A few days ago.
A black-haired girl with a guitar on her back burst into the recording studio, holding up three fingers to the others. "Three hours, please."
The others in the studio looked at each other with somewhat helpless expressions, each packing up their instruments and scattering like startled birds.
"Join our band, we guarantee we'll make you more famous. Isn't a girl band a bit too boring?"
Several young men with multi-colored dyed hair joked around. Giving up their studio time to a high schooler was a strange sight to most, but what was even stranger was that the genius singer from Readymade had come to the studio alone to record a song by herself.
"Come over to us big brothers, we'll take care of you."
The indifferent girl didn't even look up. "Say that again and don't blame me for being rude."
"Sister, it's a waste to always have such a pretty face scowling, you know?" The red-haired guy with the guitar tilted his neck and smiled. "We big brothers are very talented too."
They were a male band with rapid momentum lately, ranking in the top ten of the pop music charts. Their highly recognizable hip-hop vocal style was widely acclaimed, and their Latino-American lead singer's popularity had exploded due to his handsome looks.
There had been rumors recently that the lead singer was going solo, and they were loudly proclaiming they were looking for a new one. A genius girl from a popular band fit their criteria perfectly. Everyone thought they were joking, but they had actually targeted her, showing up at her recording studio every few days and vowing to scout her. They hadn't expected her to be the heiress of the Kuroki Group, someone who didn't care at all and simply walked coolly into her private recording booth.
Turning their embarrassment into anger after being rejected, the men made a formal challenge to compete with her in singing skills and popularity. The battle video on YouTube reached ten million views, with both sides ending in a draw. Although they failed to scout the lead singer, the two bands had somehow developed a sense of mutual respect through the interaction.
"Tell the truth, do you like her?" A buddy nearby elbowed the red-haired guy hard. "You harass her every chance you get. Didn't you see her looking at you like she wanted to skin you alive?"
The red-haired guy spoke shamelessly, "I just like the cold and elegant type, is that a problem?"
"Didn't you say last time you only wanted cute girls?"
"Cute girls are good, but compared to Kuroki Kusanagi, what do they count for?" The red-haired guy glanced at the skirt over the girl's thighs. "Compared to her, no one else is interesting."
"That's the truth, for real." His buddy summoned his courage to steal a glance as well. Those white, slender thighs, those black eyes and long lashes—she really was beautiful. It was just that an iceberg like her might freeze a person to death; the difficulty level was too high.
"You guys are really noisy." The girl finished setting up her recording equipment and asked coldly with her arms crossed, "When are you getting out?"
"Leaving now, leaving now!"
The men quickly packed their instruments. The red-haired guy was very tall, and a guitar was tattooed on his left wrist. Upon closer inspection, one could see it was a very classical black guitar.
"Still chasing us out, little one is quite fierce."
He reached out his large hand with a laugh, nearly stroking Kusanagi's head, but the girl dodged with a cold face. He wasn't annoyed; instead, he mischievously touched her chin and left before she could react. "My arms are always open for you."
The girl's face was as cold as winter snow. She used her sleeve to wipe her face with great disgust in front of everyone, rubbing her fair skin until it turned red.
The red-haired guy naturally saw this. He shrugged helplessly and walked out with his guitar. His buddy reminded him, "The driver is waiting for you outside again. That rich family of yours doesn't give you any freedom at all?"
"Stop nagging and come back with me." The red-haired guy punched him. "Louis, have you had one too many drinks?"
The nuisances were finally gone. Only then did the girl take out her guitar and put on her uncolored studio monitor headphones.
She found her best matched pair of small-diaphragm stereo microphones, tuned them, then took a deep breath. She gently plucked the guitar strings while looking at the score she had written in just a few minutes. This was the fastest she had ever written a song. Those emotions and feelings were eager to transform from her fingertips into notes, then into confusion, joy, and bitterness. Those noisy, unfamiliar heartbeats and subtle, blurred, unformed thoughts flowed continuously from her fingertips. Before she could even react, she had already completed the entire song.
She found herself very nervous, her palms drenched in sweat, as was the neck of the guitar she held.
She stared blankly at the lyrics she had written. They were fine at first, but they became strange in the middle—explicit and filled with the'sour scent of love.' She could hardly believe this was something she had written.
Hardly giving herself a moment to hesitate, she snapped the score shut with a "thud," suddenly beginning to agonize over whether or not to sing it.
Thinking until her stomach ached from the anxiety, she still hadn't decided how to handle the song. She wanted to change some of the words, but she was afraid the other person would find out.
...What would happen if she was found out?
After a long time, the girl finally calmed down. She rubbed her burning face and began to sing word by word.
She didn't need three hours at all; it took her only 40 minutes to finish singing and making revisions. For the first time, she felt no pride after completing a work, only a sense of shame that she was reluctant to admit, surging from her heart.
The song in her hand felt increasingly heavy. Whether that person would like it or hate it, she had no idea. She hated this uncertainty and the feeling of anticipating a result; her mind uncontrollably began to imagine the other person's reaction.
She covered her face and stared at the song for a while longer. She was already looking forward to a response before even sending it, feeling an indescribable gloom and loss inside. To send it, or not? This internal struggle lasted until the evening of the next day, and the girl still couldn't make a decision, her heart filled with worry.
Recording a song in secret?
Momozawa squinted and scanned her up and down. "It's written for Miss Nozawa, isn't it?"
Kusanagi gave a soft "Mm." Though her response was cold and simple, the meaning within it was a winding, layered melancholy.
