watchingyouflytl

[watchingyouflytl]

Celebrating this absolute banger being put up on Spotify <3

[watchingyouflytl]

Chapter 1: Nozomi Kasaki is Unlucky (Part 4)

What stopped Natsuki’s long recollection was the melody of an electric guitar that sounded like the whinny of a horse. When they went to karaoke, this was always what came last. Natsuki opened the soft case she had brought in, placing the electric guitar atop her knees. If she connected the guitar to the karaoke machine with a shield cable, it quickly transformed into an instant live venue.

Karaoke these days was really convenient, since you could tune your instruments, and even customize effects. On top of that, displaying the guitar chords on the monitor meant it could be used as a substitute music stand.

What a perfect place it was to spend this moratorium period in January, on the cusp of graduation. There was no one who would mind no matter how much noise they made, and any way they chose to spend their time was allowed.

The guitar Natsuki held in her arms was a Yamaha Pacifica 112V, and its color was Old Violin Sunburst. Its glossy dark brown got darker the closer it got to the edges. Natsuki had received it from her older cousin, and it was her first electric guitar.

And sitting next to Natsuki was Yuuko, who had a differently colored version of the same guitar model. The one she was using was in Vintage White. Even though it had the same shape as her guitar, the design used ivory as its main color.

Yuuko had bought this guitar after that summer. The two of them had gone to a music store. Thinking back on it now, that had been the first time they had gone somewhere with just the two of them. Natsuki had responded to Yuuko’s request of “For the moment, I want a cute one,” by recommending the same guitar model as her own.

Had she planned to follow Natsuki’s advice from the beginning? Yuuko had promptly made her decision, breaking into her savings from her new year’s gift money and buying a guitar set that had tens of thousands of yen. It had come with necessary items for beginners like a mini amp and a tuner, a shield cable, and a strap.

The awkward movements of Yuuko’s fingers in the beginning had, after two years, come to the point where they looked good. Perhaps the speed at which Yuuko had absorbed it had been because Natsuki had been skillful at teaching her, or because of her natural musical sense. It felt good to have the upper hand and take on the role of a teacher, but it was much more fun now that they were able to play together with an equal relationship.

Natsuki enjoyed the sensation of sliding her fingers across the six strings. Fat strings, thin strings. By adding just a bit of stimulation, the difference became absolutely clear.

“What should we play? It might be good to practice the graduation song.”

Finishing her tuning, Yuuko played the strings with her pick. Their twang resounded strongly through the speakers.

Natsuki had started the guitar in her second year of middle school. Her cousin, who had formed a band in university, had taken the opportunity of getting a job to buy a new guitar, giving her the guitar she had been using up until that point. The reason her cousin had bought an electric guitar instead of an acoustic guitar had been because, in her not-properly-soundproof room, she had been able to practice by plugging headphones into the guitar.

The melody directly rattling your eardrums through headphones was wonderful, but freeing your ears to hear the guitar felt even better. The tingling vibrations directly reached your skin, sending shivers all the way down to the pit of your stomach.

“The graduation song, huh, I haven’t really liked it for a while.”

“That’s cause you’re twisted, Natsuki.”

“To put it simply, I can’t relate to songs that say nice things.”

“There’s no way that only bad things are the truth, though. It’s just easier to look like you mean it when you have bad intentions.”

“As expected of the president, you sure know how to say it.”

“You’re making fun of me, aren’t you.”

“It’s what I really think.”

Yuuko sniffed. Her legs, dangling from the sofa, crossed and tightened inward.

Would she shed tears at her high school graduation ceremony? Like Nozomi had that time.

As hard as she tried, she couldn’t imagine her own face as she cried, so Natsuki gazed at Yuuko’s side profile as she fiddled with the karaoke control panel. When the music started, the room became darker. The contours of Yuuko’s smooth cheeks were illuminated by the colorful light spilling from the screen.

After their graduation ceremony would be their university’s entrance ceremony. Natsuki would be going to the same school as Yuuko and Nozomi, so their drifting apart didn’t feel quite real. Since Nozomi had come back to the concert band in their second year, the four of them had pretty much been together. They had been about to fall into the delusion that these normal days would continue endlessly, but every time the topic of Mizore’s college of music came up, they knew that that was an illusion. 

Mizore would be taking the entrance exam for a college of music. Even if Nozomi wasn’t there.

“Hahhh.”

Yuuko asked the deeply sighing Natsuki, “What’s up?” with a fed-up face. Placing the tablet atop the table, she faintly narrowed her eyes. Not particularly liking the gaze that seemed to be seeing through everything, Natsuki purposefully made her voice more cheerful.

“Just wondering what clubs we’ll join when we go to university.”

“Nozomi was saying she’d join the orchestra club.”

“She would do something like that, that girl loves the flute.”

“What are you gonna do, Natsuki?”

“Hmm.”

Cradling her guitar, Natsuki rested her chin in her hands. She had no intention of continuing with the same instrument the way Nozomi did. That was because she had already been satisfied by her time in the concert band. Natsuki and the others’ generation had left behind spectacular results in both their second and their years, and she had gone all out in her job as the vice president, completely out of character for her. Perhaps the most fitting expression for it was that she had become burned out.

Yes, Natsuki was burned out. She still loved the euphonium now, as well as concert band. But beyond that, she didn’t want to try her hardest in that way ever again. She was tired.

“How about you, Yuuko?”

At her question, Yuuko grasped the guitar in her hands as though she were hugging it tight.

“I want to play guitar.”

“Like now?”

“Even more than now.”

“Is the president cheating with light music?”

“It’s not cheating, I truly love both of them.”

Holding the strings down with her fingers, Yuuko strummed the guitar with her purple pick. Mixing in with the sounds flowing from the TV monitor, the impromptu music came to life in the narrow space. Yuuko always played the guitar so enjoyably. Her small lips beat out the “la la la”s of a nameless melody.

How was it for Natsuki? She liked playing the guitar, but that was all. She wasn’t thinking she wanted to be a pro, nor did she think she could.

In the bass section, there had been a kouhai in the year below her from a powerhouse school. She had been in charge of the concert band’s single string instrument, the contrabass. It didn’t suit her small figure, that two-meter-tall instrument. But, in defiance of the gap in size, her kouhai had shown off her performing skills with an innocent smile. It had been amazing. It had been overwhelming.

When that girl had played the guitar at a concert, she had honestly been shocked. Because she had been on a similar string instrument, letting the contrabass girl play the guitar had been an easy decision. Her kouhai had laughed, “They made me play it in middle school a lot too,” looking unfazed at the high-level sheet music she was playing.

Why on earth was it that she continued to play guitar herself even when she had realized that was what you would call genius? The earth was overflowing with both geniuses and hard workers, so a regular person like herself sometimes lost sight of the meaning of why she was playing music at all.

“Ah, it’s your favorite band.”

Natsuki consciously raised her gaze from where it had fallen at Yuuko’s words. Antwerp Blue had appeared on the information channel being broadcast to the karaoke room. They were talking about the new music that Natsuki had just bought. Every time the vocalist said something, the young female MC would interject exaggeratedly. 

“I wanted to make a song that the listeners would think is fun to listen to.”

The vocalist calmly spun his words as he showed white teeth appropriate for a performer. It wasn’t as though they really needed to care what the people listening to them thought. Just seeing the members enjoying themselves was fun for Natsuki.

“I really like their new song.” 

Yuuko said this carelessly while pointing to the screen. Natsuki gave a wry smile, thinking that their interests really were direct opposites of one another.

Their footsteps on the way home from karaoke were slower than usual. This was because the guitars they carried were heavy. In the end, today Natsuki and Yuuko had stayed at the karaoke place from 10:00, when it had opened, until 7:00, when free time had ended. Since it was cheap, oftentimes they’d unexpectedly come across other Kitauji students. When they had run into a concert band first-year once, their amazed words of “You are getting along well as usual, President and Vice President” had been a bit baffling. Mainly the “as usual” part.

“Nozomi didn’t do guitar even up to the very end.”

As Natsuki mumbled this, Yuuko said somewhat sulkily, “She’s devoted to the flute.” Yuuko had reached out to her several times about whether or not she would start the guitar, but Nozomi had turned them down every time. Though she was kind to everyone regardless of who they were, she had some unexpectedly stubborn parts as well.

Her exhaled white breath. Natsuki looked up at the sky as snow blew in her line of sight. It was wet snow with a lot of moisture in it. By the time the snowflakes fell to the ground, they had almost entirely melted into droplets of water. If it had been raining, she’d have opened her umbrella, but since it was snow, perhaps it wasn’t worth bothering. Watching a pattern of water droplets forming on Yuuko’s coat, Natsuki rubbed her elbows.

“You two going home from somewhere?”

Yuuko called out as she dashed forward towards something she had found. Beyond her waving hand were Nozomi and Sumire. So Nozomi’s previous plans had been with Sumire. Nozomi and Sumire both laughed together at the sight of Natsuki dashing after Yuuko.

“You two are always together, Natsuki and Yuuko,” Sumire said with a grin.

“It’s not like we always are, though. Anyway, where are you two going?”

Casually denying this, Yuuko countered them with the same query. Digging through her shoulder bag, Nozomi took out a flier, saying, “Here.” The yellow rectangular paper was printed with the name of a cafe in a rather fashionable font.

“What’s this?”

“We were checking out venues. We’re going to hold an event here.”

Sumire answered Natsuki’s question. Yuuko blinked in surprise. “An event.”

“The five of us formed an instrumental band when we quit the concert band, didn’t we? So we were thinking of renting this cafe with just our band to do an event celebrating graduation. Tickets are 500 yen per person, so if we invite about 40 friends, we can pay for it.”

“Nozomi, aren’t you not involved with the light music club?”

“I’m just tagging along because it seems interesting. Since Sumire and the others are working so hard, I want to cheer them on.”

“When I asked Nozomi to be a part of the band, she rejected me.”

Sumire said this in a voice that didn’t suggest any sad feelings at all. Nozomi lightly lowered her eyebrows.

“After all, there’s only five members in Reticle, right? There’s no way I could suddenly step in.”

“You could just participate as a guest.”

“If I were going to participate, I think it would just be as a staff member. I’m sure there’s a lot to help out with.”

“Nozomiii! What a nice girl you are, that would be a huge help!”

Sumire clung to Nozomi with a theatrical exclamation. Sumire was always high-energy, and Nozomi laughed with her mouth wide open.

“Reticle” was the name of the instrumental band that Sumire and the others had formed. Since it was made of five members who had quit the concert band, it was made up of a drummer, a keyboard player, a trumpet player, a sax player, and a trombone player. They were entirely devoted to playing jazz, and even appeared in events outside of school.

“Ah, anyway, why not ask Natsuki and Yuuko?”

The carefree, laughing Nozomi suddenly turned her focus on them. “For what?” Natsuki asked, tilting her head. Sumire, having abandoned her, clapped her hands together in delight.

“That might be a good idea!”

“No, what do you mean?”

“We’re looking for a band to do the opening act for our event! Just having our band play for two hours feels kinda lacking, so we were wondering if someone else could also come out. See, if we had someone singing, it would really get everyone pumped up.”

“No, we don’t really know any bands ourselves, though?”

Though it was a very direct answer, Sumire let out a shout of laughter as though she had said something funny.

“What are you saying. You and Yuuko should come perform, Natsuki. On your twin guitars.”

“Huuuuuh?”

Natsuki and Yuuko’s exclamations harmonized perfectly. In the interlude, Nozomi unnecessarily said, “Perfectly in sync.”

“Kids from Minami Middle will be coming too, so I’m sure they’ll be happy to see you having fun, Natsuki, Yuuko. How about it, a two-piece band?”

How about it, Natsuki had never had the urge to form a band with Yuuko before. Nozomi grasped Natsuki’s arm as she was about to immediately refuse, smiling innocently at her.

