Flower-Bird Relations
Unboxing.
The term for opening the box of a purchased product.
Unlike Ayane, who had roughly tested the bass and even checked an amp that suited her ear at the shop, Tae-il had only confirmed the model of the bass he bought.
It was something you should never do in secondhand instrument transactions, but given the atmosphere, Tae-il kept his mouth shut.
It was possible only because he trusted Arthur, who had introduced him to Shoko—the one who gave him a custom guitar for free—even if just a hair's breadth.
Anyway.
It was secondhand, but he had a new instrument now.
Which meant there was only one thing to do.
Tae-il wolfed down dinner, showered, and headed straight to his room.
He opened the hard case reverently placed on his bed, and a red bass guitar, still gleaming with its distinctive luster, greeted him.
"Surprisingly delicate, huh."
It was different from the bass he'd played while singing, but the color was the same.
Tae-il confirmed the limited-edition mark on the back of the headstock and gave a wry smile.
In a way, what had landed in his hands was far more expensive than the bass guitar he'd wanted.
Having inspected the instrument, all that was left was to play it.
He didn't have an amp at home, but he did have an audio interface he'd bought for occasionally recording guitar.
For indoor playing, the audio interface was unbeatable, and Cakewalk was a godsend.
He wasn't planning to show it to anyone else.
Tae-il played the bass freely, without worrying about mistakes or anything.
First, to revive his old feel, he ran through Muse and RHCP tracks—songs every bassist had to cover at least half-seriously.
The bass was unfamiliar, so he needed some setup and adjustments here and there, but its condition was so good it didn't take long.
If something felt off during practice or he hit a wrong note, he'd loop that section until it was fixed.
Especially when muting failed and buzzing crept in, he'd loosen his fingers and repeatedly grip and release a hand strengthener like it was a jinx ritual.
Finishing one song, he'd move to the next, gradually ramping up the difficulty.
Only when he was satisfied with his playing did Tae-il attempt to copy a BARD song.
Ear-copying after so long involved some trial and error, but he familiarly tuned his ear to capture the bassline's signature low end.
Yahiro was a bassist thoroughly faithful to the basics.
That said, his unique groove was so distinct that it was famous among bass players.
"This guy's great in every way, but man, his groove is tough to match...."
Plus, as a five-string bassist, some songs were a real challenge to replicate.
Live videos on YouTube weren't too hard to mimic, but Tae-il felt like he couldn't quite nail that special vibe.
"Eh, whatever, does it matter?"
Tae-il chuckled, wiped the strings with a towel, and got back into position.
His hands were slick with sweat—probably from the heat.
This time, with my own unique feel....
Feeling out the lingering sensation in his fingertips, he recreated Yahiro's bassline in his own style, arranging it on the fly. As always, it was far easier to tweak someone else's creation than to make something from nothing.
Tae-il shed the agony of his own compositions and rampaged like a vandal in the fields BARD had so carefully tilled.
Lost in practice, he didn't notice time passing until the sun had fully set and the moon peeked out.
"Ah, my hands hurt...."
Tae-il flexed his fingers repeatedly.
Compared to acoustic or electric guitar, the thicker strings pressed less into the skin but pulled hard with their tension, straining his grip excessively.
Setting the bass on his thigh for a break, his ear throbbed where the headphones had pressed.
"Sss."
Removing the headphones revealed the black earpads soaked with sweat.
A hot gust from the open window for ventilation prompted him to close it.
"Guess I should turn on the AC soon."
Tae-il usually toughed it out with a fan, but after summer showers, Tokyo nights turned into full tropical hell.
His post-shower freshness was ruined—clothes soaked through, clinging to his skin.
His ear rims ached from the headphones, to boot.
"Sigh. Should I get speakers too?"
Tae-il fiddled with his reddened, hardened ear and grumbled.
Every time he did something, another need popped up.
And as always, the solution was money.
