Chapter 40: Exploding Metrics
In less than five minutes after the status update went live, the comment section exploded into a flurry of activity.
*It's finally here!!! I've already set my alarm to camp out for the drop!*
*His very first studio album is bound to be spectacular. So excited, so hyped!*
*Hikari-kun's discography was way too small, are we finally getting a massive influx of tracks now?!*
*I'm crying because I still have to work overtime at midnight, but I'm absolutely staying up late to listen!*
*The Hikari × Ai-chan collaboration is honestly phenomenal! I hope we get to see way more interactions between them in the future. When are they going to announce they're dating?*
–A reply immediately surfaced beneath it: *Shipper fans, get the hell out of here. Stop clout-chasing everywhere you go.*
Strawberry Productions (Official): *Congratulations to Hikari on the album launch! Looking forward to more collaboration opportunities in the future!*
*I have a gut feeling this album is going to spread like wildfire across the entirety of Japan.*
*Keep fighting, Hikari-kun! We will support you for eternity!*
Hikaru Hoshino didn't reply to any of the comments. He merely scanned them briefly before setting his phone aside.
Steam quickly billowed within the confines of the bathroom. Soaking in the bathtub, Hikaru didn't exhibit a single shred of the jittery anxiety typically expected of a rookie artist on the cusp of an album launch. The warm, soothing water enveloped his body, inducing a profound sense of physical relaxation.
For Hikaru, the actual "creative process" didn't present a hurdle; it was the repetitive recording sessions that genuinely drained his time and energy.
Furthermore, he wasn't explicitly expecting his debut album to trigger an immediate, earth-shattering sensation. Within Hikaru's grand blueprint, this ballad-centric album served merely as a baseline foundation and an opening teaser. He intended to record an immense library of premium tracks down the line anyway; opportunities would be virtually limitless, so there was no need to act with reckless impatience.
Operating under this sage-like mindset, Hikaru concluded his bath and climbed into bed early to sleep, completely bypassing the urge to stay up late waiting for the clock to strike midnight.
The following morning at eight o'clock, his phone erupted into an incessant ring, the vibration sounding exceptionally jarring against the surface of the nightstand. The lock screen displayed dozens of missed calls alongside a mountain of text messages–the vast majority originating from Takashi Kadomori.
Awoken by the racket, Hikaru stretched his arms and picked up the device with bleary, half-open eyes.
"Hello?" he answered, his voice still heavily laced with early-morning hoarseness.
"Don't tell me you just woke up?" Kadomori's voice carried a distinct trace of helplessness. "Why on earth didn't you camp out to monitor your own album launch?"
Hikaru let out a wide yawn. "Why would I camp out for that? It's not like I can press a gun against the fans' heads and force them to buy it. Whether I'm awake or asleep, the outcome remains exactly the same, doesn't it?"
Kadomori lapsed into silence for a few seconds. "...While the logical premise of your argument is technically correct, you can't actually display that attitude openly; it makes you look completely unprofessional. Whatever, the initial tracking metrics have already cleared. As of three o'clock in the morning, digital sales successfully breached twenty thousand copies, and physical pre-orders soared fifty percent higher than our predictive modeling."
"I'm actually that incredible?" An expression of genuine astonishment finally manifested on Hikaru's face.
"Yes, yes, yes. To be quite frank, even I didn't foresee you being this remarkable," Kadomori offered perfunctorily. "Based on this current trajectory, the album metrics are likely going to explode. Get some proper rest; you're probably going to face a barrage of media interviews soon, and there's a strong possibility we'll organize offline album-signing events over the weekend. Mentally prepare yourself."
Hikaru hung up the phone and stepped into the kitchen to prepare breakfast. Opening the refrigerator, he retrieved a couple of eggs and a few strips of bacon, casually firing up the skillet.
Just as he was fiercely debating whether to season his fried eggs with cracked black pepper or standard soy sauce, his phone rang once more.
The caller ID displayed a single name: *Ai*.
"Good morning, Hikaru~" Ai's voice chimed through the speaker, radiating her signature warm, melodic cadence. "I listened to your new album, you know! The tracks are incredibly beautiful."
She paused briefly before continuing, "It's just... why does the overall tone feel so deeply tragic? It instinctively invokes a sort of 'The pain, it's too much pain!' sensation. It's so peculiar."
Hikaru came incredibly close to laughing out loud, teasing, "What kind of bizarre description is that?"
Ai giggled, prodding him, "Hikaru, you don't actually possess some sort of deeply scarred history of tragic heartbreak like the President claims, do you?"
"You know me well enough; where on earth would I have managed to acquire that kind of history?" Hikaru sprinkled a dash of black truffle salt over the eggs before sliding them onto a plate.
Ai lapsed into an abrupt silence.
After a prolonged pause, she inquired with extreme caution, "Perhaps... is it possible that you actually *do*?"
Hikaru's hand shook violently, nearly sending the breakfast plate crashing straight onto the floor.
*No way... don't tell me Ai was the one who dumped Kamiki back in the day?*
Prior to his transmigration, Akasaka-sensei's manga serialization hadn't concluded yet, which meant he was entirely in the dark regarding the intricate past shared between Ai and Hikaru Kamiki.
"If anyone experienced that, it would be Kamiki's history. I've certainly never been rejected by you," Hikaru's voice turned somewhat heavy and grounded.
Ai whispered softly, "Hikaru, do you still remember the things that transpired back then?"
"Kamiki and I are fundamentally not the same individual. While I've managed to piece together a comprehensive understanding of those events through alternative channels, we are, without a shadow of a doubt, two entirely distinct souls. I do not inherit his memories."
"Mmh..." Ai dragged out her response.
"If you don't have them... it's actually a tiny bit of a shame, isn't it?"
