At this moment, the lights in the VIP lounge dimmed by another layer.
The staff on both sides of the stage quickly retreated into the shadows, and the audience members who were still walking in the aisles returned to their seats one after another.
The sounds in the stadium gradually converged toward the same place, and tens of thousands of gazes simultaneously fell upon the centre of the stage that had yet to light up.
Sakai Izumi walked out from the side and back.
She wore a white shirt and dark trousers, with her hair hanging naturally behind her shoulders, bearing almost no gorgeous decorations matching the grandeur of a large-scale public performance.
Compared to the lighting rigs and the entire grandstand, that figure even appeared somewhat frail.
Izumi walked up to the microphone and first bowed to the surrounding crowd.
"Good evening."
She paused for a moment, as if confirming just how far her voice had carried.
"I am Sakai Izumi."
Someone in the audience immediately shouted out her name.
The few rows close to the stage raised their hands simultaneously, and Izumi, seemingly thrown off by the sudden response, lowered her head and smiled slightly.
"Today... thank you everyone for coming here."
Izumi looked up at the distant outfield stands, as if suddenly realising just how large Seibu Stadium truly was, and after pausing for a moment, failed to catch the next sentence.
Tsutsumi Yoshiaki waited for a moment before turning his head slightly.
"Is this your protagonist for tonight?"
Satsuki gave a soft acknowledgment, her gaze still lingering on the stage.
"It seems she forgot her lines."
"Probably."
Satsuki was not surprised by this, and even smiled faintly.
"She was never good at standing on stage and saying these things."
Tsutsumi Yoshiaki had originally thought she would at least offer a few words of defence for her artist, but upon hearing this reply, he instead gave her another look.
Satsuki merely raised her chin toward the stage.
"She will not be like that when singing."
Just as the words fell, the band had already transitioned into the intro.
Izumi glanced back at the drummer, and her previously somewhat stiff shoulders relaxed accordingly.
After the first line of lyrics dropped, the unfinished opening remarks from moments ago were quickly left behind by the audience.
By the end of the first chorus, a few rows close to the stage were already singing along.
When the melody repeated once more, scattered singing also rang out from the turf seating and the third-base side stands; though every word could not be heard clearly through the glass, it was evident they were following along quite proficiently.
Tsutsumi Yoshiaki's fingers, resting on the armrest, stopped.
"This does not sound like the first time listening."
"Nor was it to begin with."
Satsuki gazed at the stage, her tone very casual.
"She has recorded over four hundred karaoke guide vocals over the years. Among the people sitting down below tonight, there are bound to be some who heard her even earlier than the records."
Tsutsumi Yoshiaki looked back at the audience members gradually joining in the chorus.
At the time, they might not have known what the person in the recording studio was called, nor did they necessarily remember which song they had listened to.
Yet when that familiar voice appeared once more, memory would still recognise it for them.
"Make people remember the voice first, and then hand the names over to them, huh..."
"You make it sound as if I arranged it beforehand."
Satsuki brushed it off cleanly with her words, yet a slight smile lingered at the corners of her lips.
After the second song ended, Izumi walked up to the microphone once again.
She thanked the students who had warmed up the crowd just moments ago, and mentioned that when she first came to Seibu Stadium, she had only watched a match sitting in the stands, never imagining that one day she would stand in the centre of the turf.
As she spoke to this point, someone in the front row suddenly shouted something toward the stage.
The distance was too great to make out the specific content in the VIP lounge, but the surrounding audience quickly burst into laughter, followed immediately by another wave of applause.
Izumi was momentarily stunned, lowering her head to avoid the stage lights right in front of her.
"Thank you."
She replied with only two words, then signalled the band to continue.
Tsutsumi Yoshiaki looked at the still-unending applause below the stage and suddenly let out a laugh.
"That certainly saves the trouble."
"Saves what?"
"When she cannot go on, the audience will step in and hold the scene for her."
Satsuki did not refute this.
Izumi was still not good at speaking too much between songs, but the people below the stage clearly did not mind.
As long as the music started up again, that brief pause quickly became her own rhythm.
At this moment, the door of the VIP lounge was pushed open from the outside.
Shimada walked over to Tsutsumi Yoshiaki holding a newly compiled report, lowering the paper surface so as not to block the two people's line of sight.
"The waiting time for the women's restroom on the third-base side has already exceeded twenty minutes, and two types of souvenirs sold out before the show started. After recalculating, the railway department believes that the originally scheduled dispersal train runs might be insufficient."
Tsutsumi Yoshiaki glanced over the numbers on the paper, then pushed the report in front of Satsuki.
"You brought people in, yet it seems you did not think about what to do after they entered."
Tonight's audience was still predominantly young men, but the number of women was far higher than during a regular baseball game.
The stadium's original restroom and counter configurations were arranged according to match traffic, and upon reaching a concert, discrepancies quickly became apparent.
Satsuki finished reading the names of the sold-out items and turned to wave at Chizuru.
"Set up a registration desk at the exit first. Sold-out items can accept mail orders; audience members can bring their ticket stubs to register, and we will cover the shipping costs."
She glanced again at the inventory of the beverage counters on the report.
"There is still stock in the outer field warehouse, have them send another batch in. Guide the people waiting in line outward as well, do not block the stands' entrance."
After making a note of it, Chizuru quickly left the VIP lounge alongside the staff.
"Merchandise goes to Saionji, restrooms go to Seibu, how about that?"
Tsutsumi Yoshiaki tapped his finger on the report.
"You certainly draw clear lines."
"That is why we need to solve it together."
Satsuki sat back down and casually flipped the report to the last page.
Today's entry count at Seibu Stadium Station had already exceeded that of a regular match day, and bento boxes, beverages, and small merchandise at stations along the line grew accordingly.
