InsomniaWL
patreon
Chapter 37: So I Gave Up on Music
🕑 Added 2025-07-30 20:37:02 +0000 UTCAfter a quick conversation with manager Ijichi Seika about performing a solo piece on stage, Aoki Kei’s request was granted.
His skills spoke for themselves, and since there was still a slot open, the manager—though hesitant—agreed.
And so, just a few minutes later, Aoki Kei stepped onto the stage with his guitar in hand.
The stage, which was spacious enough to accommodate an entire band, felt almost too wide now that it was just him standing there alone.
There were quite a few people in the audience.
It was his first time performing in such a setting, and truth be told, he was a bit nervous.
But this wasn’t the time to worry about that.
His eyes scanned the audience, and in the far-right corner, Aoki Kei spotted Nijika—who had just nodded at him earlier in the rehearsal room.
Now that everyone was in place, he didn't waste another second.
Standing at the center of the stage, his fingers lightly brushed across the guitar strings.
A simple, clean strum rang out.
And then, on the STARRY stage, Aoki Kei spoke into the mic.
“I’m Aoki Kei. The song’s called So I Gave Up on Music.”
The words were brief, the tone calm—but they carried clearly through the microphone to every ear in the room.
A song steeped in frustration, but layered with defiance.
Sometimes, that kind of emotion can work wonders.
In the crowd, reactions were mixed.
Some listeners were visibly annoyed.
After sitting through Kessoku Band’s less-than-stellar live performance, now another high school-looking kid had taken the stage?
Their excitement to see their favorite band had started to sour.
Others, however, looked on with curiosity.
After all, STARRY’s stage usually hosted full bands.
A solo act was rare—almost unheard of. And now, here was this teenager, standing alone with an electric guitar.
Nijika, standing in the audience was stunned.
She hadn’t expected Aoki-senpai to go up and perform.
And the title of the song—So I Gave Up on Music—struck her as... odd.
So strange it piqued curiosity.
So oddly fitting that it eerily matched what had just happened onstage with her.
Her mind was hazy, her body still trembling slightly from the earlier performance.
Nijika didn’t know what to think, or what to feel.
She could only stare up at Aoki Kei as he stood beneath the stage lights.
And then—
Aoki Kei moved.
With quick, practiced fingers, he began the intro to So I Gave Up on Music.
The tempo was fast.
The technique required was high-level.
As his guitar rang out with a rapid, pulsing rhythm, his voice joined in—
“I’ve thought about it, but I still don’t understand”
(考えたってわからないし)
“Under the blue sky, I waited for you”
(青空の下、君を待った)
“On that breezy afternoon, my imagination escaped the confines of the day”
(風が吹いた正午、昼下がりを抜け出す想像)
“Hey, where do I go from here?”
(ねぇ、これからどうなるんだろうね)
“No one has told me how to proceed”
(進め方教わらないんだよ)
His voice was crisp, the melody catchy.
Kei’s vocal control perfectly matched the lightness of the first half of the song.
Combined with his masterful guitar playing, it only took three lines before the audience was drawn in.
They instantly realized—this young guy wasn’t just good.
He was insanely good.
But something didn’t add up.
Despite the song’s gloomy title, the lyrics so far hadn’t touched on anything like giving up music.
In fact, the whole vibe seemed almost like a love song.
Still, Aoki Kei didn’t care what the audience thought.
He wasn’t here for their approval.
Right now, all that mattered was pouring his soul into this song he’d listened to countless times before.
The second verse began.
“No matter how much I think about it, I can’t figure it out. Youth is so boring.”
(考えたってわからないし,青春なんてつまらないし)
“I tried to give up piano, but I can’t break the habit of playing on my desk”
(辞めた筈のピアノ、机を弾く癖が抜けない)
“Hey, what am I even going to do with my life?”
(ねぇ、将来何してるだろうね)
“Would’ve been easier if I never got into music.”
(音楽はしてないといいね)
“Please, just stop bothering me already.”
(困らないでよ)
Gone was the playful tone of the first verse.
The second verse hit like a punch to the gut.
The lyrics now matched the title perfectly—telling the story of someone who gave up on music for reasons they couldn’t even fully explain.
Little by little, it unfolded like a confession.
Despite the heavy theme, the upbeat melody and clean rhythm created a unique contrast.
Under Aoki Kei’s hands, it blended seamlessly—haunting and beautiful at the same time.
In the crowd, Nijika tilted her head upward, her eyes locked on Kei as he sang.
The lyrics carried a strange weight, but something deeper—something off—lingered beneath them.
She didn’t have the energy to figure out what it was.
Her feverish head wasn’t cooperating.
All she could do was listen.
Then came the chorus.
The guitar gradually slowed... while his vocals picked up speed—emotion climbing higher and higher until—
“HEY—STOP LOOKING BACK!”
(なぁ、もう思い出すな!)
He nearly shouted the first line of the chorus, his voice raw with intensity.
That piercing yell, paired with the near-perfect guitar, hit like a wave.
And then the chorus surged on—
“You’re all wrong! None of you understand anything!”
(間違ってるんだよ わかってるんだ! あんたら人間も!”
“Truth, love, pain, the world, even life—none of it matters!”
(本当も愛も救いも優しさも人生もどうでもいいんだ!)
“Wanting to be right is just a defense mechanism!”
(正しい答えが言えないのだって防衛本能だ!)
“I don’t care about it! This is all your fault!”
