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Akito walks into Weekend Garage with more confidence than he feels.
The café is almost empty when he comes in; two men are sitting at the bar. They quickly look up to the newcomer before returning to their conversation, uninterested in a kid showing up in that place.
A third man, more familiar, is standing beside their table.
Shiraishi Ken looks in his direction and Akito’s breath catches in his throat. The man looks slightly different from the singer who set a whole livehouse ablaze with the sheer power of his voice. He’s also different from the gentle man who met Akito the night of his failure at Crawl Green and casually offered the words of reassurance the young boy needed the most at that moment. No, right now, Ken is only a normal middle-aged man with a warm smile, a tranquil pose and the logo of his café on his tee. Not that Akito feels relieved to see that his idol is nothing more than a normal person, no. He’s still filled with dread because it’s not their first encounter at all.
What if Ken mentions that night he first talked to Akito? What if he pretends it never happened?
Akito doesn’t want to be the kid who cried because he messed up on stage in Ken’s mind. He’s also not confident he’s good enough to erase that disastrous first impression. Akito’s all too aware of his current skills: he’s all talk, he’s too proud, he doesn’t know how to back down even though he’s aware that his poor performances won’t only affect him. He has the drive to surpass RAD WEEKEND but that’s literally the only thing he has for him right now. He’s just a middle schooler who dreams too high. Who almost gave up once, but he’s still here—he’s still fighting (even though he’s pathetic and lost) because Ken chose to believe in him.
“Welcome here, boy,” Ken greets him, treating him like any other customer—and Akito feels a little more comfortable, although the tension refuses to leave his shoulders. “Take any seat you like, I’ll take your order in a bit.”
Akito nods and sits in the closest chair he finds—closest to the door, too, the perfect place if he ever needs to run away (no, he won’t, he tells himself, he’s not allowed to run away). He looks all around him. The place opened recently, but it doesn’t feel brand new: it has a cosy atmosphere, with its subdued warm lighting and the abundance of wood. The furniture reminds him of a living room with its dark armchairs and round tables; there are a couple of plants all around, even a bookcase in one of the corners. Flyers and framed CDs are hung on the walls.
What impresses Akito the most, though, is the stage on the other side of the café. It’s a very small stage, although Akito can tell its equipment is top-notch. He’s heard of it before, from musicians who had the opportunity to perform on that stage; it sounded like one of the most incredible experiences they ever had and Akito had felt a little jealous when he heard them. Even though it’s nothing but a tiny stage, it’s a stage managed by Shiraishi Ken, therefore a special one.
Ken finally comes to take his order, but before he can open his mouth, Akito asks: “What should I do to stand on that stage?”
Ken smiles at the question. “Well, you’re one of those young musicians who are trying to make a name for themselves, aren’t you?” Akito feels himself flush, but he nods. It feels weird to be acknowledged as such; most see him as a kid who pretends to be a singer, not really someone they can take seriously. The night they met, Ken did say he’s seen Akito singing a couple of times already; so he has an idea who Akito is. “Anyone can sing there as long as they sincerely love music. Wanna give it a try?”
Akito shakes his head. “Not now, thanks.” He wants to, but he doesn’t feel like he’s earned the right yet. Besides, that night, Ken did tell him that he should refrain from participating in events for the time being. He should rest because his body has reached its limits for now; Akito doesn’t like it, but he knows he’s going to make a fool out of himself if he tries to sing on that stage right now.
Ken doesn’t pry. “Just know that you’re free to get on this stage whenever you want.”
Man, he’s so cool. Akito is pretty sure his admiration must be showing all over his face. Well, it’s not like Akito can pretend he doesn’t have a man crush on Ken. He finds himself lucky that the only member of RADder who’s still in town is the one guy who caught his eye the most during RAD WEEKEND. He was disappointed when he learnt that Ken had retired before he even reached the level he needed to perform in events; this means that Akito probably won’t have the opportunity to sing on the same stage as him. A shame—but it still doesn’t deter him from his goal.
“So tell me, boy, what do you want to order? If you don’t know what to choose, I’ll recommend some coffee with cookies. They’re freshly baked and really delicious.”
Akito wouldn’t have dared to ask for sweets himself (in front of Ken? that would be mortifying) so he’s grateful that the man offered in the first place. “Oh, sure, sounds good to me.”
