Chapter 101 Witnessing the Divine Comedy

"Really...is it okay?"

Upon hearing Kitahara Iwao mention his previous immature work, Sakai Izumi's voice was filled with both surprise and unease.

The interplay of these two emotions made her speech somewhat disorganized.

"But Kitahara-sensei, this song of mine... doesn't even have a melody yet. If it only has lyrics, it's just a half-finished product."

Izumi Sakai paused, her unease taking over her tone: "How could the company possibly agree to let a newcomer debut with a half-finished song that doesn't even have a complete melody?"

This concern is valid.

In the Japanese record industry, all plans for a new artist's debut, from song selection and arrangement to cover design, are decided by the company's top executives.

It's unthinkable for an up-and-coming singer to want to reject a song personally selected by the company president and replace it with a half-finished version containing only lyrics.

"About the piece of music."

Upon hearing this, Kitahara Iwa spoke softly while recalling the songs he had heard in his previous life.

"Actually, when I saw your version of the lyrics before, a melody just popped into my head. I didn't have a chance to mention it to you then, so now's the perfect time."

"melody?"

Izumi Sakai on the other end of the phone was clearly stunned, her gentle voice tinged with disbelief as she asked, "Taiba-sensei, you can... compose music?"

"Haha, I wouldn't call myself a composer, it's just something I felt compelled to say."

Kitahara Iwa leaned back on the sofa, shaking his head with a smile.

When it comes to proper musical notation and arrangement, he is, of course, completely clueless.

But as someone with complete memories of his past life, Kitahara Iwa didn't need to understand any of that. He only needed to hum the chorus that was etched in his mind verbatim.

Kitahara Iwa knew very well that even if her pitch wasn't quite right, with the professional skills of a future legendary singer like Sakai Izumi, even just listening to a few a cappella excerpts would be enough for her to transcribe the entire song's score using her sense of pitch.

Then Kitahara Iwa held the receiver a little further away and cleared his throat gently.

Then, close your eyes slightly and hum a melody softly.

This is a chorus melody in a light rock style.

The rhythm is not fast, but every note is played with extreme steadiness, like a person walking forward step by step against the wind.

The melody doesn't have those deliberately sentimental highs and lows, but in each seemingly gentle progression, it accumulates an increasingly stronger, upward-climbing force.

This strength is not a shout or a roar, but a stubbornness that comes from gritting your teeth, having red eyes, yet still keeping your back straight.

As the tune and melody of the song came through the phone, Izumi Sakai listened intently on the other end.

Her breathing could still be faintly heard in the first few seconds, but as Kitahara Iwa's humming gradually progressed to the climax of the chorus, even that faint breathing disappeared.

It was as if the whole world was reduced to the melody coming from the receiver.

Kitahara Iwa hummed the last syllable and then fell silent.

Silence returned to the living room, and there was still no response from the other end of the phone.

The silence lasted for nearly five seconds.

Then, a series of extremely rapid rustling sounds came from the receiver, as if someone had suddenly jumped up from their chair and was frantically searching for something.

"Wait...wait a minute! Kitahara-sensei, please wait a moment!"

At this moment, Izumi Sakai's voice completely changed.

The girl who was just hesitant and uneasy has disappeared, replaced by an urgent feeling that brooks no delay.

"I was looking for a pen... and I found it!"

Then came the faint sound of a pen tip touching paper through the receiver, followed by Izumi Sakai's barely concealed request.

"Teacher Kitahara, could you please hum it again? Please, slower, I need to write down the sheet music."

Hearing Izumi Sakai's request, Kitahara Iwao's lips curled up slightly, and he began humming the melody again from the beginning.

This time he deliberately slowed down, leaving enough space between each syllable.

On the other end of the phone, the scratching sound of the pen tip moving rapidly across the paper almost never stopped.

Occasionally, Izumi Sakai would eagerly interject with, "Is this a semitone higher?" or "Try this again," and Iwao Kitahara would patiently repeat it.

