The convenience store bags crinkled as we trudged up the narrow staircase leading to Daisuke's cousin's studio. When he'd mentioned "basic equipment," I'd pictured something in a converted bedroom—not this stand-alone building tucked behind a row of Shinjuku apartments.
"Watch the third step, it's loose," Daisuke warned as he led our procession.
"Ryota demands more details about this mysterious studio," Ryota said from behind me, juggling three bags of snacks. "Is it haunted? Ryota senses spirits."
"The only spirit here is whatever cheap liquor my cousin's boyfriend spilled." Daisuke said, fishing a key from his pocket.
"Your cousin lives here?" Seiji asked, craning his neck to peer through the small window on the landing.
"No, it's just the studio. She lives in the main building. Her boyfriend converted the garage." Daisuke unlocked the door, revealing a small but professionally arranged space. "He's a sound engineer. Or was, before..." He trailed off, pushing the door wider.
The smell hit me first—stale cigarettes and something fruity, like artificial air freshener fighting a losing battle. The room was maybe fifteen feet square, walls covered in mismatched soundproofing panels. A drum set occupied one corner, a small mixing board dominated another, and various instruments hung from wall mounts or leaned against amplifiers.
"This is perfect," I said, stepping inside.
"It's better than I expected," Ryuu admitted, following close behind. He adjusted his glasses, scanning the equipment with a professional eye. "That's a decent board. Not top tier, but—"
"Oh, you made it!" A female voice called from the doorway behind us.
I turned to see a young woman with long, dark hair and striking hazel-gold eyes that caught the overhead light. She wore a loose t-shirt that slid off one shoulder and short shorts.
"Miwa," Daisuke nodded. "Thanks for letting us use the space."
"No problem, cuz." She stepped inside, hands on her hips as she surveyed our group. "So this is the famous PRISM? You guys look better in person than on those posters."
"We're not famous yet," Ryuu said stiffly.
I glanced at him, caught off guard by his tone. The normally composed Ryuu stood unnaturally straight, his fingers fidgeting with his sleeve cuff.
"Ryota is Ryota Yasuda!" Ryota announced. "Main dancer! Strongest idol in Japan!"
Miwa laughed. "I believe it. Those arms aren't standard idol issue."
Ryota beamed, flexing automatically.
"I'm Seiji," Seiji offered with a bright smile. "Thanks for letting us invade your studio."
"And I'm Toshiro," I added with a polite nod. "We really appreciate this opportunity."
"Toshiro's our new center," Daisuke explained.
"I can see why," Miwa said, her gaze lingering on me. "Definitely center material."
"We brought food," I said quickly, holding up the bags. "For fuel. It's going to be a long night."
"Smart," Miwa said, moving to a small folding table against the wall. She cleared away some magazines and empty cans. "You can set up here. I'll grab some extra chairs from upstairs."
"I'll help," Ryuu said immediately, stepping forward.
"That's okay, I got it." She waved him off with a smile that seemed to physically pain him. "You guys get settled. Mi studio es su studio and all that."
"Let's unpack the food," I suggested. "We need to get to work on the demo."
"Good idea," Daisuke agreed, clearly sensing the tension. "Ryota, can you move those cases so we have somewhere to sit?"
"Ryota can move anything!" He grabbed an amplifier that must have weighed fifty pounds and lifted it one-handed.
We busied ourselves arranging the small space, spreading out convenience store bounty on the table: onigiri, packaged sandwiches, chips, energy drinks, and an assortment of sweets that Seiji had insisted were "brain food."
Miwa returned with folding chairs, and we settled in to eat before diving into work. I sat between Daisuke and Seiji. Ryuu positioned himself near the mixing board, as far from me as the small room allowed.
"So what's this song about?" Miwa asked, perching on a stool with her long legs crossed.
"Perseverance," Daisuke answered. "Moving forward despite obstacles."
"Running toward your dreams," Seiji added through a mouthful of melon bread.
"Defeating enemies!" Ryota punched the air.
"It's about never giving up," I said. "About pushing through when everything tells you to stop."
Miwa nodded. "Sounds like something people need to hear." Her expression clouded briefly. "Especially when life gets complicated."
"Do you sing, Miwa-san?" I asked.
"God no." She laughed. "I leave that to the professionals. I'm more of an appreciator than a creator."
"Miwa has an excellent ear," Daisuke said. "She can tell instantly if something works or not."
"That's true," she agreed without false modesty. "I can't tell you how to fix it, but I know when something's off."