“Alright, I’m bringing this right away.”
When Ken leaves to prepare his order, Akito lets out a breath.
So far, it’s going smoother than he expected. He already knew that Ken is a nice guy; you wouldn’t tell a kid that they should be satisfied with what they already can do while they work hard if you’re not kind. Still, Akito doesn’t feel entirely at ease yet. He casts a glance at the two men at the bar; he’s pretty sure he’s already seen them before. They must be musicians who aren’t as renowned as Ken, not famous enough for Akito to remember them, but still more experienced than him. They don’t pay him any attention, though, which is better; he’s already tired of all the attention he’s getting from musicians who are only a couple of years older than him but act as if they’ve never been in his shoes before. One day, he’ll prove them all wrong; for now, though, he needs to learn more, to practise more, and his failure at Crawl Green taught him that he could use some modesty too.
Ken arrives with the coffee and a small plate of cookies. “Mind if I sit with you, boy? There aren’t many customers right now, we could talk for a bit if you want.”
Akito stares at him. Shiraishi Ken wants to talk with him once again? Even though he’s not crying this time? He must be dreaming. “Oh, yeah. Sure.”
Ken takes the seat right in front of Akito and the teen’s heart skips a beat. He grabs one of the cookies and bites. The taste is even more amazing than he thought: he doesn’t know if these were baked by Ken, but he expected something more… bland. The biscuit has the right amount of sugar, though, it’s sweet enough to Akito’s taste without hiding the taste of the chocolate chips and the hazelnut bits.
“Wow, you’re right, Ken-san, it’s delicious,” he says.
Ken chuckles. “I know, right? Come to think of it, I still don’t know your name.”
So he does remember me. Akito feels embarrassed, because that night is both a treasure and a disgrace. That night, Akito was almost ready to give up on music; if Ken had told him that yes, since he didn’t have the talent and couldn’t believe in himself, then it was best if he stopped—the same kind of advice Akito’s father liked to offer—, then he would’ve stopped.
Akito looks him in the eye. “I’m Akito.”
Ken nods. “So, Akito it is. So how are things going for you, Akito? Are you still trying hard?”
Hearing his first name in Ken’s mouth feels weird. It gives him a little courage; after all, admitting that he’s not in the best place right now and he still isn’t proud of his singing to the one person he admires the most isn’t easy. “I haven’t given up, Ken-san. But I took your advice and I’m trying to let my voice rest for now.”
It feels frustrating, though. Others are getting better day after day while Akito is still stuck at square one. It’s true that his throat no longer feels sore, though, so every time he feels his resolve waver, he reminds himself that it’s temporary. He’ll go back to singing, and one day he’ll surpass RAD WEEKEND.
“That’s great, Akito. You know, there are plenty of ways of improving your singing, even if you don’t practise.”
“Like what?” Akito doesn’t know how to improve. He doesn’t have a mentor, after all; he’s just trying to grab whatever advice he can get from the other musicians of Vivid Street (when they’re not looking down on him) or from the internet, but he feels like it’s not enough. If Ken is willing to give him some pointers, he’s more than willing to listen.
“Have you ever heard my daughter sing?”
Akito nods. “Yeah, I think I did. She’s incredible.” Who doesn’t know Shiraishi An in this town? Even if you haven’t met her, you’ll soon find someone who tells you all about Ken’s daughter. She’s around Akito’s age but she’s so skilled she feels a lot older than him. Akito knows he has to reach her level if he wants to achieve his goal; for now, however, the gap feels impossible to close.
“Well, if you come back to the café, you’ll meet her sooner or later. She sometimes helps me out after school or on weekends.” Ken’s voice sounds a little proud of his daughter; how nice. She’s so blessed to have a father like him. “Anyway, An’s been trained by a friend of mine, but I’ve also made her listen to all kinds of music from a very young age.”
Come to think of it, that’s how Akito started it, too. After the concert he saw with Ena at the summer festival, he just listened to a couple of songs to see if music could be his thing. He did it because it sounded easy, and even though none of the videos he watched had the intensity of the live performance he saw, he still felt his soul pulsing to the rhythm of the music. It convinced him that he needed to go to live houses to experience that feeling of elation again.
And now, here he is, sitting in front of his idol who treats him like a fellow singer.
