“‘A list of live houses?’”
About a week had passed since the school festival. Since it was right after the event, there were no bookings, and the Rock Club studio was almost entirely dominated by the president’s band, amane.
Standing before the piece of paper suddenly handed to us, Ichikawa, Sako, and I tilted our heads in confusion. In front of us stood the mentor-and-disciple duo of Yuri Azuma and Taira Tsubame, both sporting beaming smiles.
“That’s right!”
“Look, Ariga-manager said it, didn’t he? That you should climb your way up through legitimate routes, like being scouted at a live house or through auditions! So, we spent a ton of time surfing the net to find live houses you could perform at right away!”
“Yes, yes! Internet surfing is my specialty, so I helped out too!” Taira-chan said, raising her hand and puffing out her chest proudly.
“Wow, thank you! Takuto-ku... I mean, Konuma-kun was looking for some too, right?”
“Ichikawa-san, didn’t you almost say something just now?”
“I mean, you basically said the whole thing...”
Yuri gave a wry smile. I let out a deliberate cough.
“A-Anyway! Yuri, Taira-chan, thank you for doing this even though you're busy. This list is much bigger than the one I had...”
“Actually, Konuma, I’m not busy at all... The Instrumental Club, which was my entire youth, is already over... Aaaah... I want to go back...”
“Ahhh! Geez, Konuma-senpai! Please don’t get in the way when my mentor is finally trying to move on from the Instrumental Club by burning with passion for something else!”
My mentor suddenly looked down with a deep sigh, while her disciple frantically scolded me.
I see, so Yuri is suffering from 'Instrumental Club loss.'
Watching Yuri sigh, I recalled the Instrumental Club’s performance at the school festival. They had practiced until they could perform like that, dedicating their high school lives to a club that was now gone. It would be weirder if she didn't feel lonely.
‘Thank you very much! This was our youth itself!’
I could still hear those words spoken with eyes shining with tears that day.
“It really was your youth itself, wasn't it?” The words slipped out of my mouth before I realized it.
“...Yeah.” Yuri-nee-san looked down, pouting like a sulking child.
Then, from beside me, Sako reached out and gently patted Yuri’s head.
“...What is it?”
“Nothing.”
Sako continued to pet Yuri’s head with a blank expression, while Yuri-suke remained defenseless and let her do as she pleased. The cool-type bassist × passionate youth-type bassist Yuri love-comedy, SakoYuri, goes on sale this month. (Just kidding.)
“Anyway, anyway! Why don’t you try performing at a live house? Look, look, there are even events limited to high schoolers!”
The brave little animal-like girl tried to change the atmosphere, pointing at the list and showing it to us.
“Yeah! Thank you so much, both of you!” After thanking them, Ichikawa turned to us. “Hey, Konuma-kun, Sako-san, which one looks good?” She held out the paper she received from Taira-chan.
“Hmm, ‘High Schooler Only Event,’ ‘Original Song Only Event,’ ‘Copy Band Only Event’... I’m not really sure which one we should enter...”
“Aren’t there any that are like audition lives?” Sako asked while Yuri was still being petted. How long are you going to keep doing that?
“It’s not that there aren't any, but your only live experience as amane is the ‘Rock-On’ event, right? You’ve never played in a proper live house.” The former Instrumental Club president slowly raised her head to answer. Matching her movement, Sako finally let go.
“I wondered if it was a good idea to suddenly take an audition like that. It seems some audition lives only let you enter once per label. Besides, performing at a live house where strangers are watching probably has a different kind of difficulty. So, I thought it might be better to gain a little more experience with live performances first.”
“I see...” Sako nodded.
“Also, a lot of auditions require a demo recording for screening. Making a demo costs money, right? Usually, just performing in a live show costs quite a bit in participation fees, but for events run by rental studios, the grand prize might be a 30-hour free usage voucher. Or events hosted by music stores might give out discount coupons. It’s not that the goal is the money, but for now, it's better to have resources than not, right?”
“Hoh...” I thought. The words of someone who works part-time and earns their own money carry weight.
“And this might be the most important part, but apparently live houses have genres they are good and bad at. I think amane’s charm lies in the lyrics, so I picked out several live houses with a reputation for letting the vocals be heard clearly. Those are the ones highlighted with the yellow marker. In those ‘wall of sound’ type live houses, you can’t hear the lyrics at all. People who go to a live house usually go to hear music that fits that house's ‘color,’ so you have to choose carefully based on more than just the conditions.”
