In the streets of Shinjuku in April, the spring breeze was still mixed with a lingering chill.
At the corner of an alley on the edge of Kabukicho, Okura Masami stopped.
She carried the well-maintained Yamaha electric guitar gig bag on her back, its strap digging into her dark spring trench coat. She looked up, her gaze passing over the bustling pedestrians and the slightly cluttered utility poles by the roadside, landing on the grayish-white three-story building ahead.
S.A. Entertainment headquarters building. The first floor of this building used to be a pachinko parlor. Even earlier, this place belonged to the Okura Family.
"Wow! It really is here!" Yuki, the drummer, jumped out from behind Masami. Her short hair whipped through the air, and her face was brimming with irrepressible excitement.
Yuki pointed at the matte black metal sign on the first floor, which had a very modern industrial design.
"This is a holy site!" She grabbed her shoulder straps excitedly, her eyes gleaming with fanatical light. "I heard that all those million-selling seniors who have dominated the Oricon charts for the past two years sweated on this stage before their debut! To be able to perform in such a top-tier Live House that has witnessed countless miracles of massive success..."
She turned abruptly and grabbed Masami's arms, shaking them vigorously. "Masami! Pinch me quickly and see if I'm dreaming!"
"...Ah! Maki, what are you doing!"
"Weren't you the one who asked someone to pinch you?"
Rie, the bassist, shrank next to Yuki, her hands clutching the straps of her bass bag tightly.
"What do I do..." Rie's lips were a bit pale, and her voice trembled slightly. "I feel like... the rice ball I ate this morning is about to come back up..."
Maki, the lead guitarist, carried a heavy Fender on her back, standing quietly to the side, earnestly pinching the soft flesh of Yuki's arm.
Blue Echo.
This band, composed of four girls, had fought their way out of the quagmire of two hundred competing teams, relying on their all-female lineup—extremely rare in the underground music scene—and solid fundamentals. Today, as one of the sixteen remaining teams, they would step through these doors to participate in the internal final selection of S.A. Entertainment.
Masami looked at her companions, a very gentle smile appearing in her eyes. She reached into her coat pocket and pulled out a can of black tea that had been heated at a convenience store.
"Here." Masami pressed the warm aluminum can into Rie's cold palms. "Take a deep breath. The temperature of this tea is just right. It will feel better to hold it."
Rie took the black tea, cupping the heat source tightly with both hands, and nodded vigorously.
Masami turned around and shifted her gaze to Yuki, who was still bouncing on the spot. She reached out and pulled up Yuki's slightly crooked jacket zipper, smoothing out the wrinkles at the neckline.
"Alright, stop bouncing. You need to save your energy for the stage."
"Huh? Masami, aren't you excited? This is the headquarters of S.A. Entertainment, you know? The company that has produced so many massive stars?"
"Hmm... I've been here many times, so what's there to be excited about?"
"Ah? Masami, did you sneak here behind our backs? Tell me when you came here..."
"Let's go in. It's almost time."
Ignoring Yuki, who was still chattering away, Masami's gaze turned back to the grayish-white building. Her heart was exceptionally calm.
A check for fifty million yen. A bankrupt family. The humiliation and despair that had once stung her had long been washed away by the sweat of rehearsals in countless narrow basements. Now, all she wanted was to take her companions and seize this top-tier stage that could change their destiny.
"Let's go." Masami walked in front and pushed open the heavy explosion-proof glass door.
"I... let's go in." Rie pushed Yuki to follow Masami, with Maki close behind.
The door hinges turned. The heavy explosion-proof soundproof door closed behind them. The roar of engines, the sound of sirens, and the noisy human voices of the Shinjuku streets were instantly cut off. There was even a brief buzzing in their ears as the ambient noise floor dropped suddenly to an extremely low level.
What appeared before them was a wide corridor.
The walls on both sides were densely covered with asymmetric acoustic diffuser panels. The dark gray anti-static carpet underfoot was thick enough to sink their heels into, completely swallowing all sounds of footsteps. Several equipment technicians in uniform black work clothes were pushing aluminum flight cases, bustling past them. The outside of the cases bore the logos of Neumann and SSL. The expensive condenser microphones and mixing console modules that would require hourly rental fees in ordinary recording studios were stacked in crates here.
At the front of the corridor, a site supervisor wearing a headset was speaking at a very fast pace.
"Cut the low frequencies on the monitor speaker for camera position three. Give the guitar channel fader another two dB..."
"Confirm power to the phantom power of the condenser mic. The monitoring loop for the judges' panel must remain pure."
"Move quickly, the next group is sound-checking in ten minutes..."
Yuki stopped involuntarily. She watched those top-tier, metallic-glinting equipment cases being pushed away, then looked down at the old drumsticks in her hand, which were not only frayed at the edges but also wrapped in electrical tape. Rie swallowed hard and took half a step back. Her ankle boots, stained with a bit of street mud, stepped onto the clean, thick carpet, making her feel a sense of cramped panic, her hands clutching the straps of her bass bag tightly.
