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Chapter 215 – The Contract, and a Christmas Gift
🕑 Added 2025-10-14 17:21:58 +0000 UTCAfter a simple lunch, the atmosphere shifted back to business.
“Well then, Aoki-sensei,” Seijirou said, adjusting his glasses as he set his cup aside. “Now that we’ve got that out of the way, let’s move on to what we discussed earlier.”
He reached into his bag and pulled out a folder—inside was a signed contract detailing EMI Records’ proposed deal.
“To put it simply,” he began, his tone suddenly sharper, more professional, “if you allow EMI Records to publish your existing songs on our platform, this is what we’re prepared to offer.”
He handed Kei a thick document.
“Here’s our proposal—the revenue breakdown and the support we’ll provide if you decide to sign with us. Take your time to read it over. If you have any questions, just ask.”
His easygoing attitude from earlier had completely vanished. The shift in demeanor caught Kei off guard; the man who had been chatting so casually moments ago now looked every bit the seasoned corporate negotiator.
“Thank you,” Kei murmured, accepting the papers.
He carefully flipped through the pages, his eyes scanning each section. What he found made him pause. The terms were… surprisingly generous—almost too generous.
80% digital album revenue share
Full promotional backing for their first full album
All advertising and marketing costs covered by EMI Records
It was, in short, a dream contract—one with barely any strings attached. Compared to NH’s old terms, the difference was like night and day. Deals like this weren’t offered to small bands with only a handful of songs under their name.
After rereading the proposal several times, Kei finally looked up, skepticism clouding his expression.
“Um… Kikouka-san?”
“Yes?” Seijirou looked up from his tablet. “Do you have a question, or something you’d like to add?”
Kei placed the document back on the table and shook his head. “Not something to add, exactly, but… isn’t this too much?”
Seijirou raised an eyebrow.
“I mean,” Kei continued, scratching his cheek awkwardly, “I’m not ungrateful or anything, but these kinds of offers are usually reserved for big names, right?”
For a moment, Seijirou didn’t respond. Instead, he exhaled softly, removed his glasses, and rubbed his temples.
“It’s not that much, Aoki-sensei. In fact…” He gave a faint, tired smile as he polished the lenses with his handkerchief. “…some might say it’s too little.”
Sliding his glasses back on, his eyes met Kei’s again—sharp and serious.
“Aoki-sensei, tell me,” he said, his voice calm but weighty, “what do you know about EMI Records?”
“What do I know?” Kei repeated blankly, tilting his head as he tried to recall. He had done a quick search about them the night before, but only remembered the basics.
From what he recalled, EMI was originally a British record label that had expanded into Japan around 2007.
Despite their global reputation on creating song on Korea, they struggled to break into the Japanese market, still relatively new and overshadowed by domestic giants.
In his past life, he vaguely remembered that a similar company had been acquired by Universal Music Group around 2012—after failing to firmly establish itself in Japan.
After their rebranding to EMI Music Japan, the company had managed to sign a few notable names—one of them being RADWIMPS, whose music had reached global audiences through anime films.
‘Wait… are they the same group?’ Kei wondered silently, brows furrowing.
Out loud, he replied, “I only know what most people know from the internet.”
Seijirou chuckled at that, a weary smile crossing his face. “Yeah… that’s about right. That’s how little people here know about us here.”
To be fair, Japan’s entertainment industry was a battlefield.
To survive, companies often had to push others aside, clawing for every inch of exposure.
The rigid hierarchy of Japanese business culture only made things worse—breaking into that world as a foreign company was like climbing a wall coated in oil.
Seijirou exhaled deeply, his shoulders relaxing before he looked Kei straight in the eyes.
“Well, there’s a reason we’re so desperate to bring talented artists onto our platform.”
As he began explaining, Kei listened carefully, summarizing the situation in his mind.
Unlike NH Music, which was already well-established in Japan, EMI Music Japan was still relatively new to the scene.
At first, their focus had been on Korean idol production, since the Japanese idol market was notoriously difficult to crack.
Competing against domestic giants like NH, Sony and King Records seemed almost impossible.
But times were changing.
In recent years, Japan’s band and indie music scenes had begun gaining international traction—especially after several anime and films used songs from smaller bands that unexpectedly went viral overseas.
EMI Music Japan saw the shift as a once-in-a-generation opportunity.
They had a few signed artists, but transforming from a decent domestic label into a globally recognized one was no easy feat.
