Rehearsal Realities
So-called rehearsal doesn't just mean practice. It refers to playing two or more instruments together. It's one of the steps a band takes to sync up before hitting the real stage—like a soundcheck right before a live show, only done way more often.
For a massive orchestra, maybe it's different, but veteran rock band players don't drag out rehearsals like that. They can spot sound issues the instant they play together. Quick detection means quick fixes, so they lock in fast.
Put another way: 'At least everyone in the session has the song down perfectly.'
The rookie school band Shin Tae-il belonged to was a whole different story. They didn't have the chops to memorize songs yet, and they kicked off their first joint rehearsal practically from a blank slate. Total chaos. Of course it was.
This band's skills were sorely lacking right now.
After wrapping up a rehearsal packed with dissonance and off-beats, Tae-il scowled and roughly scratched the back of his head with the end of his pen.
"Ayane, one more time—second section, third measure."
"Uh, got it!"
Ayane fumbled hurriedly at the bass strings. It was a little sloppy, but true to her role as one of the original story's leads, she quickly got the feel and delivered exactly what Tae-il wanted.
"Good."
Tae-il nodded in satisfaction. He scribbled something in his illegible scrawl over the sheet music.
Ayane wasn't just good—she was excellent, no empty flattery. She didn't pick it up as fast as Rena, but she was easier to teach than Rena's pure instinct approach. Verbal directions got her to nail the exact measure on the spot.
Rena, on the other hand, couldn't even find it unless Tae-il patiently pointed out every single note.
"Same as before. But try plucking a little stronger?"
"Stronger?"
"Like pulling the string upward a bit? Don't strain too hard, though."
"O-okay, I'll try…."
Ayane put more power into it, and the sound shifted. The bass began asserting itself, slow but steady. But the moment she focused on her right hand, her left hand—pressing the strings—tangled up like it was waiting for the chance. Ting! The note jumped.
Tae-il muted the string right away.
"Left hand just knotted up. Here, I'll guide it again."
"Uh, yeah…!"
Tae-il gently took her sloppily positioned hand and placed it on the chord. Then they looped it again.
Whatever Tae-il instructed, Ayane followed to the best of her ability.
Tae-il checked his watch. Over an hour had flown by since they'd started this clumsy mess of a rehearsal. Straight individual practice for a full hour. Ayane's fingers, tensed nonstop for bass, began to tremble faintly.
Thung!
"Ah."
Ayane stopped playing and fiddled with her hand. All the strength drained from her fingers.
"Auuu. Sorry, Ayane should've pushed harder…."
Her body wasn't keeping up like she'd hoped. With so much to focus on, the brain's commands to her hands grew more and more complicated.
Ayane's face fell. She was terrified of disappointing Tae-il.
"Don't overthink it."
"Shin-jjang?"
"This is hard. I got greedy on purpose."
Ayane stared straight at Tae-il's face. No trace of disappointment or negativity—just pure apology.
"Anywhere hurt?"
"No. Just a little numb and stinging, otherwise same as always…."
Tae-il wrapped her twitching fingers in his. His touch was incredibly gentle, careful. He massaged the spots starting to stiffen and harden, giving her a pitying look.
"Thanks. So no pushing too hard."
"B-but it wasn't pushing…."
"Practice isn't better just because you do more. You need proper rest too."
If mindless grinding built skill, the world would be full of geniuses. Rest is what lets your brain lock in what it's learned.
"Five minutes like this. Cool?"
"Yeah."
Tae-il gave Ayane a few more tips, then huddled up with Iris. She was nursing her own headache but had a bit more breathing room.
"How's Rena?"
"Roughly same boat as Ayane, I'd bet?"
Unlike her initial cockiness, Iris quietly shrugged at the sight of Rena floundering now that real practice had begun.
"Still, way more fun than basic beat drills—she was pumped."
"Silver lining."
"At this pace, skills explode in a month?"
Students' privilege is time—and Rena especially. Iris added that without morning makeup classes, she'd have even more slack.
Tae-il closed his eyes tight. He'd vaguely assumed it'd work out, believed they were on track even now, but harsh reality had him a little scared.
"What about you, Iris? Think we can pull it off? Our band."
"Hmm."
