Chapter 102: The Birth of a Divine Song!

"Nice to meet you, Oda-sensei. I am Kitahara Iwao."

Kitahara Iwa nodded slightly and said, "I apologize for the intrusion."

"Kitahara Rock?"

Upon hearing this name, Tetsuro Oda's previously impatient expression suddenly froze.

He first looked the young man up and down, and the anger in his eyes from being disturbed vanished instantly, replaced by a pleasant surprise after extreme astonishment.

In Japan, traditional writers have always enjoyed an extremely privileged social status.

Even top political and business figures have to address him respectfully as "Master" when they meet.

Moreover, the person standing in front of him at this moment was no ordinary bestselling author.

Instead, he was a super monster who single-handedly turned the entire Japanese literary world upside down by receiving two award nominations for two works at the same time.

"The author of 'Love Letter' and 'The Scream'—Kitahara-sensei?!"

Tetsuro Oda suddenly stood up from the mixing console, his movement so forceful that the swivel chair behind him slid half a meter away.

Then he strode forward, his tone filled with undisguised fervor and respect, and said, "I just stayed up all night two days ago to finish reading 'The Cry'!"

"That's an absolute masterpiece that can cleave one's soul in two! I never imagined that Kitahara-sensei, who wrote such words, was so young!"

This renowned producer, known for his volatile temper in the recording studio and for making countless singers cry, was unusually enthusiastic at this moment. He pulled out a sofa for guests and repeatedly greeted them, "Mr. Kitahara, please have a seat!"

"All the media in Tokyo are looking for you today, wanting to interview you. Why would someone as important as you suddenly grace my little recording studio with your presence?"

Only after Kitahara Iwa calmly took his seat did Oda Tetsuro turn his gaze back to Sakai Izumi standing to the side.

This time, there was a clear sense of reassessment in his eyes when he looked at Izumi Sakai.

"And... Puchi, you actually know Kitahara-sensei?"

And at this very moment.

Nagato, who was originally leaning against the door, ready to warmly welcome his fellow sufferers, was now rooted to the spot like a wooden stake.

His mouth was slightly open, and the brown paper envelope in his hand almost fell to the ground.

Northern rock?

Kitahara Iwao, the author of "The Last Cry"?!

Although Nagato is a spoiled rich kid who lives off connections, that doesn't mean he's blind.

Faced with such a national cultural giant, his little scheme to save face vanished instantly.

Instead, there was an irrepressible excitement.

The next second, almost instinctively, he took a step and jogged over to them.

His previous dejected appearance vanished completely. He even pulled out a pen from somewhere and handed over the back of the kraft paper envelope with both hands.

"Tai-Taihara-sensei! I...I'm your fan!"

"I've seen 'The Ring,' 'Confessions,' 'Love Letter,' and 'Scream'!"

"Could you... sign your name for me?"

At this moment, Nagato was so excited that his voice was stammering.

Oda Tetsuro, who was immersed in the joy of meeting his idol, suddenly realized that there was actually an extra person in the recording studio.

The next second, his brows furrowed again, and he glared at him disdainfully, saying, "Why haven't you left yet?"

Nagato shrank back at the shout, but still held the envelope tightly in his hands and refused to let go, looking at Kitahara Iwa with expectant eyes.

His timid yet persistent desire for an autograph even reveals a touch of comical stubbornness.

Kitahara Iwa looked at the young man who had just been lingering by the door and couldn't help but find it somewhat amusing.

He didn't put on any airs, and with a friendly expression, he took the pen from Nagato's hand and signed his name smoothly in the blank space of the kraft paper envelope.

Thank you for your support.

Kitahara Iwa handed the pen back, his tone gentle.

"Thank you, Kitahara-sensei! I will definitely cherish it as a family heirloom!"

Nagato clutched the envelope tightly to his chest as if it were a priceless treasure, and bowed repeatedly to Kitahara Iwa.

Even though Oda Tetsuro's murderous gaze was practically piercing his back, Nagato, a fervent reader, still mustered his courage and asked expectantly, "Um... Kitahara-sensei, if I may ask, what kind of subject matter are you planning to write for your next book?"

Kitahara Iwa smiled amiably: "I haven't fully considered it yet. But at the latest, I should have a concrete plan by the second half of the year."

