Nothing New Under the Sun
"First of all, more than anything, this is really good."
"Is that so?"
"Yes. It's seriously amazing. I don't know much about the blues, but the vibe is so alive here. Especially this part... you played this on a Tele, right?"
"Yes."
"I figured. It has that distinct Telecaster sound. Wow. And this build-up right here is incredible. As for the piano part... well, I can play a bit of piano myself, so it'd be great if I could layer something over it."
Araki showered Suyun's track with praise, repeatedly playing and pausing various sections. The others shared similar sentiments.
"I definitely want to try playing this soon. Just playing it seems like it'd be a blast."
"Do you happen to have the sheet music or tabs? I'd love to practice it a bit before the next recording session. I feel like I could make the bassline even better."
Two of them complained that their fingers were practically itching to play, while the third had been pouring out compliments from the start. Though the praise was a bit embarrassing to hear, there wasn't a hint of empty flattery in their voices. They were genuinely, deeply intrigued by Suyun's song.
"Hmm..."
Yet, Suyun herself felt unsatisfied. It wasn't a matter of the song's quality. Even though she had dashed it off in a short burst of inspiration, she hadn't rushed it or neglected the details. If there was a problem, it lay elsewhere.
"For now, could we listen to what the rest of you have? Let's stop mine here."
"Shall we?"
At her request, Araki played the other members' tracks. The sounds that flowed from the speakers were both expected and entirely unexpected.
"Oh..."
"This vibe is nice too. Is this what's trending lately?"
"It's not really a trend. I've always listened to black music, and when I dug into the 90s stuff, I found some really interesting elements. You could say I used that as a reference."
"Classic Araki. So trendy~"
One of them had brought an entirely different genre.
"Kiri-san, how did you record the drums for this?"
"Oh, that's not a drum kit. I recorded tap dancing."
"With your feet?"
"Yes. I sat in a chair, played the bass, and tapped out the rhythm with my feet at the same time. I saw someone do it once and thought it looked fun."
Or they brought fresh, experimental attempts... All three of them had brought music that felt completely different from what they usually played in their main bands. It perfectly aligned with what Araki had called "what we want to do" and "new attempts."
Strictly speaking, there was no issue. Judging by the reactions of everyone in the room, Suyun's song was highly regarded. Suyun herself was confident in it, too; she felt she had crafted a truly solid piece.
But I'm still not satisfied.
The thought lingered. If she went ahead with this, how was it any different from before? What made it distinct from her past? It felt as though none of the moments, the fleeting realizations she had agonized over, were reflected in this music...
"May I ask a question?"
As the three of them exchanged brief feedback while listening to each other's music, Suyun spoke up on impulse.
"Yes?"
"Is something wrong?"
"Go ahead."
"I was wondering... do you believe there is such a thing as a perfect sound? Or a perfect genre, or a perfect song?"
"Well..."
From the moment she had first heard about having a "unique tone" months ago up until now, Suyun had constantly questioned and agonized over it. Starting from what a unique tone even meant, she had spiraled into deeper and deeper dimensions. And the question she had finally arrived at was this: Does perfection exist in music?
Of course, she knew very well that it didn't. In fact, she had no choice but to know. All art is ultimately subjective. What is good to one person can be bad to another, and vice versa. Anyone who has dipped even a toe into the realm of creation knows this. But that was merely intellectual understanding. Countless creators in the world still strive today to climb just one more step. They work to be better today than yesterday, and better tomorrow than today. They invest so much just to achieve a tiny sliver of progress. But if everything is subjective, does that effort even have meaning?
From her "past" life to the present, Suyun had chased an idealized clean tone, epitomized by David Gilmour. And it wasn't just her guitar tone. In her songwriting and genre choices, she had strived to capture the very essence of the 60s and 70s blues-rock she loved. Even when she dabbled in other genres, the direction of her efforts remained the same. As the saying goes, "all roads lead to Rome," and Suyun's flag had always been planted firmly in that single spot.
