Time kept slipping through my fingers, and life went with it.
Between school during the day and bar shifts at night, I barely had space to think — let alone focus on what actually mattered.
Music.
My career was stagnating. Even the bump from the V€xxx collab and the Yabai beef wasn't enough to keep the momentum alive. The buzz faded. The numbers dropped.
New tracks stuck at 10k.
Not enough to go back to being anonymous, but not the rise I had in mind either.
Just… stalling.
It was time to do something about it.
And then, while scrolling through my socials, I saw it. A cypher was happening in Agatanomori.
Every name in Matsumoto's underground scene was set to show up.
So, I decided to pull up.
The early June sun pressed down, hot against my skin, making the air buzz with anticipation.
The park was alive with the sound of portable speakers blasting heavy boom‑bap beats, local MCs trading bars with confidence, their freestyles bouncing off every corner.
I rolled up late, hood up, hands shoved in my pockets. No big entrance—but the second I stepped in, all eyes snapped to me.
"Yo, ain't that the Forsaken kid?"
"Man, I thought he was just some emo boy, but bro cooked Yabai."
"I heard he took him out."
Well, at least Matsumoto knew my name. What can I say.
I ignored them, my attenton locked on the people rapping.
The circle was moving.
First up was Kurogane — tall, skinny, same faded BAPE hoodie. His voice cut through like gravel.
Matsumoto no yoru wa tsumetai kaze ga fuku
Yume wa kōri tsuite yume miru hito wa naku
Rojiura no yūrei ni mo utau yo ima
Omae wa uso no chēn, ore wa honmono no kizu da
Then, he stepped back, dapping the next guy. The crowd let out a low "oooh".
Next was Sora — short, buzzcut, large clothes and a NY cap on.
Kōsoku de kiri o kirisaite iku ze
Nagano no chi wa inu ni mo atama sage nee ze
Netto de ikitte mo riaru ja yowai dake
Ore wa arashi, omae wa tada no kaze da ze
Okay. This guy is fast. Like, crazy fast.
Then Rei — quiet, long hair under bucket hat. His voice was slower, almost heavy.
Yuki no naka kage ga ashiato o kesu
Umareta hi kara itami o seotte iru
Kazoku no yūrei ga "yamero" to sasayaku
Demo ore wa hi o fukitsuzukeru, kienai honō
Damn.
I stepped forward, suppressing a yawn before I flashed some bars.
There's scars on my mind, daijobu janai
Demo kane ga ii, ore wa tomaranai
I'm feeling the heat, ato mou ikai
I be one with the beat, my life eiga mitai
Some whistles. Some murmurs—"Did bro just mix Japanese and English like that? Neat!"
Kurogane came up to me.
"Yo! That was fire, dude."
"Thanks. Your freestyle was heat too," I said, shaking his hand.
Yeah. I came here to scout collabs for the future.
I'm planning to drop my first mixtape by summer break, and I need people for features.
Kurogane lingered after the circle broke, hands shoved deep in his hoodie pockets, the streetlamp catching the faded BAPE logo on his chest.
He nodded toward me like we'd already known each other for years.
"You always go that dark, or was the beat just hittin' different tonight?"
I shrugged, exhaling smoke away from him.
"Beat was good. Made it easy to be honest."
He chuckled once — short, dry, like he got it.
"Honest, huh? Most guys here flex imaginary stuff or spit some fake pain. You sounded like you actually lived it."
I didn't answer right away. Just flicked ash from my cigarette, watched it scatter.
"Living it ain't the same as flexing it," I said finally. "But yeah. It's real."
Kurogane studied me for a second, head tilted, like he was deciding something.
"Listen… I ain't tryna gas you up or nothin', but you got something. That last bar?" He shook his head. "Hit different. People felt that."
"Thanks."
He jerked his thumb over his shoulder, toward the darker side of the park where a narrow alley cut between buildings.
"Got a spot not far. Nothing fancy — just a back room at this old izakaya the owner lets us use after hours. No ID check, no cameras, no bullshit. You down for a drink? Not tryna get you drunk, just… talk. Maybe see if we vibe outside the circle."