“Should be good. I know the concert band kids will also be happy to see the President and Vice President combo!”

President and Vice President. Though they were her and Yuuko’s titles, being thought of that way by Sumire made her feel a bit uneasy. Surely, to Sumire, the words “president of the concert band” would still point to Nozomi.

The continuation of the cut-off recollections she had had earlier was both a bad end and a happy end. The year after Sumire and Nozomi and the others quit the band, the new music teacher and advisor Taki had come to Kitauji High School to replace Rikako-sensei when she had gone on maternity leave. He was the exact opposite type from before, a presence that combined the high schoolers’ expectations and nightmares as a Spartan and handsome and capable instructor.

In the beginning, he had been called horrible things like “the devil” and “ogre,” but Taki had painted over the club’s lazy atmosphere before their eyes. He really had amazing skill. It was enough to make you laugh dryly, since what had the struggles of the members who had quit even been for?

Nozomi had returned to the concert band the summer of their second year. Kitauji, which had been a weak school, had been confirmed as an entrant in the Kansai Competition, and the 55 A members had already been decided. Seeing Kitauji being reborn, Nozomi had quit the adult concert band circle and decided to come back to the concert band. Of course, she hadn’t been able to participate in that year’s competition.

If Nozomi hadn’t quit the club, surely the future would have been different. She would have been absorbed into the center of the club, and would have been able to put her quick wits to good use without any regrets. She might even have been the club president instead of Yuuko. Thinking of Yuuko being the vice president supporting her made her resent how rich her own imagination was.

Even though Nozomi became a concert member when they became third years, even though they got results at the Kansai Competition, guilt haunted the deepest part of Natsuki’s heart.

Because, at that time, the one who had pushed Nozomi had unmistakably been Natsuki.

She should have told her to stay in the club. She should have said, with a hell of an expression, there’s no one else who loves concert band more than you. But that was all in the past.

She was slightly startled by the coldness of the snow that plopped right onto the tip of her nose. She realized how far they had come since the crossroads that summer had been. Natsuki exhaled in a puff of white breath with no lingering regrets as Sumire put her hands together, asking “Please!”

Any sentimentality that she held might possibly have been contempt.

“That might be nice, a band.”

As Natsuki nodded, Sumire raised both hands in a show of overexaggerated happiness.

“Don’t go deciding things on your own.” 

White snowflakes fell on Yuuko’s bangs as she puffed out her cheeks. Trying to catch them between her thumb and pointer finger, Yuuko brought her eyebrows together even more discontentedly.

“Nice, now you’ve also gotten motivated for real, haven’t you?”

“Doing it in and of itself is okay. It’s not that, it pisses me off that you decided this on your own, Natsuki.”

“What a pain.”

“What was that?”

“Seeeee, Yuuko-chan. Let’s form a band together, ‘kay?”

“Excuse me, I’m not a five-year old kid, though?”

Natsuki was swayed by this feigned grumpiness. That was because she now knew that that was Yuuko’s way of indulging her.

“Seriously, you two get along so well.”

Natsuki stole a glance at Nozomi’s profile as she said this with a light tone. It was always only in a single moment when Nozomi showed a sign of melancholy.

The edges of her lips lifted, and with a glimpse of her white teeth, the usual pleasant smile returned to Nozomi’s face.

“I’ll also cheer you on with Mizore.”

Yuuko responded to Nozomi’s words with “It can’t be helped” in a not-at-all-bad voice. Feeling the weight of the guitar on her back, Natsuki re-wound the scarf that was getting warm around her neck.

The fact that she wasn’t carrying a euphonium was just a little lonely.

Chapter 1  Nozomi Kasaki is unlucky.

(Maybe that’s also a likable part of her)

[watchingyouflytl]

Chapter 1: Nozomi Kasaki is Unlucky (Part 3)

“Haah, I’m seriously pissed. Unbelievable. What’s with these senpais.”

Yuuko, walking a little in front of Natsuki, was grumbling to her friends lined up next to her. Her well-kept hair was loosely curled inward. White crew socks with frills on them, pink scrunchie wrapped around her wrist.

Yuuko Yoshikawa had an extremely polished figure. She was a girl with a sparkling appearance, the type who Natsuki usually wouldn’t go forward and try to become friendly with. Strong-willed, a strong sense of justice, the type who pulled along a group for worse or for better. Natsuki learned around this time that she had been the section leader for the trumpets in middle school.

“Just because they’re third-years, they’re getting too carried away.”

“Brings down the mood…”

“Tuning during ensembles is the hardest. Like, your pitch…!”

“I totally get it…I just want to say, like, why aren’t you bothered by this?”

Even walking on the path, when there were nine people it was a rather large family, but because there were so many students on the road from school, they didn’t particularly stand out. Natsuki watched  from the very back when Yuuko and Nozomi were talking to their friends. Mizore, walking next to Natsuki, was shy, and it wasn’t uncommon for her to walk the road home without saying a word.

It wasn’t as though this year’s first-years were that close, but the sense of camaraderie from only those from Minami Middle was bizarrely strong.--No, it was the opposite. Because those from Minami Middle had formed their own group, the interpersonal relations between all of the first year members had created a slight bias.

On the way to and from club activities, there were many times when the group from Minami Middle acted together. There were nine first year students from Minami Middle this year, and the eight who weren’t Natsuki were experienced. On top of that, they had achieved entry into the Kansai Competition in middle school, so they were all skilled. In Kitauji’s concert band where slacking off was normal, it was inevitable that the eight in it aside from Natsuki would catch the eye of the senpais.

“Well, our advisor is that, anyway.”

“She’s being completely looked down on by the third years.”

“That’s that person’s way of getting by, isn’t it.”

“Ugh, if only the deputy advisor could become our advisor.”

“If that happened, then the third years would go on a rampage and it would get out of hand. Anyway, the current third years winning over the advisor is how they’re going against the deputy advisor. The advisor and the third years have a mutual interest in making sure the deputy advisor doesn’t interfere.”

“It’s seriously a pain…”

In response to her friends talking as they pleased, Nozomi threw in some appropriate words while forcing a laugh. Kitauji’s concert band’s advisor was a female teacher in her late 20s named Rikako-sensei, who was being pushed around by the third year club members. There were many more students who interacted with her with the closeness of a friend, not as a teacher. To Natsuki’s eyes, it was comical how she specialized her way of communication to not be hated by the students. 

The deputy advisor, Matsumoto-sensei, a veteran music teacher in her 50s, was at any rate famous for being strict. Normally, she probably should have been the advisor, but due to a family situation, she had apparently been installed as the deputy advisor. There was a rumor that she didn’t intervene in the concert band out of consideration to the advisor, Rikako-sensei. This was because Rikako-sensei openly deflated around Matsumoto-sensei when she was there. Though this adult affair, from her point of view, had nothing to do with her.

The first-years who had come from Minami Middle disdained Rikako-sensei. Though she had never seen them say it, that feeling came through plainly in their normal words and conduct.

“What exactly is Let’s make our club one that’s friendly for everyone?”

“Why doesn’t she at least pay attention?”

“For real. If the advisor’s got that attitude, it’s no wonder the third years are also getting carried away.”

They were erupting with grievances over what had happened at the staffroom today. Two weeks had passed since Natsuki and the others had joined the club. As a result of continually pent-up dissatisfaction blowing up, the few people right here had apparently come into the staffroom and had talked directly to Rikako-sensei about the third-years’ attitude during practice. Though to hear them tell it, it seemed that she hadn’t seriously taken them up on it.

In contrast to the members who exchanged complaints, Mizore, next to her, didn’t say a word. From between the gaps in her heavy bangs, both of her eyes glittered sleepily as they looked out.

“Did you go too, Mizore?”

At Natsuki’s inquiry, Mizore turned to face her with slow movements.

“Go where?”

“To the staffroom.”

“Why?”

She wondered if she hadn’t been listening to their talk. Natsuki gave a sigh at the question mark-filled replies.

“Because Sumire and the others were talking about going to talk directly to Sensei.”

“I don’t know.”

“Ah, really? Well, true, I can’t really imagine you being angry at anyone, Mizore. Are things going okay with the senpais?”

“There aren’t any oboe senpais.”

“Aah, is that right...”

“Yeah, that’s right.”

Mizore nodded her head. The first time she spoke with Mizore, she had wondered if she hadn’t liked her because of the over-bluntness of her replies. However, she had soon guessed that this was Mizore’s nature. To almost all people, Mizore wouldn’t move a muscle in her face. Expressionless and silent. That was surely the image that many people held of Mizore Yoroizuka.

“Mizore, your instrument, it’s kinda unusual, right?”

“Is it?”

“The oboe, it’s kinda got a different image from the other instruments.”

Natsuki had learned about the existence of the instrument known as the oboe after she had joined the concert band. Among the woodwind instruments, the oboe and the bassoon fell into the pretty pricey category. Even though there were a lot in an orchestra, there were only a few in a concert band. Depending on schools, there were apparently some that had none. Even at Kitauji, Mizore was the only one in the oboe section.

Apparently, Mizore had had her parents buy that expensive oboe for her when she was in middle school. The instrument that she carried with her was not one of Kitauji’s, but her own.

Mizore fell silent as though she were thinking a little, then spoke.

“Because it’s a double reed.”

“Double reed? What’s that?”

“It uses two reeds when you play.”

“Huuh, isn’t that kinda special?”

“It’s not special. But its construction is different.”

Mizore’s voice, as it said construction, sounded somehow mechanical. Monotonous and flat, not letting the emotion submerged deep beneath it be seen through.

In middle school, what kind of school life had Mizore been leading? Even though they had been going to the same school, she couldn’t picture her life up until now. She didn’t look like she had a lot of friends, but on the other hand, it wasn’t like she was being excluded, either. She definitely existed within the framework of the concert band, was acknowledged by everyone as a friend, yet even so, she couldn’t think that she had especially close friends.

She was a strange girl, Natsuki thought every time she looked at Mizore. She didn’t have a human touch, and she didn’t know how to treat her.

“Hey Mizore, why’d you pick the oboe?”

Mizore’s eyes moved slowly at her question. Reflected in the dark-colored eyes was the figure of Nozomi from behind as she walked in front of them.

“Because Nozomi asked me.”

“To play the oboe?”

“No. If I would join the concert band.”

She reflexively caught her breath. Natsuki intentionally moved her own feet, which were about to stand still. Nozomi wasn’t looking over here. She hadn’t heard their conversation.

“Are you and Nozomi childhood friends, Mizore?”

“No.”

“Then, friends?”

“Probably.”

“That’s a vague answer.”

Mizore pursed her lips at Natsuki’s words. Natsuki found it a little unexpected when she saw a wrinkle appear in between her brows. It seemed that sometimes she made humanlike faces.

“...it’s okay as long as I can be with Nozomi.”

“Huh?”

Natsuki’s ears had solidly scooped up the quietly murmured words. With her eyes downcast, Mizore silently shook her head.

“It’s nothing.”

“Ohh, it’s nothing, huh…”

That wasn’t something to cover up with words like that. Thinking this, Natsuki pretended to have been fooled. To be honest, she had been taken aback. For emotions from one friend to another, they were a bit too heavy.

“Hey you, you better not be saying anything weird to Mizore!”

Yuuko, who had suddenly turned back in their direction, came cutting into the space between Natsuki and Mizore to the point of disturbing the line. Even now at the front of the line, there was still a heated bad-mouthing of the senpais going on.

“I’m not saying anything, though?”

“Can’t trust you. Mizore, if she says anything weird, it’s okay to ignore her, okay?”

“Understood.”

“Don’t understand, don’t understand.”

Looking at Mizore obediently nodding in agreement, Natsuki naturally pressed against her temples. Whether it was because they simply didn’t see eye to eye, Yuuko had constantly been flaring up at Natsuki since she had joined the club. No, the initial teasing had started from her side. Her memory of the origins of the thing was dim, but conversations with Yuuko tended to become rowdy.