Momozawa had originally planned how to tease this eternal iceberg, with questions like "When exactly did you two start?" or "Who's on top?" but ever since Kyoko accidentally let something slip, her mind hadn't been on that.
"So I'm the only one kept in the dark?" Momozawa almost cursed. She pointed at Inohara not far away and shouted, "This girl likes Kusanagi?!"
Kyoko covered Momozawa's mouth with a dark expression. "You could try being even louder."
"Wait, no, Kyoko Yamashita, you didn't tell me such a huge secret! When did this happen? Does Kusanagi know?!"
Kyoko said in a cold tone, "Do you think Kusanagi doesn't know?"
Momozawa was stunned. "What do you mean?"
"Not only does she know, she also allows Hara to like her."
An attitude of tacit permission meant neither rejecting nor accepting. It was very scummy.
After mulling over those words, Momozawa felt it was even stranger, so she asked, "Did Inohara tell you that herself?"
Kyoko lowered her eyes. "I know her. She can't hide it when she likes someone."
"You mean Kusanagi knows Hara likes her and hasn't rejected or accepted her?"
"Pretty much. Anyway, it's a terrible attitude."
That's not right, Momozawa frowned and thought to herself. Kusanagi likes Miss Nozawa; given her personality, it's impossible for her to string Inohara along, and even more impossible for her to two-time.
"Look at you, getting all worked up as soon as Hara is mentioned. I'll ask Kusanagi another day and have her explain it clearly, okay?"
"I'm not angry, I just can't stand her doing things this way." Kyoko turned her head away awkwardly. "It feels like the whole world revolves around her."
It seemed she would have to let Kusanagi explain it herself. Having managed to annoy two people all on her own, Momozawa couldn't help but speak up for Kusanagi. "But you can't entirely blame Kusanagi. It's Hara who likes her; you should understand that feeling."
Kyoko was taken aback. She naturally knew that liking someone was a gamble where one put everything on the line, and reciprocation was a luxury. Where was the logic in it? She stopped talking.
Momozawa comforted her for a while until the school bell rang, and then they returned to their respective classrooms.
After thinking it over, Momozawa interrupted the melancholy of the person before her. "Kusanagi, how long has it been since you wrote a new song for the band?"
Smart as she was, how could Kusanagi not understand what Momozawa meant? "Almost half a year."
"But this song has nothing to do with Readymade. If Hara and Kyoko find out about this, they're going to be absolutely furious."
Kusanagi was silent for a long moment. "All the inspiration for this song comes from her. The lyrics and the melody exist only for her, and could only be written for her."
Momozawa had never been in love, so how could she understand these complex, winding feelings?
"My point is that you're spending too much time on Miss Nozawa and neglecting everyone else. The fans are bound to have complaints, and there are even rumors that we're going to disband."
"I know," Kusanagi said. "I'll be careful in the future."
"You and Hara..." Momozawa paused here. "Tell me the truth, are you really two-timing?"
"...What kind of nonsense is that?"
"Exactly what it sounds like." Momozawa gestured with her fingers in frustration. "Between Miss Nozawa and Inohara, are you!"
"I am not." Kusanagi's eye twitched. "It's just one-sided on Inohara's part."
"That sounds so scummy when you say it."
"..."
"Beautiful scumbag."
"Are you looking for a fight?" Kusanagi didn't want to explain further. "Anyway, I'm not. Just believe me."
"Oh." Momozawa backed down. "We are a band, after all. Don't let your relationship with her get too strained."
"Mm." Kusanagi seemed to remember something, a faint light appearing in her eyes. "Since she apologized, I will forgive her."
"Fine." Although she wasn't clear on what exactly had happened, Momozawa didn't want to get involved anymore! Please let her, a girl single since birth, off the hook!
"Coming back to it, let me hear the song you wrote."
Kusanagi refused without a moment's hesitation. "No, only she can hear it."
"Ha? Why?"
"No reason."
Momozawa squinted. "You didn't write some mushy love song, did you?"
"..."
"You, Kuroki Kusanagi, writing a love song?" The expression on Momozawa's face turned into one of horror, as if she'd seen a ghost. "I really need to get to know you all over again."
Kusanagi remained silent. She pulled a vocabulary book out of her desk and flipped to the middle to start reading. It was a Chinese book, filled with square-shaped Hanzi characters.
"Why the sudden interest in Chinese?"
"Just looking at it casually." The girl flipped to the next page and picked up her pen to take notes.
"Chinese is so hard. You might as well learn English; it's more useful."
"But I want to understand what she says."
Oh right, Miss Nozawa is Chinese. Wait, did this girl learn a whole language specifically for her?! It would be a lie to say she wasn't surprised. Momozawa calmed her heartbeat. "I have to say, that's way too romantic."
"Is it?" It seemed the person herself was unaware.
Momozawa grabbed her apricot-colored hair and said word for word, "Since you wrote a song for her, you must personally give it to her, do you hear me?"
"To be honest, I haven't decided yet." A surge of irritability rose within the girl. "I'm worried she'll discover the meaning of the lyrics, and I'm also afraid she won't."
"What is there to hesitate about! Give it to her! You must personally put it in her hands. This is a song written by the lead singer of Readymade, do you know what that means!" Momozawa was even more excited than she was, shaking her shoulders frantically. "It means this is Readymade's first song full of deep emotion!"
A burning flame gradually flickered in the girl's eyes. She applied some pressure to her lips, biting the corner of her mouth.
"Then I'll try."