“She also tried to learn how to write her own songs so she could understand what its author had in mind,” Ken adds. “But that’s not something you should seriously learn if you’re focused on live performances, so I suggest you just look up how it’s done and try to understand what feelings are put into the songs you listen to.”
“How?” Akito asks, curious.
Ken smiles. “I think you already know the answer, Akito. That’s something you understand with your heart, you know.”
Something he can understand with his heart—isn’t it exactly why he’s been so enthralled by music in the first place?
Even if you’re not the most skilled performer, you can pour your feelings into your songs. Now, that’s not something Akito knows how to do, and he’s pretty sure the only emotion he’s able to convey right now is the desire to improve and go beyond the dream RAD WEEKEND offered him. It might be the only emotion worth showing; his frustrations, his disappointment, his rage aren’t things he wants to show about himself.
“I see,” he replies. He grabs his cup and takes a sip of the coffee. It’s bitter and Akito can’t help but grimace. Ken notices his expression and laughs.
“Oh, so you’re not good with black coffee, Akito? You should’ve told me earlier.” He gets up. “I’ll bring you some sugar. Next time, how about you try our café au lait instead?”
Akito feels his cheek heat up again—man, he keeps embarrassing himself in front of Ken, doesn’t he? “Next time, then. Thanks for the sugar, Ken-san.”
He already can’t wait for next time. He didn’t know what to expect when he entered Weekend Garage earlier, but now Ken is giving him hope for the second time and he feels all giddy. He can do it; he can surpass RAD WEEKEND, now he’s sure of that.
When Ken returns with the sugar, Akito looks up at him and asks: “Say, Ken-san, could you give me more tips to improve? I think I need them.”
✱
Akito can feel Ken’s gaze on him when he enters Weekend Garage. It’s an insistent gaze, one that seems to say, so you’re still alone today. Ken doesn’t say anything, though; he welcomes Akito, asks if he’ll take his usual order, lets him sit down at the bar without asking where Touya is.
He’s being considerate, letting Akito initiate the conversation and choosing whether he wants to talk about the situation. Akito himself doesn’t know if he wants to. He might be relying too much on Ken; he knows he tends to complain to him whenever he has a problem, even though he promised himself that he’ll try to solve his issues on his own.
“Here, your coffee,” Ken says as he puts down a cup in front of Akito. “With extra fudge syrup today.”
“I’m not a kid,” retorts Akito, although he’s secretly grateful. This isn’t his usual order, but Ken most likely won’t make him pay for the extra syrup; it’s one of his ways of showing he cares. It makes Akito feel safe around him, in a way he’s never felt with any other adult. He loves his parents, of course, but his dad isn’t the most supportive father ever, he’s often absent and when he’s home he doesn’t seem to care that much about Akito’s business. His mother takes the time to ask him about his day but she doesn’t get it. She tells him to take care of himself, not to go home too late, to remember to do his homework, but she’s a stranger to the world of music and she never really understood why Akito wants to sing so badly.
It’s almost as if Ken is a mentor to him, or maybe something close to a second father, one that raised the parts of him his own parents couldn’t.
(He’ll never admit that aloud.)
Akito lets out a sigh. “Ken-san. You still haven’t seen Touya, right?”
Ken shakes his head. “No, I haven’t.”
Of course Touya didn’t come to Weekend Garage. The last time they talked was after their event—when Touya said he couldn’t be Akito’s partner anymore. Which isn’t something Akito would easily accept, not when they’ve come so far together, but that’s not the reason why Touya is now avoiding Vivid Street.
Akito can’t forgive the words Touya said—calling RAD WEEKEND a tiny event, saying their music has no meaning.
It’s the same as saying nothing they’ve done together matters, and Akito is furious.
“Right. I did tell him to never show up in front of me.” Now, he regrets it, though. He’d love to talk to Touya, to ask him why he suddenly changed his mind. This can’t be his true feelings. Akito wants to believe that he’s as important to Touya as Touya is to him; that their music has been a way to connect their hearts together, to find the strength to stand up against what binds them to the ground.
Akito almost wants to send him a text—Touya has made up his mind, so what can he do about that?
“I’ll tell you when he comes again,” Ken promises.
“When?” repeats Akito, sceptical.
“He will. I’m sure of that.” Ken sounds so sure of himself, but Akito doesn’t know why. Ken hasn’t seen the way Touya behaved that night. He hasn’t seen the way Akito behaved—he even punched Touya, something he wouldn’t do unless he’s really pissed off.
