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Chapter 51: Suspicious Again
🕑 Added 2025-07-31 15:01:18 +0000 UTC“Ryo-san,” he called out.
The bass case didn’t look that big, but it somehow fit a surprising amount of gear—Ryo-san had come fully prepared.
More than enough for the two of them to do a quick street performance.
Around 9 a.m. on Saturday, the crowds at the Shibuya Station scramble crossing were overwhelming.
Unlike on weekdays, the crowd wasn’t just rushing office workers—there were tons of tourists, young couples, and lively groups of teens roaming the streets, overflowing with energy and youth.
After finishing their ice cream, Aoki Kei and Yamada Ryo set up along the roadside near Shibuya Station.
Well—“set up” might be a generous description.
All they really did was tweak the gear Ryo had brought.
With a quick brush of his fingers across the guitar strings and a final check to ensure everything was working properly, Kei turned to Ryo.
Not only had he never performed on the street before—he had never even tried singing and playing in public like this at all.
He had zero experience.
At first, he figured it’d be best to follow Ryo’s lead, since she looked like she knew what she was doing.
But unfortunately—
Despite her confident words, efficient setup, and complete set of equipment, it turned out that Ryo only seemed like she had experience.
So, with no real veterans between them, the two first-timers chose a song and—after a deep breath—Aoki Kei reluctantly plucked the first chord on his guitar.
They didn’t go with one of their usual band practice songs, nor did they choose a trending hit.
After a short discussion, they decided Kei would sing and play guitar while Ryo provided bass and backing vocals, and start with a song Kei had once posted on Youtube:
"Lemon."
Ryo was quite fond of “Lemon.” She’d listened to it plenty of times before, so keeping up with the rhythm and adding harmonies wasn’t too difficult.
As for Kei, he knew the song inside and out.
With the gear finally adjusted and their roles decided, they began.
As Kei’s fingers swept over the guitar strings, the soft, familiar rhythm of “Lemon” began to fill the air.
Among Ryo’s equipment were two compact speakers—small, but surprisingly loud.
Once connected to the mics and instruments, both their playing and Kei’s vocals rang out clearly into the street.
Despite the bustling foot traffic around 9 a.m., there weren’t many other street performers out yet.
A few were scattered here and there, but their skills weren’t enough to make passersby stop in their tracks.
Kei and Ryo, however, were different.
Kei’s guitar skills needed no introduction, and his singing voice was just as impressive.
Aside from a bit of nervousness at singing in front of so many strangers, he had no issues.
And Ryo—her bass playing was solid, perfect as a supporting harmony.
Not to mention, “Lemon” was an extremely recognizable song.
Its opening chords and emotional shifts were catchy and memorable.
Even someone who’d only heard it once would immediately recognize it if they heard it again.
So, it came as no surprise that within thirty seconds of the song starting, people began to stop and gather around.
Humans are naturally drawn to crowds—once a small group forms, more curious onlookers follow.
In the blink of an eye, Kei and Ryo were surrounded by an attentive audience.
Just like Ryo had said, with their level of musical skill, making money busking in a place like this was practically effortless.
Soon, listeners began tossing money into the open guitar case in front of them—bills and coins piling up.
Originally, Kei and Ryo had planned to perform a few songs and wrap up once they made enough for lunch.
But they clearly underestimated both their talent—and how eager people were to pay for good music.
They hadn’t even finished the first run of “Lemon” when the guitar case was already filling up.
It was easily enough for lunch.
Kei figured there was no point dragging it out, so he decided to finish this performance and then tell Ryo they were done.
What he didn’t account for... was one very important detail.
At present, Kei owned two guitars.
But the one given to him by Ijichi Seika, the store manager, was expensive and high quality, so he didn’t use it casually.
That meant today he was using his usual, basic blue guitar—the same one that had appeared in both of his Yutube videos.
And in those videos, Kei had never tried to hide the fact that he was a high school student.
Even now, as he performed live, he hadn’t considered how recognizable his voice might be.
Same guitar. Same age. Same unmistakable voice. And performing “Lemon,” of all things.
So by the time they were halfway through the song, some listeners had already picked up on the truth.
The boy singing and playing guitar on the street... wasn’t just some kid.
He might very well be the famous “Suki-sensei” from Youtube!
No—there was no might about it.
The voice matched perfectly, the age lined up, and even the guitar was identical.
There was no mistaking it.
The few listeners who realized it didn’t interrupt his performance.
They huddled together, whispering quietly, confirming their suspicions—and then respectfully resumed listening to the performance.
Until the last note of “Lemon” faded away.
As Kei turned to Ryo and quietly asked, “Shall we wrap it up?” a small group of people suddenly surged forward.
They kept a respectful distance, forming a loose semicircle around Kei—though they did end up pushing Ryo, the bassist, slightly to the side.
Kei blinked in confusion.
And then—someone in the crowd called out:
“You’re Suki-sensei from Yutube, aren’t you?!”
It clicked immediately.
He hadn’t tried to hide his identity and now he’d been recognized.
Looking toward the person who had spoken, Kei hesitated a moment... and then nodded.
“Yeah... that’s me.”
And with that—
The crowd, which had just started to settle down, suddenly erupted with questions and excitement.
