability. The man reading the report had bluntly said, “The skies might be clear, but bring an umbrella anyway—this rain might come out of nowhere.”

Sakuta stared up at this indecisive sky through half-lidded eyes.

He clearly hadn’t slept enough and was ready to topple back into bed.

The previous day, he’d worked a shift, met up with Mai, seen a concert, and dealt with the fallout. The hospital visit had made them come home late—but still only just past eleven, so that wasn’t why he hadn’t slept.

The main reason was that the second he stopped in the door, Kaede hit him with a million questions about Uzuki. “Is she okay?!” “What about tomorrow?!” “What did Nodoka say?!” She’d even talked at him through the bathroom door, so it went on for a while.

“How’d you even find out about Zukki’s thing?” he asked.

Kaede hadn’t been at the show.

“There’s articles about it online!”

When he got out of the bath, she showed him her laptop screen. There were several articles about what went down during the show.

It was basically all speculation. Not a single definitive fact. And the headlines were pure clickbait, trying to rile her fans up. They’d made up a story about fighting within the group, baselessly suggested Uzuki might be graduating soon—all just stirring the pot.

Since Uzuki was in the limelight to begin with, it was easy for these articles to draw views. That’s why there were so many covering the same ground. That’s how these people made a living.

“She’ll be fine.”

“Really?”

“I mean…it’s Zukki.”

And she had Nodoka and the other Sweet Bullet members looking out for her. She had her fans. She’d always perked them up, and now they’d do the same for her.

So it was no use anyone else getting depressed.

“Mm, true.”

Kaede must have caught his drift, so she swore to be there for Uzuki even if it rained. That didn’t mean all her worries were gone, but she’d gotten what she needed for now and retired to her room.

Yawning, Sakuta rolled out to the living room—and found Kaede up and ready to head out.

It was after nine AM, and each second took them closer to ten.

“Leaving already?”

The outdoor concert started at one. The venue was on Hakkei Island, so it would only take an hour to get there. He knew she was fired up, but it was a bit too early.

“I’m meeting Komi at Yokohama Station, and we’re getting lunch together.”

With that, Kaede headed for the door.

Sakuta and Nasuno just watched her go.

“Take care!” he called.

“I will!”

The door opened, and she stepped out.

“She’s grown so much,” Sakuta murmured, genuinely touched.

Alone in the house, Sakuta made himself a late breakfast, did the laundry, and cleaned his room. He didn’t leave until eleven thirty.

The trip from Fujisawa to Hakkei Island was almost the same as his college commute. Identical until Kanazawa-hakkei Station.

He could probably have trimmed ten minutes off it by going a different way, but this route meant most of the fare was covered by this train pass.

Even on the same train, the Sunday crowd was totally different. The vibe was super “day off.” Especially once he hit the Keikyu Line—it was all couples and families with kids. They must have been headed out to Misakiguchi. Or stopping at Yokosuka-chuo Station on the way. Maybe even headed for Hakkei Island like Sakuta.

When the train reached Kanazawa-hakkei, quite a few people got off. Including a bunch of people with little kids and young couples. Through the gates, they all made a beeline for the Seaside Line.

Sakuta among them.

The Seaside Line station had originally been a short walk away, but the remodel had made transferring much easier.

Like the name suggested, the train took them on elevated tracks along the coast. This high up, it commanded a view of a wide expanse of ocean.

The windows did their work. While he gazed absently at the water, they stopped at three stations and then arrived at his destination, Hakkei Island.

Just as the stations named Enoshima weren’t on Enoshima, this station wasn’t actually on Hakkei Island.

He left the gates and then the station, following the crowd from his train toward the ocean.

Their eyes were trained on the island ahead and the bridge to it.

Not far now.

Sakuta walked alone, surrounded by couples and families. Mai had work and couldn’t come. It was rare for her to have prolonged time off on weekends—the previous day had been an exception.

Slightly conscious of the looks he was getting, he made it safely across the Kanazawa-hakkei Bridge, reaching the man-made island beyond. With his visit to Odaiba the day before, he was spending a lot of time on reclaimed land this weekend.

The island was covered in aquariums, amusement park attractions, shopping malls, hotels, and an arena—a massive sea-themed leisure facility.

It was on TV a lot, so he’d known it existed, but this was Sakuta’s first time here. When you lived close enough to go somewhere anytime, it was easy to never get around to it. In his mind, this was just one of those places.

But now that he was here, it was bigger than he’d thought.

The vibe was “well-maintained park.” Or maybe theme park, specifically. Since it was October, they had Halloween decorations up, and that certainly added to the latter impression. He followed the signs to the concert venue, heading farther in.

Looking up at the tracks of a huge roller coaster, he passed through the shadow of a building, and the view opened up ahead.

