Faintly, But Surely, It Echoes

"And... we are live! Hello, everyone! I'm Shinsuke Matsuda, welcoming you once again to Sonar Music! Today, we're bringing you a very special broadcast from an outdoor studio. I'm sure you all know why we're here, right? You don't? Well, you'd better find out right now!"

The broadcast was taking place in the plaza in front of a major department store in downtown Tokyo. In the center of the sprawling, beautifully designed plaza stood a temporary stage. One side of the stage was set up for the radio broadcast, while the other was packed with instruments, ready for a live band performance.

"For those who don't know, and to remind those who do, today's episode of Sonar Music is a special feature! The rising stars who have taken the Japanese music scene by storm! Having conquered Korea, they boldly threw down the gauntlet, calling out the complacency of our music industry in their Rock in Music interview! And they've proven they have the absolute skill to back up that bravado! Listeners at home, and everyone gathered here at the plaza! Please give a massive round of applause for... Group Sound!"

As applause erupted from the modest seating area and the crowd of onlookers surrounding it, four young women stepped out from behind the stage. The most striking among them was a particularly tall, elegant girl.

"They're here, they're here!"

"Whoa. She's even prettier in person."

"Right? I told you she has that Korean idol vibe."

"I don't know about that..."

Ever since the family had bought two copies of the album, every single member of the Naruoka household—with one exception—had become a die-hard fan of Group Sound. Ryuta, watching his older sister react to the band's appearance as if she'd just been blasted by a shotgun, muttered under his breath. He quickly shut his mouth, however, when his sister shot him a warning glare. He valued his physical safety too much to push it.

I just wanted to stay home and play games...

It was a ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠rare, peaceful weekend. Ryuta had planned to lock himself in his room and play his Switch all day, but his family had refused to leave him in peace.

"Group Sound is doing a live show!"

"Oh, cool. Have fun."

"What do you mean? You're coming too. Mom and Dad are going, you think you're staying behind?"

"I don't really want to..."

Despite his protests, Ryuta had been dragged along, and he was not in a good mood. Why bother coming all this way when it was so much easier to just stream the music on Spotify or Apple Music?

"Ryuta, don't you like band music? Why are you being so cynical?" his mother asked.

"Not this kind of band."

The bands Ryuta liked weren't these mainstream, popular acts. He preferred bands with what he considered a more "indie" color—groups like Ryokuoushoku Shakai, Macaroni Empitsu, and Saucy Dog. Of course, compared to Group Sound, who had only just debuted in Japan, those bands were massive, household names. But such nuances were easily lost on a moody teenager.

"I don't even like K-pop, and now I have to listen to a K-band..."

"Ryuta. Since we're here, just empty your mind and listen. You haven't even properly listened to their music, have you?"

"I have."

He had, in fact, listened to the entire album twice. Granted, he had done so with his arms crossed, actively looking for flaws and thinking, This part sucks, that part is mid. But listening was listening. What difference did it make? They were probably just another act manufactured by the media anyway.

"Hello. I'm Ha Suyun of Group Sound."

"Hello! I'm Choi Iseor!"

"My name is Jung Hyun-ah~!"

"Hello, I'm Yoo Seoha. Nice to meet you."

"Hello! Shinsuke Matsuda here from Sonar Music! Welcome! Thank you so much for joining us today..."

While Ryuta brooded, the host and the members of Group Sound chatted. They talked about the new album and what had prompted them to enter the Japanese market.

"We're actually performing at Summer Sonic this year!"

"Oh, really? Any plans for a live tour yet?"

"A live tour... was originally planned for the middle of this year, but we've had to completely revise our schedule. The album did much better than we expected, so we're having to make major adjustments to the venue capacities..."

"That's a wonderful problem to have!"

It was standard promotional banter, but ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠one particular segment caught the crowd's attention. It was when the host asked Ha Suyun about what had inspired her to start playing music.

"...And that's how I ended up starting music."

"My goodness... So your master passed away on the street like that?"

"Ah, yes. Well. That's how it happened."

It was a tragic, almost unbelievable story. Ryuta ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠wondered how much of it was actually true, but there was a certain dry, detached quality to Ha Suyun's voice that felt genuine. She sounded like someone who had told the story so many times she had simply become numb to the tragedy of it.

"...Well, thank you for sharing that with us! Now, I think it's time we show our listeners and the audience here why we've brought Sonar Music outdoors today. Are you ready?"

"Yes, we're ready anytime."

"Then let's get right to it!"

Amidst another wave of applause, the members of Group Sound took their positions behind their instruments. A nod was exchanged, and the drums kicked off the beat.

Ryuta's eyes widened. He wasn't the only one. His family, the onlookers standing beside him, and everyone who had gathered after hearing the studio version of I'll Wait—everyone was stunned.