I glanced at the alley. Looked exactly the kind of place I'd pick if I wanted to disappear for a while.
I threw the cigarette.
"Yeah. Lead the way."
We walked in silence at first — sneakers on concrete, distant train rumble, wind carrying faint shrine bell echoes.
Kurogane broke it halfway.
"You really independent? No manager, no label?"
"Just Maestro on beats. I write, record, drop. Whatever happens, happens."
He nodded slow.
"Respect. Most of these bozos chase clout first, quality second. You seem like you do it the other way."
"Clout don't pay debts."
He laughed — real this time.
"Fair. I got debts too. Different kind, but still debts."
We turned into the alley. A metal door with chipped paint, no sign. Kurogane knocked twice, waited, knocked once more.
Door cracked open. Older guy — maybe late 30s, shaved head, cigarette dangling — looked us over, then jerked his head inside.
Back room was small: low table, cushions on the floor, old CRT TV in the corner playing muted boxing, two bottles of shōchū and ashtrays already waiting. Smelled like smoke, soy sauce, and bad decisions.
Kurogane dropped onto a cushion, poured two small glasses.
"Sit, man. No rush."
I sat across from him. Took the glass but didn't drink yet.
"So," he said, leaning back against the wall. "You got plans? Or you just surviving?"
I swirled the shōchū, watched it catch the light.
"Mixtape by summer break. First real one. Maestro's got beats lined up. I need features — people who can match energy without stealing it."
He raised his glass a little, not drinking yet.
"I can match energy. Sora too — he's fast as hell. Rei… he's quiet but when he hits, he hits deep. We been talking about doing something together. Nothing big. Just a crew."
"A crew, huh?"
SIX STAR were a crew too, though from what I'd seen, not exactly a functional one.
Of course, you can't really compare rap crews to idol groups, but still.
"Yeah. We vibin' so we thought we could hype each other up and stuff. Maybe put some shit out together."
Yeah. That's a good call.
I support the initiative. Wish em luck and all.
Kurogane leaned back against the wall, glass in hand but still mostly full.
"Mixtape by summer break," he repeated, nodding slow. "Ambitious. Maestro beats?"
"Yeah. Dark shit. I need features, so I been looking up to link with some folks," I shrugged.
He smirked.
"You saying I can match?"
"I'm saying you got energy. You don't overthink. That's rare."
I set my glass down.
"Got a beat from last week. Heavy 808, slow tempo. Dark. You wanna jump on it? One verse, no pressure. See if it works."
He raised an eyebrow.
"You asking for a feature? Just like that?"
I shrugged.
"I don't waste time. If it slaps, we drop it. If it doesn't, we never speak of it again."
"Cold. I like it."
He pulled out his phone.
"Send the beat. I'll write tonight. If it's good, we record this weekend."
Done.
We swapped LINE for the feature.
Over the next few days, I recorded my part at the bar before my shifts, headphones on.
"I be wasting no time, I ain't catching my breath
Pick up the pieces and gather what's left
My boys all around me, to my right, to my left
Amiri on me, bitch, I crawled out of hell
I pull up at the show, she be screaming my name
I'm up with Kurogane, taking over the game
We be chasing the money, we be chasing the fame
Speeding in my lane, leave y'all in last place"
I sent my verse through.
Kurogane's reply came quick:
"Yoooo, this is fire bro 👍 Hoppin on it 🔥🔥🔥"
He didn't take long. By dawn, the track was in my inbox. I hit play.
"Ore wa Matsumoto kara, demo touchdown Narita
Chillin' with a bad bitch, karada ga ii na
Kane ga takusan, omae ga kiita?
All these bitches ore no mita
Kanojo ga sasayaku "kimochi ii" while the city nemuru
Body on point, kyokusen kiken, creep mitai na yatsu
Yabai to battle shite mo, ore ga koko no king da na
Sora to Rei to crew shite, flow wa supa faya
With Forsaken on the beat, koko ga hajimeru
Omaetachi no rappers gomi mitai naru"
I wasted no time and uploaded the feature on my YouTube.
Forsaken ft. Kurogane - My Lane. 100k views in a week.
Not bad for a rebound.