He’d made it to the far side of the island. This was a square with an ocean view, and a lot of people in it.

The stage was set up on one side, and someone was already performing—he didn’t recognize the name.

They were a four-man rock band.

They seemed fairly popular with the ladies—there was a passionate crowd up front.

Looked like today wasn’t all idols.

The next act was a singer-songwriter from Kanagawa. She had a guitar and a harmonica, and her gentle melodies filled the venue with a warm fuzzy atmosphere.

The crowd was quite varied.

Fans here to see a favorite artist mingled with people who just happened to be on Hakkei Island and decided to check out the concert.

It was clear which half was more excited.

The fans were trying to get as close to the stage as possible, while the rest hung out toward the back, halfheartedly clapping. There was another set watching the stage from even farther away.

There was plenty of space to move around. Lots of people going, “There’s a show on?” and giving it a listen. Sakuta was one of them.

While the enthusiasm levels differed, the crowd itself was sizable. Maybe two thousand hyped-up fans by the stage—like the show the day before.

And a solid five or six hundred non-fans.

Kaede and her friend Kotomi Kano must have been out there somewhere, but the crowd was too big to find them. This wasn’t an environment suited to meeting anyone.

“Thank you, Hakkei Island!” the thirtysomething singer-songwriter said. She waved and left the stage.

She was replaced by a young woman—the MC. She approached the edge of the stage, mic in hand.

“Next up is Sweet Bullet!” she cried.

The intro music started, and the group’s members ran out onstage.

Yae Anou, the subleader—she’d been throwing herself into the action on a lot of sports-themed variety shows lately.

Hotaru Okazaki, who’d been getting more TV acting jobs. She’d even had a role opposite Mai.

Behind her was Ranko Nakagou, who’d been working as a pinup model on the side.

Fourth onstage was Nodoka Toyohama, blond hair sparkling.

That was all.

There were five members in Sweet Bullet, but the fifth was not here.

The fans up front naturally spotted Uzuki Hirokawa’s absence. A ripple shot through the crowd. Anxious whispers.

As if trying to blow that all away, Sweet Bullet began belting out their number.

No mention of Uzuki’s absence, performing like they always did, all smiles for the fans.

High-energy, crisply choreographed routines.

Vocals that soared even on an outdoor stage.

The stage itself was a bit wide for the four of them, but that didn’t mean they looked small.

And the fans responded to their energy. They yelled, clapped, and jumped with them. A few drops of rain fell, but nobody cared. It might’ve even heightened the energy.

They blasted through the first song without letting the hype fade.

Hair wet, drops glistening on their necks—and not all from the rain.

Panting, they paused to catch their breath.

Without anyone calling for silence, a hush settled over the crowd.

Everyone gulped, waiting to see if Sweet Bullet would address the missing member.

The only sound was the soft patter of the rain.

“Hello, everyone!” Yae cried. “We are—”

“—Sweet Bullet!”

All four voices in harmony, their standard greeting.

“Wait, aren’t there supposed to be more of us?” Hotaru asked, using her baby face to full advantage.

“Er, are we going there?” Nodoka scoffed.

“It’s hard singing Zukki’s parts!” Ranko grumbled.

The crowd was laughing.

“So where is she?” Hotaru asked, taking the lead again.

“Look, the crowd’s accepted it—just move along!” Nodoka hissed. Another laugh.

“Zukki’s parts are hard!” Ranko said, evidently not done griping.

“I’m on half of them! I know! Yae, don’t just stand there—do your thing.”

Nodoka was clearly over this and blaming their subleader.

The whole riff felt incredibly natural. The fans came to their shows to see them banter like this.

“Don’t worry,” Yae said, turning to the crowd.

All eyes focused on her.

“Uzuki will come back to us!” she cried. “For now—we sing!”

With that, their second number cranked up.

It was one of their standards, a song that always got the crowd jumping.

With the fans’ enthusiasm secured, everyone meshed perfectly with the routine onstage.

A couple from the “There’s a show on?” crowd near Sakuta were whispering.

“Wow, that’s crazy.”

“Mm.”

And wincing at each other. The idol fans were a bit too excited for them. But they weren’t moving away. Their eyes stayed on the stage, interested. Curious. And they weren’t the only ones.

As it went from the second verse to the chorus, the fans got even wilder. And the rain started falling harder. It was getting to the point where Sakuta wanted an umbrella.

Sakuta glanced up at the sky and saw dark clouds overhead. It had been blue skies a moment ago, and he could actually still see it in the distance. Like the weather report had said, random clouds had suddenly shown up and had brought random shifts in weather.

No telling what a few minutes from now would bring.

But once this song ended, Sweet Bullet had only one last number, and they’d be done. Their slot was only three songs long.

And this song only had the final chorus left.

They should wrap up fine.

But even as he thought that, there was a crack.

