Chapter 6: The Broadcast

Bruises and wounds on his body and face the are very evident now ― he wore the evidence of the storm.

"Every bruise, a memory; every wound, a warning."

Dence limps out of a narrow alley going to Futagawa Train Station, still shaken. Ride inside the last train going back to Toyohashi Station with his stringless guitar and cart. In his hand ― the lyric notebook retrieved during the scuffle. Inside it, one page glows faintly:
The words rhyme like a riddle:

"In silence sharp, you'll strike the glass.A single note, to free the past."

As the train's doors seal shut, Dence's image blurs behind the glass... then vanishes into the distance. Fade to black.

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[After Three Months]

The bruises and wounds had finally healed. The chaos at the Futagawa Warehouse now felt like a bad dream ― one that never left him, but no longer hurt to touch. During the long healing process, Dence laid the katana and black guitar to rest ― stringless, no bridge pins, hollow, together with the lyric notebook abandoned inside the hard case for the past three months... and counting. In the quiet that followed, stillness sang louder than any note. He stayed home. Focused on the kids. And in the quiet hours of the night, with the city humming beyond his window, he recorded a demo of an old, unfinished song, with a minus one created by his friend, Henry, a Filipino arranger in the Philippines ― that one original song that used to scare him with how personal it sounded.

He submitted it anonymously to a local FM radio station in Toyohashi, NV101.9. Not for fame. Just to see if the song still had a place in the world.

A week passed.
Then another.
No word.
Then...

The flash of static on the living room TV broke the usual silence.
It was late, kids asleep. Dence had just finished washing dishes when the news ticker caught his eye. He thought it was just a usual Japan earthquake flash news:

"BREAKING: X-Spence Corp. partners with NV101.9 for a new talent reality program for Japanese-Foreigner songwriters living in Japan: "Voices of Tomorrow."

Dence froze.
He knew that name. X-Spence Corp. The uniforms. The warehouse. The men who almost silenced him. The screen flickered to a promo clip ― A clean-cut executive named Billy Spence shaking hands with the NV101.9 station manager. Behind them: a table with four glowing green cubes and a banner with a slogan that hit like a punch to the gut:

"Music with Purpose. Songs We Can Trust."

Then came the sting.
The host's voice chirped,

"Earlier this week, the selection panel officially rejected an anonymous submission titled, 'Night Angel'. Their verdict: 'Too raw. Too real. No market for this kind of vulnerability.'"

That was Dence's original song. He didn't know what hurt more ―the fact that they rejected him, or that they said it out loud. But before he could even process it, something else happened ―The screen glitched for a moment.

The broadcast flickered.And in the brief distortion, for a fraction of a second...Dence saw himself― on the screen ―but not quite him.A reflection. An imitation. A version molded by something else. Reminded him of the realm from the portal with Ere.Then it was gone.

The screen returned to normal.
His name wasn't mentioned again.
But something had shifted.
Lights out.

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[After two months]

Dence wanders through Toyohashi Ekimae, just like local passers. The flashing lights feel colder now, commercialized. He passes by a busker playing a cheerful song ― something that sounds too perfect. Too processed. He stares, then walks away. Dence walks aimlessly through the streets. He stops in front of the newly renovated NV Building ― NV 101.9 FM Station's location, where there's a space shuttle above with the logo of X-Spence Corp. on its body. At the ground and second floor, there lies a store called Hard Off ― old toy shops, used CD stalls, vintage electronics. The nostalgia hits him. Some teenage dreams. Simplest times.

At one corner stall, he unexpectedly finds a dusty cassette tape of his favorite Filipino band, Cutterpillow Album with free vintage design of Eraserheads Band shirt. He buys it for 1000 yen. As he walks out, he looks up the space shuttle again:

"One day, I'll lift off too. Even if it's on strings."

(To be continued...)
(Next: The Light Will Speak)