Chapter 129: And So, He Decides to Move Forward

After the talk segment wrapped up, the group moved on to a game segment.

They used a stopwatch to play a simple party game called “Hit Exactly One Second,” where each person had to press the timer at what they thought was exactly one second.

Having played it on the show many times before, Izumi Yuu confidently declared, “I’m definitely going to be the most accurate!”

Her result? 0.91 seconds—dead last among the group.

Nijika, Kita, and Ryo were all around 0.95 seconds.

Aoki came close to perfect, with a best attempt of 0.98 seconds.

But to everyone’s surprise, Bocchi absolutely nailed the game—three tries, and all three landed on exactly one second.

Perfect.

So when the game ended, Bocchi-chan was crowned with the completely useless, yet strangely satisfying title: “Queen of Stopwatch Precision.”

It wasn’t worth much, but Bocchi—whose emotions are usually hard to hide looked genuinely happy.

After the game segment, the recording session was nearing its end.

They did one more round of promotion for Fireworks, and finally, Izumi Yuu closed the show with her usual bright tone:

“Well, that’s it for today! Can anyone guess who Yuu-chan will invite next? Bye-bye~!”

As soon as the mics turned off, Aoki let out a deep sigh of relief.

Radio shows were harder than he expected. T

here were moments where he honestly didn’t know how to respond.

Still, he got through it.

Silently, he made up his mind: Never again. No more radio appearances if he could help it.

He stood up from his seat.

“Thanks for today,” Yuu said, smiling warmly at the group.

“You too, Izumi-san. It couldn’t have been easy hosting a bunch of newcomers without a hitch,” Nijika replied, also with a smile.

Aoki was about to say something as well, but before he could, the director leaned over.

“Hey, Aoki-sensei, you’ve really got a knack for radio. Ever thought about doing more of it?”

It was hard to tell if he was joking or serious, but Kei didn’t hesitate.

“Please spare me,” he said. “Just doing it this once already pushed my limits.”

“HAHAHAHA!” Director Nagano laughed heartily.

Once he calmed down, he added, “Don’t worry, Aoki-sensei. I’m sure this episode’s going to skyrocket Kessoku Band’s popularity. The show turned out amazing!”

Kei wasn’t a director.

He didn’t know much about the radio industry. So he had no idea what made the show so “amazing.”

But honestly, he didn’t care—recording was over, and nothing major went wrong. That was enough for him.

Well… nothing major.

There were still a few unexpected moments—like when Ryo suddenly got serious and explained the origin of his nickname.

When she said that, it caught Kei off guard.

And maybe—just maybe something stirred inside him.

But regardless of what that was…

The recording was done. Surprises or not, they made it through.

The radio episode would air next week after editing, so it would take another full week before they could see any feedback.

After chatting with Nagano for a bit, they left the studio around 4:30 p.m.

There was no group dinner that night.

Aoki just picked up a bento on the way home and returned alone to his apartment.

While eating, he began to seriously consider moving.

It sounded like a hassle—finding the right place, signing a lease, packing up and moving…

But really, the only time-consuming part would be choosing a place and finalizing the contract.

Packing? Kei didn’t own much worth mentioning.

A few sets of clothes, two guitars, and the digital piano that took up most of his room. That was it.

Yeah. It was time to move.

Right now, Aoki had more than enough money.

Between the licensing fee for the Fireworks theme song Fireworks Rising.

Ticket revenue from two live shows, guaranteed appearance pay, royalties from his “suki-san” account, plus scholarships, PVC bonuses, and other random sources he had roughly 12 million yen in total.

Sure, a lot of it wasn’t immediately accessible yet and would take a few days to clear.

But even just the money he could use now was enough to completely upgrade his lifestyle.

Still… for Aoki, that money wasn’t “a lot.”

He wasn’t planning to stop here.

Since the moment he arrived in Japan, Aoki had lived by one rule:

‘If you’re going to do something, do it right. If not, don’t bother.’

Before getting into music, the only path open to him—without a cheat ability was studying hard and getting into the University of Tokyo. So that’s what he did.

Coming from an orphanage, he pushed himself—and he achieved it.

Top of his class in elementary school, middle school, and first year of high school.

Now that he was in music, Kei couldn’t say for sure that he’d become the best.

But he wanted to climb as high as he could.

He didn’t have some romantic dream of becoming a musical genius.

But he wanted to help carry Kessoku Band’s dreams.

Words like friendship, bonds, and chasing your dreams sounded like something out of a shounen manga.

A bit too cheesy for real life.

If he had to put it his way, it would be this:

“Because we’ve spent so much time together, I don’t want to just leave it up to them to move forward.”

Sometimes, the reason someone devotes their life to something isn’t complicated.

Sometimes, even chasing a vague, unreachable dream is enough of a reason.

So—

He picked up a piece of pork cutlet with his chopsticks and popped it into his mouth.

What started as a goal to “go professional” had now become a real career—one that could support him financially.

So, what’s the next step?

Right now, Kessoku Band was popular, sure—but they weren’t a household name.

Most people might say, “That Fireworks song is nice,” but never think to look up the band.

The next step was clear: raise Kessoku Band’s name to the next level.

From there, aim for true fame—perform at the Budokan, Tokyo Dome.

And beyond that, go global.

Bring their music to the world.

It was hard. Way harder than getting into the University of Tokyo.

Impossible in the short term. Maybe not even in three or four years.

But not impossible.

Now was the time to shift gears.

Until now, things like the PVC project and Kessoku Band’s songs were born out of necessity—reactive choices, made because he had no other option.

But this time, Kei wanted to take the lead.

Practice more. Release more music. Drop an album. Join more projects.

Collaborate with others where it made sense.

He wanted to take each step forward—together with the girls of Kessoku Band—toward the very top.

As for now…

He finished the last bite of rice in his bento and closed the lid.

Looking up, the aging ceiling light flooded the room. It had grown dim after all the hours it had burned, but it still filled the space.

The cracked window without a screen.

The slightly rusted door lock. The old cabinets. The 600-yen stool he bought himself...

It was time to say goodbye to this part of his life.