“Jeez, Natsuki, you’re always alert and on guard.”

“You’re just too defensive on your own, aren’t you.”

“I just wouldn’t like for Mizore to be tainted by a type like Natsuki.”

“What does that even mean…”

“It means exactly what I said, though?”

“If you’re saying that, then I don’t want to be tainted by a type like you. Always being so shrill when you say Kaori-senpaiiii.”

“I can’t help that! Kaori-senpai’s our section’s oasis. Haah, I want the third-years to get out already so that Kaori-senpai can come into power…”

“This is why you’re an idiot.”

“Huuuuh?”

Mizore absently gazed at Yuuko as she set her lips sharply. Kaori-senpai, who Yuuko had just mentioned, was a senpai in the trumpet section a year older than they were. She practiced seriously, and was, at any rate, kind. Though she was adored by almost all of the first-year members, she was that much more shunned by the third-years and called a “goody-two-shoes”. 

“Even the bass section is being supported by a second-year, though. Ah, when it comes to that person, maybe an oasis is too lukewarm for them.”

“The bass kingdom…Asuka Tanaka’s territory.”

Natsuki softly put this other, metaphor-mixed name on her tongue. The second-year Asuka Tanaka was on the euphonium, the same as Natsuki. She was funny and broad-minded, a senpai clad in fear who wouldn’t allow others to interfere with her. Even the third-year members wouldn’t lay a hand on her. That kind of sanctuary. And that sanctuary was built on a foundation of indifference towards others.

The current concert band had about 70 members in it, but perhaps due to a collective rule, opinions were getting complicated here and there. The third-years who wanted to uphold the status quo, the first-years seeking a revolution, and the second-years caught in the middle.

During orientation at the time when she first entered the band, she had thought that looking at all the instruments being introduced one after another was like a psychological test. The trumpet that stood out regardless of what you played, the horn that emphasized harmonies, the flute that spun light sounds, percussion with its various different roles. Along with the roles that held instruments, the people who gathered there had similar parts to them. There were many people in the behind-the-scenes bass section who were the type who liked being supportive or the type who didn’t fuss over standing out.

Natsuki thought that neither of those applied to her. And, in Natsuki’s case, it wasn’t as though she had picked the euphonium herself. The result of her frankly declaring that any instrument was fine with her was that she had been assigned the less-magnified euphonium.

In the bass section, which had a lot of mild-mannered people, there was no trouble over standing out. Because of Asuka indirectly drawing boundaries, there was no one from other parts intervening either. The stance that pervaded the bass section was one that was clearly alien from the one within Kitauji’s concert band at the moment.

“Are the third-years who slack off all the time still annoying to you, Yuuko?”

“Of course they’re annoying. But still, they do say that when in Rome, do as the Romans do, so I’m making do with just complaining here. I’m just waiting for the third-year corps to graduate.”

“When you say wait, that’s a whole year away, right? Isn’t that long?”

“That’s all the fate of being in a group, so it can’t be helped. It wasn’t like I came here seeing some dream of Kitauji being a powerhouse school from the beginning.”

“Hmmm.”

She was being surprisingly cool-headed, Natsuki secretly thought as she reappraised Yuuko. She’d thought she was impulsive, but she could even use her head.

“It’s honestly irritating to be forced into the kind of mood where doing things seriously is lame, though.”

Yuuko stuck out the tip of her tongue from the gap between her teeth. Perhaps she was startled by those words because she had an idea of them herself. Unknowingly, she was putting her strength into the fingers of the hand that grasped her bag.

She opened her mouth. Natsuki was about to say something, but what interrupted that was a dry explosive sound. When Natsuki and Yuuko turned to face the source of where the sound had come from, there was Nozomi, clapping both hands.

“Now, now! Even so, it’s only April, right? If we have a proper talk, the third-year senpais will understand someday.”

Nozomi showed her white teeth and smiled broadly. It was a way of speaking that showed the last vestiges of her position as club president. The remaining club members who had been persistently exchanging complaints faced one another.

“I hope so.”

“Nozomi, you’re as positive as always.”

“As expected of the club president.”

Tapping her shoulder, Nozomi responded with a nonchalant expression, “I’m not the club president anymore.” The aggressive atmosphere dispersed, and their subject switched to tomorrow’s English quiz.

If Nozomi had told them so, it couldn’t be helped, that was the message implied in their response. Surely it would be like this from here on out as well. The one holding their reins was Nozomi, who wouldn’t let them cross the final line.

—I think that if you try to bring a lot of people together, just being correct doesn’t mean it’ll go well a lot of the time.

Their exchange from that gym class in their third year of middle school was suddenly resurrected in the back of Natsuki’s mind. Nozomi knew a lot of things that Natsuki didn’t know. Yuuko, Mizore, and all the people here should have had the same experiences.

Three years in Minami Middle’s concert band. In this place, those accumulated memories were something that Natsuki alone didn’t share.

After school, she walked the hallways during practice time. For concert band practice, they borrowed several classrooms and practiced divided into their parts. It was fundamentally individual practice, and sometimes they would have ensemble practice. Rikako-sensei would wave her conductor’s baton, and they would all play a performance piece.

Students’ rowdy voices. The out-of-tune melody of a trombone. The laughter of third-year students coming from inside a room. Passed-around cards, and someone’s makeup kit scattered on the floor.

These were all things that Natsuki’s friends hated. They hated that section practice time was always chat time. They hated that they wouldn’t properly practice. They hated that nonetheless, they would want to play parts that stood out during performances. They hated to go into the performance as unskilled as they were. They hated the senpais’ untroubled faces over this. They hated it. Hated it.

The sound of her own footsteps overlapped with the words in her head. Natsuki let down the euphonium she carried in her hands, unintentionally putting her hand on the window frame. Lukewarm wind blew in from the open window. It was still May, but also, it was already May. Natsuki softly exhaled and let it mix with the wind, so that her own sigh wouldn’t stand out.

Kitauji’s concert band, as seen by the Minami Middle kids apart from Natsuki, was “I hate it” on parade. She knew they were always talking about them wanting to properly practice and make it to a level that others could listen to.

But in the corner of Natsuki’s mind, she was thinking that it might be okay to stay this way. For example, say this was the light music club. Normally lazing around, sometimes playing together…she felt like she could allow for club activities to be like that. Surely the same could be said for the concert band. Because it was just a club.

Why on earth were Yuuko and the others so determinedly hung up on this? Was committing all your energy to a club the only correct answer?

Thinking this far, Natsuki shook her head at herself. No, she honestly knew it. It wasn’t about being hung up on something or not, it was about whether or not they could tolerate it.

In this world, there were people who couldn’t tolerate it if they weren’t advancing in a good direction. They hated not giving any effort. They hated being idle. They hated being unskilled. They hated things being this way.

That way of thinking was unmistakably correct, but it was stifling. People who stuck out would definitely appear. The people who could tolerate not putting in any effort wouldn’t be able to understand what was so awful to the people who couldn’t tolerate it. The cause of the separation between Kitauji’s third-years and first-years was surely here.

It wasn’t possible to have an environment where everyone would have the same desire to improve when doing something, unless it had been made artificially. And in Kitauji’s current concert band, there were no adults who could make that environment for them.

“Guess joining the concert band was a mistake.”

The words that spilled from her mouth melted into the sunlight. Natsuki lightly tapped the hallway with the tips of the toes encased in her indoor shoes.

“That’s a bleak thing to say to yourself.”

Natsuki hastily turned around, in disbelief over someone actually overhearing her. Directly behind Natsuki stood Kaori Nakaseko, trumpet in hand. Her face went pale in an instant at having something this bad be overheard. Pressing her stiff cheeks in a forced way, Natsuki twisted her lips into a light arc.

“I’m sorry, it was just a complaint.”

“You don’t have anything to apologize for. I was just listening on my own.”

Kaori Nakaseko, the senpai in the year above them who Yuuko adored, silently lined up next to Natsuki. A moist, sweet smell came from her uniform.

“Nakagawa-san, you’re in the same section as Asuka, right? Did something bad happen?”

“Ah, no, it isn’t a big deal.”

Trying to cover up her discontent, Natsuki roughly rumpled up her own hair. She wasn’t very good with Kaori. She had the sign of a good-natured soul. The overwhelming self-assurance, the affection towards others, the correct sense of morality. Because even Natsuki, looking on from afar, could feel these, she wondered if Yuuko, in close proximity, was being showered with this virtuous aura head-on.

“You joined the concert band starting in high school, right, Nakagawa-san? Can I ask the reason why?”

“I just did for some reason.”

Twirling the hair at the base of her neck with her fingertip, Natsuki naturally dropped her gaze. She was embarrassed and hesitant to tell a senpai she wasn’t close to the real reason. 

“Don’t quit, okay.”

“Huh?”

Surprised by the words she had said, she raised her face. Kaori’s gaze was kind as it looked down at her. Kaori’s nicely-shaped lips quietly yielded as she gave her a beautiful smile.

“Because it would be a shame to quit in the middle of club activities.”

“No, no, I don’t intend on quitting.”

“Then that’s a relief. There are a lot of club members at Kitauji who slack off, but there’s hardly anyone who quits. But it seems like there are some people among the first-years getting mad and calling it ‘tepid water’.”

She felt herself being included in the expression some people. Natsuki flinched, wondering if she had been stabbed by a nail, but there was no change in Kaori’s expression. Maybe it had been her attempt to make small talk.

“Nakaseko-senpai, are you okay with Kitauji as it is now?”

“I guess it’s not that important what I think. Nakagawa-san, are you thinking that it would be better if everyone practiced more?”

“Ah, no, not so much me…”

Trying to gloss over it, Natsuki turned her face away. Below the window, she could see her classmates in the light music club standing and talking in the corner of the courtyard.

“I’ve never been in a concert band before, so I guess I really don’t know what’s normal. I do think that maybe it would be unreasonable for everyone to get motivated with the vague goal of wanting to get better.”

“We do have a goal. For the concert band, there’s the All-Japan Concert Band Competition that’s held in the summer.”

“But I heard that last year, Kitauji got bronze at the prefectural competition again.”

As she repeated the secondhand information from Nozomi exactly as she’d heard it, Kaori lowered her eyebrows in a somewhat troubled way. Her fingers pushed the pistons of her trumpet as though she were playing it.

“The goal of our club isn’t to get results from competitions, entering them is our goal. There are participant limits in the A group, and Kitauji chooses members every year based on grade order. Since third-years are guaranteed to enter, it feels like they’re making memories there.”

“So basically, no matter how good first-years are, they won’t be able to enter in the competition?”

“I think that’s a formation problem. For example, the oboe player is still a first-year, but there’s no one else on that instrument, so she should definitely be an A member. On the other hand, for sections where there are a lot of senpai, first-years taking the stage would be tricky.”

This made sense, this was the biggest source of Yuuko and the others’ discontent. Unconsciously, Natsuki had been rubbing her chin. Perhaps they couldn’t tolerate Kitauji’s current state because Minami Middle’s concert band had been operated on meritocracy.

“Really, it would be good if the hardworking kids were in an environment where they could be properly rewarded, though.”

Saying this, Kaori put her hands together at the base of her mouth and gave a small laugh. Why she would laugh at this, Natsuki couldn’t comprehend.

“Nakagawa-san, do you want to enter into the competition?”

“I, well, it wouldn’t be possible to begin with. I’m a beginner, after all. If you think about skill, I haven’t caught up at all.”

“I wonder about that.”

Kaori slightly tilted her neck. Her silk-like hair quietly swept above her shoulders.

“I think that whether you want to enter or not is a different story from whether you can or not.”