Every light onstage went out.

A wave of surprise ran through the crowd, crashing up against him.

The idols’ eyes went up, glancing at the lights.

The music had stopped, too. The mics weren’t picking up their voices. The speakers were dead.

Everyone got real quiet. The whole venue went still.

Electric problems? Power was dead all over the venue. The rain was the most likely cause…

…but that left the four idols stranded. Just standing there onstage.

A murmur ran across the room.

A man ran out of the wings in a staff uniform. He was holding a megaphone.

“We’re looking into the issue!” he called. “Please bear with us.”

He simply announced a pause in the show and then left again.

Someone ran bench coats out to the girls onstage to keep them warm. Not sure what else to do, they put them on.

This was dire.

Obviously for the fans, but also for everyone in Sweet Bullet.

They’d wanted so much to pull this concert off without Uzuki here.

That emotion had driven them onto that stage.

And having those hopes dashed like this was a serious blow.

And that’s likely why they stayed onstage even when the staff urged them off. They wanted to finish. Wanted to keep going. And that kept them where they were.

But despite what they wanted, the concert was at a standstill, and part of the crowd was starting to drift away. Especially those at the back, who’d just happened across the show.

The rain was falling harder. Sakuta really wished he had an umbrella. He pulled up his hood, trying to make do.

Even the crowd at the front was starting to crumble away, wanting to get out of the rain. One or two at a time, little clusters peeling off. With no telling when the show would start back up, they must have decided to seek refuge.

And from up onstage, that was all too easy to see.

He could see the members of Sweet Bullet and their pursed lips, visibly frustrated by their lack of options.

More and more people were leaving the front of the stage. But the thinning crowd helped him spot someone in their midst.

The reason he was here today. The person he’d come here for.

Uzuki was standing there, in a gap in the crowd.

She had a baseball cap on and a hood pulled over that.

Her eyes were boring into the stage, looking more worried than anyone else present.

Sakuta had figured she’d be here. Even he’d been concerned enough about this show to make his way here—no way she’d stay home.

He moved slowly over to her and stood by her side.

“You come to these shows often?” he asked. Like he didn’t know her.

“……”

Uzuki’s eyes glanced his way. But with no voice, she soon turned them back to the stage.

“I won’t tell anyone.”

“……?”

“Even if you talk to me.”

“……”

Her expression didn’t change. She showed neither surprise nor confusion. Didn’t insist she’d lost her voice.

This was the truth.

“You knew I was lying?”

“Liars are good at spotting other liars.”

He’d first suspected at the hospital. She’d just seemed far too calm. She hadn’t been at all emotional—and that had seemed unnatural. It was like she was hiding something—and in that situation, Uzuki had only one thing to hide.

“And you’re a liar, Sakuta.”

“Yeah, we’re both weasels.”

“That’s mean to weasels.”

“They’re magnanimous creatures.”

“Are they?”

Uzuki let out a little laugh, like she was trying to jump-start her feelings. Their banter trailed off, and there was a short silence.

She was the first to break it.

“I really did lose my voice during the show,” she said, making excuses. “Though I suppose you won’t believe that.”

Uzuki shot him a nervous glance.

“I believe you. I was there.”

That had not been acting. Sakuta had read that as a shock to everyone.

“You were in the back, right?”

“You saw me?”

“You can see a lot from up onstage.”

“Then they’ve probably spotted us.”

Sakuta looked up at stage, where Sweet Bullet was still gamely waiting.

“…Yeah.”

Uzuki mustered an awkward smile.

The constant downpour was drenching her hoodie.

“I come to every concert.”

“……?”

“Your first question.”

“Oh.”

“I was at the first Sweet Bullet concert, and I’ve never missed one, no matter how small the venue.”

She spoke softly.

“Have they had problems like this before?”

He matched her pretense, acting like she was just a fan. He was the one who’d started that, after all.

“Yeah. Not on a stage this big, but they’ve had speakers die before.”

“How’d they handle it?”

“Kept singing without mics. At least, their center did.”

Even as Uzuki spoke…

…Sweet Bullet began ditching their bench coats.

The stage was pretty far from here, but he saw them make eye contact and take a deep breath in unison. A moment later, four voices rang out in harmony.

No accompaniment.

Nothing blaring through the speakers.

Their mics weren’t picking up a thing, and the rain itself was getting pretty loud. The patter on clothes and pavement was very noticeable.

But the four idols lined up onstage, singing together.

Where Sakuta and Uzuki stood, they could only just make it out.

A barely audible song.

But that was enough to get the mood changing.

Someone near the front started clapping. With each clap, more people joined in, spreading backward through the crowd.

Parts of the crowd that had been on their way out stopped. Half-confused, half-curious—and they stayed put, watching the girls onstage and the fans.