Akito drinks. The drink is really good, the taste of chocolate being relaxing; it doesn’t exactly calm the whirlwind of his mind, he still feels like his head is going to explode if he thinks too hard about it.
“If he doesn’t, then fine. I can still do solo performances. I don’t need him to stand on a stage.” Akito can tell he’s trying to convince himself as he speaks. Objectively, sure, you don’t need a partner to sing. Akito doesn’t mind being a solo performer. He’s done it before. He should be able to do it again.
Akito never thought it’d be so hard to be alone even though he used to have nobody to rely on.
He had no partner when Shepherd decided to target him, to make fun of him and to humiliate him every time they crossed paths; he endured the bullying alone. There’s a whole history of Akito being a solo singer, trying to prove himself all on his own. He should be used to solitude; he should remember how to find the strength to fight back when you have nobody who watches over you.
Yet he can’t help but remember how he felt the first time musicians said that BAD DOGS were nothing but talk, with no skills they could brag about. Akito felt upset—angry at those musicians for making fun of their resolve, but mostly furious with himself, he who dragged Touya down with his lack of talent and couldn’t help him unlock his true potential. He had so much rage inside him and it took all his energy not to explode. Touya was different, though. He didn’t say a thing; he just asked Akito if they could practise a bit longer that day, and Akito realised at that moment that he truly had the best partner he could ask for. One that wouldn’t listen to all the hurtful words that were thrown at them, even though he acknowledged they were laced with truth. One that would keep his calm when Akito was on the verge of losing it and get them back on track.
That’s who Aoyagi Touya is to Akito: his other half, the boy who completes him so perfectly he doesn’t know how he’s supposed to sing without him.
“Man, I miss him,” Akito finally admits, and he can see Ken’s eyes soften at the admission. Ken too had a partner in the past, but Akito hasn’t seen him around since RAD WEEKEND; it seems like he’s left town to pursue his own dream. Their situation is a little different: Ken is the one who decided to stop, retiring for a reason Akito never dared to ask about, so he probably can’t tell Akito how to deal with the loss of your partner. He might know why Touya decided he had enough of him, though.
“He’s the one for you, isn’t he?” Ken gets it. Maybe because he’s seen how Akito has been treated before, and he was happy to see that the boy had finally found some support. Akito remembers the day he introduced Touya to Ken; he was the proudest, and now that he’s older he’s a little embarrassed when he thinks about how he bragged to Ken.
Touya was the best thing that happened to Akito and Akito needed Ken to know.
So he nods, because what Ken says is true.
“He never laughed, you know. When I told him about my dream.” Akito’s voice almost breaks at this point. Shit, he’s not going to cry now. He’s already cried enough in front of Ken; crying is lame and it doesn’t solve his problems. He refuses to cry again.
“He never said that I wasn’t good enough or that I was a fool for thinking I could surpass a legendary event one day.” One could say that it was easy, for Touya, to say they could surpass an event he hadn’t witnessed himself; but Akito believed that Touya had another reason to share this dream. Akito thought Touya wanted to experience something as incredible as his partner described, to search for these incredible feelings he’d only find if he stood on the same stage as Akito. Akito himself can’t deny that his own dream has shifted after he met Touya, because now surpassing RAD WEEKEND without Touya by his side doesn’t seem possible. He tries to keep a strong front, but deep down he’s doubting himself. How can he be satisfied with his performances if his partner isn’t with him?
Anyway, turns out that Akito didn’t understand Touya as well as he thought, and now he has no idea what drove Touya to sing with him all this time.
“A partner who accepts you as you are and shares a dream with you,” Ken summarises. “Your best ally if you want to improve.”
“I knew from the start that he was a lot better at music than me,” Akito adds. Because what Ken says is right: Touya has become his number one reason to improve his skills. “Of course he was, he’s always done music. And he’s practising like crazy, so I don’t know if I can really catch up to him, but no pain no gain, right.”
“Well, that’s true.” Ken chuckles. “You know, Akito, you need goals if you want to hone your skills. Just saying I want to be stronger won’t help. You need to know what you should focus on first. Trying to reach your partner’s level… it’s a good goal.”