Having received such a friendly and approachable revelation from his idol, Nagato nodded heavily, as if he had heard some divine revelation, clutching the envelope in his hand.

"Don't worry! As soon as the book is on the shelves, I'll be there in line to support it!"

After expressing his loyalty, Nagato was finally satisfied. Under Oda Tetsuro's extremely impatient gesture of getting lost, he reluctantly left the recording studio, looking back every few steps.

The heavy, soundproof door closed completely.

Standing in the corridor, Nagato took a deep breath, and then, as if his pants were on fire, he rushed frantically towards the public phone booth at the end of the corridor.

Insert coins quickly and dial.

As soon as the call connected, he completely ignored what Daikichi Nagato was saying on the other end and excitedly shouted into the receiver, "Uncle! Forget about the project proposal! Guess who I just bumped into in Oda-sensei's recording studio?!"

"Kitahara Iwao! The Kitahara Iwao who wrote 'The Scream'! He's actually dating Sachiko Kamachi from our company!!!"

Just as Nagato was so excited that he was incoherent and frantically reporting the news to the person on the other end of the phone, the tense atmosphere in the room eased.

Having calmed down a bit from his fanatical state, Tetsuro Oda had just sat down on the opposite sofa and was about to ask Kitahara Iwa to pour him a cup of hot tea.

"Master Oda, we've come to your door today because we have a favor to ask of you."

Seeing that the time was right, Izumi Sakai quickly stepped forward, bowed slightly, and handed over the file bag containing the sheet music with both hands.

"I would like to ask you... to play me a melody."

Tetsuro Oda raised an eyebrow, his gaze sweeping back and forth between Kitahara Iwao and Sakai Izumi with amusement.

He then reached out and took the file bag, pulling out the handwritten sheet of music.

At first, his gaze held a somewhat casual scrutiny.

But just a few seconds later, his gaze fixed on the paper.

Oda Tetsuro stared at the few lines of hastily written musical notation, his pupils seeming to ignite something within them.

Without saying another word, he grabbed the guitar leaning against the side and slammed the sheet music onto the music stand.

He felt around on the neck of the guitar with his left hand and found the starting chord position, then gently placed the pick on the string with his right hand.

Then he started playing.

In the first few measures, Tetsuro Oda played very slowly, as if he were touching a piece of unpolished jade with his fingers, carefully feeling its texture and temperature.

But when the melody reached the first phrase of the chorus, his fingers suddenly quickened.

The force of the pick strumming suddenly increased, and what was originally a tentative light strumming turned into a powerful strumming with a clear sense of direction.

The melody that Kitahara Iwa hummed during a late-night phone call was given new life and vitality through the rugged yet warm tone of the acoustic guitar.

As Oda Tetsuro played, he unconsciously swayed his body slightly.

This is a characteristic of him when he gets into the zone.

When the song reached its highest note in the chorus, Izumi Sakai couldn't help but hum along softly.

She didn't make any noise; the melody just flowed naturally from her throat as she pasted the lyrics she had written, word by word.

"Don't give up..."

"Hang in there a little longer..."

Izumi Sakai's voice wasn't loud, but in this recording studio of only a dozen square meters, it was as clear as a silver needle falling on a glass plate.

Suddenly, Oda Tetsuro's fingers, which were strumming the strings, froze.

The high-pitched echoes still reverberated from the violin case, but he paid no heed to them and abruptly stood up from the high stool.

His movements were so forceful that his elbow nearly knocked over the metal music stand next to him.

"Let's do it one more time."

Tetsuro Oda stared intently at Izumi Sakai. The light in his eyes was completely different from the nonchalant look he had given thirty seconds ago. Now, it revealed the fervor of a top producer upon encountering exceptional lyrics and music.

"Puchi, start from the first line of the chorus and sing the lyrics you've written out completely."

"I'll accompany you!"

Izumi Sakai was slightly taken aback by Tetsuro Oda's fanatical actions, but she quickly clenched her fists and nodded her head emphatically.

The second time it begins.

This time, the guitar music flowing from Tetsuro Oda's fingertips completely abandoned any hesitation and transformed into an aggressive, all-out assault.

His chord progressions suddenly became wild and precise, improvising several extremely exquisite passing notes on the originally simple melodic framework.

The emotional tension of the entire chorus was instantly elevated to a terrifying, three-dimensional level!