“Wow...” Ichikawa let out a breathy voice.
“M-Mentor...!” Taira-chan tugged on Yuri’s sleeve.
“Eh? W-What...? Did I... talk too much again...?” Yuri-nee-san looked at us with trembling, anxious eyes.
“No, not at all! I’m just so happy that Yuri thought about this so much for us!” Ichikawa’s eyes widened, and she answered with a full smile while grabbing Yuri’s hands with both of hers.
“Hyaun...!”
Even though she should be somewhat used to it by now, the ‘believer’ made a melting expression at the touch from Amane-sama, looking as if she might ascend to heaven at any moment. The leader × believer Yuri love-comedy, AmaYuri, goes on sale next month. (Just kidding.)
“Yurisuke is like a manager,” Sako said from the sidelines of the Yuri development.
“A manager? Like Erina-san?”
“No, much more competent than that. Like that Ariga-san, Ichikawa-san’s previous manager.”
“Yuri as a manager...!” Ichikawa smiled brightly.
I thought it was very like Ichikawa that she didn't just say ‘Yeah, you're definitely suited for it!’ right then and there.
“M-Mentor, Mentor! They’re talking about you right now! Geez, President Amane, please let go of her hands!”
“Ah, s-sorry.” As soon as Ichikawa let go, Yuri’s consciousness returned.
“Hah, sorry, I drifted away again...”
“It’s fine, it’s fine! Mentor, your airheadedness is part of your charm! In fact, it makes you more perfect than someone who isn't airheaded!”
“Tsubame...!” Taira-chan smiled brightly, and Yuri’s eyes widened at her words. The disciple × mentor Yuri love-comedy, TsubaYuri, goes on sale the month after next. (Just kidding.)
“Anyway, putting that aside.” Yuri suddenly returned to her serious face and made a gesture as if setting aside imaginary luggage (making Taira-chan look lonely as she whispered “Mentor...”). “Taking into account what I said earlier, the live show I think you should enter is this one.” She pointed to a show circled in red.
‘Studio Octa Presents: Recording Rights Battle Live!’
...I presented it like some kind of foreshadowing being paid off, but the name itself doesn't have much meaning. Studio Octa is the music studio we always use. I think it’s a good, concise title that conveys that the band with the most votes from the audience will win recording rights.
“You can use those recording rights to record a new song and use that for the demo screening of a professional audition,” Yuri explained. I see, the plan was perfect.
By the way, I heard it costs about 60,000 yen to turn a song into its final form, from recording to mixing and mastering. What the heck, that’s enough to eat 200 bowls of beef bowl... If I ate beef bowl for three meals a day, I could survive for 66 days on that. Thinking that we could get that for free made it a pretty delicious deal. (Just like the beef bowl.)
“It says here, ‘Ticket Quota: 2,000 yen × 10 tickets.’ Yurisuke, what’s a quota?”
“It means if you sell ten 2,000-yen tickets, you’re in the clear. If you sell fewer, you have to pay the difference.”
“Hmm, so if we can’t call a single person, we have to pay 20,000 yen?”
“That’s how it is...” Yuri softly scratched her cheek. Even though we had mobilized a fair number of people for the school performance, would anyone really pay as much as 2,000 yen to hear something they could hear at school? While I stood there with my arms crossed, Ichikawa spoke up.
“But, you know. We just have to try, right?” she said. “‘Ya Gotta Try,’ right?”
“Amane...!” Yuri made a voice full of emotion. If I recalled correctly, that was the Japanese translation of the song the Instrumental Club had performed, ‘Ya Gotta Try.’
“...I guess you're right.”
“Yeah,” Sako nodded.
“In that case, how much do we pay? 20,000 yen divided by four is 5,000 yen each.” As I calculated, Taira-chan tilted her head.
“Four people? Not three?”
The four of us looked at each other and chuckled. “It’s definitely four, Tsubame. Anyway, Konuma, don’t calculate based on the assumption that we won't call a single person.”
“It’s just to be safe. I was just wondering if I’d have to break my piggy bank.”
“There's no point in breaking it. That piggy bank doesn't even have 1,000 yen in it. Besides, all we have to do is call people.”
“I wonder why Sako-san knows the contents of Konuma-kun’s piggy bank...? Well, whatever... Then, it's unanimous!” At Ichikawa’s smile, the three of us nodded.
“Somehow... somehow, senpai, you guys really look like a real band! It’s so cool...!!” Once it was decided, all that was left was practice. Our days of practicing for the live show began.