By the time the entire chorus melody was recorded, Izumi Sakai's voice was already trembling.

But it wasn't nervousness or fear.

"Teacher Kitahara..."

Her voice was very soft, as if she was afraid that speaking too loudly would break something.

"I was writing down the sheet music while mentally matching the lyrics I wrote to the melody."

She paused, took a deep breath, and said, "A perfect match."

"The stress on every word, the breath control in every sentence, the rise and fall of every emotion... it's as if this melody itself grew out of the words!"

At this moment, although Izumi Sakai's voice was trembling slightly at the end, her pronunciation was clearer than ever before.

Kitahara Iwa didn't reply, but simply picked up his water glass and took a sip of warm water.

He certainly knew why the melody and lyrics fit together so perfectly.

Because on another timeline, this was originally one entity.

This is an absolute masterpiece that has sustained countless Japanese people through the Great Depression of the Heisei era.

"Now we have both the lyrics and the main theme."

Kitahara Iwa placed the water glass back on the table and asked, "What you need next is someone who can completely capture the essence of this melody." "The person who creates complete rock arrangements."

"Are there any suitable candidates in the company?"

Kitahara Iwa asked casually into the phone.

Actually, although he had listened to ZARD's songs countless times in his previous life and knew that the president behind her was Daiko Nagato, he had never bothered to remember who the composer of "Don't Give Up" was.

I only have a vague impression in my mind, I think her name was Oda something...

It can't be Oda NON, can it?

On the other end of the phone, Izumi Sakai blurted out the answer almost without hesitation.

"Teacher Oda."

"Um?"

"Teacher Tetsuro Oda".

Having found her direction again, Izumi Sakai said with certainty, "President Nagato had originally arranged for him to write music for me, but it hasn't been scheduled due to scheduling conflicts."

"However, I met Mr. Oda once in the recording studio, and he heard me sing."

Izumi Sakai paused for a moment, as if she was quickly calculating something in her mind, then took a deep breath and said, "I'll go to him first thing tomorrow morning and bring this melody and lyrics with me."

When Kitahara Iwa heard the name Oda Tetsuro, the corresponding entry suddenly popped up in his memory bank.

Yes, Tetsuro Oda.

In my past life's memories, this name was almost inextricably linked with the name Izumi Sakai.

ZARD's most outstanding masterpieces, such as "The Mood of Sleepless Nights," "Swaying Longing," and "My Friend," almost all point to the same composer.

Tetsuro Oda's control over melody and his precise grasp of the fusion of rock and pop were unparalleled in the Japanese music scene of the 1990s.

More importantly, he has an extremely rare ability to accurately capture the most unique frequency range of a singer's voice and then build the entire song's arrangement around that frequency range.

This powerful vitality and the fusion of pop and rock styles were something that the old-school producers at Daiko Nagato's company, who were used to mass-producing idol songs, could never even come close to.

Only Tetsuro Oda could perfectly flesh out the framework that Kitahara Iwa hummed, turning it into a truly national masterpiece.

"Then go find him."

Kitahara Iwa nodded and said, "I'll go with you tomorrow morning."

Being able to witness the birth of the national hit song "Don't Give Up" was indeed something Kitahara Iwa was looking forward to.

Of course, the more important reason was that he had to personally help Izumi Sakai establish a reputation.

After all, according to Kitahara Iwa's vague impression, Oda Tetsuro, this guy who came from a rock and roll background, didn't have a very good temper.

Sending a complete newcomer who hasn't even debuted yet to knock on the door of a top producer with just half a sheet of music will most likely result in them being kicked out by that hot-tempered workaholic.

"Huh?"

Izumi Sakai was clearly taken aback by Kitahara Iwao's words, and it took her a full two seconds to react. Her voice was filled with obvious surprise and flattery: "Takihara-sensei, you're personally accompanying me?"

"But... if you go out now, what about those reporters watching you downstairs..."

"Go through the back door."