Akito stares at Ken. He can’t say that he didn’t know it already; of course, you can’t surpass an event if you can’t even sing as well as the one person who stands by your side. However, for some reason, hearing Ken compliment his goal feels inspiring—and a little awkward, too.
So he looks away, convinced he’s going to break if he looks in Ken’s direction right now. “Well, yeah. Still useless if he doesn’t come back.”
“Keep hope alive, Akito.” Ken’s voice sounds strangely soft and Akito isn’t used to such delicateness. Ken is usually gentle, but it never gets to that point—Akito feels treasured, and it’s a feeling he needs at the moment. “If your bond is as strong as you believed it was, then you’ll see him again.”
Even if he still understands Touya—even if he still doesn’t know what he can do to convince his partner to choose him again—, Akito will try to follow these words.
So he nods, grateful that he can at least count on someone like Ken to remind him of the simplest truths.
✱
RAD WEEKEND, supposedly, didn’t leave any traces behind—it was an event for those who attended, one that was to light an everlasting fire into its audience’s heart. All the flyers disappeared from the street after the event (they still exist in Vivid BAD SQUAD’s Sekai, but Akito believes they’re born from his and An’s memories, so they’re probably not the original ones) and no pics or videos were taken during the event itself.
Or at least, that’s what they believed until Ken revealed the truth. The DVD of the video filmed by the owner of COL is now in his squad’s hands, a forgotten treasure that has now resurfaced.
Akito discovers how the event looks on a screen. It’s not his first time watching a recording of a live performance, and it usually pales in comparison to the real deal. However, the feelings that were put into that event were so strong that even now, they manage to grab their hearts with the same force as they did that night. Akito looked in Touya’s and Kohane’s direction. Their eyes had the same glow as him after watching the performance. They understand, now, what being a legend means, and how difficult it’ll be for them to actually reach that level. It might be an impossible task, but as long as they believe they can do it, they can do the impossible.
Visiting COL has also been an incredible experience, although there’s pretty much nothing left there. You can still feel in the air that something astounding happened there. It might be a small venue with no material left, but the spirit of RAD WEEKEND still lingers. This is, after all, what being a legend means: the traces of your performance never truly fade.
All of this was, once again, only possible because of RADder.
So it feels really weird, after being reminded of how amazing Ken is—after hearing him sing on that stage again, more godlike than human—to stumble upon Ken as he walks with bags of groceries, his usual Weekend Garage tee on and a tired expression on his face.
Akito immediately walks up to him. “Hey, Ken-san.”
“Oh, Akito.” Ken smiles when he sees the boy—at this very moment, he looks nothing like the singer who performed at COL, he’s just your average dad walking down a street. “We rarely meet outside the café. Where are you going now?”
“Joining Touya for practice,” he answers. “We’re going to do some street performances near the shop I work at.”
“Ah, I see. Good luck!” Ken raises his bags. “I’d love to see you two sing, but alas, I need to go back soon. I let An take care of the patrons in my absence, she’ll be mad at me if I go see your performance without her.”
Akito almost wants to tell him that he shouldn’t care about An’s feelings and it’d make Akito proud if Ken was part of the audience—but he knows Ken would never ignore his daughter, especially when she’s helping out at the café. “Well, I guess you can’t leave her alone, right.”
Ken nods. “Sorry, Akito. But I’ll come next time if you tell me where.”
“Promise?” Akito asks, half-serious.
Ken chuckles. “I can’t really promise that I will if you perform when I’m busy with the café, but maybe some time in the morning?”
“Alright, I’ll ask Touya if we can.” Akito doesn’t think that Touya will refuse a street performance if Akito asks. They no longer perform as a duo as much as they used to, as they both value Vivid BAD SQUAD and they sincerely enjoy being a team of four; singing with Kohane and An feels great, and Akito can tell he’s improved a lot thanks to the two girls. When they’re not singing as a squad, most of the time, Akito practices on his own. It’s not like he has a choice: he has to work hard alone, or else he’ll never catch up with his teammates.
But it still feels good to be with Touya only sometimes. Touya is his partner, after all, so he’s always a little special in Akito’s eyes. He’s the first person who stood by his side and the one who’ll worry the most about him if Akito has a problem.
“Well then, I’d better get going,” Ken says “It was nice seeing you, Akito. Feel free to drop by with Touya when you’re done, I’ll bake some pancakes just for you.”