Music really was a money pit.
Did poor musicians even exist?
Tae-il thought of an old acquaintance who always complained about being broke yet kept a top-tier studio setup.
He'd visited the guy's place once—instruments alone probably cost a fortune.
That was when Tae-il realized.
Those who wore poverty like a badge were fakes.
Real poor musicians stayed invisible until they made it.
"Ugh! Alright, I've played my fill. Time to crash?"
Stretching his arms high and reclining the chair back, laughter bubbled out nonstop.
It had been ages since he'd jammed on bass to his heart's content.
Tae-il pulled out a soft towel and meticulously cleaned the sweat- and grime-marked bass.
"Gotta thank her properly later."
The bass from Shoko was in such pristine condition it mocked the "used" label.
Whoever owned it before must've babied it—barely a thing to fix.
The sound matched his taste perfectly; the moment he played, it sang his voice, leaving him doubting his ears.
Inwardly thanking Shoko, Tae-il vowed again to succeed no matter what.
"Whoa, it's already 3 a.m.?"
Checking the monitor time, Tae-il pondered.
Logically, bedtime.
But his sweat-drenched body buzzed with endorphins, sleep nowhere in sight.
Should probably crash now, but....
Incomplete combustion.
For a cooldown, he decided to play one of his own originals.
He'd always worked from samples in software, so playing his composition live felt fresh.
Quick setup, then straight into it.
'Shower of Rain.'
A track from his gloomy days, forcing cheer into the melody.
True to the working title, it evoked rain with lyrical guitar riffs.
Not too tough.
On bass, no flashy techniques—just solid rhythm work.
Arranging? Ayane can handle that once her skills level up.
You couldn't play lives with the exact same version every time.
By the time they hit the stage, Ayane would be better and tackle trickier stuff.
Tae-il kept tweaking the track.
Then reality hit unbidden.
Make the backing easier?
In alt-rock, punk, or standard J-rock, backing carried more weight than you'd think.
With cliché progressions making styles similar, you had to pour everything into rhythm guitar.
Hence the reliance on unique lead riffs and solos.
The most crucial part carrying the song.
His compositions were no different.
No lyrics yet—just hummed placeholders—but it oddly evoked Japanese anime OST vibes.
The issue: too many arpeggio sections.
Could Iris sing and play all that?
"Simplify it more...?"
Or shift some rhythm guitar load to lead.
Needed to consult Iris on workload.
Consult with Iris.
On a song tailored for her voice.
Tae-il flushed. Sudden embarrassment.
Sharing with strangers online or friends for feedback was one thing—this was leagues beyond.
Even past shares took guts; showing Iris demanded more.
"Had to eventually, anyway...."
Shaking off thoughts, he scrutinized the scratches.
Arpeggios repeated the same rhythm—eight bars max on sheet music.
"Trim a bit...."
Tae-il simplified the chords in that part.
Less flashy, simpler rhythm, but in ensemble, it wouldn't stand out.
"This'll do for now."
Saving the revised scratch, Tae-il scratched near his temple, dissatisfied.
Show the hard version first, gauge reaction.
Monday with Iris already loomed worryingly.
His tweaks might imply distrust in her skill.
He had excuses, though.
Singing while playing was brutally tough.
Why bands with vocal strengths didn't burden singers with instruments.
Maximize strengths, hide weaknesses.
That was his reasoning.
"Check other tracks too...?"
Once it bugged him, it stuck.
No sleep anyway. Tae-il monitored from start to finish, making minor edits till dawn.
Until sunrise.
The sun had risen but not yet overhead.
Iris's smartphone buzzed.
Under the red sunset, shadows stretching ever longer~.
Fitting for Iris, known as a hardcore BARD fan, her alarm was set to a BARD song.
The way home.
A song evoking the end of a high schooler's vibrant day.
Heavy on reds, crimsons, and shadows.
