The first video went up on their social media by accident.
It wasn't part of some grand strategy. It wasn't the product of careful planning or weeks of preparation. It wasn't even something they had intended to do. It was a fluke—a raw, unpolished recording of them jamming together one afternoon at Aki's apartment, the sound of their laughter, off-key notes, and spontaneous moments caught in a blurry video posted to Insta. They had no expectations when they hit "upload"—no thoughts of the repercussions, no grand plan. It was just… them.
Shino didn't know how it happened. One moment, they were laughing and trying to get through a practice session, and the next, Aki had grabbed her phone and started filming, urging everyone to act natural.
"Hey! Let's show everyone who we are!" Aki had said, always the one to embrace the spotlight.
They weren't even playing anything polished. Just a few bars of a song they had barely written, an attempt at improvising something on the spot. It was messy, imperfect. But as Shino glanced at the screen in Aki's hand, her heart raced. She could see the potential in the video, even if it was far from perfect. There was energy there. A fire. She could almost hear the future crowd in her mind, cheering them on.
"Okay, we're posting this, right?" Aki asked, her thumb hovering over the button. Shino hesitated.
"You sure? It's not even finished…"
"So what? People like seeing stuff in the raw. The real thing!" Aki flashed a grin, her fingers already tapping "share."
"Whatever," Mika said with a shrug, tuning her bass.
"Maybe it'll get a few likes. If nothing else, it's fun to share."
Kanna, who had been quietly observing, nodded in agreement.
"It's real. That's what matters."
And so, with a shrug, the video went live.
They didn't think much of it. At first, it was like any other post. A handful of views. A couple of comments from friends. Shino didn't even bother checking the notifications. She had seen the way things worked online—viral videos didn't happen to bands like theirs. At least, not to bands like them—new, unknown, unpolished.
But by the next morning, it had exploded.
It started with a few reposts by their friends. Then someone with a larger following shared it. By the end of the day, Lucid Dreams was everywhere.
Shino sat in bed that morning, scrolling through her phone lazily, when a message popped up from Mika.
"Look at this," Mika wrote. She had sent a screenshot of their video—now shared by an influencer with millions of followers. Shino blinked, scrolling through the responses, each more enthusiastic than the last.
"Who are these girls? They're amazing! Why aren't they famous yet?"
"I just followed them. This is so real. Keep going, Lucid Dreams!"
"I need more! Where can I buy their music?"
Shino's heart pounded. Was this… real? She looked up at the clock. It was still early morning. She hadn't even had her coffee yet. How was it possible that a video they had posted on a whim was suddenly reaching thousands, maybe even millions
of people?
Aki was the first to call.
"This is insane!" she shouted into the phone, her voice full of excitement.
"Shino, we're trending! Look at this!"
"How is that even possible?" Shino asked, still in disbelief. She had never seen something spread this quickly, not for a band that was still so new and unknown.
"People like it! They really like it! They love the energy. And they're starting to talk about us!" Aki was practically vibrating with excitement.
"I knew this was going to happen. This is just the beginning!"
But as the excitement surged, so did the pressure. The phone calls started coming in. The DMs. The questions. The requests for interviews. Everyone wanted something from them now that they were "viral," now that they had something people wanted.
Aki, of course, was all over it. She was answering questions, setting up shows. But Shino couldn't help but feel overwhelmed. This wasn't what she had signed up for. She had imagined a steady, slow climb. Something manageable. Not this—this rapid-fire explosion that felt out of her control.
She hadn't even expected people to like their music, let alone respond with such enthusiasm. But now that they had caught the attention of the online world, there was no going back.
The first show they booked in response to the video was at a much bigger venue than they had ever been
in.
But with all the excitement came something else: the pressure to keep up. The pressure to stay relevant, to continue to meet expectations that were growing faster than they could handle.
"I don't know about all this," Shino admitted to Mika during one of their rehearsals, the weight of the situation settling on her chest. "What if we can't keep it up? What if this is just a fluke, a one time thing?"
Mika shrugged, leaning back against the wall with her bass slung over her shoulder. "We don't need to keep up with anyone else. We just need to keep doing what we do. It's a fluke for now, sure. But maybe the next one won't be if we can make use of this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity."
Shino took a deep breath. She knew Mika was right—Lucid Dreams had something raw and genuine about them. They weren't like all the polished bands with their perfectly engineered sound. They were real. They were messy. They were new. And maybe that was exactly what many people wanted to see.
But as the comments kept flooding in, as the pressure to "produce" began to mount. Shino couldn't help but wonder: How long could they keep this up? How long could they ride this wave before it all came crashing down?
As the next few days passed, things only escalated. Aki was living in a whirlwind of activity, handling social media, fan interactions, and booking gigs. Mika and Kanna were increasingly caught up in the studio, trying to write new music to capitalize on their sudden popularity. But Shino, at the center of it all, found herself feeling lost.
This was the moment they had dreamed of—the moment they had been waiting for—but it came with a price. The world was watching now, and they had no choice but to keep moving forward, to keep creating, to keep up with the huge expectations newcomers have for them.
Shino knew she had to step up—she couldn't let the pressure consume her. They had come this far, and despite the fear gnawing at her insides, she had to trust in their abilities.
They were Lucid Dreams now. They were real. And as the world watched, they had to show up, and deliver.