She thought, even if that were a separate issue, if you wouldn’t be able to enter in the end, there was no point in thinking about it. But she shrank at saying that to Kaori, right in front of her. The atmosphere that Kaori was enveloped in was altogether too upright, and a bad person like Natsuki didn’t know how to treat her.

Kaori tilted her head further at Natsuki, who was keeping her mouth shut. It was clear that she was waiting for her reaction. To try and cover up the awkwardness, Natsuki used her free right hand to grab her left elbow. The navy blue sleeve of her sailor uniform had absorbed the sunlight and held just a little warmth.

“Hey, Kaori, could you not bully my kouhai?”

The shadow that had abruptly appeared completely swallowed up Natsuki’s body. As she suddenly turned around, the senpai from her same section, Asuka Tanaka, had placed her hands on Natsuki’s shoulders in an overly familiar way. Because of her overly close proximity, her long black hair dangled down and tickled the nape of Natsuki’s neck.

“Now, I’m not bullying her. Actually, isn’t the one bullying her you, Asuka? Nakagawa-san’s being put on the spot by you?”

“Natsuki’s enjoying it, right? Having thiiiis much of an amazing senpai coming over to speak to her!”

“No, I’m actually being put on the spot here.”

“Noo, you’re so heartless!”

Releasing Natsuki, Asuka shrugged her shoulders bombastically. Beyond the lenses of the red glasses perched on her nose, her pretty eyes were narrowed mischievously. 

“Well, still, it’s nice to be able to deepen our exchanges with other grades. That Minami Middle squad in Natsuki’s, they’re so close together it’s a little creepy.”

“Asuka, think before you speak!”

Kaori had surely been quick to rebuke her out of concern for Natsuki. Lifting the frame of her glasses with her pinky, Asuka let out a cold laugh that was a mix of a sniff and a sigh.

“But it’s true, though? Bringing in their interpersonal relationships from somewhere else all on their own, insisting on this or that. With that way of doing things, their coup d’etat is bound to fail. They have to use their heads more.”

“If you’re saying that much, Asuka, you should help them out.”

“Why? As long as I don’t get myself in trouble, then it’s fine. The bass section’s peaceful, and there’s no problems, right–?”

Right, Natsuki. At this callout added to the end of her sentence, Natsuki swallowed with a gulp. If Natsuki were a bad person, Asuka was an extremely bad one. Natsuki couldn’t comprehend why a good-natured person like Kaori was always together with Asuka.

“Groups are a Pandora’s box. If you’re planning on forcing it open, you gotta prepare yourself for what might happen after that, okay?”

Twisting up the edges of her mouth, Asuka gave a devilish smile. “Don’t bully the first-years,” Kaori warned her in a senpai-like manner. Natsuki vaguely thought what Kaori’s reason for covering for her was as she looked up at this angelically sweet senpai’s profile. At that moment, Kaori, who had been facing Asuka, suddenly looked her way. Her gaze, wrapped in kindness, directly pierced Natsuki.

“Nakagawa-san, try not to mind what Asuka said too much. This girl just loves to tease people.”

“I just told the truth, though.”

Kaori laughed as though she were giving up at Asuka, who was putting on a deliberately sulking attitude. Natsuki was quietly relieved that Kaori’s gaze had been averted from her own.

Rather than Asuka and her making the claim that “You are your first priority”  Natsuki was more scared of Kaori. Every time she felt her unconditional kindness, the depths of her stomach felt restless, making her feel like running away. But there was no way she could possibly say that, so Natsuki said “Thank you very much” to the two senpais and bowed to them. The words for your concern were missing, but the two seemed to have understood the exact meaning of Natsuki’s acknowledgement. 

–Groups are a Pandora’s box.

These words of Asuka’s, declared after school in May, were ones that Natsuki turned over in her mind at every opportunity. 

The road to school that the nine of them walked. Lunch breaks during club activities where they all ate together. Within this harmonious atmosphere, there was sometimes a turbulent mood mixed in. Without giving up on improving the environment of the band, the friends around her continued working on the third-years. Around this point, even the other first-years were divided among those who received them favorably and those who received them negatively. Even Natsuki, while going along with everyone in their conversations, was thinking in the corner of her mind that she wouldn’t mind maintaining the status quo. After all, “giving it your all” was a pain. 

And so, on the first week of summer vacation, during the time when preparations for the competition were starting, the rift between the first-years and the third-years became decisive.

“Why isn’t Kaori-senpai an A member!” shouted Sumire–a first-year sax player, right after the A group members had been announced. All the club members were gathered in the music room, with the third-years announcing the members. Their advisor wasn’t there, but Natsuki didn’t even feel anything wrong with it, as she had been taught that this was just that kind of thing at Kitauji.

A third-year on the trumpet knitted her brows coldly, sighing, “What are you talking about?”

“We said that it was based on grade order from the start, didn’t we?”

“This isn’t right, though.”

“Why don’t you try saying what isn’t right? Eeeeveryone’s in their correct order, it’s perfectly equal. Even Kaori will be able to enter next year’s competition. This is Kitauji’s tradition.”

“But, the other second-year senpais are more serious and working harder than the third-years, and there are so many talented people. Formations that ignore talent are just too tyrannical.”

“Are you sure? The number of years’ experience you’ve had with your instruments is different, the environment you’ve been in is different. Don’t you think it’s unequal anyway to have these kinds of people compete based on personal strengths? You’ll definitely be able to participate in the competition when you’re a third-year. Is that really something to get that upset over?”

The asserted words were also a show of force towards the first-years and their rebellious spirit. Natsuki glanced at Asuka standing next to her. She had thought that because she was smart, she might give a counterargument, but she was flipping through the sheet music in her hand with seemingly no interest. She had the distinct expression of wanting it to be over quickly.

“You hear me?” The third-year member looked at the faces of the first-years from Minami Middle one by one. “To begin with, our club was never aiming for the top. But you still won’t shut up, telling us over and over to practice or whatever, so why don’t you get that it’s not us, but you who’s messing up the order of the club? Read the room. Everyone thinks you’re an inconvenience.”

There was nobody who objected to the third-year’s statement. Even Kaori, who had been covering for them, hung her head and stayed silent. An inconvenience. The unpleasantness smeared in those two words burned slowly in Natsuki’s throat.

That language had just been too much. So she thought, but her mouth felt dry enough for her to not be able to say a single word. She didn’t know what to do. After all, if the people declaring they would seriously try their best weren’t Natsuki’s close friends, then Natsuki would surely end up feeling that they were bothersome people. The foundational part of Natsuki’s personality was, in the end, like that.

Closer to the third-years than to Nozomi and the others.

Natsuki averted her eyes. Lightly biting her lips, she simply waited for the time to pass. If she had the same amount of shamelessness as Asuka, she may have been able to play with something in her hands. But her current self remained awkwardly looking down.

She hated herself for only wishing, please let this meeting come to an end soon.

On the road home that day, Yuuko was rattling off nonstop insults towards the third-years. All the other members sympathizing made for a lively insult competition.

“Anyway, what’s up with the way they said that?”

“Why didn’t anyone say anything back?”

“No matter how you think about it, it’s strange that Kaori-senpai isn't included in the members.”

“If only Rikako-sensei would properly point that out.”

“It’s impossible for that person. Even if we made it a meritocracy, she wouldn’t have the power to keep it moving.”

“In terms of Rikako-sensei’s ability to lead, honestly, we’re better than her.”

“Seriously.”

The complaints flying one after another showed no signs of running out. Nozomi would normally come in to stop them, but…as she looked at Nozomi walking ahead of her, she shuddered. The warmth had fallen away from that normally pleasant, smiling face. She was simply facing forward. Without agreeing with the insults, but even so, also not trying to pacify them, she alone stayed silent and continued to walk forward.

Don’t go and leave me behind, were the strangely sentimental words that came to the tip of her tongue. Under the heat of the summer sunlight, sweat ran down her brow. Sliding down her cheek, following the trace of her jaw, and finally trickling to the ground. That was so intensely irritating that Natsuki wiped away her own sweat with a violent touch.

Buzzzzzz. The broken motor-like cry of the cicadas repeatedly pierced her eardrums. If only she could have easily shaken off by saying how loud it was. In reality, Natsuki did nothing, just watched Nozomi’s back dumbfoundedly. There was no way Natsuki could guess at the deep part of Nozomi’s thoughts.

After all, she was the only one among them who hadn’t spent three years of middle school together.

“I’m going to club activities alone starting tomorrow.”

The monotonous voice that came from the back pulled Natsuki, who had been lost in thought, back to reality. Everyone turned around. Mizore, who had been walking at the end of the line without saying a word up until that point, was looking over at them with her usual lack of expression. No, it would be more correct to say that she was also facing forward again.

Mizore spoke. In her normal, emotionless voice.

“Because I’m an A member, I have separate practice from everyone.”

Starting the next day, the nine-person group who went to and from school together became eight. No longer being an odd-numbered group, this made doing things together fit better. If everyone could be in pairs, nobody would ever be on their own.

Activities for those who were A members and those who weren’t were completely different, and the latter group exclusively killed time in their section practice rooms. Because Natsuki wasn’t the type to diligently work on the basics, she spent a lot of her time gazing vaguely out the window or sleeping face-down on a desk. Nobody gave her any warnings for slacking off. That was because that kind of thing was permitted at Kitauji.

Since the announcement of the A members, the harsh criticism from the third-years towards Natsuki and the first-years from Minami Middle became even stronger. Natsuki herself didn’t get into much trouble since she hadn’t openly opposed them, but the people around her were clearly being ignored by the third-years. She knew that there were second-years who tried to defend them behind their backs. Kaori also seemed to be making a lot of moves on their behalf, but it wasn’t helping. It was an organization where grade levels had absolute value, so whatever the second-years said to the third-years, it amounted to nothing.

If there was someone who could overturn this, it couldn’t be anyone else except for Asuka Tanaka, who was looked upon with admiration by everyone regardless of their grade. But Natsuki’s direct senpai, this single second-year euphonium, didn’t interfere with this in any way. Asuka would always be unconcerned with others. And that was one of the reasons that Asuka was looked upon as being special.

“I’m thinking of quitting the concert band.”

As Sumire spoke this, Natsuki thought, finally, the time had come. She had vaguely guessed that it was only a matter of time.

The road to school she had become so accustomed to seeing that she hated it. The expanse of rice paddies along the side of the road were painted a hazy yellow from the setting sun. 

“What’s even going to come from being in a place like this? Can you even get better? I’ve been thinking about it for a while, but I think the only thing left is to quit.”

“What are you going to do when you quit?”

The one who had asked this was Yuuko. Even though they were supposed to be having an important conversation, nobody stopped moving their feet. Come to think of it, they hated standing still more than anything, these people, thought Natsuki with a smile that could either be taken as a wry grin or self-mockery. She herself, being mixed in with this group, now thought that she wasn’t in the right place.

“I was thinking of switching over to the light music club.”

“The light music club? Why there?”

“Cause I realized. What I like isn’t concert band, it’s music. I like instruments, so I joined the concert band because it would be fun to play together with everyone. But even so, this situation feels like the logical order of things are backwards.”

Hearing Sumire’s words, everyone unanimously agreed with “That’s true”s and “That might be it”s. Lightly lifting up the white frames of her glasses, Sumire continued her speech.

“So why not form an instrumental band with the members here? Then we could practice as much as we wanted, and we could join events on our own. We don’t have to let our audiences listen to us at a level we ourselves aren’t satisfied with.”

“An instrument band, that’s totally possible.”

“I want to do something jazz-like.”

“If we have this many people around we can do almost any song.”

“Besides, anywhere's fine as long as we can make music away from those third-years.”

The words came one after the other, unleashed in bright voices. Maybe everyone had been fed up from continuing to have fruitless exchanges with people whose value systems were different from their own. Or possibly, had they been eagerly awaiting someone who would bring forward a proposal that worked for them.