And Izumi Sakai's incredibly penetrating and clear voice, supported by this god-level guitar accompaniment, finally let go of all restraint and exploded completely!

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The unique rock-and-roll power of Izumi Sakai, perfectly combined with the clarity of a spring, exploded in this cramped recording studio.

Soon, the music ended.

The trill of the last chord slowly dissipated in the air.

The recording studio fell into a deathly silence, broken only by the two people's soft breathing.

Oda Tetsuro pressed down on the still-vibrating strings, turned his head sharply, and stared intently at Kitahara Iwa, who was sitting on the guest sofa drinking water, as if looking at an alien.

"Teacher Kitahara..."

Oda Tetsuro's Adam's apple bobbed violently, his voice even trembling slightly with a dryness: "Don't tell me, this absolutely divine main theme... you wrote it?"

Izumi Sakai, who was standing next to him, took a deep breath and added softly, "It was something that Kitahara-sensei hummed after reading my lyrics during our phone call last night."

Hummed out?!

Upon hearing this, Oda Tetsuro's pupils constricted sharply.

A literary monster nominated for two awards, casually humming a melody, can easily surpass 90% of the professional composers in today's pop music scene!

Faced with the astonished gaze of the top producer, Kitahara Iwa waved his hand, a hint of embarrassment in his expression.

"I was just inspired by Miss Puchi's poem."

Kitahara Iwa cleared his throat and shifted his gaze slightly, saying, "It was just a random hum, I hope Oda-sensei won't find it amusing."

"Please excuse my poor appearance!"

Oda Tetsuro, like a cat whose tail had been stepped on, suddenly raised his voice.

He strode to the coffee table, his eyes burning with a fanatical rage, and shouted, "Are you kidding me?!"

"How many people in the pop music scene have racked their brains until they go bald and still can't come up with a single good melody? And you call that an expression of genuine feeling?"

"Teacher Kitahara, this kind of pure, heartfelt expression, devoid of the artificiality of industrial assembly lines, is the essence that truly touches the soul!"

After yelling that, this music fanatic completely forgot about hospitality.

He turned around, ripped the hastily written sheet music from the music stand, strode towards the arrangement keyboard in the recording studio, and asked Izumi Sakai, "Are you free this afternoon?"

Izumi Sakai shook her head.

"Then don't go anywhere."

Tetsuro Oda turned on the keyboard and his fingers flew across the black and white keys, tuning the sound library.

"I'll start working on the arrangement for this song right now."

One day later.

B-being Agency.

President Daisuke Nagato sat behind his desk, with a portable cassette player in front of him.

His index finger rested on the play button, but he hadn't pressed it yet.

Just yesterday, Izumi Sakai sent a demo recording through her agent, along with a handwritten letter written in extremely sincere language.

The letter was brief, but it essentially said that she wanted to replace her original debut song with this one.

Daikichi Nagato narrowed his eyes slightly as he looked at the song titles handwritten in marker on the demo tape.

Don't give up.

Lyrics: Izumi Sakai.

Music: Kitahara Iwa, Oda Tetsuro.

Arranged by Tetsuro Oda.

Northern original rock.

Daikichi Nagato stared at the name for two seconds, and the corner of his mouth twitched involuntarily.

He was certainly familiar with the name Kitahara Iwa.

To be precise, there are probably very few people in Japan today who don't know this name.

Moreover, when Kadokawa Haruki arranged for him to sign Sachiko Kamachi last year, he had already personally dealt with this young woman.

In Daiko Nagato's memory, Kitahara Iwao only had one copy of "Confessions" at the time.

Although his calm demeanor is impressive, he is still just a rising star writer.

But who could have imagined that so little time has passed?

The other party then released "Love Letter" and "Scream" in quick succession, transforming themselves into a super monster that is now being wildly pursued by the entire Japanese media and nominated for two awards!

But no matter how astonishing the growth rate is, writing novels and making music are two completely unrelated industrial systems!

A literary master who deals with words and profound metaphors all day long goes to write songs for a nobody who got in through connections, and he can even excite that arrogant madman Tetsuro Oda so much.

Thinking of this, Nagato Daisuke frowned, his fingers unconsciously tapping lightly on the solid wood table.

He finally couldn't contain his utter astonishment at the absurdity of it all and muttered to himself, "He can actually compose music?"