But what about a unique tone? What about something uniquely "Ha Suyun"? Could the things she had been chasing really be called her own unique creation? Especially when the actual musicians who lived through that era had constantly evolved and changed their own styles as time went on.
"There can't be, obviously. If such a thing existed, why would we even bother making music? But I don't think Suyun-san asked such an obvious question just to hear that..."
Despite the suddenness of the question, the three of them fell into a serious, contemplative silence. The weight of their quietness spoke volumes about the depth of their own artistic struggles, but...
"Well, I don't know. Isn't it a bit vague to just say it doesn't exist?"
"Is it?"
"Because in the end, there's always something better. If there's a relative 'better,' then eventually, there has to be an end point somewhere. No?"
"But the tail of a normal distribution never truly ends."
"You're using big words, Kiri-chan... What's a normal distribution? Is that math? I completely gave up on math after middle school."
There was no sudden, mind-shattering epiphany to be found in their answers. They all offered their own perspectives, but it all felt like variations of the same thing. Well, if these guys had the answer, I wouldn't have had to agonize over this so much in the first place.
"But I think there's something like this."
"What is it?"
"How should I put it... I can't explain it very well either, but... life isn't a test with just one subject. There are multiple subjects, and in the end, life is about putting all of them together..."
Kirishima made a series of wild, expressive hand gestures as she spoke. Suyun found it hard to understand the exact meaning, but she felt a subtle, intuitive grasp of it. A perfect score, absolute perfection—whether those existed or not, it wasn't limited to just one single thing...
"Hmm... First of all, I'd like to write the song again."
"What? But that song is already so good."
"I just feel like I need to think it over one more time. Please let me do this."
Suyun spoke with her hands clasped together. A turbulent wave of emotion filled her eyes.
Opening her eyes, then closing them again. The sleep that should have returned was already long gone. Days like this happened often—waking up at a specific, random hour for no apparent reason. What time is it... Iseor fumbled around her pillow to find her phone. 6:20 AM. She had barely slept. Kicking off her blanket, she climbed down the bunk ladder, thinking she'd grab a glass of water from the kitchen, crawl back into bed, and scroll through her phone. But when she stepped into the living room, someone was already there.
"Gah!"
In the dim, pre-dawn light, a single glowing screen illuminated the dark living room, casting an eerie, ghostly light over a human face. Iseor let out an involuntary shriek, then squinted to see who on earth it was.
"You... you haven't slept?"
"...What time is it?"
"Hey, it's six in the morning."
"It's already that late?"
The person who had given Iseor a heart attack (both mentally and physically) was none other than Suyun. She had been sitting in the living room on her laptop when Iseor went to bed last night. Had she really been sitting there like that the entire time? Without even turning on the lights?
"Suyun, you're going to ruin your eyes."
"Mmh..."
"Can't sleep?"
"I don't know if I can't sleep, or if I'm just refusing to sleep. My brain isn't working."
Closing her laptop, Suyun looked so exhausted that she was barely recognizable. Unlike her usual self—who always looked radiant and full of energy without even trying—she looked completely wrecked.
"Is something wrong?"
"Something... is. No, maybe not. Is there? Is there not? I don't even know."
"Yeah, something is definitely wrong."
Sitting down next to the rambling Suyun, Iseor gently shook her shoulders. Unlike her usual self, Suyun swayed limply without any resistance. Her lifeless reaction made it clear she was in a terrible state.
"What is it? You've been glued to your laptop since last night. Did someone trash-talk us online? Did you get into a comment war?"
"It's... I don't know. I just don't know."
"Is there actually something you don't know?"
"Why does everyone think I have all the answers?"
Her voice drifted out like a sigh. Dropping her playful tone, Iseor asked seriously.
"Seriously, what's going on? I don't know what it is, but you look awful right now. Go get some sleep first. People need rest to function."
At those words, Suyun's eyes suddenly snapped open with an ominous glint.
"Do you want to know what's wrong?"
"Honestly, not really."
"Listen. Lately, I've been..."
