Chapter Three: Song Demo

A band without a lead singer is like a body deprived of its soul. The simplest solution, of course, would be to choose a new vocalist, but after this sudden upheaval, once-united bandmates found themselves split by fissures too deep to mend.

The first to speak was Ryo Shimada. Always timid by nature, Yuta Kojima’s departure shook his resolve to its core, and his instinct to retreat gained the upper hand. "I'm done! I've had enough of this life! Rather than wasting away here any longer, I'd be better off going back home!"

"And you, Shuji?" Riku Watanabe turned to Shuji Murakami.

"I’d like to keep going, of course. But—" Shuji Murakami let out a mocking laugh. "Yuta’s gone, and now Ryo wants out too. Is there any point in continuing with the band? Honestly, I’m getting tired of these hopeless days." With that, he slung his backpack over his shoulder and walked out without waiting for a response.

Ryo watched him leave, gritted his teeth, bowed, and followed him out of the club.

Where the table had once been crowded, only Riku Watanabe and Zhao Ye remained.

Riku lit a cigarette, smoked it in silence, and then looked at Zhao Ye. "What about you, Xiao Ye?"

Zhao Ye answered without hesitation. "Riku, I plan to quit as well."

"I see." Riku sighed. "I’ve always thought you had great potential. You’re still young. It would be a real shame to give up now."

"You misunderstand me," Zhao Ye corrected him. "I’m not giving up on music. I just want to continue down a different path. I’ve never doubted that I could succeed—now or in the future."

To anyone at rock bottom, such words might sound like empty bravado. But Riku didn’t dismiss them. Instead, he looked at Zhao Ye with genuine admiration. "Well said, Xiao Ye. I brought you out of Ueno Park back then, but I didn’t have the ability to lead you to success. For that, I truly apologize. From now on, if you still consider me your brother and ever need anything, don’t hesitate to ask. I’ll do everything I can to help."

"Thank you, Riku." Zhao Ye’s gratitude was deeply sincere. No matter what the future held, Riku’s words at this moment were a rare and precious friendship.

There was no formal announcement, nor a farewell performance. Just like that, Chapek disbanded.

From the mid-1980s to the early 1990s, Japan’s band boom was at its height. Young people everywhere were forming bands; every day saw new groups forming, and just as many dissolving. Over ninety percent never made so much as a ripple—Chapek among them. Besides the band members, the only ones affected were perhaps the owners of the club, for the band would never play there again.

After parting with Riku, Zhao Ye left the club.

He wandered the city alone. In the dusk of Tokyo, people hurried by, too busy to spare even a glance for the strangers they passed. Wedged among the dense crowds flowing down the sidewalk, Zhao Ye moved along. Occasionally, a group of high school girls waiting at a crosswalk would glance his way and whisper, "Look, he’s handsome!"—but that was the extent of their interest.

He took the train back to Ikebukuro, stopped by a convenience store to pick up some groceries, and left the shop still grumbling to himself about the outrageous prices—so ruthless! He’d thought having two ten-thousand yen bills in his wallet was plenty, but now it seemed life in Tokyo was anything but easy.

Yet, when he returned to his apartment and found a rent reminder from the management company in his mailbox, Zhao Ye realized his situation was graver than he had imagined. At the same time, memories from his predecessor surged up, explaining where the rent money had gone: on the day of his suicide, his predecessor had taken the fifty thousand yen meant for rent and splurged on a final, extravagant meal at a high-end yakiniku restaurant in Roppongi.

Now knowing the answer, Zhao Ye could only gnash his teeth in frustration, barely restraining himself from swearing aloud: You had your fun, but now I’m left to deal with the mess!

There was nothing he could do.

After his meal, Zhao Ye dug out a silver Panasonic tape recorder from his drawer, picked up his guitar, and idly strummed chords as he pondered what song to write.

In later years, there were countless ways to break into the music industry—even uploading a single audio clip online could attract massive attention. But in the present, Zhao Ye’s options were limited to busking on the street or at clubs, or sending demo tapes to record companies—the traditional route.

The music scene of 1994 in Japan was dominated by rock and electronic dance music. The BEING group was still riding high, building on their 1993 success, and Tetsuya Komuro was making his mark with a string of million-selling dance tracks. Yet both genres shared a common side effect: the more you listened, the more grating they could become. Zhao Ye’s plan was simple—take advantage of this, and open his path with a fresh, gentle song.

When he thought of "fresh," one name came to mind: Masayoshi Yamazaki.

Not everyone might recognize the name Masayoshi Yamazaki, but his famous song "One more time, One more chance" was known to all. Released in 1997 as the theme for the film "The Moon and Cabbage," which he himself starred in, the song’s chart performance on ORICON was unremarkable. But thanks to its beautiful melody and heartfelt lyrics, it quietly became a beloved hit, and Masayoshi Yamazaki, after years of obscurity, finally turned his fortunes around.

The song experienced a resurgence in 2007, when director Makoto Shinkai featured it as the theme for his acclaimed film "5 Centimeters per Second." The film breathed new life into the classic, and ten years after its release, the song’s timeless allure shone once more.

Having settled on his song, Zhao Ye called up the lyrics and chords for "One more time, One more chance" from memory, scribbled them out in pencil, and practiced a few times with his guitar. Once he felt ready, he began to record.

"Alright… one, two, three—let’s begin!" he whispered, tapping the beat as his fingers swept the strings and he started recording his demo.

"How much more must I lose before I am forgiven…"

"How much more pain must I endure before I see you again…"

"One more time, oh seasons, please do not change…"

…

"If wishes truly come true, I want to be by your side right now…"

This body’s vocal quality was only average, but its clear timbre and unique tone gave it a certain appeal. As a singer, he was passable, and with some formal training his skills would surely improve. Still, those soaring high notes would, regrettably, always be out of his reach.