Filled with deep suspicion and scrutiny, Nagato Daiyuki took a deep breath. His index finger, hovering in mid-air, finally fell.

Click.

The play button was pressed.

As the aggressive guitar strumming in the intro leaped lightly from the speakers, accompanied by a faint background noise, Daiko Nagato's expression remained unchanged.

This is the instinctive scrutiny of someone who has been in the record industry for over twenty years, when it comes to any new song.

However, this condescending criticism only lasted for a dozen seconds.

The moment the short intro ended and Izumi Sakai began to sing the first line of the verse, Daiko Nagato's fingers, which had been resting loosely on the leather armrest, suddenly gripped the leather tightly!

There's no need to wait for the chorus to erupt during the climax.

With just the first line, Izumi Sakai's rock voice, as clear as a spring and incredibly penetrating, collided with that divine melody that seemed destined to be etched into one's DNA from the very beginning, and with a terrifying force that was almost like breaking through a wall, it fiercely grabbed his eardrums!

Nagato Daikichi's droopy eyelids suddenly opened, and his pupils contracted sharply.

With just one appearance, this song has achieved the ultimate in "catchiness" that pop music desperately craves!

At that moment, a vein even bulged on the back of Nagato Daikichi's hand resting on the armrest, an uncontrollable tremor he felt upon smelling the aura of the legendary melody.

After listening to the entire song, he sat motionless in his chair, his eyes fixed on the now-stopped cassette player.

To be honest, when Izumi Sakai rejected the few debut songs the company had chosen for her through her manager yesterday, Daiko Nagato was extremely annoyed.

How can a newcomer who hasn't even debuted yet have the audacity to deny the production team's project plan that they've been working on for over a month?

But he did not immediately have an attack.

Firstly, it was because Izumi Sakai's attitude when she refused was extremely sincere, without any arrogance of a newcomer, she simply repeatedly expressed her intuition that "these songs don't suit her."

Secondly, as a seasoned veteran in the industry, Daiko Nagato himself knew that those songs were indeed not good enough.

They would be perfect on any mass-produced idol, but when applied to Izumi Sakai's highly distinctive voice, something just feels off.

Thirdly, it was because of the rights that Kitahara Iwa helped Sakai Izumi secure.

As for what exactly the missing thing was, he never figured it out.

Until this moment, he had listened to the entire song "Don't Give Up".

He finally understood.

The missing thing is called "soul".

Those previous assembly-line love songs were songs that anyone could sing.

But when it comes to the entire Japanese music scene, only Izumi Sakai can sing this song, "Don't Give Up"!

That kind of stubbornness in gritting your teeth and moving forward in adversity, that kind of backbone that keeps your back straight even when you're already overwhelmed by life.

This sense of power is deeply embedded in the framework of the melody and hidden in the gaps between the lyrics.

Izumi Sakai's clear yet resilient voice is precisely the perfect vessel to bring these emotions to life.

Thinking of this, Daikichi Nagato took a deep breath, reached out and rewound the cassette to the beginning, and pressed play again.

As the last note of the second verse faded, Daikichi Nagato grabbed the phone on his desk without hesitation and dialed the internal line.

"Notify the planning department that the list of candidates for Sakai Izumi's debut single is now null and void."

At this moment, Nagato Daiko's voice tried his best to maintain the composure of a leader, but his slightly trembling speech was still half a beat faster than usual.

"Change to a new song."

"Furthermore, recording, arrangement, mixing, and cover design—all of these should be rescheduled with the highest priority!"

At this point, Nagato Daiki paused, his eyes revealing an undeniable resolve, and commanded in a deep voice, "The debut schedule originally set for February is hereby scrapped and changed to May!"

"Give it ample production time, and I want to launch it to the market in its most perfect form!"

The person on the other end of the phone gasped sharply, clearly stunned by the president's series of crazy orders, before responding in shock and hanging up.

Daiko Nagato leaned back in the boss's chair, his gaze falling once again on the handwritten words on the cassette tape casing.

Music: Kitahara Iwa, Oda Tetsuro.

He slowly shook his head, a very subtle bitter smile appearing on his lips.

A literary master who spends his days writing novels casually hummed a melody and overturned the results of more than a month of hard work by his planning team.

What kind of monster is this Kitahara Iwa?

How many trump cards does he still hold that no one in Japan knows about?