Iris glanced at the two already grumbling the second break hit.
"Those two? They'll manage somehow."
"Those two?"
"I get Rena-chan better than anyone."
Rena was the type to push through no matter what. Exhibitions, Comic-Cons—she'd always end up a wreck chasing deadlines, but she always met them.
Rena had grasped the weight of social commitments and responsibility younger than most. Iris pressed a hand to her chest with a wry self-mock.
"Not the most reliable, but if Rena-chan says she'll do it, she does. I guarantee."
"Got it."
Just like Tae-il trusted Ayane, Iris resolved to trust Rena the same way.
"I'm actually more worried about Sakuya."
"No worries there."
"You sure?"
Iris gave a bitter smile at Tae-il's rock-solid certainty.
"Your faith hits religious fanatic levels sometimes?"
"Religious? Come on…."
Tae-il flinched guiltily. She wasn't wrong.
"Why say that?"
"Blind trust without proof or evidence? That's religious faith."
Iris shot him a look. In her eyes, Tae-il was a guy sorely lacking in precautions all around. Girl situations included.
Back when she didn't know him well, his talent and insight had propped her up. But up close? Clumsy enough to sigh over.
'Disappointed?'
Strangely, no. Iris shelved the unfamiliar feeling and stretched.
"Kuuut! Whatever. Culture fest gives us a solid two months."
"True."
"Busking till then? Leave it to me. Kids screw up? My vocals cover."
"Haha. Thanks. Keep leaning on you."
"Just me?"
"Members too…."
"Hehe."
Iris pouted like he had to name everyone to feel better, then grinned wide at his honesty.
"Ayane needs extra attention, though?"
"Yeah."
Tae-il nodded at Iris's advice. No denying it—Ayane carried the biggest load right now.
He and Iris had years under their belts, an unbridgeable gap. Ayane straddled the middle. Rena chased from behind, and Sakuya would join soon.
Bass had that "easy to pick up" stereotype too, piling on the pressure. And that wasn't all.
"At first, wondered why Ayane was struggling so much?"
Iris got it seeing Ayane's score.
"Greed? Subconscious slip?"
"Both, probably."
Tae-il was endlessly grateful Ayane followed his stubborn ego without complaint.
One person harboring puffed-up dreams for this rehearsal: Arisugawa Iris. Back in middle school, she'd believed proper practice meant no stage disasters.
'Proper rehearsal with comrades who get me?'
Impossible to fail.
Lately, her confidence overflowed. Shin Tae-il had praised her boldly—even in front of Izumi. He'd meant it: he trusted her skills, just like the others.
Iris wanted to repay that. And she had the confidence to do it.
Middle school repeats? Never.
'Every other day.'
Even with personal absences, every three days mandatory. Tighter than most bands.
Non-major acts rarely met this often.
Still.
'Hard practice, sync up, chase dreams. Vocal's me, after all?'
Shonen manga protagonist vibes. Passion plus effort plus diligence equaled success—that childish conviction kept her going.
Tae-il agreed, sort of. More realistically, time was short.
Individual coaching was way more efficient, he thought.
He'd gone along despite the inefficiency as a desperate measure. Always playing cool, but maybe Tae-il was panicking inside too.
'Should've pushed back….'
He frowned.
"Auuu…."
Ayane groaned in pain.
"Sorry, Shin-jjang. Ayane's hands hurt—can't go on today…."
No strength left to pluck, she made a miserable face.
Two and a half hours into individual practice.
Ayane sprawled on the floor, hugging her bass. Heavy cold AC air pooled low, blanketing her like a quilt. Trapped in floor chill and AC blast, she melted gooey.
Tae-il approached and gripped her still-hot hand against her ice-cold body.
"Ayane, floor's filthy. At least sit up."
"Nooo…."
Ayane whined, refusing to budge. Too exhausted for manners.
"Haa."
Tae-il sighed and let go.
As expected. Today's rehearsal hit way more snags than anticipated.
The hopeful band crashed into the reef of reality.
Not stranded yet. But botch recovery, and it was only a matter of time.
"Sigh."
Tae-il scratched his head and scanned the room.
Ayane went down first, but Rena—no usual scolding—felt off.
Sure enough: Iris tending to sweat-drenched, drum-exhausted Rena.