Her voice sounded somewhat ethereal and distant, yet Hikaru captured every single syllable with pristine clarity.
He set the breakfast plate down, shifting into an exceptionally solemn, genuine tone. "It isn't a shame at all. The future ahead of us is incredibly vast, and we still hold infinite possibilities in our hands."
What Hikaru truly meant to communicate was:
*–I will stand by your side, and together, we will forge memories that belong exclusively to us.*
Hearing Hikaru's declaration, Ai felt her head turn dizzy and light, as though she were floating effortlessly through layers of clouds.
It took her a full three minutes to completely regain her composure.
Once she snapped back, Ai's voice adopted an unprecedented level of absolute earnestness. "Hikaru, there's something I've wanted to express to you for a very long time now."
"What's that?" Hikaru didn't catch it clearly.
Ai took a deep, centering breath, squeezing out every ounce of courage lingering within her heart.
"Thank you for always staying right by my side."
Later that afternoon, Hikaru arrived at the Xini Entertainment headquarters. Takashi Kadomori was currently buried beneath a mountain of analytical spreadsheets and flashing computer screens, his desk littered with a chaotic spread of various music magazines and data charts.
The moment Hikaru stepped into the room, Kadomori's eyes lit up, and he immediately abandoned his ongoing tasks.
"You arrived at the perfect time, the latest metrics just finalized," Kadomori picked up a printed document, an uncontainable wave of excitement gleaming in his eyes. "As of two o'clock this afternoon, digital sales have officially breached fifty thousand copies, while physical sales have simultaneously crossed thirty-five thousand. At this current velocity, our day-one aggregate sales stand an incredibly high chance of smashing past ninety thousand copies."
"Is that considered impressive?" Hikaru asked curiously.
"It is more than enough to comfortably land you a spot in the top three of the Oricon Daily Rankings, with a very real trajectory to challenge the number one spot," Kadomori rapidly flipped through the papers in his hands, his voice trembling slightly with sheer disbelief. "If our sales curve remains stable, your opening week metrics could very well breach two hundred thousand copies. That is a performance threshold that is completely unheard of for a rookie artist–scale it just a fraction higher, and you're pulling numbers identical to established megastars!"
Kadomori reached across the desk, grabbing a handful of newspapers and sliding them over to Hikaru. "In this incredibly brief window of time, professional music critics have already begun publishing formal evaluations of your album."
Hikaru accepted the press cuts, focusing on an excerpt from one of the prominent reviews:
[Music Modern] Review Excerpt:
"Hikari's debut album, 'A Poem Composed with You', exhibits a rare level of musical maturity seldom witnessed in rookie vocalists. While the overarching narrative of the album anchors itself within a melodic, ballad-centric landscape, it consciously avoids descending into monotonous melancholy. Instead, it fluidly fuses the existential drifting of youth, the stinging aches of personal growth, and a profound yearning for the horizon ahead. Tracks like 'Miss High-Maintenance' (Takane no Hanako-san), 'Grey and Blue' (Haiiro to Ao), and Kanade showcase an exceptionally nuanced capture of adolescent emotional friction, cementing his status as a certified 'ballad poet'."
[J-POP Weekly] extended an even loftier tier of critical acclaim:
"Hikari transcends the boundaries of a conventional vocalist; he operates more akin to a literary figure who uses melody as his primary dialect. His vocal delivery possesses a textured, weathered resonance that extends far beyond his chronological age, yet it seamlessly retains the untainted purity native to youth. From the delicate choreography of separation and longing depicted in 'Cat' (Neko), to the warm, deeply affecting narrative of the profound bond shared between human and pet in 'Leo', every single track unfurls distinct emotional dimensions and narrative tension. This is a flawless ballad release encompassing a vast spectrum of human experience; he effortlessly pulls the audience into his personal emotional universe, using his voice to echo the inner workings of his soul."
"The reviews look remarkably solid," Hikaru noted, setting the printouts back down. "Though, I have to say, the title 'Ballad Poet' sounds a bit too chunibyo for my taste."
"Count your blessings. Do you have any idea what a massive faction of netizens are calling you right now?" Kadomori bit down a rising chuckle.
"What are they calling me?" Hikaru inquired, genuinely intrigued.
"Tokyo's Number One Devoted Soul," the habitually stern Kadomori broke out into a hearty laugh. "How do you like the new title, Mr. Devoted?"
"Yikes~" A sudden wave of goosebumps rippled across Hikaru's arms. "Please don't use that ridiculous nickname on me."
"I can stop, but you'll have to diversify your discography and write tracks under alternative genres. Ballads are exceptionally lucrative, but you've already proven your capabilities in rock as well. Since you possess that kind of structural potential, it's obviously best to develop into a fully well-rounded, versatile artist."
Kadomori began gathering the loose documents scattered across his desk. "Right, starting tomorrow, we've finalized a one-week itinerary for offline album-signing events. Shibuya HMV, Shinjuku Tower Records, and Ikebukuro Animate have all been locked down. Get yourself ready."
"That fast? What kind of preparations do I need to make?"
"Physically transport yourself to the venues, and remember to maintain a consistent smile so you don't terrify your fans," Kadomori pondered for a brief moment. "You can prepare a handful of handwritten signature blessings in advance–things like 'Thank you for your support' or 'Please treat me well' will suffice."
Hikaru nodded in understanding. Just as he was about to rise from his chair to head out, Kadomori suddenly reached out and clapped him firmly on the shoulder.
"There's just one final question," the manager stated, doing his absolute level best to suppress his laughter as he maintained a totally straight face.
Hikaru turned back, his eyes practically shouting his sheer bewilderment.
He watched as his manager posed the inquiry with a completely manufactured sense of calm.
"If you get selected to perform at Kohaku, which song are you planning to sing?"
---
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