Learning music isn't cheap, but if you get good at it, the money can roll in.
Even for a small, no-name band, a single gig can net each member around 10,000 yen. But not just anyone can pull that off.
To put it simply, it's a bit like running a renovation business. Each job pays well, but you don't get gigs every day. Landing one requires not just skill but also a reputation and connections.
Compared to fame, connections are clearly more crucial. For small bands playing gigs, fame is really just a means to build more connections, which lead to more performances and, ultimately, more money.
"Risa's incredible, isn't she? Snagging a commercial gig during Heavy Gunners' slot! This one job is worth almost two of our old nightclub gigs!"
"I know, right? I heard her dad's some big-shot businessman—gets picked up from school in a fancy car and everything. Her mom's a professor at Tokyo University of the Arts, and her grandma's a music department professor. Calling it a scholarly dynasty isn't even a stretch. How else could a high schooler convince a veteran like Teacher Kawagen to write songs for us? Man, it's like something out of an anime—a rich transfer student! We're gonna make it big!"
At the hotel's back door, a gal in a JK uniform with dyed blonde hair squatted, puffing on a cigarette, her face brimming with ambition.
The prospect of making money had the quieter girl next to her buzzing with excitement too. But soon, she lowered her head, a bit embarrassed. "Yeah, but… I think I just saw Aoi. She's probably feeling awful today. It's her eighteenth birthday."
"…"
Her words hung in the air, silencing the blonde gal. The other light music club members, packing up their instruments to leave, fell quiet too.
After a long pause, the blonde gal stomped out her cigarette, frowning and shaking her head in frustration. "Yeah, Aoi's been good to us. These past two years, if it wasn't for her, we wouldn't have made this much money. I probably would've quit music ages ago. But Saki, we're not kids anymore!
What if Aoi goes deaf? What if we can't find someone as capable and connected as Risa to take her place? We've fallen so far behind in our regular studies. Do you think we can just take the college entrance exams like everyone else and get into a decent school? And if we keep going down the music path, you know what kind of life those no-name bands live!"
Music, like soccer, is a brutal game—one star rises on the backs of countless failures.
It sounds grand, "one star rises on the backs of countless failures," because people love imagining themselves as the star. But in reality, most ordinary folks without connections aren't the star—they're the countless failures crushed beneath.
The top dogs rake in the cash. Everyone else? Ninety-nine percent of regular people end up living in dingy basements, scraping by on discounted food, cannon fodder for the industry.
Silence. Every member of the light music club stood frozen.
The blonde gal, Mumei, ran a frustrated hand through her ponytail, a fierce glint in her eyes as she scanned the group. "On Monday, I'll give Aoi some money—for her surgery, as a gesture of thanks for leading me to music these past two years. But after that, I, Mumei, am moving forward for my own future!"
Her declaration echoed in the quiet alley behind the kitchen door. The club members, who owed so much to Izumi Aoi, bowed their heads. No one argued.
Sensing the mood, Mumei's eyes flickered with relief. After all, she was the one who'd asked Izumi Aoi to step aside, citing her "ear problems" and asking her to let Risa lead the club to greater heights. It was a calculated move to let Risa join without guilt.
If Saki and the others stirred up trouble out of pity for Aoi and Risa learned the truth, things could get messy.
Good thing that didn't happen.
Mumei let out a breath, her gaze firming. She slung her guitar over her shoulder, ready to head back into the restaurant to grab Risa. But as she opened the door, a familiar voice flooded her ears.
"I once thought of ending it all."
"Because apricot flowers bloomed on my birthday."
"If I napped in the sunlight spilling through those trees,"
"Could I turn to dust alongside the husks of dead insects?"
Aoi?!
That voice—unmistakably familiar!
Mumei's pupils shrank. She shoved through the crowd, racing to the side of the stage. The other club members followed, drawn by the sound. When they reached the stage's edge, the sight before them left them stunned.
"How…?"
Onstage, Izumi Aoi sang softly, her voice low. Mumei's mind flashed back to their first year together, to Aoi's birthday.
"Why form a band instead of going solo? Because, me? If I didn't have trustworthy friends backing me up, I'd probably get so nervous on stage I'd sing off-key."
That day, the sunlight was warm, and Aoi's smile was even warmer. Mumei knew it wasn't just Aoi comforting her, the "weak link" of the group. Aoi was genuinely the type to get cripplingly nervous in unfamiliar settings.
It was something the whole club knew. Once, when they missed a train and Aoi had to perform with random guitarists and drummers, she was so off-key from nerves that the venue owner chewed them out. Aoi ended up a teary mess, sobbing pitifully.
After that, they always arrived early for gigs.
"She's not nervous?!" Mumei muttered, then corrected herself. "No, no, she is nervous, but she's holding it together!"
She caught the faint tremor in Aoi's voice, saw the slight shake in her lowered left hand. Mumei's eyes narrowed.
Nervousness grows like a snowball.
It's like walking back to your room from the bathroom at night. At first, it's just a twinge of fear, but it builds until you're sprinting in panic.
"Her voice is starting to waver!"
Hearing the cracks in Aoi's singing, Mumei's expression grew complex. There was worry for her old friend, but also… a twisted glee. "Why is it always you who's the most popular wherever we go? Why does everyone listen to you? Now you're finally slipping, aren't you?"