Chapter 20: A Windfall from the Heavens

Had Keisuke Kuwata played Ye Zhao’s “Summer Hues” on the radio that night, all would have ended in perfect joy. Unfortunately, throughout the hour-long program, Ye Zhao and Ye Qing called in more than a dozen times to request the song, but perhaps due to the sheer volume of requests, the song was never played.

After Keisuke Kuwata announced, “This is the last song for tonight,” Ye Qing turned off the radio and collapsed onto the bed in disappointment.

Ye Zhao, concerned about leaving Ye Qing—a young girl—out late by herself, had gone downstairs to bring her up about a third of the way through the broadcast. Upon entering the room, he found Ye Qing wearing the expression of someone who’d just been wronged.

Ye Zhao sat down beside her. “Don’t take it to heart. It’s just a radio program.”

Ye Qing sighed, tilting her face up to him. “After I learned this trick from Shizuka, I couldn’t stop thinking about how I could help promote your music, big brother. I even lied to stay here so we could share the thrill of victory together. I never imagined it would end like this.”

Ye Zhao gently patted her head in comfort. “We know about this method now. Next time, we’ll try again—it’ll be just the same.”

There was nothing else to be done.

What neither Ye Zhao nor Ye Qing knew, however, was that the reason “Summer Hues” never aired that night wasn’t because Keisuke Kuwata overlooked it, but because the radio station’s music library didn’t have the song at all.

Kuwata’s band, South Star Ensemble, was famous for their summer hits, and with the heat of summer in full swing, the station’s music editor picked out energetic, summery songs to suit Kuwata’s tastes. Curiously, though both South Star Ensemble and TUBE were must-listens for any RB native in summer, neither had ever released a song titled “Summer Hues,” despite numerous tracks with “summer” in the title.

So when the editor brought the list of requested songs to Kuwata during an ad break, he immediately noticed this distinctly summery title. But just as he decided to play it in the next set, a staff member informed him the song wasn’t in the station’s library.

In such cases, there’s only one explanation: it’s an underground single, released by an obscure label too small to pay the “protection fees” required by the broadcasting association. As a result, songs from such labels rarely make it into radio or karaoke libraries promptly.

Worldly-wise as he was, Kuwata instantly suspected that the person requesting the song was likely the artist themselves. In this era, it wasn’t unheard of for musicians to request their own tracks on the radio; even Tsunku, who would later create the idol group Morning Musume, often called in to request songs for his pre-fame band, Sharan Q.

Perhaps fate was quietly preparing an opportunity for Ye Zhao. Kuwata found himself intrigued by this song, likely being repeatedly requested by its own creator. His interest, however, was not entirely benevolent: Kuwata believed musicians should focus on their craft rather than resorting to cheap tricks for attention, and he was already dissatisfied with the growing restlessness in the music scene. Now this Ye Zhao seemed to be courting trouble.

He decided he’d give “Summer Hues” a listen: if it was decent, fine. But if it turned out to be a shoddy piece of work, he wouldn’t hesitate to use Ye Zhao as a cautionary tale on his show.

After the program, Kuwata instructed his manager, “Tomorrow, stop by the record shops and find me a single called ‘Summer Hues,’ by a singer named Ye Zhao.”

Kuwata’s manager, Takashiro, a middle-aged man who had managed him since the late eighties, knew full well how Kuwata enjoyed listening to new talent. So he took the request in stride: just a quick sweep through the local record stores, nothing to it.

With this in mind, Takashiro strolled into a nearby HMV around noon the next day before lunch.

“Hello. I’m looking for a single called ‘Summer Hues’ by Ye Zhao.” He greeted the young woman behind the counter with a warm smile.

“‘Summer Hues’?” The clerk searched the inventory. “Sorry, we’ve never had that single in stock.”

Takashiro left HMV, walked a short distance, and entered Yamano Music. “Hello, I’m looking for a single called ‘Summer Hues.’”

“Sorry, we don’t have that here.”