The man starts to walk away and Akito can’t help but call him out. “Ken-san.”
Ken turns around. “Yes, Akito?”
“Thank you for showing us the video,” Akito says, from the bottom of his heart.
Because thanks to that video, Vivid BAD SQUAD found a reason to work harder again. Because Akito enjoyed reliving that dream all over again.
Ken’s face softens. “It’s nothing. You’re welcome, Akito.”
✱
Akito can’t go to Weekend Garage with the same carefreeness now that he knows the truth behind RAD WEEKEND.
No, in fact, it’s not just Weekend Garage—the whole town has changed in the blink of an eye. Akito doesn’t like walking down Vivid Street; the street feels all too silent. The music that always filled the air has now died down alongside the spirit of perseverance that animated the hearts. It’s a dead town now, a street that has lost its soul. All of that because one man wanted to teach a lesson to the young people who dared to dream.
In truth, it takes him a lot of courage to go back to the café. Akito has collected many wounds over the years, that’s why he can tell this one won’t heal that easily. All he can do is turn his pain into dedication. To turn the fear into a reason to work harder.
He pushes the door of the café open because Ken is his anchor; because this man raised his spirit when Akito almost gave up on music, and now that the temptation to stop is back, he knows this is where he’ll find his courage again.
Ken offers him his usual warm smile; he doesn’t seem surprised to see Akito. He probably knows that Akito can’t abandon his dream that easily, or at least that he’ll find his way back to Ken if he doubts himself.
“You don’t look bad, Akito,” he says in lieu of greeting, and Akito smiles in return. In truth, he could be worse. He’s been worse the past few days, but now it’s going a little better. He feels more like himself.
“Well, I can’t spend too much brooding, you know. I still have an event to surpass.”
It’s a small affirmation, one that has become his leitmotif over the years. Right now, it may be harder for him to say it, but he’s glad that it’s not completely impossible. He wouldn’t want to be like Arata, Mita or the guys from EVER who lost the ability to say something as simple as that.
And it’s because Akito has known Ken for a while now—chasing after him, asking for his attention, begging for his advice—that he can tell Ken is relieved right now just from the way his shoulders relax.
“That’s true. You look like your regular self, Akito, that makes me happy.”
Is he really back to normal, though? Akito can’t tell. He’s so used to fighting, and fighting, and fighting again, so the fire that burns deep down his soul right now feels familiar. If anything, it’s mostly because its flames are too bright that Akito feels different now.
“I just want to do what must be done,” he brags. “For the sake of my dream.”
Ken bursts out laughing. “Yup, that really sounds like you, Akito. Though I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. By the way, I heard from An that you took your squad to another café.”
Ken’s voice sounds playful and Akito knows he’s just teasing him—they have every right to go to a café that isn’t Weekend Garage if they want, especially if the purpose is to change everyone’s mind. Still, Akito can’t help but flush a little.
“I did,” he replies. “I thought they’d enjoy eating in a place they’re not used to. Their roasted green tea cake is delicious, you know.”
Ken laughs. “I can imagine. An said it was a little out of character, but she appreciated the attention. That was nice of you, Akito. Thank you.”
Akito shrugs, trying to brush it off. “S’nothing. I needed a break, too.”
Even though he claims he invited his teammates because he needed a change of pace, he did more for them than for himself. Because really, he’ll be fine. And after talking to Touya, he’s convinced that his partner won’t let himself be bound by Taiga’s performance. Going against stronger opponents has always been natural for them; they may be hurt right now, but they’ve always managed to sing even when they were in pain.
No, he’s more worried about the girls. Kohane is one of the most impressive singers Akito’s met and she has a stronger resolve than you’d expect from her, but she’s also a little sensitive. She’s easy to mess with once you know her well enough; Akito loves to tease her because she always reacts in ways he finds funny. She looked quite down before he took her to the other café. Now, though, she’s had enough time to cool down. She’s back on track and Akito trusts her.
And then, there’s An—she might be a fighter at her core, just like him, but she took the hardest blow. She’ll suck it up, but Akito doesn’t think she’ll be the same as she used to be. The latest months have been hard on her. She first realised that she wasn’t the one who’d fill the role she wanted the most, and now she discovered that everyone had been lying to her for a long time. Akito is really worried for her, and he understands why Ken is thanking him.
