A Curveball from the Publisher
Through the diaphragm of a speaker of unknown origin sitting on the desk of the producer at Studio Red Rock, the music flowed out, filling the room. The staff listened in silence, as if it were their sole mission and duty. When the song came to an end just under four minutes later, a brief silence lingered before someone finally spoke.
"Wait, weren't they originally a completely different kind of band?"
"Yeah, they were."
"I've only really listened to Faintly, But Surely and I'll Be Waiting by them. This is a completely different direction, isn't it?"
The staff began to buzz. Though he kept his mouth shut, Director Mishima, who had recommended Group Sound in the first place, felt exactly the same way. The track they had submitted was completely different from what he had anticipated.
Weren't they a band that made much mellower music?
Faintly, But Surely was a song that eschewed the guitar entirely, focusing instead on a mellow melody accompanied by raw, emotional vocals. I'll Be Waiting was an easy-listening track that blended pop and classic rock, evoking a deep sense of nostalgia. But this new demo, currently labeled Unconfirmed 1, possessed an entirely different identity.
It started with a slap bass intro that grabbed the listener by the collar. Then came a powerful, low-end fingerpicked bassline that locked in perfectly with the drums, forcing the body to groove along. From there, the music surged forward—intense, driving, and utterly addictive.
"So, is it bad?"
"No! Of course not."
"I just thought it might not fit the anime because I was expecting something a bit more subdued."
"That's a relief, then."
The restless murmuring quieted down at the producer's question. What followed was praise, praise, and more praise.
I had a feeling they'd deliver, but seeing them actually pull this off... they really are professionals.
Unlike the others in the office, the producer let out a quiet sigh of relief. He was incredibly glad his worst fears hadn't materialized.
Although he had extended the offer based on Director Mishima's recommendation, he was still a producer, which meant he had done his homework on Group Sound. He had focused primarily on their second full-length album—which was their first official Japanese release—but he had also listened to their first Korean album and their two Korean EPs.
That precisely was why he had been worried. Judging by their past discography, they certainly didn't seem incapable of writing a classic Japanese anime opening. The real question was whether they would actually deign to do it.
After all, to put it bluntly, this contract had been rushed through, almost as if they were backed into a corner during their competition with B-2. It was a deal signed without fully hashing out the terms and requirements, and Group Sound clearly held all the leverage...
"Seriously, didn't they seem like the type who would never make this kind of music?"
"Right?"
"To be honest, I didn't say anything to the producer, but when I heard they got the gig, I watched their Rock in Japan interview and thought, 'Oh boy, we're in for a rough ride.'"
The idle chatter of the staff perfectly mirrored his own initial anxieties. Whatever the other members were like, the leader and primary composer, Ha Suyun, was rumored to be a former delinquent. She had given blunt, ego-filled interviews claiming that modern Japanese music all sounded the same and that Group Sound was different. Watching her spit venom at veteran guitarists on cable TV made her look like she had a monstrous personality. Honestly, he had been incredibly tense before their first meeting, even plotting how to establish dominance early on.
"Anyway, we need to send them our feedback, so everyone think of at least one point. We'll discuss them among ourselves, weed out anything unreasonable, and then pass it along."
Hearing a chorus of "Understood!" from the staff, he recalled that first meeting. He had walked into that conference room stiff with tension, and his staff had looked just as terrified... only for a girl who looked like a twenty-something office worker with terrible Japanese to walk in...
How is that even possible? Aren't band members who play that kind of music usually... well, a little unhinged?
Harboring these deeply prejudiced thoughts, the producer gathered the feedback from his staff. Some of the suggestions were vague and unreasonable, typical of non-musicians. Yet, he had a strange feeling that a band this talented would somehow digest even the most absurd demands and turn them into something brilliant.
"According to their email, this version doesn't even have the sound effects or the final session recordings mixed in yet."
"Wait, it's already that good without them?"