“May I ask,” Takashiro pressed, “have you never stocked it, or did it sell out?”

The clerk consulted the monthly invoice. “We did get ‘Summer Hues’ in on June twenty-first, but only five copies. It’s an underground release, so we didn’t see the need to restock.”

“I see…” Takashiro nodded and left.

Walking the hot streets, he grumbled to himself: he’d assumed it was just a single from a new artist, but it was actually an underground release—what had prompted Mr. Kuwata to want to hear an indie singer’s song all of a sudden?

Checking his watch, he saw it was already 11:40. Hungry, Takashiro decided to pause his search, get lunch, and continue when the sun was less harsh.

Near the station, just as he was about to buy a ticket, Takashiro heard an unfamiliar folk song playing from a record shop nearby. At this time of late June, the airwaves everywhere were dominated by TRF and DEEN—yet here was a store playing something completely different. It piqued his interest.

He stopped to listen. The song was good, but he couldn’t place the singer; none of the well-known male artists had released anything new recently, and he hadn’t heard of any labels launching a fresh face.

With time to spare before the next train, he decided to go in and ask. So, he pushed open the door.

Inside, a student-looking young man was dusting the shelves. On hearing the door, he set the duster aside and greeted Takashiro. He wore silver, round-framed glasses and had a gentle, reserved air.

“What’s the name of the song you’re playing?” Takashiro asked directly.

“Oh, you think it’s a good one too?” The young man smiled. “It’s called ‘Summer Hues.’”

Summer Hues! The answer dropped into his lap. No wonder Kuwata had asked for it by name—it really was a song worth hearing. Takashiro quickly asked, “Do you have any copies for sale?”

“Sorry, since it’s an underground release, stock is extremely limited. This one is my personal copy. You might try other stores.”

Takashiro had no desire to keep wandering in the sweltering heat. After a moment’s thought, he played his trump card. “To tell the truth, I’m Keisuke Kuwata’s manager.” He took out a business card and flashed it. “I’m not after this single for myself—Mr. Kuwata wants to hear it. Could you let me have it?”

The young man hesitated, a vision of his folk club junior, Yuki Ueda, flashing through his mind. She had performed this song at a club event, confidently predicting that Ye Zhao would become a star. Remembering her determined gaze, the young man walked to the register, removed the CD from the player, put it back in its case, and handed it to Takashiro. “If Mr. Kuwata likes it, perhaps he could put in a good word for the artist. If Ye Zhao gets famous because of this, I’ll count it as a good deed.”

On Monday, when Takashiro delivered the single to Keisuke Kuwata, Kuwata glanced at the cover, which showed the Shonan coast, and smiled. “That’s my old hometown. I even did an open-air concert there last year.” His tone grew stern. “Using the Shonan coast for a cover—if the music doesn’t live up to the scenery, I won’t go easy on him.”

“Don’t worry, sir,” Takashiro vouched earnestly. “This song won’t disappoint you.” He recounted how he’d acquired the single.

“Really? You were taken with it at first listen?” Kuwata looked at Takashiro, half skeptical, half curious, but also with faint anticipation, as he put the CD into the player.

As the melody of “Summer Hues” filled the office, the doubt on Kuwata’s face gradually faded. He closed his eyes, tapping his fingers lightly on the desk—the gesture Takashiro knew meant he truly enjoyed a song.

When the song ended, Kuwata opened his eyes, his voice tinged with nostalgia. “My wife’s family home sits at the top of a long, sloping street. Back when we first started dating, her father couldn’t stand me—a band kid. Whenever I waited for her near the house and he spotted me, he’d curse me out. So she’d leap onto the back of my bicycle, and we’d escape down that hill together, ha!”

The CD player began the intro to the B-side. Kuwata listened quietly, then, shutting off the player, picked up the CD case and checked the booklet. Finding both songs were original works by Ye Zhao, he muttered, “This kid’s extravagant—using such a good song for a B-side. The younger generation is truly impressive.”