Because who knows how An is going to evolve, from now on?
Akito wants to be here for her.
She may not forgive her father for hiding the truth from her all these years. Akito understands if she doesn’t, but this is about her, not him. He doesn’t have a say in the matter, just like he can’t decide if Touya should forgive his father or if Ena should forgive theirs. All he can do is be here for them if they need him—and he hopes Ena knows that she can count on him if she really needs his support.
In this story, he’s an outsider; he only arrived when it was too late, when there was no hope left for Nagi, so he had no reason to be in the know.
And he doesn’t mind being an outsider; it’s almost normal to him. For a long time, the musicians of Vivid Street made him understand that he wasn’t one of them. They all laughed at his dream, didn’t they? All of them except Ken, An and the manager of the store he works at. So no, it’s fine if everyone in town refuses to acknowledge him. He doesn’t mind being looked down on; all he has to do is to prove his worth, even if right now he’s all too aware that he’s not worth much.
“You sure did. But I’m glad you’re better, now. Otherwise, I would’ve offered free pancakes and an uplifting speech.”
Akito tries his best to pretend that he’s not tempted by the offer of free pancakes—he’s trying to look cool, right now. “Ken-san, you can still tell me your speech, I’ll listen.”
“No, I’ll save it for another time,” Ken retorts. “Now’s not the time for kind words. If you’re good and your teammates are good, then we can finally move on to the next phase.”
The atmosphere was rather relaxed until now, but now Akito feels the tension filling the air and he finds it a little harder to breathe. So Ken is finally done with his preparations. He told them that he’d take some time to properly think about what they can do from now—he plans to become their full-time mentor and Akito is excited about the prospect.
Still, it’s different to think about this opportunity and to finally see himself on the starting line.
Akito is all psyched up now. “Oh, I can’t wait, Ken-san.”
✱
Akito lit a fire in town.
He did it all on his own. Of course, he wasn’t alone—his comrades were supporting him all this time and they were standing at a distance to watch over him as he performed in front of those who thought Vivid BAD SQUAD would never come back. They were in his heart, and the thought of being their vanguard was in his mind as he sang with everything he had. He did it for his teammates who couldn’t make his move before he did. For their old comrades who lost hope and needed someone to light up their spirits again. For himself, too, because he never entirely felt that he could be his teammates’ equal until that very moment—when he no longer has to chase after their backs, but instead is the one who opens the path for them.
And he did it for Ken, too, who believed in all of them and gave them another chance.
The town has changed, now. Akito can tell: the music is back. It felt all too silent these past months, but now the musicians of the street are once again performing on every corner, and passers-by once again stop by to listen. One thing has changed, too. When people look at Akito—at Akito alone, when he’s not with the other members of his squad—their gazes are full of respect. He’s no longer the untalented boy who found a dream too big for himself and was lucky to find teammates who could carry him. He’s the one boy who proved them all wrong, and it feels even better than when he won against Shepherd—this time, he made the first step towards their goal by himself, so he believes he’s allowed to be proud of himself.
And he’s so grateful to Ken for all the time he dedicated to Akito.
At the end of another strategy meeting—since Mita is back with them now, Ken decided to include him in their plans—, as everyone gets up to walk home, Akito doesn’t move from his seat.
An is the first one who notices. “Hey, Akito, you’re not coming?”
The boy shakes his head. “I want to talk to Ken-san alone.”
She gives him a strange, curious look. “Once again trying to get my dad all for yourself, huh? You must really like him a lot.”
She’s teasing him and Akito can’t say it doesn’t work. But he won’t be afraid of his true feelings, this time. “Yes, I do,” he says while ignoring his face turns red at the admission—Ken is here and he’s listening and it’s mortifying. “I owe him a lot, An.”
An nods. She definitely understands; she also has someone she looks up to, after all. “Alright, then we’ll leave you alone if you don’t want us around. Good night, you tsundere.”
“Hey,” he grumbles, but even Kohane and Touya chuckle at the nickname, so he softens up and smiles.
All this time, Ken looks in their direction with fondness in his eyes.
His teammates and Mita leave, and Ken asks: “So what did you want to talk about, Akito?”