Sumire’s proposal wasn’t running away or losing, it was giving up. These girls had given up on improving the concert band.

Nozomi smiled vaguely in a troubled way, and Yuuko, who seemed like she would be the first to take her up on her offer, crossed her arms and mulled things over. As for Mizore—once she turned back, Natsuki recalled that she wasn’t there.

Mizore was an A member. Her position was clearly different from the people here.

“What are you going to do, Nozomi?”

Not answering Sumire’s question, Nozomi wrapped her bound-up black hair around her fingertip. The corners of her mouth rose faintly, showing her white teeth. Even during a time like this, it seemed that Nozomi was trying to smile.

“Can you hold off on me?”

At this evasive answer, Sumire raised the edge of one eyebrow. Had she thought she wasn’t going along with it, or had she believed that Nozomi would make a swift decision?

Yuuko, walking in front of Natsuki, said in an uncommonly quiet voice, “I’ll also think about it.” Sumire turned around and asked her as an aside,

“What about you, Natsuki?”

“I won’t quit.”

“Huh, that’s unexpected. Natsuki, you can play the guitar. That’s why I thought light music would suit you best.”

“That’s something that’s just for fun.”

That wasn’t her being humble, but her true feelings. Compared to the amount of passion Sumire and the others had towards the concert band, Natsuki’s guitar fell into the category of self-satisfaction. She had no intention of letting someone hear it, nor any intention of playing for someone else.

Yuuko, who had been hunched over, raised her face with a start. Beneath her short bangs, her eyebrows lightly drew together.

“You can play the guitar.”

“Well, yeah.”

“I didn’t know.”

“Not like it’s something I’d go out of my way to mention.”

“Hmmmph.”

“What.”

“Nothing.”

Natsuki involuntarily groaned “Huh?” at Yuuko, who had turned away. Nozomi pacifying them with a “Now, now,” her face its usual color, was also irritating. 

“For now, I’m planning to turn in my resignation form next week.”

Waving her right hand, Sumire said it like it was nothing at all. If Sumire and the others quit the club, would it only be Nozomi, Yuuko, and Natsuki walking along this road leading home? The scene that came to her mind was altogether too chilly, and her body shivered of its own accord.

The fact that Mizore didn’t have a place there had completely slipped her mind.

“Natsuki, can I sit by you?”

It was the day after Sumire’s declaration that she would quit the concert band when Nozomi reached out to Natsuki. The members who had expressed their intention to quit were already beginning to be absent from the club independently, and hadn’t shown up to practice today. The second and third-years had seemed to have somewhat guessed the situation, but nobody found fault with their absence. That was because there had never been a mindset that it was wrong to be absent from the beginning.

The A members were playing as an ensemble in the music room, but the members besides them were to practice on their own in their section practice rooms. With the incoherent tunes she could hear from the above-ground window as her background music, Natsuki was aimlessly gazing out the window. This place, separated from the music room and the section practice room, was a corner of the school building where few people passed.

“Why are you here?”

Nozomi, who had spoken to her first, stared intently at Natsuki as she threw out this perfectly legitimate question. Since Natsuki had chosen this place where nobody came on purpose and had been taking it easy, it was hard to imagine that Nozomi had coincidentally passed by this place.

“The other first-years told me that this was the place for Miss Natsuki, the slacker.”

“Oh, them.”

Recalling the faces of the two other first-years in the bass section, Natsuki clucked her tongue softly. Assigned to the tuba, which boasted the biggest size of the brass instruments, they were serious and gentle, personalities that were indeed those of a bass section member. Maybe they had been concerned about Natsuki, who had immediately disappeared from their section practice room, and had thus told Nozomi about where she was.

Natsuki lowered the hand that had been placed on the windowsill. All of the windows down the hallway had been opened as a way to divert the heat, but perhaps because she didn’t like having a new breeze blowing in, Nozomi quietly closed only the window in front of her. She even carefully locked it.

“Natsuki, saying you wouldn’t quit the club was unexpected.”

“What are you talking about, all of a sudden?”

“After all, it seemed like you would come out and at least directly say ‘This club is crap!’”

At the poor imitation of her voice, Natsuki’s tensed cheeks naturally loosened. And she realized then, for the first time, that her cheeks had been tense.

Opening her mouth, she inhaled, forcefully wrenching her throat open. Because the window in front of Natsuki was left open, she could inhale as much oxygen as she needed if she had the will for it.

“Cause there’s no reason to quit for me.”

“But isn’t there also no reason to continue?”

“Well, that’s just a force of habit.”

“If you’ve gotten interested in the concert band, then I’m glad, Natsuki. Since I invited you and all.”

“Did you feel an obligation or something?”

“Just a little.”

With a teasing smile, Nozomi gave a small shrug of her shoulders. Her legs crossed beneath her pleated skirt. Natsuki secretly stole a glance at the crew socks covering her ankles. They were nicely toned legs. 

“What are you gonna do, Nozomi?”

“What do you think I’ll do?”

“Answering a question with a question?”

“Natsuki, even you’re answering my question.”

As this was pointed out, Natsuki lightly pouted. These evasive answers weren’t like Nozomi.

“If you want someone to find out each other’s real intentions with, go to someone else.”

“Who are you suggesting I go to, for example?”

“Yuuko or someone.”

“If I talked to her, she’d respond with a sound argument and that’d be it.”

“You’re right.”

Imagining the sight of Yuuko getting angry outright, a dry smile came to Natsuki’s lips. Yuuko was always correct and kind.

“Are you worried?”

Placing her arm on the windowsill, Natsuki turned her neck to look at Nozomi. Possibly having guessed that she was trying to meet her eyes, Nozomi, in the manner of someone who wasn’t thinking about anything, turned her face away.

“Isn’t it unhealthy to not have any worries?”

“That’s true, but still. I thought you’d go to the light music club, Nozomi.”

“Why.”

“You guys are all friendly.”

At Natsuki’s words, Nozomi exhaled sharply. She didn’t know if that was really a sigh or she was laughing at her through her nose.

“Natsuki, you’re dreaming too much about us. Didn’t I tell you before? It’s not like we came to this school as good friends.”

“But from the outside, it looks like that.”

“The way that it looks and the way that it is are different things.”

“That’s right.”

There was surely no way that Natsuki could truly understand Nozomi and the others. In just a few months, it had sunk into her bones. Even if Natsuki were in the same position, Natsuki wouldn’t tell her complaints to the third-years. Just like a meat-eater aiming for a chance to catch its prey, she was holding her breath and watching out for the timing of when the senpais left.

It wasn’t being obedient. But Natsuki understood that nothing would change even if she flew the flag of revolution against the third-years. Natsuki wasn’t the type to trust other people. That was why she couldn’t think that the third-year girls could change their minds, no matter what they said to them.

A heart that believed in people. If that was what separated Nozomi and the others from Natsuki, it was much easier to live life without that kind of thing. It was a waste of time to expect someone to turn over a new leaf. People with bad personalities were always bad. Natsuki herself being that way was proof of it more than anything.

“Hey Nozomi, did you really believe it?”

“What?”

“That the senpais would change their minds of their own initiative.”

“I believed it.”

The words were smooth-cutting, like thin paper torn by a blade. Natsuki opened her eyes wide at the righteousness of her voice.

“You serious?”

“I thought you understood that we were correct. Because you always went in the correct direction whenever someone was disputing something, even in middle school.”

“With that way of doing things, ‘correctness’ only works when it’s shared.”

Her irritation had unconsciously leaked out. It was sad that the goodness that had saved Natsuki could be regarded  as naive and dimwitted in this place.

Nozomi looked her way, laughing quietly. Her eyes, covered in a film of invisible tears, looked like they were faintly shining.

“Even so, I still believed. That we could do something about it.”

Natsuki thought how awfully sad it was that those words were in past tense. Summer sunlight spilled over through the gaps between the fingers of her carelessly dangling hand.

“...What are you going to do, Nozomi? Go to the light music club, or else stay here.”

“What do you think I should do?”

“Again, answering a question with a question.”

“That’s because I’m talking to you, Natsuki.”

“Are you saying that you aren’t as considerate to me as you are to your middle school concert band friends?”

“Well, to those kids, I was the club president, so I have to be mindful of them. They’re my important friends.”

“That’s some tedious relationship.”

“It’s how living in a group works.”

Natsuki let out a deep sigh at those words. She recalled the exchange they’d had during gym class in their third year of middle school. Giving up was the last resort when you were living as part of a group, that was what Nozomi had told Natsuki. Nozomi had worked to understand others now that she was in high school, made an effort to adapt to her environment, softly placated her friends’ outbursts—finally, her heart had broken.

“Just now, you asked me what I think you should do.”

“Yeah, I asked. You seem like you’d give level-headed advice, Natsuki.”

Looking at that face and its thoughtless smile, she thought, what an insensitive person. Nozomi was an awful person. She didn’t understand anything.

Natsuki wasn’t the type of person who would simply accept it when someone invited her to a club. But even so, because of Nozomi, she had decided to hedge her bets. Because it had been Nozomi.

There was no way she could be level-headed. How much she wished she could put that into words. But Natsuki wouldn’t say that out loud. She shuddered to think how words that came from lashing out at her would end up being tied up with Nozomi from here on out.

“You know, I think you should do what you want, Nozomi.”

She moved her half-raised hand to lightly pat Nozomi on the back. She felt her shoulder blade beneath her white summer uniform.

“The choice you yourself believe in, Nozomi, is probably the one that’s the most right.”

Unmistakably, the one to tell that to Nozomi and push her forward had been Natsuki. Natsuki remembered the sensation on the palm of her right hand as though it had been yesterday. Nozomi, who would normally give a pleasant smile, lowered her eyelids. As though to hide her overflowing feelings, she whispered, “Thank you” with her eyes still shut. It was a small, seemingly reflective voice.

Natsuki unlocked the window in front of Nozomi, forcefully opening it. The wind that blew in vigorously messed up Nozomi’s bangs. Natsuki laughed loudly, showing her teeth. As she did, Nozomi also laughed, as though she had been caught in the act. Natsuki didn’t really care at all that both of their hair was in disarray.

In this moment, as long as Nozomi was smiling now, that was all that she wanted.

And that itself was the sin that Natsuki committed.

Several days after that, with the same timing that Sumire and the others quit the concert band, Nozomi also quit. What Nozomi had chosen was an adult concert band circle. It seemed as though she would be making an effort to mingle with college students and working adults to practice. It was a choice that was just like Nozomi.

The atmosphere of the club didn’t greatly change with Nozomi and the others gone. On the other hand, you could say that the less conflict there was, the calmer it had become. Every time she saw the senpais engaging in lively conversation in the middle of practice time, she wondered whether this was for the best. The form that Kitauji should take had been this from the start, this she tried to tell herself.

“They should’ve just quit sooner.”

“There’s only so far you can go without reading the room. Aah, those pests gone means club activities can finally be free.”

“It’s up to them to dream about working hard for the competition or whatever, but pushing that onto others seriously pisses me off.”

The conversation from the music room came to Natsuki’s ears as though she were being sucked in. The noise-like voices were mixed with the crackling cries of the cicadas. Natsuki stopped her steps towards the instrument room. Even though the senpais complaining about Nozomi and the others was a constant occurrence.

Nozomi was no longer in the concert band.

That fact unexpectedly attacked Natsuki. The sensation of her shoe soles rubbing against the hallway clearly stuck to the soles of her feet. It was something she had understood. THat it would be this way, from the very beginning. Even so, even so—. Natsuki herself didn’t know how to continue the words that came rushing up.

The music room and the hallway were separated by a silver rail for the door. If the door had been closed, Natsuki wouldn’t have to go through this.

The senpais inside the room were clapping their hands and laughing in loud voices.

“Seriously, I’m so glad they’re gone!”