This ultimate acoustic environment, built with massive amounts of money, along with the professional and standardized procedures, transformed into an invisible, tangible pressure. It seeped into their pores along with the sterile, twenty-four-degree air conditioning. It made the girls, who were used to performing in stuffy, sticky underground Live Houses while screaming through low-quality speakers, unconsciously soften their breathing.
Yuki closed her mouth involuntarily and quietly leaned closer to Masami. Even Maki became a bit uneasy.
Masami, however, didn't react much. This kind of scene was not unusual for her, as she had seen much bigger scenes before her bankruptcy. She was like a mother hen, protecting the "chicks" behind her.
This "Blue Echo" group, composed entirely of young girls, seemed a bit out of place in this environment. Soon, a female staff member in a sharp black suit came up to them, holding an electronic terminal in her hand.
"Blue Echo?" The staff member's gaze swept over the four of them.
"Yes. We are here to participate in the final selection." Masami responded with a smile.
The staff member quickly checked the list of participants in her hand. She tore off four adhesive-backed number tags from the back of the terminal and handed them to Masami.
"These are your access stickers. Number sixteen. Please stick them in a conspicuous place on your chest." The staff member turned around, her high heels tapping out a dull rhythm on the carpet. "Please follow me. Do not wander around, and do not speak loudly."
Masami distributed the stickers to her companions. Yuki pressed the sticker onto her leather jacket and followed closely behind Masami. She looked around curiously, but intimidated by the extremely oppressive professional atmosphere in the corridor, she only dared to lower her voice and lean into Masami's ear. "Masami... I can't even see a speck of dust here. Are we really not going to dirty someone else's carpet?" Rie didn't even dare to breathe loudly, the bass bag in her arms seeming to have become her only straw to clutch.
"It's fine. You need to get used to this environment as soon as possible, because we will be working here in the future."
"You say that as if we've already been selected..."
They passed through two long corridors, the soundproof doors on both sides tightly closed. Occasionally, they could hear the extremely dull bass of a drum set penetrating the walls, making the soles of their feet tingle. The staff member stopped in front of a walnut door with a "16" number plate hanging on it.
"Your exclusive lounge has arrived." The staff member turned sideways and made a gesture of invitation. "There are forty minutes left until the soundcheck. Please prepare here." After speaking, she nodded slightly and walked away quickly in her high heels.
Masami led her companions into the room. "Eh? Ex-exclusive?" Yuki's eyes widened, and she was the first to rush in.
Inside the spacious, independent lounge, a faint citrus scent hung in the air.
The leather texture of the sofa shimmered under the soft overhead lights.
A full set of professional fill lights was arranged in front of a massive makeup mirror that occupied an entire wall.
On the marble coffee table, a few bottles of Volvic mineral water and a plate of extremely delicate French pastries were neatly arranged.
In the center of the wall, a special Sony color monitor was broadcasting the silent footage of the main stage in real-time.
On the screen, several stage assistants were quickly adjusting the microphone stands.
"Is... is this really a lounge?" Rie walked to the sofa cautiously.
She didn't even dare to sit down fully, just perched on the edge with half her body suspended, still clutching the can of black tea.
"It's bigger than the entire venue we've performed at before..."
A slightly chaotic sound of footsteps suddenly came from the hallway.
The lounge door hadn't been closed tightly and was left ajar.
A hardcore technical male band that had also made it to the Top 16 happened to be passing by after finishing their soundcheck.
The lead guitarist at the front had long hair and was wiping sweat from his forehead with a towel.
He suddenly stopped, his gaze sweeping through the open door, passing over the old drumsticks wrapped in electrical tape in Yuki's hands, then glancing at Rie's uneasy expression.
He draped the towel he used for wiping sweat over his shoulder, raised his right hand, and knocked on the doorframe twice.
"Knock, knock." The eyes in the room converged on him.
The male guitarist's gaze swept over Yuki's old drumsticks and Rie's tightly clenched hands.
"Hey rookies, the sound field diffuse reflection on the main stage is very strong," he said, his tone flat, carrying the casual air of someone giving unsolicited advice to newcomers.
"When you go to soundcheck later, remember to have the stage technician cut the low frequencies of your monitor speakers."
He stuffed his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket, his gaze passing over the others and landing on Maki's guitar, which had some paint peeling off the edges.
A faint arc curled at the corner of his mouth.
"The monitor circuit over there is exceptionally pure. If you can't control the strength of your wrist strumming, a Marshall amp worth millions of yen will amplify the noise tenfold. Simple pop chords won't cut it there."
He shrugged slightly, leaving one last breezy piece of advice.
"Be a little careful, girls."
This condescending attitude, defining them as "amateur girls who have no technique and only know how to play simple chords," felt more stifling than being directly cursed at.
Yuki flushed with anger and stood up from the sofa abruptly.
"What did you say?! Our technique is not..."
"Hey." A voice without any ups and downs interrupted Yuki's anger.