The café feels eerily silent now that they’re alone. The weight of Ken’s eyes on him feels heavier than usual—but Akito’s used to it by now. Ever since Ken offered to personally train Akito, something has shifted in their relationship, and Ken no longer hides who he is. Akito has known, from the very start, that Ken is more than just the owner of a café who also sings—he’s a legend alive, and being in his company when he gets serious will remind you of that fact.
“Ken-san,” he replies, “can we go out for a drive again?”
Ken’s eyes widen at the unexpected demand, but he nods. “Sure. Let me grab my keys and we can go.”
The first part of the drive is rather silent—even though there aren’t many cars on the road at this hour, Ken is focused on the traffic, so Akito tries to gather his thoughts. There’s one thing Ken taught him, one thing among countless others, that changed Akito to the core. He no longer feels like the same boy because Ken made him look at who he truly is, at the feelings he holds in his heart.
When they reach the same place they took a break the last time Ken drove Akito around the city, Akito says: “Ken-san, can we stop here again?”
Ken complies and Akito walks to the vending machines. This time, he’s the one buying coffee for Ken, and he hands him the can with a proud smile.
Ken takes it with a grin. “Look at you acting all grown-up, Akito. Is it your way of paying me back?”
Of course he understands what’s in Akito’s mind right now. So Akito nods. “Yeah, it’s one of the ways. I also want you to sit down on that bench. I have something else for you.”
Ken, once again, doesn’t ask any questions and he does as he’s told. He’s definitely guessing what Akito wants to do, after all.
Akito starts singing.
It’s one of the songs RADder performed during RAD WEEKEND, a song made for three people but Akito sings it all on his own. He excels at both the highest and the lowest parts; he’s always known that he has a rather wide vocal range and a loud voice, and combined with the sheer power of his will, his performances are said to be enthralling. Akito could be a solo singer, if he wanted. He has all the weapons he needs to entrance an audience all by himself; even the technique that used to be his weakness when he first paired up with Touya is now one of his strengths.
Ken said he had everything already, that he didn’t have to go past his limits anymore. That Akito needed to learn how to put his true feelings into his singing and allow himself to enjoy his performance instead of trying to perform as best as he can. He was right, and now Akito finds singing even more enjoyable than before.
He remembers all the times he tried to sing a specific part properly and failed despite his best efforts. And now, all he has to do is to let himself be overwhelmed with his own emotions and he manages to sing it properly. It almost feels like a cheat code, although it’s not as simple as it sounds—he still has to work to sing the way he wants, but compared to the amount of effort he had to make before, it feels like nothing.
Ken seems moved as he listens to Akito’s cover of his own song. Akito’s never seen him like this before, with tears at the corner of his eyes, his lips trembling. It doesn’t take long before Ken joins him, although he doesn’t sing at full power; he’s not trying to overshadow Akito or to push him to his limits, he’s just expressing his gratitude in the only way he can think of.
They both speak the same language, after all—the language of music.
When they finally stop singing, Ken gets up and ruffles Akito’s hair. “Man, you really didn’t have to do that for me.” His hand is shaking a little, too, and Akito can tell he’s truly honoured by Akito’s song. He himself feels a little lightheaded. He might be addicted to singing, more than he ever thought he could be, and the idea of singing for his idol—of singing with his idol—fills him with bliss.
“I really want to thank you for everything. That’s all.”
“You don’t have to, Akito. I just did what a proper adult should do.”
That might be true, but Akito has been around town for long enough to know that adults don’t always do what they must. Sometimes, they make fun of youthful dreams. Sometimes, they look away from the things that disturb them because it’s easier to do so.
Sometimes, they lie because they believe it’s what’s best for the children—even though their decision is going to scar them for life.
So he shakes his head. “No. You did more than that. You gave me a dream thanks to RAD WEEKEND, and you gave me a reason to sing every time I doubted myself. I really can’t thank you enough.”
They’ll never be even; Akito will be indebted to Ken until the end of his life. And he doesn’t mind; if anything, he considers that he’s lucky to owe a debt to a man as incredible as Ken.
Singing for him may be a small repayment, not enough to clear that debt, but it does make him feel better.
And Ken seems to understand, because he smiles at Akito with the most grateful look the boy’s ever been looked at. “It’s nothing, Akito. I’m glad I got to know you too.”
Tomorrow, Akito will get up and try his best to surpass RAD WEEKEND. This is his reason to live now. And he’ll be able to rely on his friends, his comrades, and on the one man who’s been here for him this whole time.