(どうでもいいや あんたのせいだ)
The emotion behind each word flooded STARRY.
Powerful. Unfiltered. Overflowing with bitter honesty.
Even those in the audience who had doubted him now fell completely silent.
The energy in the room had shifted.
And those who’d listened to his viral hit Lemon on Youtube?
They were beginning to connect the dots—this guy might just be the elusive uploader “Suki-san.”
————————————————————————
Meanwhile...
Nijika stood frozen, her eyes wide, her heart pounding.
She remembered Aoki Kei’s past.
She remembered the short message he once left under the Lemon video.
Now, as she listened to So I Gave Up on Music, it finally made sense.
This wasn’t just a song.
It was a cry.
A scream of refusal from someone who didn’t want to give up.
Someone who, despite everything, still couldn’t let go of the little habits music had left behind.
Someone filled with regrets...
And someone singing—not for the audience.
But for himself.
If that’s really the case… then just how much courage did Aoki-senpai need to sing this song?
A song like this—like pouring salt into a fresh wound.
Why would he choose to perform it?
Aoki Kei had no idea what was going through Nijika's mind at that moment.
On the stage of STARRY, pouring his heart into every note, even he could feel a dull ache deep in his chest.
Empathy is one of the most basic human instincts.
And this song—“So I Gave Up on Music”—was overwhelmingly heavy.
Its portrayal of dreams was almost cruel in its honesty.
But it was real. Painfully real.
The dream of "making it"—it’s a goal at least a hundred times harder than becoming a millionaire.
So many factors in life get in the way.
You struggle, you burn out, you walk away.
That’s why so few ever make it all the way, holding onto that original spark.
In his previous life, Aoki Kei once dreamed of working in the game industry.
But family pressure forced him down a completely different path—into a field entirely unrelated to games.
He had watched his dream slip away.
Everything he had hoped for turned to dust.
The effort, the passion, the persistence—it all vanished like smoke.
So maybe it’s better to give up from the start.
Don’t dream.
Don’t hope.
Don’t want something you can’t have.
But… is that really the right way to live?
The performance never faltered.
After the chorus, the tempo slowed.
Then, the guitar picked up again, building momentum.
Aoki Kei kept singing:
“Even if I rack my brain, I can’t find the answer—"
(考えたってわからないし)
“Just being alive already hurts too much.”
(生きてるだけでも苦しいし)
“Music can’t make you money.”
(音楽とか儲からないし)
“It’s fine to write lyrics half-heartedly…”
(歌詞とか適当でもいいよ)
“It’s fine not to care about anything..”
(どうでもいいんだ)
His tone softened. The rhythm mellowed.
His voice—quieter now—sounded almost fragile.
“It doesn’t matter anymore.”
(間違ってないだろ)
“It’s okay like this, isn’t it?”
(間違ってないよな?)
Was he asking himself?
The audience?
Or maybe—Nijika, standing just below the stage.
The music came to an abrupt stop.
Aoki Kei, holding his guitar, turned to look at Nijika.
Their eyes met.
And for some reason, in that split second, Nijika’s heart skipped a beat.
He took a deep breath—his exhale carried through the microphone and into the silent room.
Then—
The guitar burst back to life, more intense than ever before.
Fiercer, louder, like a scream from deep within.
He poured everything into the final chorus:
“It was all wrong! I knew it all along!”
(間違ってるんだよ わかってるんだ! あんたら人間も!)
“Truth, love, salvation, kindness—I don’t care about any of it!”
(本当も愛も救いも優しさも人生もどうでもいいんだ)
“The ‘right answers’ I couldn’t say aloud—those are just defense mechanisms!”
(正しい答えが言えないのだって防衛本能だ)
“None of it matters anymore! It’s all your fault!”
(どうでもいいや あんたのせいだ!)
His voice—harsher, louder, full of emotion—sent a shockwave through the audience.
And still, he kept singing.
The second chorus ended.
The song began to wind down.
The tempo eased. The melody softened.
Until finally—the last words:
“So I…”
(だから僕は….)
“So I gave up on music.”
(だから僕は音楽を辞めた)
Silence.
The guitar stopped.
Aoki Kei slowly closed his eyes.
Then—
“Thank you all,” he said softly.
When he opened his eyes again, they went straight to Nijika.
…
Nijika’s thoughts were a mess.
She didn’t know why Aoki-senpai chose to sing this song.
Didn’t know why he looked at her after it ended.
She couldn’t process it all.
She had wanted to prove herself to him.
Then she failed.
Felt pressure.
Thought about giving up, even if just for a moment.
Now—after hearing that song—her heart didn’t know what to feel anymore.
Until the next moment—
Still looking at Aoki Kei, she saw him do something.
It wasn’t encouragement.
It wasn’t a bow of gratitude.
It was just… a simple breath, drawn in.
Then, without saying a word, he looked at her—
And gently brushed the guitar strings one last time.
A small, simple gesture. So ordinary. So quiet.
But somehow, in that moment, Nijika understood what it meant.
As if he were answering his own final lyric.
As if that soft strum was saying:
“I didn’t give up.”
“Don’t give up.”
In the middle of the noisy live house, with all the chatter and clamor around her—
Nijika suddenly felt like the world had gone quiet.
Her heart and mind collided, emotions and reason tangled.
Her slightly feverish mind couldn’t keep thinking straight.
But in that quiet beat— She understood.
She finally understood why Aoki-senpai sang this song.
Her heart pounded.
Her vision blurred.