Ah, she thought. The circuits in her brain had been burned through. The back of her retinas sparked, a raging torrent of emotions controlling Natsuki’s brain from the inside. Her right hand grasped the door on its own. Her left hand went over the rail on its own. Walking up to the jabbering third-years, Natsuki placed her hand on the back of the chair. To call that an impulse would have meant she had too much reason remaining in her.

At the sudden intruder, the senpais looked over at her with disbelieving faces. Natsuki had intentionally not pumped the brakes on herself.

Raising the corners of her mouth, she spat out, “You guys’ personalities are ugly, you know…”

The air froze. Natsuki stuck out her tongue and jabbed her middle finger at the six dumbfounded third-year club members.

“Nakagawa!”

One of the third-year members cried out shrilly. Because of the unexpectedness of them remembering her name, Natsuki lightly opened her eyes.

“Hey, you, the hell is that attitude towards your senpais.”

“Nothing, I was just saying what I thought.”

“If you’re dissatisfied, shouldn’t you have quit like the rest of them? Kasaki and the others knew their place.”

“Whether I quit or not is up to me. Isn’t that a separate matter from the fact that you senpais are shitty?”

“Nakagawa, stop it.”

As though to control her, her name was repeated once more. However, she didn’t have any intention in the least to obey it. Generally speaking, Natsuki had no reason to put up with it from the start. Natsuki was scared of nothing. She didn’t want to be an A member, nor did she want to be liked by the senpais. She had no inkling of wanting to be recognized by the others in the concert band, and had just simply been going with the flow.

If it were Nozomi here, she might have said something different. After all, that girl…

“I don’t care what you senpais think, but Nozomi wanted to help you. Because her mind’s happy, she thought you could change someday if you talked it out. It’s stupid, innocently believing that being correct could get across to anyone.”

But the reality was otherwise.

“I can understand why you senpais disliked them. But don’t you think it’s too awful to ignore the parts of them that believed in you? What they did and your bad treatment of them, isn’t it wrong to think that they aren’t balanced?”

Like a pot boiling over, heat rose up and simmered in the pit of her stomach. Her face was hot. Her ears, her eyes, even her cheeks. Excitement and rage had turned directly into heat that was controlling Natsuki’s body.

She was also an idiot, the small rational voice that remained in the corner of her brain mocked her. There wasn’t a single good thing about stirring things up, Nozomi and the others were reckless. Although she had been thinking that way up until a little while before, now she was acting in the same stupid way.

“Is that all you want to say?”

A terribly clear voice, like a wind chime ringing on a silent summer night, struck her ears. One of the third-year members was staring directly at her with her chin in her hands. Seeing that the other five had fallen silent, Natsuki gulped. This behavior made her  sense clearly that this person was the leader of the gang.

The senpai grinned broadly. The turned-up corners of her mouth made her look like a devil.

“I feel so bad for you. The bass section first-years were so peaceful and everything.”

For a moment, she didn’t understand the meaning of the words that had been spoken. Why would the behavior of Natsuki on her own come out in the bass section? Thinking that far, an uneasy sigh came from her lips.

RIght now, she was being threatened.

“Hey, Nakagawa. What would you do if someone quit the club in your place?”

The narrowed eyes of the senpai were drawn in a definite arch. It was a profound disconnect. This was the first time she had felt this much despair when communicating with another person.

She went pale. The underside of her skin felt a chill like bugs crawling all over her. The middle finger she had stuck up to the sky earlier was strangling her own neck a few minutes later. The inside of her mouth was dry. Her fingernails stabbed the soft skin inside her clenched fists.

“I…”

The words after that didn’t come out. Though she hadn’t minded quitting the club, the moment she understood that someone else would be involved, her tongue became twisted and unable to move.

Though she had been scowling at the senpais head-on just a little earlier, before she realized it, her gaze was fixed on her own feet. She wanted to stomp the innocently shining white indoor shoes to pieces.

Watching the silent Natsuki, the senpai sneered, “This is why these first-years are so naive.” If she raised her face here, she would surely see their triumphant faces. Clenching her fists, Natsuki shut her eyes tightly.

From the instant darkness, the sound of a deliberate knock-knock echoed from the door.

“Um–hello?”

Her eyelids raised like a spring. Reflexively turning around, there was the second-year Asuka Tanaka persistently knocking on the door. Even though the door had been left open.

The moment the senpais recognized Asuka, the air inside the room instantly changed. The third-years frowned conspicuously, letting out short groans of “It’s Tanaka.”

“Yes, it’s Tanaka. Oh, I just got a report that one of the bass kids was being impolite in the music room.”

Laughing flippantly and frivolously, Asuka stepped towards them. Her legs were long. Her height, which must have been over 170 centimeters, made her feel overpowering just by being there.

Lightly lifting up her red-framed glasses with her middle finger, Asuka stood next to Natsuki. That right hand pushed Natsuki’s head down with a rough movement. She immediately let out a “Geh,” but Asuka ignored it.

“Truly, I’m sorry for Natsuki’s disrespect just now. It can’t be helped for senpais to be upset at a first-year saying rude things to third-years, I know. Ahh, I was surprised when I heard that report. But see, you senpais are big-hearted, so I’m sure you’ll forgive her if she apologizes.”

Asuka’s large palm was cutting into the back of Natsuki’s head. From this painful pressure, she keenly felt the unspoken message of absolutely not being allowed to raise her head.

“First, could you please let us save face and forgive the bass section? I’ll make sure to give Natsuki a proper talking-to later.”

“It’s not like we were planning to do something from the start. That first-year was just taking our joke too seriously.”

She could tell that the third-year who responded was slightly shrill. There were hardly any third-years in the concert band who would take on Asuka. After all, she was frightening.

“That’s completely right. I also know that you were joking, but I juuust wanted to check to be on the safe side. See, it wouldn’t trouble us even if you had said it later.”

“Just to let you know, that first-year was the one who came picking a fight first.”

“I understand. Did I say anything about you senpais being in the wrong? Natsuki’s the one who’s entirely in the wrong. Right, Natsuki. Let’s say sorry, okay?”

Asuka’s way of speaking as she declared these perfectly fitting words was superficially polite, with no shred of remorse. Feeling the pressure on her head disappearing, Natsuki finally lifted her head. All of the third-years in front of her had equally sullen looks on their faces, looking comically like they were in a skit. “Go on,” said Asuka, lightly tapping Natsuki’s back. “Why do I have to,” she said almost sulkily, but throwing a tantrum here would be throwing mud in Asuka’s face. If that happened, Natsuki would have no choice but to quit the concert band this time. She was much more scared of Asuka than the gathering of small fry that were the third-years.

“…I’m sorry.”

One of the third-years sniffed at Natsuki as she admirably lowered her head.

“You should’ve done that from the start. It’s because of that attitude that everyone hates you, Nakagawa.”

“Hah, is that so.”

It was like a kids’ fight. Natsuki was embarrassed by the overly low-level abuse. Putting a hand on Natsuki’s shoulder as she arched her back, Asuka widened her eyes in a deliberate gesture. Placing a hand in front of her wide-open mouth, she let out a theatrical, “Well, oh my.”

“Oh, Senpai, you don’t have to be so humble like that!”

“Huh?”

The senpai raised her face, deeply colored with suspicion, to Asuka. Receiving her gaze, Asuka’s suspicious smile became even deeper.

“The correct language should be, I hate. But because you’re being so humble and thinking that words just from you won’t reach Natsuki, you used everyone as the subject, didn’t you? That profound part of you, Senpai, is super illuminating.”

The people around Asuka, who was snickering in the back of her throat, were completely fed up. Even Natsuki, who she was covering for, was slightly put off by the glaring snideness.

The third-year who had been in the role of the boss let out a deep sigh. She had discerned that rather than scolding a first-year who had been talking down to her, the priority was getting Asuka Tanaka somewhere. Glaring over their way, she waved her hand with a “Shoo, shoo” as though to chase her off.

“That’s enough. Why don’t you just get back to your sectional practice room already.”

“Thank goodness you senpais have such generous hearts!”

Ostentatiously reiterating “Thank goodness,” Asuka pushed Natsuki’s back and headed towards the entrance of the music room. A cold voice pierced them from behind as they walked forward into the hallway.

“There won’t be any second chances.”

Same goes for me, I won’t be feeling this way again. As she secretly stuck out her tongue in a way that the senpais wouldn’t see her, Asuka at her side cleared her throat in amusement.

After that, when Natsuki and Asuka returned to their section practice room, the other first-year girl came towards them looking anxious. “I was sooo worried,” she declared in a trembling voice, and Natsuki had an ill-conceived thought. It appeared that she had been the one to tattle to Asuka.

“Why did you do something stupid like that? I thought you were a smart girl who wouldn’t do something like that, Natsuki.”

Wiping her glasses with a cloth, Asuka asked this in a light tone. Her way of speaking oozed with a sense of casualness, as though she were bringing up the topic of tomorrow’s weather.

“Um, well, I was feeling irritated.”

“Wellll, I get the irritation, but don’t get the bass section wrapped up in this. You know I really hate being interrupted when I practice, right? Just now, I wouldn’t have saved you if you weren’t in bass.”

“...I’m sorry to have caused so much trouble.”

“As long as you understand, it’s fine.”

Keeping a sense of lightness, Asuka tapped her shoulder. With a movement that made her appear almost like a cat, Asuka gave a big stretch.

“At any rate, it’s seriously such a pain when idiots stand on top!”

Natsuki felt her tense cheeks gradually beginning to loosen at this nonchalant remark.

“I agree, word for word.”

Asuka messily ruffled Natsuki’s deeply nodding head. Rather than being affectionate towards her kouhai, it was a gesture more akin to pacifying a badly-behaved dog.

“Hey, I heard you fought back against the third-years.”

The road home from school. The sound of nine people’s feet had, before she realized it, dwindled down to two. Unlike Natsuki and the others who finished practice in the morning, Mizore also had activities in the afternoon as an A member. Though once the competition ended, the three of them having separate activities would also end.

Sweat oozed from her forehead, trickling down her cheek and falling to her collarbone. The wind blew hot air that created gentle ripples across the verdant rice paddies. Yuuko, walking beside her, had been staring fixedly at her since a short while ago. Maybe she was 30 percent upset, 50 percent fed up, and the remaining 20 percent worried.

“Because I was pissed off.”

Taking the long way around to agree, Yuuko pouted, “What an idiot.” Without bothering to argue, Natsuki had to laugh shortly, “Seriously.”

“In the end, Asuka-senpai saved me.”

“I thought you didn’t want to get burned by this?”

“There’s no mistaking that.”

“You’re seriously too hasty! Now’s the time to stay quiet and wait.”

“I thought that too, but before I realized it, I ended up doing it.”

“Idiot!”

Yuuko’s elbow bumped into Natsuki’s side. Perhaps she was holding back, but there was no pain in her prod.

“Being called an idiot by you, Yuuko, is the end of the world.”

“Huuuh?”

“You’ve got a personality that makes you way more likely to charge in.”

“After all, I’d hate for Kaori-senpai to get into trouble because of me. You know, Kaori-senpai kindly cheered me up when I was sad? Even though not being able to enter the competition is harder on the second-years. Haah, she’s seriously such an angel. So kind. Being so considerate towards someone like me.”

“So that’s why you stayed in the concert band?”

At Natsuki’s question, Yuuko halted. Noticing that she couldn’t hear her footsteps anymore, Natsuki also stopped in place. The distance between them had gotten smaller, but it definitely still wasn’t at the level where it could be ignored.

Wiping her dry lips with her thumb, Natsuki opened her mouth.

“For Kaori-senpai’s sake, you didn’t take Sumire and the others up on their offer?”

“There’s also that.”

“Also, so that means you have another reason?”

The tips of Yuuko’s fingers, which had been gripping her left hand, made a jerking movement. As though she were hiding her guilt, she averted her gaze from her. She let out a sigh as though she were despairing.

