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Chapter 98: The Escalating Public Backlash
🕑 Added 2025-08-18 15:35:18 +0000 UTCBy the time Aoki arrived at the livehouse, it was exactly 2 p.m.—not a minute early or late.
Pushing open the door and stepping inside, he found the others had already arrived, just like always.
The girls of the band had beaten him there.
The manager of STARRY, Ijichi Seika, didn’t seem particularly busy today and was also present in the venue.
With a while still to go before opening hours, the place was quiet, save for the occasional sounds of instruments being practiced.
But due to the growing wave of online criticism, the atmosphere inside STARRY felt anything but relaxed.
The buzz on social media was impossible to ignore.
For the girls of Kessoku Band—facing a public scandal for the first time—it was clearly weighing heavily on their minds.
None of them could just shrug it off and focus solely on the music.
Aoki understood how they felt. But even knowing that, he still didn’t know how to comfort them.
"Don’t let it get to you."
"It’s just online noise."
"Focus on doing your best..."
He’d already said these things—multiple times.
Repeating them wasn’t going to help much, and it certainly wouldn’t make the controversy disappear.
Right now, the best thing he could do was put together a solid plan, and fast.
The sooner he could steer Kessoku Band out of the crosshairs of public opinion, the better.
As for the girls, even though they were clearly affected by the situation, they understood something else as well: sitting around in a cloud of gloom wouldn’t solve anything.
They had about two weeks left before recording for Uchiage Hanabi would begin.
That might sound like plenty of time, but for the current state of the band, fourteen days felt barely enough.
So, despite the low mood, practice began.
It had been four or five days since Kita Ikuyo’s fever and hospital visit.
Now that she was back to practicing, she seemed to be doing much better—probably because she’d taken the time to properly recover.
Ever since Aoki first introduced Uchiage Hanabi to them, the band had been rehearsing it nonstop.
They could now perform the song without any major mistakes.
In the remaining two weeks, the goal was to polish the finer details: ironing out potential slip-ups and improving overall coordination between the members to make their performance even more seamless.
The vibe might have been heavy, but the actual practice went smoothly.
After a brief break, they continued rehearsing until around 5 p.m., as usual.
Gotou Hitori had to leave early due to family matters. Ryou and Kita followed shortly after, heading out once practice wrapped up.
Nijika stayed behind to help around the shop.
And Aoki—since he didn’t need to rush home for dinner and was planning to give Kita another private lesson later—also decided to stick around.
Nijika left the studio first to help tidy up.
With time to spare, Aoki stayed behind to squeeze in a bit more practice on the electric piano.
Even if the improvement was marginal, he figured it was worth it.
It was around 5:20 when he stopped.
After running through Uchiage Hanabi a few more times, he stepped out of the recording room and into STARRY’s main hall.
He’d planned to say goodbye to Nijika before stepping out for a while, but she was nowhere in sight—probably off busy with something else.
Ijichi Seika, however, was seated behind the bar, working at her laptop.
With opening time approaching, she was focused, typing away.
Aoki hesitated for a moment, considering whether or not to interrupt.
He approached the bar, just about to speak—when Seika beat him to it.
Her fingers paused on the keyboard, and her gaze met his.
“Aoki,” she said bluntly, “can you really handle the backlash your band is getting online?”
She didn’t dance around the issue.
Seika had been keeping an eye on the situation.
She hadn’t brought it up to the girls—didn’t want to pile on the stress when they were already struggling to process it.
But Aoki was different.
She might not know much about his past, but she understood his mindset well enough.
Since the day he joined Kessoku Band, Aoki had been working with a clear vision in mind—guiding the group step by step toward becoming professional musicians.
And someone with that kind of ambition would’ve already expected this sort of “smear campaign” to happen eventually.
That’s why she felt comfortable confronting him directly.
As Nijika’s older sister, and as the manager who’d watched Kessoku Band grow from day one, Seika couldn’t pretend not to be concerned.
She knew exactly how bad things had gotten online—and what was at stake for the band.
Although she didn't say it out loud, Ijichi Seika couldn’t help but worry deep down—what if this situation spiraled out of control and left Kessoku Band in shambles?
Her fingers stopped tapping the keyboard after asking the question, and she looked directly at Aoki, quietly waiting for his answer.
Aoki blinked in surprise for a moment, then quickly understood.
Of course the manager would be worried. In fact, if she hadn’t asked about it, that would’ve been even more suspicious.
And the question she posed— “Can you handle the controversy surrounding the band?”
Ever since Ghost Elements publicly questioned whether his music was just a product of corporate backing, the buzz online had only intensified.
Discussions snowballed, and even some media outlets had started to chime in.
Honestly, if you asked Aoki whether he could “perfectly” handle the situation—he wouldn’t dare say yes.
There were too many unpredictable variables that could influence public opinion.
One small incident could trigger an entire chain reaction.
But if the question was whether he had a plan or not—
He did.
Even before visiting Kita’s house, Aoki had started brainstorming how to respond to the swirling rumors.
Back then, the idea hadn’t taken full shape, and he’d never expected things to blow up quite this much.
Now, though…
The plan still wasn’t perfect, but after several days of serious thought, he could at least give one clear answer.
Looking at Seika behind the bar, Aoki spoke calmly:
“Don’t worry. I’ve got this.”
Ijichi Seika narrowed her eyes slightly, watching him closely, trying to detect even the slightest hint of doubt in his expression.
But Aoki’s response was firm. Too firm.
She let out a breath like a sigh, lowering her gaze for a moment, but quickly looked back up.
This time, she changed the subject.
Her voice carried an unfamiliar hesitation—as though she was talking to herself, but still clearly addressing him:
“Do you think… maybe it’s too early to let the girls face this kind of pressure?”
Aoki fell silent.
It wasn’t the first time he’d asked himself that question.
When Kessoku Band first stepped onto a live stage.
When he joined the band and stood under the glow of neon with Nijika, hearing her say, “I want to achieve something together with you, senpai.”
When his poor decisions caused Kita to hesitate and doubt herself.
When they accepted the collaboration for “Fireworks” and things at home began to clash with the band’s obligations...
“Is it too soon for these girls to bear this kind of weight?”
He had asked himself that so many times.
But—strangely—not this time.
Not now, with the band engulfed by online backlash.
Still looking at Seika, he finally smiled, then said:
“They practiced like crazy just to improve even a little, losing sleep to rehearse over and over again—just so they wouldn’t let their bandmates down.”
“I’ve wondered before if they were ready for all this. Honestly, I still don’t have a definite answer.”
“But this? The public backlash? That’s different.”
“Maybe it’s because of me. Maybe it’s the industry. Maybe it’s that ridiculous Ghost Elements band…”
“Even if people go online and say, ‘Aoki is a musical fraud who tricked the world’—I don’t care.”
“But these rumors shouldn’t involve the girls of Kessoku Band.”
“The dream of going pro was mine. Any fallout from that dream is mine to carry. Sure, I’ll hesitate when they’re overworked, unsure when they’re exhausted—but this pressure from the outside? That was never theirs to bear.”
“And if they never should’ve carried it in the first place—then how can we ask if it’s ‘too soon’?”
“So...”
He paused briefly, then added the last sentence with quiet determination:
“Manager Ijichi, trust me—I’ll take care of it.”
Was it really okay for one person to shoulder all that pressure alone?
Ijichi Seika didn’t know the answer.
And in that moment—she had no idea how to respond.
