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Chapter 110: Be Prepared to Face the Wind
🕑 Added 2025-08-23 15:51:44 +0000 UTCBefore Fireworks hit theaters and Uchiage Hanabi was fully unveiled, despite Ghost Elements (Ges) fans continuing their harsh criticisms of Kessoku Band.
Those who wanted to defend Kessoku Band didn’t actually have much to argue with.
First, Kita Ikuyo had once performed Loser—a song completely unsuited to her voice before she had any formal vocal training, and it didn’t land well.
That much was undeniable, and the internet had seen it with their own eyes.
Now, with her once again serving as lead vocalist for Uchiage Hanabi, many were understandably skeptical.
They hadn't heard the song yet. How could they trust it?
Second, while Kessoku Band’s instrumental skills were roughly on par with Ges at the time, comparing them to their own member Aoki Kei made the gap in ability quite evident.
In short, while many genuinely supported Kessoku Band from the heart, they didn’t have enough concrete ammunition to win a debate—until now.
Everything changed the moment Uchiage Hanabi debuted alongside Fireworks in theaters.
Even though the song hadn’t been officially released on music platforms yet, anyone who had seen the movie—or even just watched the official MV—had already heard it.
And the impact was undeniable. It was a song worthy of being called “Song of the Year.”
And with that, people also began to realize just how much Kessoku Band had grown.
The difference between this version of them and the one that sang Loser was staggering—and the difference between them and Ges? Even more so.
All the old criticisms—"no effort," "ill-fitting vocals," "wrong band for Fireworks"—now bounced back like boomerangs. And they hit Ges and its fans squarely in the face.
It didn’t take long for the tide to turn.
Within two hours of Fireworks hitting theaters, Ges’s official Twitter—especially their most recent "apology statement"—was completely overrun with mockery.
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“This is the band you doubted? From Loser to Uchiage Hanabi in barely a month. And you, Nagao Ryota, think you're qualified to judge them?”
“If I remember correctly, Kessoku Band already beat you once at the PVC contest.
You got second place with a song that wasn’t even your own, and you still had the nerve to question the first-place winners? The internet doesn’t forget...”
“Even a well-known critic like ‘Whiskey in a Glass’ called Uchiage Hanabi the one thing that saved Fireworks—and PVC, Japan’s biggest label, said it’s a contender for Song of the Year.
Their only concern? That suki-san’s other songs might also win. And you know what they said about Ges? ‘No real skill, undeserving of their position.’ Hilarious.”
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Among the sarcastic comments, many genuine fans also chimed in—especially those who had just discovered Kessoku Band today and didn’t realize the band had no official Twitter account.
So they flooded Ges’s replies instead:
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“Uchiage Hanabi is amazing! The lead vocalist’s voice is so emotional and beautiful. When’s the next song dropping? 😭😭”
“suki-san is still killing it. I heard he played piano for this one. Man’s a genius.”
“Been following closely—still no face reveal from suki-san, and the rest of the band remains a mystery.
All we know is the lead singer this time is a girl. But I heard there’ll be a live performance and a radio appearance soon? Can’t wait!”
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Though many of these comments were clearly intended to praise Kessoku Band, they were now being posted under Ges’s tweets, giving them an extra edge of mockery.
As for Ges’s fans?
Maybe it was guilt.
Maybe it was because they’d completely lost the high ground. But they went silent.
The few who tried to fight back with half-hearted rebuttals were quickly mocked into silence.
Beyond that, nothing.
Ges’s fanbase had gone completely quiet.
But unlike their fans, the band itself couldn’t just disappear.
Around noon, right after hearing Uchiage Hanabi, Nagao Ryota—the leader of Ges fully understood.
It was over.
Their pretty-boy band, propped up by industry connections and hype, was finished.
Unlike Kessoku Band, which had built itself from the ground up, slowly growing closer as a unit, Ges was a manufactured group—assembled by corporate interests.
Held together only by money, and made up of individuals who only cared about their own gain.
There was no real harmony within the band. No shared dream. Just cold calculations.
And the decision to launch an online smear campaign against suki-san?
That had been Ryota’s idea alone.
But it was also true: the rest of the band hadn’t objected.
Now that Ghost Elements was suffering the backlash from their own actions, the other band members were quick to do what anyone would expect—they needed someone to take the fall.
And so—
Without paying attention to the growing chaos online, Ryota, cornered by his own "teammates," clung to a last shred of hope and called the team leader at the company.
It rang for nearly a full minute before someone finally picked up.
But before Ryota could say a single word, the voice on the other end cut in first—cold and emotionless, like a line read from a corporate script.
“Ryota, I already know why you're calling. But if you’re hoping for PR help, forget it.”
“This time, you guys were in the wrong. As fellow musicians chasing their dreams.
You should’ve known better than to launch that kind of baseless attack on Kessoku Band, And you definitely shouldn’t have stood by while your fans harassed other artists.”
“The higher-ups have already discussed it. For now, the decision is to withdraw additional resources from your group.
You’re on your own for a while. Hopefully, you’ll use this as a chance to reflect and come back with better work.”
Without even pausing for a reply, the line went dead.
Ryota sat there, stunned.
The entire smear campaign? That had originally been the company’s idea. Ghost Elements just played along and kicked them while they were down.
But now, the blame was being pinned squarely on the band.
Even the apology letter had been written by the company’s PR team—it had little to do with them personally.
And as for “withdrawing resources”...
Ghost Elements didn’t produce their own music.
Without backing, it wasn’t just about losing promotion or exposure. It meant something far simpler—and far more brutal:
They were being shelved.
And worst of all, the company hadn’t said for how long.
Ryota sat in a daze, the weight of it finally settling in.
Slowly, it all clicked.
His face drained of color.
He tucked his phone away and looked up—only to see the other members of the band staring silently at him.
He regretted it. He regretted ever trying to ride suki-san’s coattails for clout.
But deeper than regret was bitterness—bitterness that, once again, luck had chosen suki-san’s side.
They’d almost crushed him with the tide of public opinion... so how had he turned around and dropped something like “She Once Lived”?
Jealousy. Regret. Resentment.
His thoughts spiraled.
His pale face flushed into a dark, stormy shade.
Swallowing hard, seething with frustration, Ryota finally exploded:
“What are you looking at, huh? Look all you want! The company just—dropped Ghost Elements!”