Most musicians on Japan preferred stability—choosing to stay with long-standing, “safe” record companies rather than gamble on a young, ambitious one.
What EMI needed was a flagship.
A new face of their brand.
An artist with both the talent and the potential to go beyond Japan—to embody the company’s dream of global success.
And that opportunity had finally come knocking.
With NH Music cutting ties, Kessoku Band was now in play—and EMI Music Japan saw a golden chance to seize them before anyone else could.
“…And that’s why we made such a generous offer to you,” Seijirou concluded, his tone earnest as he waited for Kei’s reaction.
Then, in an almost uncharacteristic gesture, he stood and bowed deeply.
“I know we’re still new and unproven,” he said, voice steady but laced with sincerity, “but I hope you can put your trust in us. We’ll do everything in our power to promote your music—to make sure it reaches every corner of the platform.”
He lifted his head, eyes burning with conviction.
“With your band’s and your own talent, I’m confident we can conquer not just Japan—but the world.”
His tone rose with genuine passion as he extended his hand slightly forward.
“So please, Aoki-sensei—let’s take this step together!”
Kei looked at the man in front of him, then back down at the contract resting on the table.
For him, this wasn’t much of a dilemma. The offer had no hidden traps or strings attached—it was simply a platform for Kessoku Band’s music, and a way to make all the legal troubles finally disappear.
“Seijirou-san, please raise your head. You’re making me look like the bad guy here…” Kei said with a sigh.
“Ah—yes, I’m sorry, Aoki-sensei…” Seijirou straightened up quickly, his face still red with embarrassment. He stared at the ceiling, seemingly too nervous to meet Kei’s eyes.
Seeing no downside, Kei took a quiet breath, reached into his pocket, and pulled out a pen. With a firm stroke, he signed the contract.
“Here you go, Seijirou-san.”
The moment Kei handed the signed papers over, Seijirou’s eyes lit up like fireworks.
“This means—!”
He grabbed the document with both hands, staring in disbelief at the inked signature.
‘He signed it… He really signed it!’
Seijirou could hardly contain himself.
He’d been prepared to face rejection—after all, a band as talented as Aoki-sensei’s was bound to attract attention from other, bigger labels.
He had even feared that Universal Music Japan would swoop in at the last moment and steal them away.
But no—he’d gotten there first.
Kei smiled lightly. “Yes, please take care of us from now on, Seijirou-san.”
“Of course! Don’t worry—you won’t regret this!” Seijirou said eagerly, shaking Kei’s hand with both of his.
And with that, the meeting came to a close.
Outside the café, as snowflakes drifted lazily through the afternoon sky, they exchanged farewells.
But just as Seijirou was about to leave, something seemed to strike him.
“Oh, right—before I forget.” He turned back. “Aoki-sensei, if we were to offer Kessoku Band the chance to perform overseas—maybe a concert or a small showcase—do you think your bandmates would want to do it?”
The question made Kei pause.
It wasn’t a surprising offer; EMI had money to spend, and expanding internationally fit their goals perfectly.
But… he couldn’t just say yes.
“I’d need to ask the others before deciding,” he replied carefully.
If it were just him—as Suki—he could manage.
But this wasn’t only about him anymore.
He wanted Kessoku Band to grow together, to reach that global stage as a unit.
Decisions like this weren’t his alone to make; he’d need to discuss it with the girls—and, more importantly, their guardians.
So for now, he could only give an ambiguous promise.
Seijirou nodded, smiling in understanding. “No pressure, really. Just let me know what your band decides.” He glanced at his watch and sighed. “Well, it’s been a real pleasure meeting you, Aoki-sensei. I should head back to the office.”
“I’ll contact you once everything’s ready.”
“Thank you for your hard work, Seijirou-san.”
By the time they left the café, the snow over Shibuya had grown thicker, blanketing the streets in a gentle white.
Around four in the afternoon, Kei stopped by a small dessert shop, picking up a few sweets before heading home.
The warm aroma of sugar and cocoa followed him into the cold air.
As he walked, another thought crept into his mind.
Christmas was only a day away.
Which meant—presents.
“Ahhh… choosing Christmas gifts for the girls…” Kei groaned softly, rubbing his temple.
The concert had been nerve-racking. Signing with EMI Music Japan had been huge.
But somehow, this—deciding what gifts to buy—was the first problem that truly gave Aoki Kei a headache.
