Reborn in Tokyo: From Heiress to Global Tycoon

Chapter 240 Girls Band

(There will be an extra chapter tonight)

In April, the streets of Shinjuku still carried a lingering chill in the spring breeze.

At the alleyway on the edge of Kabukicho, Masami Okura stopped in her tracks.

She carried a well-maintained Yamaha electric guitar case, the strap cinched over her dark spring trench coat. She looked up, her gaze passing over the bustling pedestrians and the slightly cluttered streetlights, settling on the gray-white three-story building ahead.

The headquarters building of SA Entertainment. The ground floor of this building used to be a pachinko parlor. Even earlier, it belonged to the Okura family.

"Wow! It really is here!" Drummer Yuki jumped out from behind Masami. Her short hair swung in the air, and her face was filled with barely suppressed excitement.

Yuki pointed to the black frosted metal sign on the first floor, which had a very modern industrial design.

"This is holy grail!" She gripped the shoulder strap excitedly, her eyes gleaming with fervor. "I heard that all those million-selling legends who have dominated the Oricon charts for the past two years sweated on this stage before their debut! To be able to perform in a top-tier live house that has witnessed countless phenomenal successes..."

She whirled around, grabbed Yami's arms with both hands, and shook them violently. "Yami! Pinch me, see if I'm dreaming!"

"...Ah! Maki, what are you doing!"

"Didn't you ask someone else to sculpt it?"

Bassist Rie huddled next to Yuki, gripping the straps of her bass bag tightly with both hands.

"What should I do..." Rie's lips were a little pale, and her voice trembled slightly. "I feel like... I'm about to throw up the rice balls I ate this morning..."

Lead guitarist Maki, carrying a heavy Fender, stood quietly to the side, earnestly pinching Yuki's soft arm.

Blue Echo.

This band, composed of four girls, fought their way out of a field of two hundred competing teams, thanks to their all-female lineup—a rarity in the underground music scene—and their solid foundation in the field. Today, they will be one of the sixteen remaining teams to enter this door and participate in SA Entertainment's internal final selection.

Yamei looked at her companion, a gentle smile appearing in her eyes. She took out a can of heated black tea from her coat pocket.

"Here you go." Yami placed the warm aluminum can into Rie's cold hands. "Take a deep breath. The temperature of this tea is just right; it'll feel more comfortable in your hand."

Rie took the black tea, held the heat source tightly in both hands, and nodded vigorously.

Yami turned around and looked at Yuki, who was still bouncing around on the spot. She reached out and pulled up the slightly crooked zipper of Yuki's jacket, smoothing out the wrinkles at the collar.

"Alright, stop jumping around. Save your energy for the stage."

"Huh? Yami, aren't you excited? This is the headquarters of SA Entertainment, you know? The company that has produced so many wildly popular artists!"

"Hmm... I've been here many times, what's there to be excited about?"

"Huh? Yami, you actually came here secretly behind our backs? Tell me quickly, when did you come..."

"Hurry up and go in, it's almost time."

Ignoring Yuki's continued chatter, Ayami's gaze returned to the gray-white building. Her heart was unusually calm.

A check for fifty million yen. A bankrupt family. The humiliation and despair that once stung her had long been washed away by the sweat of countless rehearsals in cramped basements. Now, all she wanted was to lead her companions to seize this top-tier stage before them that could change their destiny.

"Let's go." Yamei walked in front and pushed open the heavy, bulletproof 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 me. The roar of engines, sirens, and the cacophony of voices from the streets of Shinjuku were instantly and completely cut off. I even felt a brief buzzing in my ears because the ambient noise level suddenly dropped to an extremely low level.

What comes into view is a wide corridor.

The walls were densely covered with asymmetrical acoustic diffusers. The thick, dark gray anti-static carpet underfoot sank into shoes, completely swallowing any footsteps. Several equipment technicians in matching black overalls pushed aircraft-grade aluminum equipment cases past them quickly. The cases bore the logos of Neumann and SSL (Solid State Logic). Expensive condenser microphones and mixing console modules, which would normally be rented by the hour in a typical recording studio, were stacked in boxes here.

At the front of the corridor, the on-site supervisor, wearing a walkie-talkie headset, spoke at an extremely fast pace.

"Cut off the low frequencies from the monitor speaker on camera position three. Add two dB more to the guitar channel fader..."

"The phantom power of the condenser microphone is confirmed to be on. The listening loop for the judges' panel must be kept clean."

"Hurry up, the next group will have their sound check in ten minutes..."

Yuki instinctively stopped in her tracks. She watched as the top-of-the-line equipment cases, gleaming with metallic luster, were pushed away, then glanced down at the old drumsticks in her hand, worn rough and even wrapped with electrical tape. Rie swallowed hard, took a half-step back, and felt a sudden, flustered unease as her muddy boots stepped onto the clean, thick carpet. She gripped the strap of her bass bag tightly with both hands.