Smooth and lyrical like BARD, perfect for winding down—but wildly inappropriate as a wake-up tune.
"Hwaaaawn."
Iris herself, the chooser, groggily flailed an arm from the covers to hunt her phone in a daze.
"Where is it...."
Phone charging right beside her, yet her hand groped elsewhere.
Five failed attempts.
"Ah, found... it!"
After futile swipes, she snagged it and yanked it under the covers.
Sun nearly at zenith, but Iris showed no sign of emerging.
Blackout curtains and blasting AC rendered summer mornings irrelevant in her room.
"Lemme see...."
Blurred vision.
Rubbing sleepies while yawning, Iris first checked not piled messages, but BARD SNS updates.
BARD handled personal SNS via fan site posts.
Distinct styles per member.
NA.IN posted only cover videos; Akitora, food pics.
Izumi sporadically shared walk-snapped landscapes and poetic snippets.
Yahiro, though? Flooded the site shamelessly—selfies, daily life, all out there.
"Ah, guys again."
Always whining about wanting girls, yet posts showed him with dudes.
Naturally, industry bigshots.
Iris scrolled Yahiro's pics.
Other BARD members popped up occasionally, including Izumi.
She giggled at Izumi's awkward shots.
Yahiro loved posting member blooper reels.
"So cute...."
Swiping Izumi's pics fondly.
Not bias—Izumi shone even in candids.
How did that tiny frame produce such powerful yet soft tones?
Perfect proportions too; photos hid her height.
Enthralled by Izumi's charm turning flaws to strengths, Iris saved each pic diligently.
Then, a oddity struck her.
"Yahiro hasn't worn that hat lately...."
The fedora he cherished as Izumi's gift—gone.
He'd called hats fashion's crown, even wrote a song; now, none.
His thinning, pudding-head scalp looked pitiful.
"Too hot...?"
No other signs of loss or such.
Or maybe secretly dating, got dumped, mood shift.
"Eh, it's Yahiro, after all...."
Iris breezed past what would make him weep.
Image mattered.
If really curious, just ask Shin Tae-il later.
Shrugging, she skimmed other members—then spotted a rare Izumi post.
No time for title; poster alone triggered a tap.
"Lemme see...."
Quick load, then title and Izumi's plain words filled the screen.
What had she found?
Scrolling Izumi's post.
Mostly familiar: BARD's rocky path, shared history with fans.
Iris wanted was at the end.
Iris blinked in her covers.
Eyes felt misty. Rubbed them clean, rechecked the end.
No misread.
"Eeeeeek!?"
"What happened, miss!?"
Her scream drew frantic knocks from the attendant outside.
"N-nothing!"
"Really?"
"For real! Just startled!"
"What could shock you like that!?"
"I said nothing!"
"Nothing doesn't make people scream!"
"Uh, yeah?"
Sound logic; Iris was stumped.
BARD origin story—known to every Ryut—and the mysterious 0th gen #1 fan.
BARD found them.
No ordinary news.
Silence drew another shout.
"Something's up!"
"Nothing, I said!"
Door between them, Iris and the maid bickered endlessly.
Finally, Iris challenged her to check herself and flung open the door.
The maid zipped in, beaming.
Iris eyed her incredulously.
"Kiriko, you did that on purpose."
"Took you long enough?"
Kiriko covered her mouth with a fist.
Her twitching shoulders screamed mockery.
"Sleep well?"
"Slept fine, till you ruined my mood."
"Oh dear...."
Kiriko drooped her eyes mournfully.
Utterly sincere-seeming regret.
"My heart aches that you're upset."
Pure BS, of course.
"Hate me sleeping in that much?"
"It's unfair."
She rose at dawn for duties.
Iris, on break, slept through apocalypses unless events.
Iris gaped at the complaint.
"You an adult?"
"My heart's forever a girl's."
"Wrong context."
"Fits ear or nose alike."
Delusional-level bull.
"Just say it straight."