"That's what they said. Anyway, they mentioned they can sync everything up once they receive our storyboards and coordinate with us. Animation team, get the storyboards ready as quickly as possible so we can send them over, and report back to me immediately."
"Yes, sir!"
The lead animators nodded. The producer returned the nod, his expression hardening with determination.
"The song is already halfway done, and one listen is enough to know it's going to be a massive hit. So, what's left for us to do? It all comes down to our own effort. If we do our part right, this anime is guaranteed to succeed. Let's give it everything we've got!"
"Roger!"
After receiving feedback that was a bit clumsy, slightly nonsensical, somewhat nitpicky, and clearly in need of refinement, Suyun began revising the track based on the accompanying storyboards. At the same time, she reached out to everyone she had met during her time in Japan—from Shohei Asano, the guitarist of Blue Moon Harmonics, to Yuji Kitani, the producer of the Chiyoda Music Festival, and various other indie bands.
The reason she was making all these calls was to find reliable session musicians. She couldn't justify paying for flights to bring Korean session players all the way to Japan.
"But... wouldn't... my friends... have been okay...?"
"We can't fly people across borders just for a single session. But hey, maybe we can bring them along for the tour."
It was a tear-inducing effort by Hyun-ah to look out for her college friends. Suyun thought to herself that Hyun-ah had truly grown up, as she gathered the session musicians' portfolios, organized them, and shortlisted the candidates. Coordinating schedules and reaching out to them went surprisingly smoothly.
"Hello. This is Ha Suyun, the guitarist of Group Sound. I'm calling because I was referred to you by guitarist Shohei Asano..."
"Ah, yes, hello! I heard about you from Asano-san! When do we start?"
"Uh, actually, I was calling to check your availability first."
"I'm free whenever! Just say the word!"
Was it because she was reaching out through industry veterans and mutual acquaintances? Or was it because Group Sound had already begun making a name for themselves? Contrary to Suyun's vague expectation that Japanese session musicians might be uncooperative with a foreign band, everyone she contacted treated her with utmost respect, as if working with her was their top priority.
Ironically, the only thing that slightly slowed down the process came from within Group Sound itself—though it wasn't a negative thing at all.
"Isn't this a bit plain?"
It happened on the day Suyun was staring at the storyboards, trying to figure out how to modify the music to fit the requests. As she sat in the studio with her arms crossed, lost in thought, Seoha—who had admirably shown up to practice on her day off—approached her and spoke up.
"In what way?"
"Since we're working on this, I went ahead and watched a bunch of anime openings."
"And?"
"And looking at this storyboard, it feels like it's just following the standard 'anime opening' formula to a T."
Suyun stared at Seoha, genuinely having no idea what she meant. Sensing her confusion, Seoha scratched her head, searched for a video on YouTube, and showed it to her. It had an English title, something along the lines of "Anime Opening Tropes."
"Running, standing in the rain, blah blah blah... Yeah, this storyboard definitely has that vibe."
"Right?"
"But isn't that their department? They probably had a reason for making it this way. I mean, look at this scene—they even wrote down exactly what they wanted to convey."
Suyun pointed to a section of the storyboard. It was a scene straight out of the "Anime Opening Tropes" video, but the margins were filled with detailed notes from the staff explaining their intentions—foreshadowing, character introductions, and so on.
"Sure, but I still think there's room for us to make a suggestion."
"Like what?"
"Like this part here."
Seoha took the mouse from Suyun's hand and played the chorus. It was the climax of the first verse, a ten-second highlight where a catchy hook repeated.
"In the storyboard, this part is directed in a really mundane way, even though it's the absolute peak of our song."
"Well, they probably have their reasons..."
"But what if they did something like this instead..."
Seoha pulled up a few viral anime meme videos, both old and new. They featured short, repetitive dances or funny, loopable moments—the kind of content that easily gets clipped and shared across the internet. Watching them, Suyun finally understood what Seoha was getting at. She was suggesting they design the sequence so it could double as a viral meme, boosting the show's promotion.