This ultra-precious acoustic environment, created with massive financial investment, along with its professional and standardized processes, transformed into an invisible yet substantial pressure. It seeped into their pores little by little through the constant 24-degree Celsius sterile air conditioning. Even the girls, accustomed to performing in stuffy, sticky underground live houses where they screamed from cheap speakers, found themselves unconsciously slowing their breathing.

Yuki involuntarily shut her mouth and quietly moved closer to Masami. Even Maki seemed a little uneasy.

Yamei didn't react much; this kind of scene was nothing new to her. She had seen much bigger scenes before the bankruptcy. She was like a mother hen, protecting her chicks.

This "peacock spreading its tail" group, composed entirely of young girls, seemed somewhat out of place in this environment. Soon, a female staff member dressed in a smart black suit approached them, holding an electronic terminal in her hand.

"Blue Echo?" The staff member's gaze swept over the four people.

"Yes. We've come to participate in the final election," Yami replied 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 Yami.

"These are your access stickers. Number sixteen. Please wear them prominently on your chest." The staff member turned around, her high heels clicking heavily on the carpet. "Please follow me. Do not move around or make loud noises."

Yami distributed the stickers to her companions. Yuki pressed the sticker onto her leather jacket and followed closely behind Yami. She looked around curiously, but was intimidated by the extremely oppressive professional atmosphere in the corridor, and only dared to lower her voice and whisper in Yami's ear, "Yami... there's not even a speck of dust in here. Are we really not going to dirty someone's carpet?" Rie didn't even dare to breathe loudly, and the bass bag in her arms seemed to be her only lifeline.

"It's okay. Try to get used to this environment as soon as possible, because we'll be working here from now on."

"It's as if we've already been chosen..."

After walking through two long corridors, the soundproof doors on both sides were tightly closed. Occasionally, extremely muffled bass drum sounds could be heard piercing through the walls, making one's feet go numb. The staff stopped in front of a walnut door with a sign that read "16".

"You've arrived at your private lounge." The staff member stepped aside and gestured for you to proceed. "There are forty minutes until the audition. Please prepare here briefly." With that, she nodded slightly and strode away in her high heels.

Yami led her companion into the room. "Huh? Exclusive? Exclusive?" Yuki's eyes widened, and she was the first to rush in.

The spacious, private lounge was filled with a subtle citrus scent. The leather of the sofa shimmered softly under the overhead lights. A full set of professional lighting fixtures stood in front of a huge vanity mirror that occupied an entire wall.

On the marble coffee table, several bottles of Volvic mineral water and a plate of exquisitely crafted French pastries were neatly arranged. In the center of the wall, a Sony-made color monitor was broadcasting a live, silent feed of the main stage. On the screen, several stage assistants were quickly adjusting microphone stands.

"Is...is this really the dressing room?" Rie cautiously walked to the sofa. She didn't even dare to sit down directly, just leaning against the edge of the sofa, half her body dangling in the air. Her hands were still holding the can of black tea. "It's even bigger than the entire venue we used to perform in..."

A series of slightly chaotic footsteps suddenly echoed in the corridor. The door to the lounge hadn't been closed properly, leaving a half-open crack.

A hardcore, technically skilled male band that had also made it into the top 16 had just finished their audition and happened to be passing by. The lead guitarist, who was walking at the front, had long hair and was wiping the sweat from his forehead with a towel.

He suddenly stopped, his gaze sweeping through the open door over the old drumsticks wrapped in insulating tape in Yuki's hand, and then over Rie's uneasy expression.

He casually draped the towel he used to wipe his sweat over his shoulder, raised his right hand, and tapped the door frame twice with his knuckles.

"Knock, knock." All eyes in the house turned to him.

The male guitarist's gaze swept over Yuki's old drumsticks wrapped in insulating tape, and Rie's hands clenched tightly with nervousness.

"Newcomers, the main stage has very strong diffuse sound reflection." He spoke casually, as if giving a piece of advice. "When you go for the sound check later, remember to ask the technicians to cut off the low frequencies from your monitor speakers."

He put his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket, his gaze sweeping over the crowd until it landed on Maki's guitar, its edges slightly chipped. A faint smile played at the corners of his lips.

"The monitoring circuitry over there is exceptionally clean. If you can't control the pressure when strumming, even a Marshall amplifier costing millions of yen will amplify the noise tenfold. Simple pop chords won't pass muster there."

He shrugged slightly, leaving behind a final, dismissive piece of advice: "Be a little more careful, girls."

This preconceived notion of labeling them as "amateur girls with poor skills who can only play simple chords" is even more frustrating than direct profanity. Yuki, her face flushed with anger, abruptly stood up from the sofa. "What did you say?! Our skills are far from..."

"Feed." A flat, monotone voice interrupted Yuki's anger.