“If even I left, I’m sure Mizore would suffer.”

“Why are you bringing up Mizore here? That girl’s doing well.”

The oboe section only had Mizore in it. During the time when the first-year club members had been struggling with the third years’ oppressive rule, she alone had been freely working hard in the club. Even now, despite being a first-year, she had become a part of the A members. You couldn’t call her relationship with the senpais a good one, but there were no rumors that it was bad, either.

Her short bangs dangling over her forehead, the edges of Yuuko’s mouth suddenly relaxed. The shoelaces on her sneakers were coming undone.

“Natsuki, it’s because you don’t know Mizore.”

“It’s been three months since I entered the club, so it’s not like I don’t know anything at all about her, though?”

“No, you don’t know her. That girl is completely different from us.”

“What do you mean is different.”

“The way she’s constructed.”

“Huuuh?”

She didn’t understand the meaning of it. However, it was an explanation that she had heard before. Yuuko silently shook her head at Natsuki making a fool of herself.

“Telling you would be useless.”

“What do you mean, useless.”

“It means that I’m sure you wouldn’t be able to understand it.”

“What’s up with that, could you not arbitrarily decide that yourself?”

“Okay, then let me ask you the opposite, why’d you stay in the concert band?”

Taking one step, then another, Yuuko approached her. The shrill resounding cries of the cicadas. The sound of the asphalt scraping the soles of her shoes. The beeping of a passing car. Yuuko’s dignified voice. And her own deep breaths.

The intertwined sounds made a performance fitting to this everyday early afternoon in summer. Yuuko stretched out her right hand, and it caught on the collar of Natsuki’s summer uniform. Her finger, with the bumpy writer’s callus on it, softly traced along her white ribbon.

“I expected you’d quit, Natsuki.”

“Well, too bad I went against your expectations.”

“Didn’t you join the concert band because Nozomi invited you? So then, there’s no reason for you to stay here now that Nozomi’s gone.”

“That and this are different things.”

“You really think that?”

As if inquiring about it, Yuuko lightly knocked on the area around Natsuki’s collarbone. The knock-knock rhythm it gently beat out seemed to be trying to drag out something from within the inside of Natsuki’s body.

“If I quit, it would be like Nozomi’s invitation never happened.”

It had slipped. The true feeling she had been holding onto unknowingly in the smallest chamber of her heart, which had been segmented into four pieces. Yuuko’s eyes opened as much as they could, gazing at her as though she were deeply searching her face.

“There’s no way it would be like it never happened. Anyway, I don’t think Nozomi would mind it if you quit the club, Natsuki.”

“It’s not that, it’s that I hate myself. I guess I don’t want to lose the me who received Nozomi’s influence.”

“Hmm.”

“What.”

“No, I was just thinking you might have some similarities there.”

Going back a step, Yuuko linked her hands behind her back. Her soft long hair bent in the wind and struck her own cheek. Natsuki swallowed back the spit that had been building in her mouth. She felt like she might melt in the summer heat, a hint of tension in the air between the two of them.

Yuuko spoke, “You see, Mizore doesn’t think of anyone except Nozomi as her friend.”

“Not even you, Yuuko?”

Yuuko kept her eyes down and gave a forced smile at the question that came up reflexively. She found that this weak expression badly suited the strong-willed Yuuko.

 “Is that kind of thing possible? Yuuko, you and the others have been together with her in the concert band, right?”

“Not from our time at Minami Middle. We started doing things up till now together once we got into high school. Besides, Mizore’s got abnormally low self-esteem.”

“Really?”

“It takes time for her to let her guard down. The reason Nozomi is special to Mizore is because she was the first person to speak to her in middle school. From then on, that girl has always continued to chase after Nozomi.”

“Continued to chase after her, you mean…”

“The reason she chose Kitauji was because Nozomi would be going there.”

It gave her a chill. Not because she had learned about Mizore’s attachment to Nozomi. Because she had realized that all of Nozomi’s actions up to this point had been showing her indifference towards Mizore.

Nozomi had repeated many times that she hadn’t come to Kitauji to be together with her friends from Minami Middle. But how was it really? Perhaps there was actually someone who held such feelings.

“But with that logic, shouldn’t Mizore have quit the club together with Nozomi.”

“Are you an idiot? If Nozomi had said a single word to Mizore, it’s obvious they would have quit together.”

“Ah.”

Thinking back, when Sumire had proposed leaving the club, Mizore hadn’t been there. After all, Mizore was an A member. Unlike the others, she hadn’t been making complaints about the club.

“The reason Mizore’s still hanging onto the concert band even now is because, in the past, Nozomi told her, Let’s join the concert band together. For Mizore, Nozomi is her entire course of action.”

“No, no, don’t you think that’s a bit too heavy?”

“It doesn’t matter if it’s heavy or if it’s light. Mizore is like that, since middle school.”

Who exactly was Yuuko’s anger in her raised voice directed towards? Mizore, who left the course of her life up to other people, Nozomi, who was unaware of the emotional vectors being aimed at her, or perhaps she herself, who couldn’t be of any help.

“Is that why you can’t take your eyes off her, Yuuko?”

“It’s perfectly normal that I’d be worried. But, she hasn’t even opened her heart up to me. Since Nozomi was the one who was able to open up her heart in the beginning, Nozomi is the only one who holds the key to it.”

“That’s very poetic of you.”

“Are you poking fun, even at a time like this??”

“Sorry, it’s just a habit.”

Walking with a heel-striking gait, Yuuko moved forward. It was the way she walked when she was truly angry. Judging that she wouldn’t be forgiving of their normal joking around, Natsuki lined up beside her and put on a docile air.

With one eye still closed, Yuuko opened her left eye and looked over at her.

“I absolutely don’t want to half-heartedly let go of someone once I’ve thought of them as being important. Kaori-senpai, and Mizore as well.”

“Kaori-senpai’s not yours to begin with, though.”

“Shut up, this is something in my mind!”

Yuuko bravely raised her fists high. Even though her appearance was just that of a sweet girl, the inside of her small stature was swirling with intense emotions. Wanting to poke and break that exterior of hers, Natsuki peered into Yuuko’s face.

“Am I not included in there?”

Perhaps having guessed her metaphor-mixed question, Yuuko faithfully opened her eyes wide.

“What kind of stupid thing are you saying! You don’t have enough important person points yet, Natsuki.”

“What are those important person points or whatever. How do you even collect them?”

“For example, let’s see, if you bought me some ice cream.”

“I’d rather you bought me some, actually?”

“After all, it’s you, Natsuki.”

“What kind of logic is that.”

Yuuko puffed out her cheeks in plain sight at Natsuki, who was laughing scornfully at her. Natsuki found her eyes, brimming with vitality, to be beautiful beyond description. Lightly narrowing her small lips, Yuuko laughed like a mischievous kid.

“Ah, I just thought of something.”

“What?”

“Teach me guitar.”

“Huuuh?”

Why exactly had it come to that? Perhaps because she had seen a shred of unrest in the shrugging Natsuki, Yuuko cleared her throat in a satisfied way.

“You want to become someone important to me, right?”

“No, not really.”

“I’ll give you ten times more points now as a first-time service!”

“That’s a service I don’t need.”

“Anyway, you brought it up to begin with.”

At her retort, Natsuki wordlessly scratched her cheek. It was fun to tease Yuuko, but sometimes she was reluctant to be cornered in an argument.

“Asking if I wanted to try playing guitar.”

The tips of Yuuko’s beautifully sanded nails moved up and down in midair. Reminded of the sensation of plucking strings, Natsuki softened the shape of her mouth.

“That supposed to be an air guitar?”

“Good, isn’t it?”

“There’s not enough impact.”

Saying this, Natsuki made a big move with her arms.

Though there were few people around, this was the path to the station. Out of the blue, there were passersby around them, sending curious looks at the two high school girls who were suddenly making strange movements. Still, it felt like being embarrassed by that would, on the contrary, be lame. The melody of a guitar resounding within her brain. A burst of laughter spilled from Natsuki’s mouth as she moved her arms in time to it.

“I bet it would be fun if the two of us played guitar together.”

Because Yuuko’s laughing voice as she said this was entirely too innocent, Natsuki ended up promising without due consideration, “Guess it can’t be helped, I’ll teach you.” Even though she didn’t have the skill or anything worth teaching, from that day on, a non-concert band interaction between Natsuki and Yuuko began.

*

[watchingyouflytl]

Chapter 1: Nozomi Kasaki is Unlucky (Part 2)

*

In their third year of middle school, Natsuki and Nozomi were in the same class. Because Minami Middle had four classes per grade, there were some kids she had never been in the same class with. The majority of Natsuki’s main friends at the time were in the going-home club or the light music club, and Nozomi and Yuuko felt like sub-friends. She hadn’t spoken a lot to them, but they recognized one another as friends of friends. They could speak to each other normally if they were ever alone together, but that didn’t necessarily mean that they would go hang out together. That level. She didn’t even know of Mizore’s existence. Probably, if she hadn’t joined the concert band, she would never have known her.

To be honest, Natsuki in middle school disliked people who were passionate about club activities. She was the type to laugh scornfully at the antiquated ideas of “hot-bloodedness” and “guts”. She thought that the sports festival and the chorus competition were both a bother, and didn’t care what the results were.

Conversely, Nozomi was the one who would passionately work on school events. She would warn boys who weren’t practicing properly, and would frequently reach out to the kids who tended to take time off from school.

“Club president.”

Nozomi was called this even outside of club activities. Natsuki thought this title was appropriate for people like her. President of the concert band, popular in class. Her eyes began to follow Nozomi in the winter of their third year of middle school. The spark was during their provided break time in the middle of gym class.

Natsuki and the others’ school, Minami Middle, held a long jump rope competition every year on the third Thursday of January. Girls and boys would be divided up by class and would compete based on the number of their jumps. It wasn’t as though there was a prize for winning, so the only thing winning got you was honor.

She wondered what would even come of putting everything you had into this. As she gazed at the girls from the illustration club sitting in the corner of the sports field, Natsuki let out a big sigh. She twisted open the cap of her water bottle and poured its contents into her mouth. That was the exact moment Nozomi came to talk to her.

“Do you hate long jump roping, Natsuki?”

Having been spoken to at such a close proximity, Natsuki instantly removed her mouth from her water bottle. She’d narrowly been about to spill it.

“I don’t really hate it or anything,” answered Natsuki, hiding her inner unrest and faking calmness. Other students’ belongings had been left in the corner of the sports field. To prevent dehydration, they were given permission to bring water bottles to gym class.

“Anyway, what is this? All of a sudden.”

She hadn’t had that intention at the time, but her wariness might possibly have been showing in her attitude. Nozomi was always together with her concert band friends, so it was strange that she had come all the way over to speak to her during their short break time.

In response to Natsuki’s question, Nozomi showed her white teeth with a broad smile. Her last name, Kasaki, had been embroidered on the breast pocket of her blue school jersey.

“It’s not all of a sudden, though? Should I not come and talk to you, Natsuki?”

“That’s not what I mean, I was just surprised.”

“I didn’t mean to surprise you, though…”

Lowering the ends of her eyebrows, Nozomi scratched the back of her head. I’m sure she didn’t, thought Natsuki. Nozomi wasn’t the type to act with an agenda. That’s exactly why she was hard to approach, she thought. The positive aura she released was too bright if you looked directly at it for long.

“Natsuki, you’re always making a sour face when it’s time for long jump rope.”

“No, I don’t mean to do that.”

“What, that’s definitely a lie!”

Nozomi stared directly into her face, waiting for an answer. Natsuki wiped the rim of her water bottle, then stirred up its contents all at once. She had the feeling that the kettle-made mugicha tasted somehow different than when she normally drank it at home.

“More than long jump rope, I hate team sports.”