It was hardly a flawless performance. They’d abandoned the idea of dancing, focusing on the song alone, making it sound more like a ballad.

The ring of applause reached Sakuta and Uzuki. A sense of unity beyond idols, fans, or any other labels.

But even this could not stop the crowd’s exodus entirely. Half the audience was gone.

And more were still leaving.

Behind Sakuta and Uzuki, people were muttering.

“So she never showed up?”

“This is dumb. Let’s go.”

They turned and walked away. And they weren’t alone. Audience members who’d just happened to be here didn’t care what Sweet Bullet was going through.

They’d only stopped to watch because the girl from the commercial might show up.

And if she wasn’t, they were outta here. Plain and simple.

“That’s our reality,” Uzuki whispered.

But she spoke loud enough that he could hear.

“They all poured their hearts out, but that’s not getting ten thousand hands clapping.”

There were maybe six hundred people left.

“They’ve got the power.”

“Yeah. It was a good concert.”

Nothing rang false about that line.

“Then why hang around back here? Go on up.”

Uzuki’s voice was working fine. She could sing, too.

“I don’t have the right.”

“You’re a member of Sweet Bullet. Their leader. Their center.”

“I’m just like them.”

She clearly meant the people who’d scoffed and moved away. Sakuta looked over his shoulder, but they were long gone.

“I’ve got that voice in me. Part of me’s laughing at them for working so hard on a dream they’ll…never realize.”

“……”

“And now that I know that, I can’t go up there with them.”

She wasn’t lamenting this or openly grieving. It was just a statement of fact. Her eyes were locked on the stage, with only a hint of wistfulness.

The previous day, when she’d asked the others if they could make it to the Budokan, she’d almost certainly used this tone of voice. Distant, objectively assessing the reality.

This was the only way she could address it. Sakuta glanced at her profile, and she looked lost.

 “They laughed at me, too?”

She’d learned the truth that day.

If that had been all there was to it, Uzuki wouldn’t be here, staring up at the stage.

There was something else she’d noticed.

She’d understood why people had laughed at her.

Because she’d learned to read the room.

She’d learned to recognize sarcasm and spite.

And found herself divided between what she said and what she meant, mocking others behind their backs.

But what of it?

That was just what people do.

Everyone feels like that.

Everyone does it.

So…

“Toyohama gets it.”

“……?”

“She knows she’s an unsuccessful idol.”

“……”

“And she’s well aware that people make fun of her for it.”

But she was still up there onstage, singing her heart out.

“I bet the others do, too.”

And they kept singing.

“They know that at this rate, they’ll never make it to the Budokan.”

“……?!”

“They know the deal.”

“…So, what?” Uzuki’s voice shook.

“Are you seriously asking that?”

“……”

“This one’s so easy even I can figure it out.”

He knew Uzuki got it. She’d spent enough time with the others, worked as hard as they had, been on the same stages. No matter how small their crowds, no matter how many people passed them by, they’d all put in the work together.

He figured she knew better than anyone. She should’ve known it in her bones.

Nobody knew how those girls onstage felt better than Uzuki herself.

“What…am I supposed to do?”

The song was entering the second chorus. There wasn’t much left.

“Read the room, Zukki.”

That was all Sakuta could really say.

Uzuki’s head went up, and she looked at him. Faintly surprised. Tears welled up, but she quickly wiped them away and turned back to the stage.

That was the Uzuki Hirokawa he knew.

She threw back the hood.

Tossed him her baseball cap.

Let her long hair spill down her back.

The second chorus was already over.

The audience was clapping out the vocal-less interlude, and Sweet Bullet was humming over it.

Before the final chorus was the bridge—which was always Uzuki’s solo.

Even in the real version, this was a quiet beat, accompanied only by a piano.

Fans who knew Sweet Bullet’s music knew to stop clapping just before the bridge began.

It was so they could focus on her voice.

A hush fell. The rain wept. Uzuki took a breath.

And her voice rang out.

Every eye in the place swung around and found her in the crowd.

The girls onstage were looking their way—at Uzuki.

She took a step forward, then another. Without anyone saying a word, the crowd before the stage parted, forming an aisle for her.

Uzuki strode down the center of it.

Singing and dancing.

As the bridge ended, she was right below the stage itself.

“Zukki!”

Four voices cried together.

“Zukki!”

The crowd called in response.

“Come on!” Yae yelled, and they put their hands together and pulled her up onstage.

A ray of light pierced the clouds. Like a ladder rolling down from above. It lit the sea, the crowd, and the stage.

Like a spotlight from heaven.

There was a screech, and the speakers came back on. Everyone realized the power was live again.

Someone handed Uzuki a spare mic, and all five gathered at the center of the stage before they sang out the final chorus together.

The fans cheered. A standing ovation.

In the center of that jubilation, Sweet Bullet shed tears…and smiled.