"Me? Scold you?"
"Record this chat then?"
"Cough cough! Got a cold... cough! Not right in the head... cough!"
"Sick? Call Eishun?"
"N-no? Sudden energy surge—cold's gone, miss!"
Kiriko flailed dramatically, proving vitality.
"Being near you fills me with pure energy...."
"Wanna die?"
"Ahem!"
Iris's deadpan glare straightened Kiriko up.
Eishun, head butler overseeing staff like her, was Zenjiro's right-hand—untouchable for Iris, terror for maids.
Best not get summoned.
Iris sighed.
"Sigh. You're the only servant who looks down on her master."
"Honor."
"Honor...?"
Kiriko thumped her chest proudly at Iris's baffled stare.
"Means I'm that unique."
"...Hopeless."
Iris grabbed her phone.
"Nooo! Miss! Drop the phone! EMFs wreck skin!"
Kiriko sweated, blocking truly pissed Iris.
If shortcut-dialed, Eishun would've gotten the call.
Iris tsked inwardly disappointed.
Thought I was dead....
Kiriko, drenched in the chill room.
"Do that again, I'll call Eishun for a reassignment. Be warned."
"Yesss...."
Iris arched a brow.
"Yes, ma'am."
Satisfied with disciplined Kiriko, Iris opened messenger for BARD news—target: bandmate Tae-il.
"Huh?"
No reply after a few messages; Iris tilted her head.
"Still asleep...?"
"Sun's almost high, and he's out? Sleepier than you, miss. Beauties need beauty sleep?"
Iris ground teeth, beaming murderously.
"Shut it...."
"Yes'm."
Buddha smiles thrice max.
Kiriko zipped her lips at Iris's bulging vein.
Weekend break—late rises happen.
No real gripe, as she'd slept late too.
Iris skimmed backlog messages.
"So many piled up."
"Popular, duh."
Kiriko fake-cried about friendless school days.
"Wouldn't invite you either."
"Harsh, miss!"
"What? You were a delinquent."
"Delinquents have friends!"
"Did you?"
"Think so?"
"Fine. Never thought you did."
"Too much!"
Ignoring whines, Iris sped through.
Group chats: all vacation play invites.
"Some say Hokkaido group trip."
"Perfect summer spot."
"Not going."
"Aww."
Kiriko pouted openly—hoped for travel duty.
"Rena-chan's fine too...."
Checked cousin chats, Ryut anon group.
Last: Yesterday's invite for Tae-il, Ayane—Yuuya nominally too.
Pinned top for band-only henceforth.
Unlike others, quiet overnight.
Obviously.
Finishing checks, closing app—something caught her eye.
"Huh?"
"Saying 'huh?' a lot lately. New JK slang?"
"Huh? Eishun's number was..."
"Fold!"
Silencing Kiriko, rechecked recent chat.
Ayane changed profile pic...?
From waffle to bass, clearly.
"New instrument?"
And no word to me?
Iris bristled.
Ayane omitting? Expected—jealous, possessive.
But Tae-il hiding it too? Unforgivable.
"Rehearsal-ready, and they hide it?"
Iris glared at Tae-il's pic with Yu Hana.
Overreacting? Maybe—but she craved total sharing, even trivia.
Band just starting.
Delayed info-sharing? No different from before—
Snap out. Shin Tae-il's not like them....
Shaking nightmare memory.
Still.
Iris bolted up.
"Kiriko!"
"Yes, miss. Breakfast? Brunch, really."
"Prep the car! Outing!"
"Ehh...."
Kiriko flinched, yanked blackout curtain.
Scorching sun blasted in.
Asphalt beyond wall shimmered with heat haze.
Murderous swelter.
Kiriko pleaded shakily.
"Miss, rethink?"
No chance.
"Hurry! Changing—out now!"
"Yessss...."
Kiriko slouched out to start the car.
What could she do? Master's orders.