Scandal - Harukaze Apr 2026

Rina sat behind her kit, spinning a drumstick. "Maybe because we aren't kids anymore. The 'Spring Breeze' isn't just about flowers, right? It’s the wind that blows you toward whatever comes next."

It wasn't a punk-rock anthem or a bubblegum pop track. It was (Spring Breeze).

For years, the four of them—Haruna, Mami, Tomomi, and Rina—had been a whirlwind of school uniforms and garage rehearsals. They were a "dance and vocal unit" that had accidentally fallen in love with the roar of distorted amps. But as the cherry blossoms began to bud, signaling the end of their teenage years, a new song was clawing its way out of Mami’s guitar. SCANDAL - Harukaze

By the time the final chord rang out, the studio was silent. The "Harukaze" had moved through the room, leaving them changed. They knew this song would become their bridge to the world, a signal to their fans that while seasons change and people move on, the melody remains.

Haruna wiped a bead of sweat from her forehead and smiled. "Again," she said. "Let's play it until the wind actually changes." Rina sat behind her kit, spinning a drumstick

As the bridge built up—a soaring, emotional climb—the four of them locked eyes. In that moment, they weren't just a band from a local talent school; they were SCANDAL, a group finding their permanent identity. The song captured that fleeting second between the end of a dream and the start of a journey.

They started to play. The opening riff was bright, shimmering like sunlight hitting a moving train window. Haruna closed her eyes and let her voice soften. She sang about the "scent of the season" and the bittersweet ache of saying goodbye to a version of yourself that no longer fits. It’s the wind that blows you toward whatever comes next

"It feels... different," Tomomi whispered during rehearsal that afternoon. She plucked a melodic bass line that felt like thawing ice. "It doesn't feel like we’re fighting the world today. It feels like we’re walking with it."