Kitahara Iwa smiled nonchalantly: "There's a fire escape door in the underground parking garage of this apartment building that leads directly to the next block. I checked it out beforehand when I moved in."

The other end of the phone suddenly went silent.

After a couple of seconds, Izumi Sakai responded very softly, "Okay."

That simple "okay" contained so many emotions, but she didn't say a word more.

The next morning.

A secluded alleyway in Shibuya Ward, far from the main roads.

Izumi Sakai stood at the door of a small private recording studio, clutching a transparent file bag in her hand.

There were two things in the file folder.

One of them was her own handwritten lyrics to "Don't Give Up," the edges of which were frayed from repeated folding.

The other one is a simplified score that I hastily jotted down last night while listening to Kitahara Iwa humming on the phone.

The handwriting was messy, and there were a few places marked with arrows indicating corrections, but every note was remembered clearly.

Beside her, standing shoulder to shoulder, was Kitahara Iwa.

Today, Kitahara Iwa wore a dark turtleneck sweater, casually layered a plain navy blue coat over it, with a hat pulled down over his head and a face mask on.

Thanks to his unassuming attire, none of the few passersby in the alley noticed that the young man who brushed past them was none other than the double-award genius who was currently mobbed by all the Tokyo media outside his apartment building and dominated the headlines of every newspaper.

Izumi Sakai stood in front of the heavy soundproof door of the recording studio, took a deep breath, and was about to reach out and push the door open.

Just then, a series of hurried footsteps came from behind.

"Oh, Miss Puchi?"

A slightly slick male voice came from behind.

Izumi Sakai turned her head and saw a young man wearing a flashy leather jacket and with excessive hair gel walking quickly towards her.

He had a brown paper envelope tucked under his arm and a familiar smile on his face.

Izumi Sakai recognized him; he was a musician she'd occasionally run into at the company, I think his surname was something like Nagato, but she couldn't quite remember his full name.

"What a coincidence, you're also here to see Oda-sensei?"

Nagato glanced at the file bag in Sakai Izumi's hand, then at the tall man behind her wearing a mask, a hint of curiosity flashing in his eyes, but he didn't ask any further questions.

Then, he lowered his voice, his tone carrying a hint of well-intentioned concern, and asked, "But Miss Puchi, have you made an appointment?"

Upon hearing this, Izumi Sakai paused slightly: "...No."

Upon hearing this, Nagato gasped and shook his head repeatedly, saying, "Then you'd better be careful."

"With Oda-sensei's temper, anyone who shows up without an appointment will either be yelled at and kicked out, or he won't even open the door for them."

"Last time, a singer came knocking on the door without a scheduled time, and he was kicked out from the hallway all the way to the elevator."

Upon hearing Nagato's words, Izumi Sakai's expression changed slightly.

Kitahara Iwa stood to the side, glanced at the long-lived man without making a sound, and then asked a question.

Do you have an appointment?

Nagato turned his head and looked at the masked man with a somewhat deep voice. Although he didn't recognize him, the man's tone was so natural that he didn't feel offended. He just grinned, revealing a set of white teeth.

"Me? I don't need an appointment."

He patted the brown paper envelope under his arm, his tone brimming with undisguised smugness, and said, "I'm President Nagato's nephew. No matter how difficult Oda-sensei is to please, he wouldn't dare to offend the boss's relative, would he?"

After saying that, he casually reached out and pushed open the recording studio door, then turned to the side and made a "please" gesture.

"Come on, come on, come in with me. With me here, Teacher Oda won't make things difficult for you."

Izumi Sakai hesitated for a moment and glanced at Iwao Kitahara.

Kitahara Iwa nodded slightly.

And so, the three of them walked into the recording studio one after the other.

At this moment, Tetsuro Oda was sitting in front of the mixing console, with a natural wood Martin guitar in front of him.

He was wearing a faded gray sweatshirt, his hair was casually tied back, and he had stubble on his chin.

Hearing the door being pushed open, Tetsuro Oda didn't even look up, his fingers still on the guitar strings, his tone revealing an undisguised impatience at being interrupted from his work.