The song was definitely I'll Wait, but it felt entirely different.

The studio version of the track was built around a simple, catchy bass riff, straightforward drums, and backing keyboard and guitar. It was a nostalgic, easy-listening song designed to evoke distant memories. But the live version being performed right now felt like a song of an entirely different difficulty class.

From the very first bar, the bass stepped to the forefront, capturing the audience's attention with a heavy, aggressive slap technique. The drums kept perfect time, but added a dynamic, driving energy that gave the song an incredible bounce. The keyboard didn't just sit in the background; it traded lines with the vocals, elevating the excitement of the crowd.

The guitar, which had been playing a supportive role beneath the vocals, suddenly took center stage. As if it were the most natural thing in the world, Ha Suyun launched into a blazing guitar solo that hadn't existed in the original recording, announcing her presence to the world with authority.

The members grinned, throwing in playful vocal ad-libs during the chorus, clearly having the time of their lives on stage.

Hearing them live... is completely different.

Ryuta looked around. He wasn't the only one thinking it. Everyone in the plaza was completely swept up in the music. His sister, his mother, his father. The middle-aged man next to him, the older woman behind him—everyone.

Well, I guess their live skills are decent, Ryuta thought, trying to suppress the strange, fluttering excitement rising in his chest. But they still have a long way to go. You can't judge a band by one song.

It was a pathetic attempt at self-denial.

"So... No, this isn't our last song yet," Ha Suyun said into the microphone as the first track faded. "This next song is a CD-only exclusive. It's not available on streaming services like YouTube, Spotify, or Apple Music."

As a collective "Oooooh~" rose from the crowd, Shinsuke Matsuda quickly chimed in.

"Oh? Is this... a shameless plug??"

"Well, something like that," Ha Suyun replied with a straight face. "If you want to hear it again, please buy the physical album. It's not like we dig up money from the ground, you know."

"Haha! What a witty way to put it! Is that a Korean saying? Well, let's hear it!"

After the brief banter, Ha Suyun unstrapped her guitar and carefully placed it on the stand beside her.

Oh??

Matsuda's eyes gleamed. He hadn't bought the physical album either, so this was a song he hadn't heard yet. Seeing her take off her guitar entirely suggested this track didn't feature the instrument at all.

As the crowd watched with bated breath, a soft tap of a foot set the tempo. Then, the keyboard began to play.

It was a breathtakingly beautiful, lyrical melody that sounded almost classical. A gentle, flowing stream of notes woven together by delicate fingers. Just as the audience began ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠to wonder if this was a solo piano piece, the drums and bass entered with quiet, understated presence.

Then, a soft, velvety voice drifted over the music, wrapping around the plaza.

Ha Suyun's unique vocal tone glided effortlessly through the microphone, slowly painting the stage in her own distinct colors.

The other three instruments swirled around her voice, crafting a rich tapestry of sound. The beautiful piano, the drums striking with surgical precision, and the bass hummed low and warm, mimicking the resonance of a double bass.

Matsuda was utterly astonished.

In his mind, Group Sound had never been a band that focused heavily on vocals. Both of their vocalists were competent, but that was about it. He had viewed them as a band where the vocals were treated as just another instrument alongside the guitar, bass, and drums. They were a band of instrumental harmony, and if they had a true centerpiece, it was the guitar.

But the performance unfolding before him shattered that impression.

The guitar, their supposed centerpiece, was completely absent. The vocals were pushed to the absolute forefront. Yet, the quality of the performance hadn't dropped in the slightest.

No... it might actually be even better...

The song built steadily toward its climax. As the emotion in her voice rippled outward like a stone dropped into still water, it washed over the crowd, stirring deep, unspoken feelings. It felt like a bittersweet regret for paths left behind, or perhaps a quiet, budding hope for the future.

With the end of the first verse, the bass and drums fell silent. The keyboard stepped forward once more, gently caressing the audience with its beautiful, solitary melody.

As the crowd melted into the gorgeous soundscape, Matsuda found himself deep in thought.

She said this was a CD-only track, right?

The sheer quality of the performance was flawless, even without the guitar. Vocals, bass, drums, keyboard—if even one of these elements had been lacking, the performance could never have delivered such profound emotion. But what truly occupied his mind was a different thought altogether.

Sometimes, rock bands would throw a quiet, lyrical ballad into an album, almost as an afterthought or a change of pace. Often, these tracks went unnoticed. But occasionally, they would capture the public's heart in a way no one could have predicted. Like a video suddenly swept up by the YouTube algorithm, pulled in by some inexplicable gravity.

I don't think this is going to remain just a CD-only track...

Matsuda smiled. The sharp intuition he had honed over his many years as a radio DJ was telling him that something big was about to happen.