Chapter 191 – This Winter Feels Especially Cold

After briefly saying a few words to Manager Seika at STARRY, Aoki packed up his guitar and left.

Inside the shop, only Seika and Nijika remained.

Nijika’s eyes lingered on the spot where Aoki had disappeared, but after a while, she drew her gaze back.

Just as she was about to tidy up the counter, Seika spoke up.

“Nijika, your relationship with Aoki… it’s fine now, right?”

She looked at Nijika, a trace of doubt flickering in her expression.

Seika knew her sister feelings well.

That’s why, after seeing the way Nijika had acted that day, she couldn’t help but feel concerned.

And now—on the surface at least the two of them seemed back to normal, as if nothing had changed. Out of both worry and curiosity, she asked the question.

“Eh?”

Nijika froze for just a moment, then quickly recovered.

Her eyes darkened ever so slightly, but almost immediately, she forced herself to smile and lifted her spirits again.

“Probably… it’s fine now. As long as we’re just friends then this kind of interaction is completely normal.”

She let out a small laugh. “Being friends is good too. We can stay connected through the band, and honestly, that’s enough to make me happy.”

“Carrying on Aoki-senpai’s dream, carrying on the dreams of everyone in the band, and working hard together with all of them—that was what I wanted from the very beginning, wasn’t it? So… I’ll just go back to being the old me.”

After explaining herself, Nijika lowered her head again.

She drew in a deep breath and continued wiping down the counter.

Seika fell silent.

After two seconds, she only gave a vague nod.

But in her heart, different thoughts began to stir.

Nijika was probably cornering herself.

Friendship, romance, even family bonds—these were all feelings born from human subjectivity.

Emotions that couldn’t be controlled.

They didn’t need to be forcibly tied down by some external thing.

And yet, if Nijika insisted on chaining her bond with Aoki solely to the band…

If—just if—though the chance was slim, almost impossible…

But if one day, Kessoku Band were to break apart, or even if just one member left—at that time, how would Nijika convince herself that her bond with Aoki wasn’t over?

————————————————————————

Outside STARRY, neon lights flickered.

The swaying glow spilled across the streets.

Crowds bustled past, and the winter chill did nothing to dampen people’s mood for entertainment—after work, most salarymen drifted into Kabukicho’s izakayas.

Tokyo was always like this.

Too many fragments.

Too fast a rhythm.

Desires far too heavy.

Most people were swept along by the era.

And most people, in turn, were swept along by public opinion.

Without firm resolve—even the most earnest feelings would, without question, eventually be crushed by the times.

After the 26th, nothing unexpected happened again.

Aoki had become busier—he had to think about the band, though the problems he now faced were overwhelming.

Rising too quickly had its downside: too many enemies.

Inevitably, Kessoku Band was being suppressed from all sides.

NH Music’s tactics were like a heavy mallet striking a drumhead.

It wouldn’t hurt him directly, but it served as a harsh reminder.

This was no longer a problem that could be solved through compromise or waiting.

Capital didn’t just want him silent—they wanted Kessoku Band completely erased.

So Aoki had to respond.

NH Music valued their app too much… and him far too little.

If Japan’s domestic market could no longer support them, Aoki was confident he could break out elsewhere.

Even when overwhelmed, he wasn’t afraid.

But—

Real life always threw more surprises than expected. And clearly, what lay ahead for Aoki was far more than just this.

————————————————————————

Three days later, the 29th—Tuesday, the end of the month.

She couldn’t recall exactly when it started, but ever since the countdown to the month’s end, snow had been falling lightly in Tokyo day after day.

On Tuesday, KL Records finally confirmed the livestream recording schedule.

Tentatively Thursday. If there were any last-minute changes, they promised to notify in advance.

Around 9 p.m., after finishing his work for the day, Aoki received the email and forwarded it to the Kessoku Band group chat.

He hadn’t had the time to practice at STARRY these past few days, so he could only make announcements through Line.

Bocchi-chan and Kita were the first to reply with a quick “Got it.”

A little later, Ryo responded as well.

Nijika, probably busy with something else, hadn’t answered.

Not until later that night—

Fresh out of the bath, she returned to her room, lay down on her bed, and picked up her phone from the nightstand.

She immediately noticed the group’s unread message.

After reading through it carefully, she sent back a simple: “Okay.”

No one else replied after that.

Staring at the chat window for a moment, Nijika eventually closed Line and opened her music app instead.

She wanted to listen to her playlist for a while.

But—

After scrolling down a few times, she suddenly realized something.

The songs Aoki-senpai had uploaded—the ones that were either his solo tracks or Kessoku Band’s were now all greyed out.

Unavailable.

————————————————————————

[Due to copyright issues.]

————————————————————————

A flicker of doubt rose in her chest.

Closing the app, she lingered a few seconds on her home screen before opening Line again.

She thought about messaging Aoki directly to ask.

But before she could even tap into their private chat, a notification popped up.

From Twitter.

Normally, Nijika rarely used Twitter, and she usually ignored those sudden pop-ups.

But tonight felt different—

————————————————————————

[Aoki’s personal history continues to spread.]

————————————————————————

The words on the screen left Nijika momentarily stunned.

After a slight hesitation, she tapped the notification.

And then—

The page loaded, and in an instant, tweets filled her vision.

Posts tagged with #Suki-san and #KessokuBand.

————————————————————————

[So Suki-sensei is an orphan, huh.]

[He’s actually from the countryside—Tottori Prefecture of all places.]

[Before debuting under the name “Suki,” he was working at a convenience store until 2 a.m. every night?!]