Ryuu cleared his throat loudly. "We should get started."
"Right," I agreed. "Daisuke, can you play the melody you worked out earlier? I have some lyrics we can try fitting to it."
Daisuke nodded, moving to a keyboard set up in the corner. He played the melody again, more confident now than he'd been at SYNC. The notes filled the small space, bouncing off the soundproofing panels.
"That's really good," Miwa said, eyes widening. "Did you just come up with that today?"
"Daisuke's a genius," Seiji declared proudly.
"I had some fragments I'd been working with," Daisuke admitted. "Toshiro's concept helped me find the structure."
I pulled out my phone, scrolling to the notes I'd made. "I have lyrics for the chorus and some verse ideas."
"Let's hear them," Daisuke encouraged.
I cleared my throat, suddenly aware of five pairs of eyes fixed on me. "For the chorus: 'Not losing our spirit, make it move left and right. No matter who you are, make it move left and right. Two bare feet are our gasoline, yeah yeah. Let's go, are you ready? Yeah, yeah, yeah.'"
The room fell silent.
"That's..." Ryuu began.
"Perfect," Daisuke finished, fingers already finding the notes that matched the rhythm of my words.
"Can you sing it?" Seiji asked. "So we know how it fits?"
I nodded, waiting for Daisuke to play the melody again. When he reached the chorus section, I sang:
"*Not losing our spirit, make it move left and right.
No matter who you are, make it move left and right.
Two bare feet are our gasoline, yeah yeah.
Let's go, are you ready? Yeah, yeah, yeah.*"
My voice filled the small space, stronger than I'd intended. The others stared, expressions ranging from shock to admiration.
"Holy shit," Miwa breathed.
"Damn," Seiji whispered.
"Ryota has goosebumps!" Ryota announced, displaying his arm as evidence.
Only Ryuu remained stone-faced, though I caught a flicker of grudging appreciation in his eyes.
"The post-chorus could be something repetitive," I continued. "'Run bulletproof, run, yeah you gotta run. Run bulletproof, run, yeah you gotta run.'"
"That works," Daisuke nodded, playing a variation that fit the words. "It gives listeners something to latch onto."
"I can hear it already," Seiji said, bouncing in his chair. "This is going to be amazing!"
"We still need verses," Ryuu pointed out. "And a bridge. And actual instrumentation beyond a keyboard."
"One step at a time," I said. "I have ideas for verses, but they need refining."
"Toshiro should take verse one," Daisuke suggested. "I can do verse two."
"Ryota demands a rap section!" Ryota flexed dramatically.
"That could work for verse three," I agreed. "Seiji, you and Ryota could split that part."
"What about Ryuu?" Miwa asked, glancing at him.
"Bridge," Daisuke and I said simultaneously.
Ryuu adjusted his glasses. "I suppose that makes sense structurally."
"You have the technical skills to handle the complex parts," I added.
This seemed to mollify him slightly. "We should map out the entire structure before recording anything."
"Agreed," Daisuke said, turning to his cousin. "Miwa, can we use that whiteboard?"
She nodded, retrieving a small whiteboard from behind some cases. Daisuke began sketching out the song structure while I expanded my lyric notes, occasionally conferring with him about rhythmic patterns and emphasis.
The next hour dissolved in a flurry of creative energy. Ryota and Seiji worked out potential rap flows in one corner, occasionally bursting into enthusiastic demonstrations. Ryuu analyzed Daisuke's melody, suggesting harmonic variations and vocal arrangements. Miwa moved between groups, offering impressions and occasional suggestions that were surprisingly insightful.
"You should add a call-and-response element in the pre-chorus," she suggested, leaning over my shoulder to look at my notes. Her perfume smelled like peaches. "Have Seiji and you trade lines."
From across the room, Ryuu's pen tapped against the mixing board with increasing force.
"That's actually a great idea," I said, deliberately shifting away from her. "Seiji, come look at this."
As Seiji bounded over, I caught Ryuu's death glare softening a fraction.
This is ridiculous. We're professionals. I sighed internally. Though I guess being heartstruck makes fools of everyone.
"Okay, I think we have enough to lay down a rough track," Daisuke announced eventually. "We won't have time for a polished arrangement tonight, but we can record the basic vocals over the keyboard track."
"Will that be enough for Ichigo?" Seiji asked, worry creasing his forehead.
"It'll have to be," I said. "We can convey the essence of the song, even in rough form. The potential will be clear."
