Yasunori Mitsuda's Performance

Nobuo Uematsu a deep breath, turned around and strode back to the conductor's platform, his back to the audience, and raised his hands.

The noise subsided instantly.

"Next, please close your eyes."

"Let's go back to the world of Final Fantasy together."

The baton fell.

When the first note flowed from the principal violinist's bow, the air in the entire concert hall seemed to freeze.

That melody was so familiar, so familiar, that it was etched into the DNA of an entire generation of gamers.

That's the melody of the most familiar <Final Fantasy Main Theme> to players.

It is not Bach, nor Mozart, but it is also the hymn that accompanied them through countless days and nights as they traversed the fantasy continent to save the crystal and the princess.

Nakayama Eri turned her head and saw a faint, almost imperceptible smile on her husband's lips.

He wasn't looking at the stage, but rather at the more than two thousand audience members below.

They either closed their eyes or looked up at the dome, their expressions solemn as if they were participating in a sacred ceremony.

When the song ended, thunderous applause erupted.

Nobuo Uematsu bowed, picked up the microphone again, and said with a mischievous glint in his eyes, "The next song is a song about love. In the game, we used pixels and notes to tell its story. Tonight, we have invited a special singer to give this love a whole new life with her voice."

As the spotlight shone, a woman in a long white dress gracefully stepped out; she was Risa Ohki.

The clear, melodious arpeggios of the harp rose, like the rippling surface of a lake under the Clair de Lune. Then, Risa Ohki's voice rang out, ethereal and pure.

"The empty fruit is the heart of the sky and the heart is flying ----"

It's "Theme of Love" from Final Fantasy IV.

In the audience, a man dressed in a company suit and tie, who looked like he had just rushed over after get off work, quietly took off his glasses and wiped the corner of his eye with his knuckles.

His female companion didn't make fun of him; she simply placed her hand gently on the back of his hand.

Perhaps this song reminded them of Cecil and Rosa's love story in the game, or perhaps it simply reminded them of their younger selves, sitting in front of the TV, moved by that pixelated romance.

Eri's eyes were also a little moist. She gently rested her head on Nakayama Takuya's shoulder and whispered, "It sounds so beautiful."

Nakayama Takuya reached out and put his arm around his wife's shoulder without saying a word.

He knew that at this moment, the more than two thousand souls in the concert hall were arriving at the same dream through the same melody.

No sooner had Nobuo Uematsu left than the stage lighting style changed abruptly.

The warm yellow soft light was instantly extinguished, and several cold, azure beams of light shone directly on the center of the stage, sweeping away the classical solemnity and replacing it with a mysterious and unpredictable sense of technology.

Immediately afterwards, several staff members quickly carried up several large machines.

"That's a synthesizer?"

"An electric guitar amp? What's that for?"

The sharp-eyed audience in the front row had already begun to stir.

Seeing electronic musical instruments at a place like Tokyo University of Music feels like being served fried chicken with a cola at a kaiseki restaurant—it's incredibly incongruous, yet strangely intriguing.

Yasunori Mitsuda walked out amidst the murmurs.

Compared to Nobuo Uematsu's heirloom haori and hakama, this young man was dressed like a piano tuner who had come to work. He wore a white shirt with the cuffs casually rolled up to his elbows, a black vest over it, and his hair, which wasn't styled with hair gel, was sticking up in a slightly messy way, exuding the fearless spirit of a newborn calf.

He didn't take a baton or bow to the audience; he walked straight to the synthesizer in the center of the stage and stood there.

Behind them, the drummer tried out the bass drum twice, producing two muffled "thump-thump" sounds that made the hearts of the audience in the front row jump.

The lights in the entire venue suddenly dimmed.

In the darkness, the familiar sound of a pendulum rang out.

"Tick-Tock----Tick-Tock------"

Each tick of the pendulum is like some kind of mysterious hypnotic command.

The players who had been whispering below the stage instantly fell silent. The breathing of the two thousand people was assimilated by the sound of the pendulum, the sound that was etched into their very bones by the startup screen of <Chrono Trigger>.

Then, the string section enters, which is a torrent of time and space.

Yasunori Mitsuda slammed his hands down on the piano keys.

No longer pure orchestral music, this time, the electronic sounds of synthesizers are mixed with the distortion of electric guitars, like a sharp blade tearing open the elegant veil of classical music.

The adapted theme song, "ChronoTrigger," is wilder, more energetic, and more aggressive than the original.

If Nobuo Uematsu brought a touch of nostalgia just now, then Yasunori Mitsuda is now injecting adrenaline into the audience's veins.

The boy who had been shouting "Give me back my New Year's money!" was now gripping the armrest of his chair tightly, frantically tapping his toes on the ground, and twisting his bottom in the chair. He wanted to stand up and yell, but was restrained by the ladies in evening gowns around him, and his face turned bright red.

"This kid, he really dares to change."

Sakaguchi Hironobu sat next to Nakayama Takuya, spouting harsh words while his hands involuntarily tapped on his thigh in rhythm. "Using a symphony orchestra like a rock band, aren't they afraid those veteran violinists will poke him with their bows?"

Nakayama Takuya looked at the young man on stage, immersed in his own world, his fingers flying across the keyboard, and smiled, "That's called the privilege of youth. If you don't break something, how can it be called time travel? Look at those musicians, aren't they having a lot of fun?"

Indeed, even the usually stiff and formal band members had much more lively expressions at this moment.

The lead violinist was even exchanging glances with the electric guitarist next to him, his bow flying as if they were having a duel that transcended centuries.

Eri didn't understand much music theory, but she could feel the temperature of the surrounding air rising.

She leaned close to her husband's ear and said, "Takuya, I feel like everyone wants to dance."

"He's holding back." Nakayama Takuya pointed to an elderly gentleman with gray hair in the front row of the audience. It was a classical music critic known for his sharp tongue, who was now also closing his eyes, his fingers twitching slightly on his knee. "Look, even that guy is about to break down."

As the music progresses, modern electronic music and classical symphony are not at odds at this moment, but rather blend perfectly, like magic and technology in a game.

As the music ended, Yasunori Mitsuda, drenched in sweat, stopped playing, the last note fading into the air.

There was no polite pause; the applause erupted immediately.

The sound was even wilder and more unrestrained than before.

Some people even started whistling, which is exactly the kind of noise game players should make. Even if they're wearing suits, they're still those passionate young people glued to their screens at heart.