Maki, who had been sitting in the corner with her baseball cap pulled low, lifted her head.
She completely ignored the male guitarist's smug face, her eyes fixed firmly on a metal effects pedal case he was carrying.
Maki stood up and walked to the door, expressionless.
The male guitarist paused, thinking the other party couldn't handle the provocation and was about to fight back, and was just preparing to use his senior status to lecture them.
"Is that distortion pedal in your case the first edition of the Boss DS-1?" Maki stared at the case.
The male guitarist's prepared lecture instantly stuck in his throat.
"Huh?... So what if it is?"
"Give it to me," Maki said, hands pressed together, looking at him with extreme sincerity.
"If you're willing to give it to me, I can barely bring myself to call you 'brother.' Please, I'll treat it like a family heirloom and offer incense to it every day."
The male guitarist's brain experienced a momentary system crash.
He stared wide-eyed at the short-haired girl in front of him who didn't play by the rules at all.
The "senior dignity" he had intended to establish collapsed instantly in the face of this bottomless, off-the-wall statement.
It made him feel like an idiot.
Masami took half a step forward.
She extended her arm, naturally crossing it in front of Maki to block her teammate behind her.
With her hands folded in front of her, Masami bowed slightly, performing a standard, formal greeting.
The smile on her face was gentle and calm.
"Thank you for your guidance, senior. That advice was very useful."
Her speech was unhurried and her articulation clear.
"Wishing you all a successful performance on stage later."
The air in the hallway froze for a few seconds.
The male guitarist's mouth hung open slightly, the lecture he had prepared to continue showing off his technical superiority completely stuck in his throat.
He looked at Maki, who had her hands pressed together and had eyes only for the effects pedal case, and then looked at this girl who seemed to have walked out of some Taiga drama.
He subconsciously took half a step back.
The condescending posture he had originally held lost all its leverage in the face of the extremely strange contrast between these two.
"...Tch. Crazy." The male guitarist shifted his gaze abruptly.
He ran a hand through his long hair irritably, tightened his grip on the metal case, and walked away quickly with his companions without looking back.
Masami retreated into the lounge.
"Click." The door lock engaged.
"Masami, why were you so polite to someone like that?" Yuki sat back on the leather sofa, arms crossed, looking grumpy.
Maki sat down as well.
She pushed down the brim of her baseball cap, her gaze still fixed on the door that had just closed.
"So stingy..." Maki muttered expressionlessly, her tone revealing undisguised regret.
"The casing is so badly chipped anyway. It wouldn't have mattered if you gave it to me."
Rie gripped the strap of her bass bag tightly and swallowed.
Her gaze shifted back and forth between her companions.
The confrontation just now had made this girl, who hadn't seen much of the world, instinctively feel a sense of unease.
Masami walked to the marble coffee table.
She unscrewed two bottles of mineral water.
She stuffed one into Yuki's hand and handed the other to Maki, who was still muttering about the effects pedal.
"Alright," Masami looked at Yuki, the smile on her face still gentle, her speech unhurried.
"Verbal arguments won't change the judges' scorecards."
She reached out and gently straightened the collar of Yuki's jacket, which had been ruffled by her excitement.
"The more arrogant they are, the calmer we must remain. Save all that energy you wanted to use to curse them back and save it for your fingertips later."
Yuki held the cold mineral water bottle.
She took a deep breath, and the flush on her face slowly faded.
She nodded forcefully.
"Ding-dong." The director's emotionless electronic prompt sounded from the loudspeaker on the wall.
"Will the sixteenth team, Blue Echo, please proceed to the waiting area to prepare."
"Everyone, it's our turn." Masami turned around and walked to the center of the room.
She extended her right hand, back facing up, suspended in mid-air.
"Come."
Yuki immediately put down the water bottle, took a step, and stacked her palm on top of Masami's.
Rie took a deep breath, put down the can of black tea that had already gone lukewarm, stepped forward, and placed her slightly trembling hand on top.
Maki reached out to press her cap brim and stood up to walk over.
Four hands were tightly stacked together.
"Rie," Masami said softly, her gaze landing on the girl prone to nervousness.
"For the bass fill in the first measure, follow the rhythm we rehearsed yesterday, no need to rush. I'll support you with the guitar chords."
Rie bit her lower lip and gave a firm "Mm."
Masami turned to look at Maki.
"Maki. Delay the distortion pedal in the chorus by half a beat. Leave that blank space."
Maki nodded slightly, expressionless.
The gaze finally fell on Yuki's face.
"Yuki."
Yuki clenched her fists and took a deep breath.
"You set the rhythm for the opening kick drum." Masami looked at her, her tone steady.
"Take all that fire you were holding back in the hallway and smash it into the drumhead. Don't hold back."
"Oh oh oh! Burn them to ashes!"
"Everyone."
Masami's gaze swept across the faces of her three companions, the smile on her lips completely fading, and her eyes becoming extremely focused.
"Let's go. Let's go take that stage."
Four hands pressed down simultaneously with force.