After the Full Take ended, the formal segment recording began.
But even for just a gentle A Section, she recorded it over and over nearly ten times.
After each take, Murakami would give her feedback through the intercom system so detailed it drove her crazy—
“Clean up the trailing sound of the second line more. Don’t drag it.”
“After pronouncing the kana ‘te’, immediately cut off your breath. Don’t extend the vowel.”
“You dragged it for about 0.5 seconds just now, which severely affects the listening experience.”
‘Seriously, 0.5 seconds? What the hell? Are you a robot that can hear that accurately down to milliseconds?!’
“The fourth take felt right, but the ‘wo’ character in ‘sora wo’ had insufficient vocal cord closure, with a bit of messy breath sound. Let’s try to find the feeling of your first take and see if we can improve.”
‘Wait, didn’t you just say the second take felt good? Now it’s back to the first one?!’
“This take has good emotion, but the articulation is too heavy. Go back, do it again!”
“…”
When it came to the Chorus, this obsession reached its peak.
For the stability of a high note, Murakami and Katō in the Control Room repeatedly compared two different Takes on the speakers, just to catch a tiny pitch deviation of less than ten cents on a specific word.
And Haruka’s earlier complaint about “0.5 seconds” was not an exaggeration.
On the sound wave graph of professional recording equipment, this level of error is infinitely magnified by those curves.
Under the dual torture of mind and body, she finally finished recording the Chorus part.
When it came to the Bridge, because the emotional flow was relatively straightforward, Haruka relied on her powerful Muscle Memory and stably recorded three takes, passing smoothly.
“Alright, the Lead Vocalist part is all OK. Take a ten-minute break. Next, we’ll record the Harmony.”
Murakami’s voice came through the headphones, with a hint of tired relief.
“The Chorus needs a third above as harmony. Listen to the main melody once first, and find the position of the Major Third.”
Haruka took a sip of warm water to moisten her throat and quickly ran through the interval relationship of the Major Third in her mind.
This part went surprisingly smoothly for her.
Matsumoto Hidetoshi’s mother was a middle school music teacher before she passed away.
Although he never received any systematic vocal training, his intuition for intervals and musicality far exceeded that of an average person.
As soon as the main melody played in her headphones, relying on instinctual intuition, she opened her mouth and precisely caught that “absolutely harmonious” frequency band.
For the Harmony part, after just two takes, Murakami decisively announced Pass.
In the Control Room, Engineer Katō looked at the two perfectly overlapping sound wave graphs on the screen and couldn’t help muttering.
“Strange… Was her relative pitch always this accurate? This is the first time I’ve seen someone’s skills get stronger after an accident recovery.”
Murakami leaned back in his chair, looking at Haruka, who was taking off her headphones in the recording room, and casually replied to Katō.
“That’s a good thing. Not just pitch… even the Emotional Granularity is handled more sophisticatedly than before.”
All recording ended.
Haruka took off the heavy Monitoring Headphones, rubbed her sore ears, pushed open the heavy soundproof door, and walked out of that transparent cage that suffocated her yet she inexplicably enjoyed.
After bowing and waving goodbye to the two teachers, she pushed open the outermost door of the Control Room.
The moment the door opened, the circulating air in the corridor rushed at her.
Temperature, humidity, faint ambient noise… everything that had been absolutely isolated in the recording area flooded into her senses.
She let out a long breath.
The back of her clothes was slightly damp with sweat.
Standing in the recording area with its low temperature for a long time, coupled with intense mental focus, her body had automatically regulated its temperature.
Ritsu was sitting on a bench not far from the Control Room, waiting.
“How was it?”
“My voice is totally fine—!”
Haruka excitedly made a V sign.
“I feel like I could sing another song!”
“No need to sing more. Today’s volume is enough.”
“Yeah, but…”
Haruka’s eyes sparkled.
“I think recording is really fun! In that small room, it’s like the whole world goes quiet, leaving only my own voice. That feeling…”
She gestured eagerly, trying to describe that wonderful experience.
“It’s like… burrowing into a world that’s only yours? In that world, you can sing freely, but not really freely, because every tiny sound will be heard by countless people. Precisely because it will be heard, you try your hardest to sing every note perfectly… Ah, explaining is such a hassle. Anyway, it’s that feeling! You know what I mean?”
“…You should drink some water first.”
Ritsu handed her a bottle of room-temperature mineral water.
Haruka took it, tilted her head back, and gulped down nearly half of it.
“Manager, I suddenly want to go to karaoke.”
“No.”
“Why not!”
“You have work this afternoon and tomorrow. Your voice isn’t for you to squander.”
“But I feel I’m in peak condition now. I could keep singing…”
“If you have no work this weekend, I’ll consider it.”
“—Really?!”
“I said ‘consider it.'”
Ritsu pushed up his glasses expressionlessly.
“It’s not ‘I agree.'”
Haruka screwed the cap back on the bottle.
“That means you agreed.”
“…”
Ritsu said nothing and walked straight to the elevator.
Just as Haruka was about to follow Ritsu to press the elevator button, a voice came from behind:
“Haruka, wait a moment.”
Haruka turned around.
Approaching from a distance was a woman in her forties.
She had neat short hair and wore a minimalist black dress.
A professional smile was on her face, but her eyes held a scrutinizing seriousness.
Haruka quickly searched her mental character database but had absolutely no recollection of this person.
Behind her, Ritsu leaned slightly sideways and quickly whispered in a voice only she could hear.
“Ms. Sanada, your vocal coach.”
“Teacher Sanada—!”
Haruka reacted quickly, immediately putting on a bright smile and waving.
“Hello!”
Sanada Miwa looked at Haruka’s energetic demeanor and chuckled.
“You’ve recovered well. Earlier in the office, I listened to your preliminary recorded material.”
“Thank you, Teacher!”
“I have a few things to discuss with you privately. It won’t take much time.”
Upon hearing this, Haruka instinctively turned back to look at Ritsu like a child seeking parental permission.
Ritsu didn’t say anything, just nodded, pointed toward the elevator indicating he’d wait there, so Haruka waved goodbye to him.
Haruka followed behind Sanada to the rest area at the end of the corridor.
The two stopped by a vending machine.
Sanada inserted a coin, bought a can of hot cocoa, and handed it to Haruka.
“Here, protect your voice. Drink something warm.”
“Thank you, Teacher Sanada!”
Haruka took the drink without hesitation and politely expressed her thanks.
“About today’s recording,” Sanada looked directly into her eyes, cutting straight to the point, “It felt different from your previous style. It gave me the impression that this wasn’t something ‘Hoshino Haruka’ could sing.”
Hearing that opening line, Haruka’s heart skipped a beat.
‘Oh no, could it be that she’s noticed something? Am I about to be exposed?’
‘This is bad, this is bad, I’m going to die…’
Premium Chapter
Login to buy access to this Chapter.