Visual kei is born from glam rock and alternative rock, with a theatrical twist shaped by local culture in Japan. It's all about the styling. If the artist isn't attractive, the result can resemble a chaotic cosplay convention or even veer into something like Shamate. But if the artist is stunning—like Hyde, Atsushi Sakurai, or Yoshiki Hayashi—they can take your breath away.
Veteran manager Lao Qian and the stylist handed Chu Zhi an outrageously dramatic stage outfit.
"We can't afford to lose in style," Lao Qian said seriously.
When the day of the Fuji Rock Festival finally arrived, the snowy slopes of the Naeba Ski Resort transformed into a battleground. Chu Zhi scanned the crowd. Most attendees looked like low-budget punk rejects. Truly good-looking visual kei artists were rare. No wonder Koguchi Yoshihiro didn't pay this event much attention.
"In the top ten Asian rock bands, at least eight are Japanese," explained Zheng Huo, a seasoned musician, mostly for Chu Zhi's benefit—it was his first time at the festival.
"See over there? That's Higuchi Hanato, Asia's number-one guitarist. He's one of only two Asian guitarists in the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. His sword-strike picking style has been mimicked by many Western artists."
"Japan is famous for visual kei, but their heavy metal and death rock scenes are solid too."
Higuchi Hanato stood nearby, sharp and energetic despite being well into his sixties. He wouldn't perform, but he remained an iconic figure.
Zheng Huo gazed at the elder guitarist, his eyes reflecting a hint of envy. His own name held weight in Chinese rock, but his greatest regret was that Chinese rock had never broken through internationally.
The two Asian bands permanently enshrined in the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame? Both Japanese.
"Chinese rock's future depends on you all," Zheng Huo said, turning his gaze back to the group. His words came out of nowhere.
The others—Liao Yiwu and the rest—didn't quite catch his meaning. Someone responded politely, "We've got a long way to go before we can match your stage presence, Zheng-ge."
Chu Zhi understood. The Rock and Roll Hall of Fame may be an American institution—its selection doesn't define a band's strength—but being honored in the birthplace of rock? That meant something.
"Brother Jiu, did you prepare a new setlist?" Wu Xi asked casually, using the affectionate nickname.
"Yeah, I've got a few new songs." Chu Zhi turned the conversation. "What's our longest win streak on this stage format?"
"Five rounds. Zheng-ge holds that record from five years ago. I managed four," Wu Xi said, a little proud.
"But the all-time record at this festival is eight rounds," he added, his tone dimming. "There are too many strong bands here. No one has ever won nine."
According to the rules, if a band wins nine consecutive rounds, their name is permanently engraved on the arena. In over twenty years, no one had done it.
"Nine rounds, huh..." Chu Zhi ran a mental calculation. That was a tough mountain to climb.
As more rock musicians from across the world arrived, the venue's energy surged like a microwave timer ticking upward. The heat built slowly, but steadily.
Fans and performers alike began to stir, each contributing to the growing anticipation.
"The Sex Gun is here!"
"Pattern 14 is god-tier!"
"God himself said today belongs to 14!"
"Look! A real prince's ride!"
"Is Granddad Zheng performing today?"
The show hadn't even started, yet the fans' multilingual shouting filled the air like thunder. The energy was electric, deafening.
Musicians eyed one another across the venue. When their gazes met, sparks seemed to fly. Sometimes they didn't need words—just a glance was enough to declare rivalry.
"Are you taking the main stage today?" asked the captain of Pain Flower, his large eyes fixed on the Japanese band Pattern 14.
Pattern 14 was a visual and art-rock band known for performing in full medieval noble attire. Last year, Pain Flower had been crushed by them. Refusing to back down, the captain approached them again.
"Of course," replied Pattern 14's leader and vocalist, Heptagon. "Ready to break your stones again?"
No threats, just confidence. The Pain Flower captain turned and walked away without a word, determined to let his music speak for him.
Even after he left, Heptagon kept staring.
"What are you looking at, Captain?" asked Triangle, the band's guitarist. All of Pattern 14 used geometric stage names—Heptagon, Triangle, Square, Pentagram, Trapezoid.
"That pretty boy. Chu Zhi looks like he was born for visual kei," Heptagon replied, squinting toward their target like a shady spy.
Triangle, so named for his sharp canine tooth, followed his gaze and spotted Chu Zhi—already something of a legend in international music circles.
"I like his albums too," Triangle admitted.
The entire band turned to stare at Chu Zhi.
From Pain Flower's vantage point, it looked like the gaze was aimed at them. Naturally, Big Eyes—their captain—thought he was the one being challenged.
Feeling the heat, he grinned. Good. Let them feel the pressure. They'd been preparing for this for over a year.
And Chu Zhi? He didn't even notice. He was used to being watched. Instead, he was deep in discussion with Wu Xi, gathering more intel.
The venue layout featured nine ring-shaped zones, arranged in a 3x3 grid. The central stage was surrounded by eight others. Each stage had signs in both Japanese and English:
Pop (Art)
Visual Kei (Glam)
Metal (Emo Hardcore)
Celtic (Mountain)
Punk (Blues)
Brit Rock (Post-Garage)
Indie (Acid)
Neo-Punk (Death)
Alt (Trash)
Rock hadn't existed for a full century, yet it had already split into countless subgenres. These signs only showed part of the picture—there were still many missing.
No stage was labeled "Progressive Rock," for instance. That genre didn't have enough prominent Asian bands to justify a dedicated space.
And of course, bands didn't stick to just one style. Take Queen for example: their music spanned art rock, glam, psychedelic, theatrical—you name it. Here, artists could choose whatever stage they felt matched their vibe. Even if you played pop and snuck into a metal arena, as long as you could handle the jeers, no one would stop you.
The Fuji Rock Festival organizers were fearless, leaning hard into a theme of chaos and freedom.
"Based on previous years, Stage 3 [Pop (Art)], Stage 7 [Visual Kei (Glam)], and Stage 8 [Metal (Emo Hardcore)] usually draw the biggest crowds," said Lao Qian.
"Why didn't Boss announce his participation beforehand?" asked Old Gou, the makeup artist. "Even if you don't count the Chinese fans, just the Japanese fans alone would give him a massive showing."
"I think Jiu-yé didn't want his fanbase to skew the atmosphere," Lao Qian guessed. "This might be Asia's biggest outdoor music fest, but it caps at forty thousand attendees. If Little Fruits bought tickets, they could probably take up thirty thousand spots. What's the point of competing then?"
"Ah, I see," Old Gou nodded. "Still… won't he be at a disadvantage with no fan support, especially in this challenge format?"
"Disadvantage?" Lao Qian scoffed. He was as confident in Chu Zhi's stage skills as he was in his own prowess in bed.
"Jiu-yé never loses when he holds a mic. The world belongs to him once he steps on stage."
They waited in a rented van outside. There were no resting rooms at this festival—that was the only real downside. It meant wardrobe changes had to be handled carefully and discreetly.
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Visual Kei (ヴィジュアル系, vijuaru kei), a Japanese rock movement influenced by glam rock and known for elaborate visuals and performances.
Shamate (杀马特): A subculture in China characterized by over-the-top hairstyles and rebellious aesthetics.