What followed was an epic saga of the existential crisis Suyun had been harboring for months. It was a tale that began with her thoughts on "originality," which led to ordering a new guitar, which led to endless overthinking, until she had plunged so deep she didn't even know how to get out—trapped in a labyrinth within a labyrinth within a labyrinth.
"...And that's how I ended up here."
"Ugh, honestly, that was way too long."
"Just shut up and listen. You're the one who asked."
"No, I literally never asked—"
Iseor started to tease, but flinched under Suyun's sharp glare. Usually, she could joke around all she wanted, but when Suyun got that specific look in her eyes, it was time to back down immediately. Otherwise, she'd find herself subjected to the horrors of Suyun's strict lesson mode.
"Anyway, that's why I've been agonizing over this. What I want to do. New attempts. Originality. And all that other stuff. What do I actually want to do? What even is originality? How do you create it? I just don't know."
"And that's why you're acting like this?"
"During that collaboration, I heard some things and thought I'd finally found a clue. So I started working, but... I don't know. I don't know if this is right or wrong."
I keep doubting myself, Suyun muttered with a heavy sigh. Hearing this, Iseor rested her chin on her hand.
"Well..."
"Well, what?"
"Well, honestly, I don't really know about that kind of stuff. You know me—I only started playing bass because of Bocchi the Rock!, and I just play whatever people tell me to play."
She didn't know about Suyun, but that was just how Iseor was. If she saw someone playing well online, she'd copy them. If there was a good song, she'd play it. If someone said, "This is great!" she'd do that. If they said, "This method is the best!" she'd try that. Even she felt she was far too spineless and inexperienced to even speak of "originality."
"But honestly, I do have one thought."
"What thought?"
"Does 'originality' even exist?"
"Huh?"
Seeing Suyun look back at her, Iseor slumped face-down onto the table, feeling a bit embarrassed. She knew she might sound incredibly ignorant.
"They say there's nothing new under the sun, right? Like, anything normal people can think of has already been done by someone else."
"That's true."
"I used to be like that too. When I watched Bocchi the Rock!, I was like, 'Wow, is this the pioneer of band anime?' But then I found out there was this older anime called K-On!, and other stuff in between. But then people said even K-On! wasn't the first, and there was something before that..."
"I don't really know what it was, but anyway."
"So, the things you think are original actually have an older prototype if you trace them back. Looking at it that way, hasn't everything in the world already been done? That's what I think."
"Hmm..."
Suyun's face fell into deep thought. Iseor pushed herself up from the table, then rolled onto her side to look at Suyun. The sheer gravity on Suyun's face showed just how deeply she was agonizing over this. Staring at that face, Iseor suddenly murmured.
"But something else just came to mind."
"What?"
"What I just said was basically that everything has already been done by someone, right?"
"Yeah."
"But then, how does new stuff keep coming out? If everyone has already done everything, there shouldn't be anything new. Yet, new things keep appearing. If you compare today to three or five years ago, things are completely different..."
Iseor had tossed the thought out without much care. While she did want to help her struggling friend... it was more of a passing thought than a deliberate attempt to be profound. She simply laid her random realization out between them. But the change in Suyun's expression was dramatic. Her half-closed, dark-circled eyes slowly, surely, and vividly widened.
"Hey, Choi Iseor. You. You. You."
"Huh? What? Why?"
"You, I'll... I'll buy you dinner, no, I'll buy you whatever you want later."
"Wait, what's wrong with you all of a sudden?"
Leaping to her feet, Suyun scrambled into her room with a loud clatter and emerged a split second later. She had thrown on a mess of clothes, her long padded coat, and her guitar case slung over her shoulder.
"I'm going to the practice room."
"At this hour?"
"I'm leaving my phone here. If anyone looks for me, tell them I'm dead."
"Dead? What kind of..."
"Don't look for me. I'm leaving. I'll be back when I'm done."
Grabbing her laptop, Suyun dashed out the front door. She was in such a rush she hadn't even pulled her shoes on properly, crushing the heels. Watching her disappear, Iseor stood frozen for a moment before muttering to herself.
"Seriously, what is her deal?"
It was a complete mystery.