"Whew, sweat city. Water, Rena-chan?"
"Uh."
Rena slumped in her chair, barely replying as she rested.
'Drums burn stamina—makes sense….'
Still clutching sticks? That alone showed grit.
Two and a half hours. Steady five-minute breaks, but grueling for her.
Iris massaged her shoulders while Rena chugged water.
"Can keep going, Rena-chan?"
"Somehow…."
"For real? No overdoing?"
"Whatever. Rest fixes me. Worry your throat."
"Hehe. You worried about me?"
"Shut up."
Upbeat song. Drums split beats endlessly busy; vocals screech highs.
Plus Tae-il's greed.
'Root-note-only bass is wrong!'
Roots fine for polish, but forcing them just 'cause it's bass? No.
Bass isn't a root-note shuttle. Tae-il wove in bassline emphasis like Yahiro.
Result: drummer, vocalist, bassist all tapped out under two hours—unprecedented.
Didn't look like just Tae-il's stamina problem.
"Iris, you good?"
"Me? Totally fine! Kekek!"
"Tch. Shut it, dummy."
"Mmph!?"
Rena clapped a hand over boisterous Iris's mouth.
Unlike BARD tunes. Iris had perfected her faves through reps.
New song? Total unknown territory.
Belting unfamiliar tracks full-throttle? Even she strained.
"No helping it…."
Tae-il scratched his nape.
All wiped—forcing more felt wrong.
Regrettable, sure. But rehearsals often wrapped early on drummer/vocal form.
Compared to his past band's average? They'd lasted long.
"Practice over for today?"
Sakuraba Sakuya sidled up, gauging the quicker-than-expected wipeouts.
"Thought we'd go longer."
"Condition swings practice time wild. Sometimes rest beats grinding when stuck."
"Huh."
"Yeah. Often pushed another hour."
Chord or chromatic drills? Boring-proof, sailed past four hours. Tae-il had marveled at Ayane's grit then.
"Song too tough today, maybe."
"Tough?"
"Way harder than our usual?"
Body lags mind? Anxiety spikes, stamina drains faster.
Today nailed it.
Scores handed out, original listened, thirty-minute individuals? Rocky from jump.
Tae-il tried loosening long-stiffened guitar fingers. Fat chance.
"Shin-jjang!"
"Shin!"
"Shin Tae-il!"
Under five minutes in, the three beauties rotated calling him out.
Guitar down, dash over—repeat.
"What? Issue? Stuck?"
They nailed prepared songs fine usually. Today? Zero confidence.
Song reference shortage, probably.
"Beginners—normal."
Tae-il, composer, held all answers.
He'd hoped self-interps, but nope—all wanted his path.
Glad debut track Yubi stayed shelved. Difficulty same issue.
Past rehearsals? Tae-il/Iris-vetted beginner bait.
Ayane: roots main. Rena: no drum wizardry.
Thus, first time Rena/Ayane felt "high difficulty."
Rena had it easier. Beat-splitting frenzy, but verses roomy sans chorus.
Ayane was the crux.
"Gotta tweak bassline. Too heavy for Ayane."
"Bass tough here?"
"Kinda?"
As confessed to Iris: Tae-il's greed snuck in.
Slightly quirky line—vets go "neat?" Wall for newbie Ayane.
Acted chill, but inside: 'Hard…!'
Tab score open-book exam, still fingers raced tempo.
Right-hand focus? Left tangles. Vice versa—swamp.
"Sorry, Shin-jjang…."
Ayane peeked at him apologetically. Her double calls bugged her.
Tae-il wry smile.
"Dummy. Why sorry? It's hard—that's why we drill."
"But…."
"Me without prep? Fingers knot too. Normal for you."
Slow. Leisurely. Hands learn.
Time aplenty.
Worst case: scrap culture fest set.
No face-saving as leader for Sakuya—but his cross, not Ayane's.
"Rest up. Dinner crew tonight. Chill more, resume if good."
"Mm…."
Tae-il ruffled her hair once, shrugged off his checkered shirt to drape her, and stood.
"Kids: rest. Us: separate practice. Cool?"
"Finally?"
Sakuya beamed, the moment she'd craved all day finally here.