————————————————————————

Nijika frowned slightly and scrolled further down.

One comment after another filled her screen.

Rumors and revelations about Aoki-senpai were all laid out before her eyes.

She kept reading, line after line.

Half a minute later, she drew in a sharp breath.

Her fingertips trembled.

A heavy unease welled up in her chest, growing stronger with every second.

Outside, snow continued to fall.

Her emotions, already fragile, were pulled along by the tide of voices online, pressing down harder and harder on her heart.

Until—her gaze stopped on a few comments.

————————————————————————

[Betting everything on the band? Isn’t that too much? Aoki-sensei sounds like some hot-blooded shounen manga protagonist.]

[Does someone like that even exist in real life?]

[…]

[By the way, why doesn’t NH Music allow us to stream Suki-san’s and Kessoku Band’s songs anymore? Feels like I wasted my subscription…]

[Copyright reasons. Capital reasons. Reality reasons—there are plenty.]

[Since Suki-sensei chose to go against the industry, of course he has to pay the price…]

[…]

[Actually, why did Suki-sensei even choose to form a band with those girls? With his talent, if he had teamed up with real professionals, his future would be way brighter.]

[Hey, don’t say that! A band is a family, a whole unit!]

[…]

————————————————————————

By the time she reached the last one, Nijika’s breath caught completely.

“Why did Suki-sensei choose to form a band with those girls? With his talent, wouldn’t his future be brighter if he’d worked with professional musicians instead?”

The words hit her like a hammer.

She didn’t even know what kind of expression she was supposed to make anymore.

In just a few minutes, countless thoughts swirled through her mind, chaotic and tangled.

All she could clearly feel was the stabbing pain in her chest.

Not the vague, fleeting ache from a few days ago.

Not the faint bitterness she could brush aside before.

This was sharp, heavy, crushing—like a massive stone covered in thorns pressing down on her heart.

She couldn’t breathe. It hurt.

Her vision blurred.

She wanted to call Aoki-senpai.

She wanted to ask him why he would go this far.

Why he would give up his job for Kessoku Band.

Why he would gamble everything on such an uncertain dream.

Why he chose this path.

Why he once told her, “Don’t focus too much on the result.”

But—what right did she have now?

What position could she take to dial that number?

Every second ticking by felt unbearable.

And she thought—

If one day, all their so-called dreams were ripped apart, and someone handed her the pieces, saying:

“This dream you wanted to achieve came at the cost of your beloved senpai risking everything, even his entire future, with just one wrong step.”

How was she supposed to face her dream then?

Aoki-senpai’s words resurfaced in her mind.

“Don’t care too much about the outcome.”

“It’s enough just to work hard for your dream.”

“The process matters more than the result.”

And so did her old worries.

“Aoki-senpai quit his job for the band… is that really okay?”

“Probably fine, right? His guitar was expensive, and he even lent Ryo tens of thousands of yen…”

Friend, lover—none of it seemed to matter anymore.

Because now, after reading these comments, even the last shred of courage she’d been using to deceive herself, even the last excuse to keep hesitating—had completely vanished.

Even her so-called “dream” suddenly felt hollow, unreal.

Was her dream really the right one?

Or even if she set the dream aside—

How could she face all of Aoki-senpai’s sacrifices, sacrifices he made without asking for anything in return?

The comment echoed again in her mind.

If there had been no pressure, if life hadn’t cornered him, then maybe his choice of Kessoku Band wouldn’t have been questioned.

But—under this suffocating pressure, with no room left to retreat, Aoki-senpai still chose Kessoku Band.

Maybe, from the very first time she met him, back in that park on that very first day—he had already been compromising for her.

He could have chosen an easier path.

He could have chosen a more profitable one.

So wasn’t this idea of “tying herself to Aoki-senpai through the band” just her own selfish desire all along?

Nijika inhaled shakily and turned off her phone screen.

She stared at the ceiling light for a while.

But as tears welled up, the light grew blinding.

So she buried her face in her pillow instead.

It was strange.

So very strange.

Just moments ago, she’d been fine.

Why did reading these comments suddenly make her want to cry her heart out?

Why, after seeing them, couldn’t she stop her tears from spilling over?

The livestream recording was just around the corner.

She couldn’t avoid it—sooner or later, she would have to see Aoki.

A few days ago, she had thought:

“If we’re just friends, and the band connects us, then that’s enough to make me happy.”

But now?

What role, what position, could she possibly use to face Aoki-senpai?

Why was she being forced to confront all of this?

A band—

A band was supposed to be something joyful.

She remembered it again: the first time she heard “So I Gave Up on Music.” That determination she’d felt then, to smile even through tears.

She remembered celebrating their PVC victory, eating together after the show.

She remembered the day she was alone with Aoki-senpai, choosing instruments, drinking bubble tea, and the first time he called her Nijika.

They were supposed to be happy memories.

They were supposed to be happy memories.

Her pillow grew damp with tears.

She didn’t say a word, but her voice, if she had, would have cracked.

There was nothing left—no excuse, no courage, no way to lie to herself anymore.

She squeezed her eyes shut.

“Aoki-senpai… if it’s you, I’m sure you’ll find a way, right?”

“Aoki-senpai… it hurts so much. Crying like this, always thinking of someone else, having someone live in your heart all the time—it hurts so much.”

“Aoki-senpai… I can’t imagine a life without you.”

“So… Aoki-senpai, so…”

Snow continued to drift outside.

People hurried past in coats and scarves, rushing through the cold.

This winter felt colder than ever.