"Who?"

Oda Tetsuro stopped what he was doing and glanced at the doorway. Seeing the three people enter, his thick eyebrows furrowed instantly.

"Of the three of you, who booked a recording session for today?"

The young man surnamed Nagato stepped forward first, his face immediately plastered with a fawning smile, and said in an overly familiar tone, "Oda-sensei! Long time no see! We even had a drink together at the company's year-end party last time, do you remember?"

"I am President Nagato..."

"Get out."

Oda Tetsuro didn't even change his posture; his voice wasn't loud, but it sounded like a blunt knife slashing down.

Hearing Oda Tetsuro's merciless expulsion, Nagato's smile froze.

He scratched the back of his head, clearly not expecting the other person to not even exchange half a second of pleasantries.

Then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw Izumi Sakai, a colleague from the same company, and a man wearing a mask standing behind him, and Nagato felt somewhat embarrassed.

But he didn't feel too humiliated; he was just thinking about the task his uncle had given him that he hadn't finished.

So he rubbed his hands together, put on a smile, took another half step forward, and said in a gentle tone, "Oda-sensei, please calm down. I didn't come here on purpose to cause trouble. Today I'm mainly carrying out the instructions given to me by President Nagato..."

"I don't want to repeat myself a second time."

Oda Tetsuro's gaze swept directly over him, his tone completely flat: "It doesn't matter whose instructions you bring. Don't come into my recording studio without an appointment. The door is behind you."

As soon as those words were spoken, the air in the entire recording studio instantly plummeted to freezing point.

Faced with this top producer who was in a rage, Nagato shrank back and completely lost his temper.

After all, it wasn't worth it for him to go head-to-head with an industry expert and get scolded, so he could only shut his mouth awkwardly, clutch the brown paper envelope in his hand, sigh helplessly, and turn to walk towards the door.

But when his hand touched the doorknob, he stopped in his tracks.

He glanced back at Izumi Sakai, who was still standing there, and the man beside her who was wrapped up tightly.

Although Nagato is a bit thick-skinned, he actually has a strangely warm heart deep down.

He quickly calculated in his mind that even he, who claimed to be the president's nephew, had been blasted to smithereens. If Sachiko Kamachi, a newcomer who hadn't even debuted yet, were to face this raging Tyrannosaurus Rex directly, she would definitely be scolded to tears on the spot.

We're all just fellow sufferers, it's quite tragic.

Thinking of this, he simply loosened the doorknob, scratched the back of his head, and leaned against the door frame, refusing to leave.

just wait.

It only takes about ten seconds anyway.

When the two people were also kicked out, everyone walked together, and he could also offer a few words of comfort to prevent the two newcomers from feeling embarrassed.

However, just as this kind-hearted president's nephew leaned against the door, ready to welcome his fellow sufferers...

Inside the recording studio, Tetsuro Oda's thick eyebrows were still tightly furrowed, his gaze falling impatiently on Izumi Sakai, who was still standing there, and the tall man wearing a mask behind her.

His tone did not soften in the slightest because of the earlier incident.

"Pu Chi, you haven't scheduled any dates, have you?"

Upon hearing Tetsuro Oda's voice, Izumi Sakai tensed slightly, but before she could explain, she did not.

Oda Tetsuro's gaze passed over Sakai Izumi and landed directly on the tall man beside her who hadn't uttered a word since entering the room.

"And who else is this?"

"She's probably not a singer!"

Tetsuro Oda pointed without any politeness, his brows furrowed tightly as he continued, "The recording studio is a serious work environment. How can you let just any irrelevant or irrelevant person in?"

Faced with this merciless expulsion, Izumi Sakai was about to explain when the person next to her acted first.

Kitahara Iwa didn't speak, but calmly raised his hand, first taking off the brim of his hat that was pulled down low, and then pulling off the mask on his face.

next second.

A young face, which was being frantically searched for by reporters all over Japan, was suddenly exposed to the bright lights of the recording studio.