Time flew by, and the moment eventually arrived where we had to choose the songs for the Semi-Finals. Honestly, I thought it would be a success if I could just get even one usable track out of Yokishi and Shuji.
Composition is strictly the realm of talent and instinct. It's an even more daunting task to write a band piece where various instruments must move in harmony.
"Shuji, so this... is the music you brought?"
"Yeah, Leader! What do you think? Isn't it incredible?"
The song from the bald bassist was incredibly depressing and convoluted. It was experimental, but experimental only for the sake of it. The emotional line of the track was all over the place, and the lyrics were so pessimistic they didn't even fit the melody.
"From now on, your nickname is the Mad Scientist. You crazy bastard."
"Uh... doesn't it sound like an opera?"
For music to be called 'operatic,' you'd have to bring something on the level of Queen's 'Bohemian Rhapsody' for me to agree. The track the bald bassist brought wasn't operatic; it was just a total train wreck.
Operatic rock is notoriously difficult to compose. Queen is called a legend because they actually pulled off that impossible feat.
"Baldy, an opera isn't a mess like this song you made."
"Hey, Muscle-head, do you have any idea how experimental my music is?"
I spoke up, stopping the two as they stood ready to trade punches.
"Forget whether it's an opera or whatever. First off, it has to be good to listen to. I told you to write a band song, but you brought me a funeral dirge."
At my words, the bald bassist dropped to his knees and sank into despair. Beside him, Ai, who had been listening to the track, was clutching her arms and shivering as if she had just seen a ghost.
The next person to present a song was the muscular drummer, Yokishi. And as I listened to the song he brought, I couldn't stop the admiration from welling up. The track was similar to 'Tears' by the band X-Japan from my previous life.
"Brother, what's wrong?"
"Did you really write this...?"
The bald bassist was already looking at the muscular drummer with eyes full of respect.
"This is your story, isn't it, Yokishi...?"
"It's a song I wrote while thinking about my late father, Brother."
True masterpieces are born when a person's life is poured into them. And Yokishi had poured his entire life into this track. It was a tribute dedicated to his father, who had passed away during the Gulf War.
The song was filled with the emotions he felt after losing his father—the only person who truly understood him in conservative Japanese society—and the words he wanted to convey to his father in heaven.
'I absolutely cannot be the one to sing this song.'
With that firm resolve, I gripped Yokishi's shoulder and spoke. It didn't matter if we lost a match.
"Yokishi, you sing this. No one else should ever sing this song but you."
This song captured the sorrow, loneliness, and weakness of a man struggling to survive. This music was his life itself.
"I can't sing as well as you, Brother. I wrote this assuming you'd be the one singing it in the first place."
"No, I won't sing it."
Even if his muscles were to split my head open, I had no intention of singing this song. That was my way of showing respect to a bandmate.
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"...Alright, Brother. Thanks for being so considerate."
I was walking Ai home as usual. For some reason, she didn't look very happy.
"Hide, why did you let Uncle Yoki sing that song?"
"Because that was my [sincerity] toward Yokishi."
Ai looked at me with a confused expression, clearly unable to understand my answer.
"But we might lose the Semi-Finals, right?"
"To me, being [sincere] to my people is more important than that. Once trust is lost, it can never be regained."
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