After all, Aoki Kei—under the alias "Suki"—had only ever uploaded two videos on Youtube.
But both had gone insanely viral, racking up massive views, likes, and bookmarks.
His approval rating sat well over 90%.
Yet, despite all that fame, the “Suki-san” account had never posted a single comment.
No replies. No status updates. Nothing.
Just two silent, empty videos—and now, standing right here on the street, was the mysterious boy behind them.
Aside from the one clue that “suki-san” had once performed at STARRY, there was practically nothing else to go on—his entire account radiated mystery.
So now, fans who had once only dreamed of one day receiving a reply from suki-san were suddenly face to face with him.
There was no way they were going to let this opportunity slip away.
“Suki-sensei! When will your next song come out?”
“Suki-sensei, hi! I’m a huge fan—can I get your autograph?”
“Suki-sensei, what made you decide to suddenly perform on the street? Will you be coming back tomorrow?”
“Um… is that bassist who played with you just now your girlfriend? You two look great together!”
The questions came flying nonstop, and Aoki Kei, surrounded in a loose semicircle, was starting to feel overwhelmed.
Some of the questions were harmless enough, but a good number of them were a bit too personal, leaving Aoki Kei unsure how to answer.
Still, most of the fans were clearly just excited and genuinely curious, not malicious.
He didn’t want to brush them off.
So he tried his best to respond patiently, deflecting when he had to with polite replies like, “Sorry, I can’t really talk about that.”
All the while, he kept glancing toward the edge of the crowd—specifically, at Yamada Ryo, who hadn’t been pulled into the circle and was still standing just outside.
Of course, Ryo had noticed his subtle plea for help.
But she didn’t move to assist him.
Instead, she stood there watching with a faint, amused smile—expression unreadable, but clearly enjoying the show.
Eventually, the questions kept piling up, and Aoki Kei still couldn’t find a chance to escape.
Just as he finished answering, “The next song’s release date isn’t set yet,” a girl—likely a high schooler, judging from her age—wearing a hat stepped forward and asked:
“Suki-sensei, both Lemon and So I Gave Up on Music have a kind of sadness to them. I’ve always wondered… what kind of feelings or experiences did you go through to write something like that?”
The crowd went quiet.
The girl stared at him, eyes bright with curiosity.
Aoki Kei opened his mouth but didn’t answer right away.
That one hit a little too close to home.
The kind of question that could easily reopen old wounds.
And to make matters more complicated, Aoki Kei wasn’t even the one who had written those songs.
He was just the one performing them, he didn’t have a real answer to give.
He stood there in silence, trying to come up with something.
Meanwhile, just outside the crowd, Ryo’s eyes flicked slightly in response to the question.
After a moment of stillness, she quietly took a breath, bent down, and began packing up the equipment still lying on the ground.
She zipped up the guitar case, slung it on her back along with her bass bag, then looked up at the center of the crowd where Aoki Kei stood.
Then, pushing her way forward, she muttered a rare word of authority in her cool, emotionless voice:
“Excuse me.”
She weaved through the crowd and came to a stop at Aoki Kei’s side.
Aoki looked at her, confused.
Ryo glanced around at the surrounding fans, then, with the same icy calm, announced:
“Sorry, everyone. I’m borrowing suki-san for a bit.”
With that short sentence, she reached out and gently took hold of Aoki Kei’s right wrist.
Their eyes met for a moment.
Before he could say anything, she tugged him forward.
Still a little dazed, Aoki Kei let himself be pulled along as they slipped out of the crowd.
He blinked in surprise, then suddenly understood.
Despite how unreliable Ryo often seemed, she was more perceptive than she let on.
She must have realized that the girl’s question had shaken him a little, and acted immediately to get him out of there.
Her palm was warm against his wrist.
Feeling the soft pressure of her hand, Aoki Kei was silent for a few seconds.
Then he smiled.
“Ryo-san,” he said. “Do you think the money we made busking is enough to get us a meal at that place in Minato? That one called Flaose No.1?”
Spoiler alert: It absolutely wasn’t.
Flaose No.1 was notoriously expensive.
Their busking money didn’t even come close.
After wandering a bit, the two of them settled on a family restaurant instead.
They ordered chicken fried, French fries, two plates of salad, and a few small side dishes.
The chicken fried was pretty spicy, which wasn’t exactly ideal for Aoki Kei, who didn’t really like spicy food to begin with.
On top of that, the prices were a bit steep for what they got.
From his perspective, it didn’t feel like a particularly satisfying meal.
Still, Ryo seemed to enjoy it well enough, so he decided not to complain too much.
After finishing up around 11:30, they stepped back outside.
Since they were both still carrying instruments, they decided to skip any further detours and just head straight to the live house.
They wandered around Shibuya a bit more until about 1 p.m., then slowly made their way toward STARRY.
Everything felt like it was finally settling into a normal rhythm again—they expected to rehearse and spend the rest of the day like usual.
But just before they reached STARRY, they unexpectedly ran into Kita Ikuyo.
She blinked in surprise at the sight of Aoki Kei and Ryo walking together.
Looking from one to the other, she paused, then said—half surprised, half suspicious, but not entirely shocked:
“Wait… don’t tell me… another date?”