"I get what you're saying, but I don't know if it's our place to suggest this."
Suyun twirled a strand of her hair, muttering to herself. Isn't that overstepping our boundaries? But Seoha didn't seem to share her concern. She clapped Suyun on the shoulder.
"Who cares? We can just frame it as a casual idea that popped into our heads and throw it out there."
"I'd do that in Korea, but since we're in Japan, I feel like we need to be more careful."
"We're foreigners anyway. If they like it, great. If they don't, we can just play the clueless foreigner card and say, 'Ah, we didn't know because we're Korean~' That's what the foreigner pass is for. Foreigners in Korea do it all the time."
"...Uh, isn't that a bit shameless?"
"It's a waste not to use the foreigner pass."
Suyun stared at Seoha as she doubled down. Over the past few years, she couldn't help but notice that the girl was becoming increasingly cynical...
Surprisingly, Seoha's suggestion was received without any friction. After a brief reply stating they would "look into it," the revised storyboard arrived shortly after. It blended seamlessly with the preceding scenes while incorporating an animation sequence that was perfect meme material.
"See? I told you. It's not like these people have every single detail figured out. Even you..."
"I do have every single detail figured out, though."
"...Sure, whatever you say, genius."
Although the adjustment slightly delayed the final animation, it didn't disrupt the overall schedule. The song and the animation were both coming together smoothly. They were moving forward on a tight but steady track when...
"Yes, hello. This is Jung Yuyoung, Team Leader of the Japanese branch of Label Echo Sound."
Suyun had finished the bulk of the work and was in the company office making final adjustments before the master recording. The song was practically complete, but as with any project, there were always last-minute tweaks to be made before the deadline. No song was ever perfect; there was always some tiny detail that would inevitably bug her.
Should I raise it or lower it? Ugh, it's only a 1 dB difference, but it's driving me crazy.
If she raised it, it felt too prominent; if she lowered it, it suddenly vanished. To anyone else, it would sound exactly the same, but to Suyun, it was a glaring issue. As she sat there, staring intently at the monitor and agonizing over the decision...
"...What?! Hold on. The schedule right now is... Uh, wait... You never mentioned anything like that. Even if you say so... It's not confirmed yet? Ah... I think the fact that it's not confirmed is an even bigger problem. No, of course, I understand what you're saying, but..."
The phone conversation drifting from Team Leader Jung's desk sounded incredibly serious. Suyun, assuming another issue had cropped up with their platform business given the recent string of problems, simply kept adjusting the volume of a single sound effect up and down. If she didn't make a decision before lunch, it would delay the entire schedule. But it seemed her assumption was completely off-base.
"...Yes, I understand. ...Uh, I'd appreciate it if you could visit as soon as possible. Yes, our artist is currently here at the office. We'll discuss it first and gather their thoughts. Yes, understood. Goodbye then."
Hanging up the tense call, Team Leader Jung ran a hand through her hair before walking over to Suyun. Watching her approach, Suyun felt a sudden prickle of apprehension. Her manager's face definitely didn't look like she was coming over to ask what she wanted for lunch.
"Suyun."
"...Did something happen?"
"Well... you could say something happened, or maybe not. Uh... I don't even know how to put this. They claim nothing is set in stone yet, but..."
Team Leader Jung scratched her head repeatedly. Suyun looked up at her, trying to decipher her expression. It was incredibly hard to read—she couldn't tell if her manager was feeling apologetic or just plain angry.
"If it's not set in stone, can't we just ignore it? Why are you looking so serious?"
"The other side... specifically, the publisher and the magazine. Apparently, after hearing our song, they requested that we bring in another famous vocalist to turn it into a collaboration track."
"...Excuse me?"
Suyun stared at Team Leader Jung, wondering if she had misheard. But her manager simply nodded again in silence. Suyun raised an eyebrow, staring at her once more, but the reality of the situation didn't change. She opened her mouth to speak, closed it, and then opened it again.
"Are you serious?"