Maki, who had been sitting in the corner with her baseball cap pulled low, looked up. Her gaze completely ignored the male guitarist's smug face. It was fixed on a metal effects amp he was pointing at. Maki stood up and walked expressionlessly to the door.

The male guitarist was stunned for a moment, thinking that the other person couldn't take the provocation and was about to retaliate. He was just about to put on his senior's airs and give him a few words of advice.

"Is that distortion effect unit in your box the first version of the Boss DS-1?" Maki stared at the box.

The male guitarist's prepared lecture caught in his throat. "Huh?...So what if I am?"

"Give it to me." Maki clasped her hands together, looking at him with utmost sincerity. "If you're willing to give it to me, I might reluctantly call you 'brother.' Please, I'll treat it like a family heirloom and offer incense to it every day."

The male guitarist's brain went blank for a moment. He stared wide-eyed at the short-haired girl in front of him, who was completely unpredictable. The "senior authority" he had tried to establish crumbled instantly in the face of this utterly outrageous remark. He felt like an idiot.

Yami took half a step forward. She stretched out her arm and naturally placed it in front of Maki, shielding her teammate behind her.

With her hands clasped in front of her, Yamei gave a slight bow, performing a perfectly standard gesture of respect. Her smile was gentle and serene.

"Thank you for your kind guidance, seniors. Your suggestions were very helpful." She spoke at a measured pace and with clear enunciation. "I wish all of you a successful performance on stage later."

The air in the corridor seemed to freeze for a few seconds.

The male guitarist's mouth was slightly open, but the lecturing words he was about to use to showcase his technical superiority got stuck in his throat. He looked at Maki, whose hands were clasped together and whose eyes were fixed solely on the effects pedal amp, and then at the girl in front of him who looked like she stepped out of some Taiga drama.

He instinctively took half a step back. His previous superior posture completely lost its footing in the face of the extremely strange contrast between the two people.

"...Tsk. Crazy." The male guitarist abruptly looked away. He grabbed a handful of his long hair in frustration, tightened his grip on the metal case, and quickly left with his companion without looking back.

Yami retreated to the lounge. "Click." The door lock snapped shut.

"Yami, why are you being so polite to that kind of person?" Yuki sullenly sat back on the leather sofa, arms crossed.

Maki sat down as well. She pulled down the brim of her baseball cap, her gaze still fixed on the door that had just closed.

"How stingy..." Maki muttered expressionlessly, her tone revealing undisguised regret. "The paint on the casing is so badly chipped. It wouldn't be a problem if you gave it to me."

Rie gripped the strap of her bass bag tightly and swallowed hard. Her gaze darted back and forth between her companions. The recent exchange had instinctively made this inexperienced girl feel uneasy.

Yami walked to the marble coffee table. She unscrewed two bottles of mineral water. She handed one to Yuki and the other to Maki, who was still talking about the effects pedal.

"Alright." Yami looked at Yuki, her smile still gentle, her pace unhurried. "Verbal arguments won't change the judges' scores."

She reached out and gently straightened Yuki's jacket collar, which had been disheveled by her excitement.

"The more arrogant they are, the more we need to stay calm. Save all that energy you're going to use to yell back, and unleash it later when you're at your fingertips."

Yuki gripped the cold water bottle. She took a deep breath, and the flush on her face slowly faded. She nodded vigorously.

"Ding-dong." The director's emotionless electronic announcement came from the loudspeaker on the wall. "Team 16, Blue Echo, please proceed to the waiting area to prepare."

"Everyone, it's our turn." Yami turned around and walked to the center of the room. She extended her right hand, back of it facing up, holding it in mid-air. "Come on."

Yuki immediately put down her water bottle, stepped forward, and placed her hand on top of Yumi's. Rie took a deep breath and put down the can of black tea that had gone lukewarm. She stepped forward and placed her slightly trembling hand on top of Yumi's. Maki reached up and adjusted the brim of her hat, stood up, and walked over. The four hands were tightly clasped together.

"Rie." Yami spoke softly, her gaze falling on the easily nervous girl. "For the bass intro in the first section, follow the rhythm we practiced yesterday, no need to rush. I'll use guitar chords to fill in for you." Rie bit her lower lip and forcefully hummed in agreement.

Yami turned to look at Maki. "Maki. In the chorus, delay the timing of your distorted pedal by half a beat. Leave that pause." Maki nodded slightly, expressionless.

His gaze finally settled on Yuki's face. "Yuki."

Yuki clenched her fists and took a deep breath. "You decide the opening bass drum rhythm," Yami said calmly, looking at her. "Let all the anger you were holding back in the hallway hit the drums. Don't hold back."

"Oh, oh, oh! Burn them to ashes!"

"Everyone."

Yamei's gaze swept across the faces of her three companions, the smile on her lips completely vanished, and her eyes became extremely focused.

"Let's go. Let's take over that stage."

All four hands pressed down at the same time.