Venue rent could only be considered the first batch of money pocketed; from the moment the audience boarded the trains, this performance was already making money for both companies.
"Add sixteen extra runs after the dispersal?"
Satsuki glanced at the schedule and handed the report back to Tsutsumi Yoshiaki.
"That probably will not be enough."
Tsutsumi Yoshiaki remained silent, waiting for her to continue.
"When a baseball game reaches the second half, there are always people who leave early."
Satsuki gestured toward the still-full stands below.
"But tonight is different. Before the encore ends, I am afraid not many people will be willing to leave. The exits will also have to handle registrations for those out-of-stock items, so the crowd dispersing will be compressed even later than originally scheduled."
Tsutsumi Yoshiaki nodded and closed the report.
"Notify the railway side."
He handed the report back to Shimada.
"The crowd flow after dispersal must be recalculated, and any train runs that can be added should be prepared in advance as much as possible. Tonight, we cannot let people who came here for the first time leave with the final impression of waiting for trains."
Shimada nodded.
"In addition, do not withdraw the guidance outside the station too early."
Tsutsumi Yoshiaki looked toward the exit outside the glass where lights were gradually illuminating.
"Until the last batch of audience members leaves, someone must be stationed there."
Shimada acknowledged the order and retreated outside.
The lights in the stadium continuously swept across the stands as the songs changed, also illuminating the scattered thin clouds above.
Tsutsumi Yoshiaki looked up for a moment.
"It will not rain tonight."
"Of course there is no problem tonight."
Satsuki's reply, however, carried little celebration.
"A large-scale public performance requires scheduling half a year or even a year in advance. S.A. Group cannot leave whether a show can start entirely up to the weather forecast every time."
Tsutsumi Yoshiaki's gaze slowly moved along the upper part of the infield stands.
This stadium already possessed railways, land, and tens of thousands of seats.
Outside of games, however, it still had too much empty time.
Tonight's passenger flow had already proven that as long as someone could bring in the audience, those idle dates could likewise generate revenue.
"What if we add a roof to it?"
Tsutsumi Yoshiaki suddenly said.
Satsuki only then turned her head.
Tsutsumi Yoshiaki's expression did not look like a casually blurted-out joke.
He had already begun to re-examine this stadium he had been familiar with for many years.
"First, have the engineering department calculate the load-bearing, turf, ventilation, and fire safety."
Satsuki raised her hand and roughly gestured the positions of the stage and stands outside the glass.
"We also need to leave passages for large equipment to enter. If the roof is built, only to find that the stage cannot be transported in, we will just have to keep watching baseball."
"Seibu will be responsible for the plan."
Tsutsumi Yoshiaki pressed the program sheet onto the report.
"S.A. Group will give me the venue requirements for the next three years. Performances, television recordings, and Campus Voice written separately, tell me how many seats and how much preparation time each requires."
"Has Uncle Tsutsumi already finished arranging my work?"
"You just said we should solve it together."
Satsuki thought for a moment and reluctantly nodded.
"Three weeks."
"Too short."
"Then we can only ask Mr. Shimada to sleep a few fewer nights."
Shimada, who happened to be pushing the door open to return, heard the last half-sentence and paused slightly in his steps.
Tsutsumi Yoshiaki glanced at him and finally laughed out loud.
"Then three weeks it is."
As the concert drew to a close, Izumi no longer frequently looked at the cue markers on the edge of the stage.
After her first exit, the encore cheers quickly rang out from the centre of the turf, gathering layer by layer along the stands, until even the glass of the VIP lounge transmitted a slight vibration.
Izumi stepped back onto the stage.
She had changed into a simple white top, and her hair in front of her forehead was already damp with sweat.
After stepping up to the microphone, she first bowed deeply to the surroundings.
"The last song."
She raised her head and looked toward the outfield stands that had already melted into the night.
"Good-bye My Loneliness."
Just as the intro began to play, audience members down below started keeping the beat along with it.
Halfway through the first verse, the people close to the stage had already started singing along.
As the melody entered the chorus, the singing spread from the turf seating toward the infield and outfield, quickly drowning out the accompaniment coming from the sound reinforcement equipment.
Satsuki thought of those guide vocals Izumi had recorded in the past.
Back then, she sang song after song for strangers across the glass of the recording studio, yet her name never appeared on the cassettes.
Now, those voices scattered across karaoke private rooms had finally returned before her.
The Japanese were even more nostalgic than she had imagined, especially regarding the memories of that golden era.
When the final chorus began, Izumi slowly lowered the microphone.
Tens of thousands of audience members sang the next line for her.
She stood in the centre of the stage, as if briefly forgetting what she should do next.
It was not until the chorus was about to end that she smiled, raised the microphone once more, and finished the final section together with the entire stadium.
Tsutsumi Yoshiaki waited until the singing faded away before turning around.
"Shimada."
Shimada stepped forward.
"Tomorrow, call over the people from the stadium, railway, and engineering departments. Find all the renovation data from the past, and re-evaluate the roof plan."
After giving his instructions, he looked toward Satsuki again.
"Three weeks from now, I want to see S.A.'s requirements."
"Then let me see first how Seibu plans to build it."
The lights on the stage extinguished one by one.
The dispersal broadcast sounded shortly after, and tens of thousands of audience members moved along the aisles toward Seibu Stadium Station.
The interior of the stadium gradually darkened, but the lights of the platform and peripheral shops remained lit.
As the first extra train departed, there were still people humming the chorus from moments ago inside the carriage.
Satsuki walked up to the glass, watching the seats in the centre of the turf empty out little by little.
The next time she and Tsutsumi Yoshiaki came here again, the surroundings would probably be much quieter.
By that day, what they would be looking at was where the roof should fall from.