"If it's good enough," Ryuu muttered.
"It will be," I said firmly. "Because we're making it together."
Ryuu met my eyes, challenge clear in his gaze. "Then let's make it good."
The actual recording process proved more complex than anticipated. The small studio wasn't designed for five people recording simultaneously, so we had to work in segments.
"Daisuke, lay down the keyboard track first," Ryuu directed, taking charge of the technical aspects. "Then we'll add vocals one by one."
Miwa brought us coffee as the night deepened, the bitter aroma cutting through fatigue. "You guys are really going for it, huh?"
"We have to," I said simply.
"Because of the other guy? The one who left?" she asked.
The room stilled. Tadashi's ghost seemed to materialize between the soundproofing panels.
"Partially," I admitted. "But mostly for ourselves. To prove what we can become."
"To prove we were never the ones holding the group back," Ryuu added quietly, surprising me.
"Well, for what it's worth," Miwa said, "this already sounds better than anything I've heard from him since he went solo."
"You've heard Tadashi's music?" Seiji asked.
She shrugged. "It's everywhere. Can't escape it. But it's all polish, no heart."
"This will have heart," Daisuke promised, fingers hovering over the keyboard. "Ready?"
We nodded, and he began to play.
Hours blurred together as we recorded, adjusted, re-recorded. My throat grew raw from multiple takes of the chorus. Ryuu's perfectionism clashed with our time constraints, leading to tense negotiations about what constituted "good enough for a demo."
"One more take," he insisted for the third time as Seiji struggled with a particularly rapid section.
"It's late," I countered. "That was fine."
"Fine isn't good enough."
"For a demo, it is. We can perfect it later."
Ryuu's jaw tightened, but he finally nodded. "Move on."
By three in the morning, we had a rough but recognizable version of "Run." The melody was strong, the chorus catchy, the verses personal but universal. It wasn't polished—the transitions needed work, some of the rap sections felt disconnected, and the bridge required strengthening—but the essence was there.
"Play it back," I requested.
Ryuu pressed a button, and our creation filled the room. Raw. Unpolished. But undeniably alive.
When the last note faded, silence settled over us.
"Holy shit," Miwa said again, breaking the spell. "You guys made that in one night?"
"It's rough," Ryuu cautioned.
"But it's real," Daisuke said quietly.
"Ryota has created a masterpiece!" Ryota declared, though his usual energy had dimmed with fatigue.
"Will Ichigo approve it?" Seiji asked, voicing our collective worry.
"He'd be a fool not to," Miwa said.
I nodded, too tired for false modesty. "It's good. It needs work, but the foundation is solid."
"We'll clean it up tomorrow," Daisuke said, saving the files to a flash drive. "Polish the arrangement, tighten the vocals."
"For now, we need sleep," I said, noting Seiji's drooping eyelids.
"You can crash at my place," Miwa offered. "I have floor space."
"Ryota sleeps anywhere! Ryota once slept hanging from a tree branch!"
"That explains so much," Ryuu muttered.
"Thank you for the offer," I said to Miwa, "but I think we should head back. We have practice tomorrow."
"Later today, you mean," Daisuke corrected, glancing at his watch.
As we packed up, exhaustion settling into our bones, I found myself standing next to Ryuu by the mixing board.
"Good work tonight," I said quietly.
He stared at me for a long moment before responding. "Your lyrics... they're surprisingly good."
"Thanks for handling the technical side," I replied. "I wouldn't have known where to start."
He nodded stiffly, then glanced toward Miwa, who was chatting animatedly with Seiji. "Just... be careful."
"What?"
"Nothing." He turned away, busying himself with cables.
As we filed out into the pre-dawn darkness, Miwa caught my arm. "You're really good, you know. All of you."
"Thank you for your help. We'll see you tomorrow." I said sincerely.
"Anytime. Seriously." She smiled, then leaned closer. "And maybe tell your friend with the glasses to relax a little. His jaw's going to break from all that clenching."
I laughed. "I'll pass along the message."
We parted ways on the quiet street, our small group heading toward the station to catch the first trains of the morning. Daisuke clutched the flash drive like a talisman, Seiji leaned against Ryota to stay upright, and Ryuu walked slightly apart, lost in thought.
"Think it's enough?" Daisuke asked me softly as we walked.
I looked at our ragtag group—exhausted, disheveled, but united in purpose for the first time since I'd joined them.
"It's enough," I assured him. "And it's just the beginning."