“Why? There’s a feeling that everyone’s cooperating together.”

“The idea of all together is gross. I hate when the air feels like the people who can’t do it are bad.”

It had been like that in their practice earlier. The illustration club girls who weren’t good at sports had gotten caught in the jump rope over and over. The girls who messed up would apologize with an “I’m sorry” over and over, and each time the girls around them would call out, “It’s okay” or “Don’t worry about it”. She thought Nozomi in particular had put a lot of energy into backing them up. She had shown the consideration of a club president in order to keep the atmosphere from becoming bad and to keep the girls who messed up from getting discouraged.

Ahh, the fact that she had come to talk to her was a part of that, Natsuki understood. Nozomi guessed the irritation of her classmates, then came to remove the seeds of discord.

“I didn’t think the atmosphere of our class was that bad, though. It felt peaceful, and nobody was blamed for messing up.”

“No, I don’t care if the atmosphere is good or bad. Just that it’s unpleasant that the girls who messed up had to apologize every time.”

“But nobody was making them apologize, though? I just thought they were because they themselves felt bad.”

“If we didn’t have the long jump rope competition in the first place, there’d be no reason for those girls to feel bad. It feels like, apologizing if you can’t jump rope? Huh? You ever apologized to your classmates for getting bad grades on a math test? You ever said sorry for having horrible art? Why is it when it comes to sports, you have to apologize if you can’t do them? It doesn’t matter if you jump zero times in the actual competition. It’s seriously pointless that we’re being forced to do this even now we’re middle school students.”

As she expressed her thoughts aloud, her choice of words became fierce. But that couldn’t be helped. Because that was what she actually thought.

Nozomi laughed as though she were a little troubled at Natsuki’s speech. It was a laugh that included incredulity, like an adult taming a spoiled child.

“Natsuki, you’re super direct.”

“Are you picking a fight?”

“No, no, I’m just saying what I thought. I think what you said is correct. But it might be a bit too correct to apply to reality.”

“What do you mean?”

Not understanding the meaning, Natsuki cocked her head. Nozomi lightly cast her eyes down.

“I think that if you try to bring a lot of people together, just being correct doesn’t mean it’ll go well a lot of the time. It’s important to find a proposal to compromise for your feelings and the other person’s feelings. School events are the same, and more than there being meaning in long jump rope itself, it’s more a training for everyone to accept a hardship together and think how to overcome it.”

“Is that your opinion as the club president?”

“No, it’s just my opinion. But I may have come to feel that there’s differences in how the people bringing others together and the people being brought together see things. School rules might look unreasonable, but it’s not like they’re evil incarnate.”

“That’s the opinion of someone who lives in a group.”

“You’re the same, Natsuki. You’re one person in the group called school.”

Natsuki knit her brows at Nozomi’s words. That was exactly right, but Natsuki hadn’t chosen to be a part of a group of her own accord. It had been chosen for her, and furthermore, she didn’t want any part of the rules that had been forced upon her for no reason.

“That’s a hair-raising way of thinking.”

“Really? I think that if you’re affiliated with a group, quitting is the last resort. It’s the first choice that comes up when you’ve struggled a lot and think it’s really impossible. Changing everything in your environment is impossible, so first off, changing yourself to fit with your environment is more effective. It might even change from something hateful to something that feels fun as you continue to do it.”

Those were plausible words, she thought. She couldn’t empathize with them, but she could comprehend her line of thinking. Everyone who said they loved school might all be thinking like Nozomi. They had a high ability to adapt themselves to the current situation.

“Nozomi, you’re a really good kid.”

“Is that payback for earlier?”

“Could be.”

Shrugging, she placed her water bottle close to her bag. Wiping her sweat-streaked forehead with the back of her hand, Natsuki faced Nozomi.

“You don’t have to worry, Nozomi. I’ll jump properly. I have some complaints, but it’s not like I’m thinking that I want to ruin it.”

“I’m not worried about that. You seem surprisingly responsible, Natsuki.”

“You don’t even know me at all and you know that?”

“I know, I know. Your complaint just now, it came from you being genuinely worried about the illustration club girls, right?”

“Not really, I just got pissed off on my own.”

“Seeing that and getting irritated is the reason why I thought you seem to be responsible.”

Rubbing her fingers over her black hair, which had been tied up in a high position, Nozomi let out a giggle. At the center of the sports field, the gym teacher gave the order, “Break time’s over now…”. The resting students began to move in a crowd towards the meeting place.

“Okay, let’s go too.”

Saying this, Nozomi pointed ahead. It was a voice overflowing with the unaware confidence that Natsuki would naturally follow after her. Resisting would make her look childish, so Natsuki followed after her obediently. This was what having leadership was, she thought vaguely as she did.

In the end, after that gym class, Natsuki and Nozomi’s relationship hardly changed at all. They were friends who didn’t dislike each other, but even so, weren’t at a level where they would proactively talk to each other. The long jump rope competition ended smoothly, and Natsuki’s class had gotten a half-baked 3rd place out of the 4 classes in their grade. Still, the unity between her classmates had deepened all at once as a result of this event—not that there was any way that this had actually happened, as they had entered into entrance exam season without much being different about the atmosphere than before.

And so, on graduation day, Natsuki participated in the ceremony without having any strong feelings. The remarks from the higher-ups, singing the school song in unison, being presented with the diploma, all were a pain.

To be honest, Natsuki couldn’t relate even a bit with the people who cried during their graduation ceremony.  It had been like that in elementary school, and also now that she was in middle school. What on earth was so sad about graduating? All you had to do was just make a commitment to meet with those who you actually got along with, and anyone else wouldn’t be the type of people who you’d be upset to part with.

She watched the faces of the students who were lined up one by one in the gymnasium to stave off her boredom. The delinquent boy who wore his hair standing up on end was sniffling over and over, and the female class president with an emotional personality had a surprisingly cool expression as she looked out from atop the podium. The boy who bit back a yawn of disinterest, the girl who looked over at the friend next to her and laughed.

There were kids who were going on to high schools outside the prefecture, and there was a pattern of people who would be going to the same local high school as the majority of their friends. At Kitauji High School, where Natsuki had been accepted, 50 percent of the students in the entire school were from Higashi Middle. It wasn’t as though there were few kids from Minami Middle, but it also wasn’t as though there were overwhelmingly many either.

For the kids who were carrying their middle school friendships on to high school, what was this graduation ceremony? Did it just feel like a closing ceremony? If she wasn’t mistaken, around ten students who had been concert band members, including Nozomi, would apparently be going to Kitauji. Would that girl carrying on her friends be like the feeling of upgrading smartphone models, she wondered, and when she checked her classmates’ faces, Nozomi was crying. With her spine straight, she was wiping her flowing tears with her fingertip multiple times.

Why?

It was a simple question that came to mind before anything else. Nozomi would have friends even when she went to high school, so why on earth was she crying? Natsuki thought about Nozomi even when the ceremony ended, even when homeroom ended, even when she was on her way home.

After that, even after they were released from their classroom, each of the concert band members gathered in the courtyard and took pictures and wrote notes to each other. Kouhais gathered around Nozomi, giving her gifts. You could immediately tell which students had been in the club because they were holding bouquets. In order to not give away her empty hands, Natsuki adjusted the hand that held her own bag.

Passing through the mob of people, Natsuki hurriedly made her way home. Every time she walked, the graduation album inside her bag swayed. The last page of the graduation album had been blank, made for people to leave their signatures on it. Friends had come over to Natsuki, filling it in with long sentences in colorful pens. The space in Natsuki’s graduation album had been around halfway filled with a few friends, but Nozomi’s graduation album had been crowded with a large amount of people. Even Natsuki had been made to write in it for some reason. One, two line sentences had been lined up with no spaces on the page, but she didn’t know if everyone who had their name in there was close to Nozomi or not.

Signatures from kouhais, bouquets, none of these were here in Natsuki’s hands right now.

It wasn’t as though there was anything in her life up until now that she had once regretted. Still, the fact that not even the slightest bit of a feeling of loss came to her made her feel somewhat lonely. Natsuki’s middle school life had been three years spent just for her own sake.

She didn’t like her time being taken by others. However, continuing to spend all her time on herself was somewhat futile.

She didn’t think at all that she wanted to become like that, but somewhere in her heart, she admired a campus life like Nozomi’s. The path that she continued to choose with no trouble seemingly had so few obstacles, it wasn’t dull even when she looked back on it.

When she closed her eyes, Nozomi’s appearance from behind was reflected on the back of her eyelids. Her swaying ponytail. Her heel-first, cheerful way of walking. She thought just a little that she might want to live a life like hers. Even Natsuki wanted, just once, to become a person who loved school.

It was the day of Kitauji High School’s entrance ceremony. Nozomi’s name was listed on the roster for Natsuki’s class that had been put up in the hallway. Natsuki’s seat was by the window, while Nozomi’s was on the hallway side. Natsuki’s hair at the time had still been short, and she hadn’t been putting it up. Looking at her face reflected in the windowpane, Natsuki lightly pinched up the tip of her hair. She thought about maybe going blonde or getting a piercing once it was summer vacation.

On the other side of the transparent glass was a contrast of blue and white spreading out before her. Giant clouds were stretched out across the clear blue sky. When she inhaled, the scent of an immature spring greeted the deepest part of her lungs. A new life, these words were stifling. She hated the sound of them, seemingly holding unlimited possibility.

“We’re in the same class.”

Her desk rattled with a jolt. Averting her gaze from the window, Natsuki faced Nozomi, who had placed both hands on Natsuki’s desk and was leaning forward, gazing over at her.

“Whoa.”

“Are you spacing out too much? What are you looking at?”

“No, nothing.”

Tucking her hair over her ear, Natsuki turned up just one end of her mouth. The area of her desk had become even smaller because of Nozomi.

“The sports field? Are you interested in the track team or something?”

“I was only looking at the sky.”

“Huh, I see.”

“What’s going on with you? Coming over to talk all of a sudden.”

“No, no, you’d speak to someone from the same middle school who was in the same class as you. We’ve been classmates two years in a row. Doesn’t it feel like fate?”

Saying this, Nozomi pointed to both her and Natsuki’s faces. It was true that spending time in the same classroom as both middle school third years and high school first years was a pretty rare case.

“There’s not any other Minami Middle kids here? Like someone from concert band?”

“Sumire’s also here, but the others are in different classes.”

“Sumire? Ahh, you mean Wakai-san.”

Natsuki had been in the same class as Sumire Wakai in their first year of middle school. They had almost never talked, but she remembered only her face well because of her characteristic flashy white-rimmed glasses.

“Sumire’s super good on the sax. We promised we’d join the concert band together in high school too.”

“You’re joining the concert band too, Nozomi?”

“That’s the plan. We all said we’d join together.”

“How’s Kitauji’s concert band?”

“What do you mean, how?”

“Whether it’s good or not. Wasn’t Minami Middle pretty good? It got awards or something, right? Gold at the Kyoto Competition, appearing at the Kansai Competition and stuff.”

Every year at Minami Middle’s second semester opening ceremony, the concert band members were recognized for the results of the competitions over summer vacation. Natsuki had no idea about the workings of the concert band, but nonetheless had guessed that only good schools were given gold. After all, it was the gold prize. There was no way they could be bad.

“We-eell, we thought we were good…”

As she said this, Nozomi pushed aside the black hair falling on her cheeks with her fingertip. Natsuki was bewildered seeing her react by dropping the ends of her eyebrows as though she were troubled. She thought she would have immediately responded by saying that they were good.

“Natsuki, do you know how concert band competitions work?”

“How they work? Doesn’t first place normally get the gold prize or something?”

“People outside the concert band tend to think that, but it’s really different. For starters, gold doesn’t just go to one school.”

“Oh, really?”

“Schools that participate in the competition are recognized with either the gold, silver, or bronze prize. How it goes is that the top three schools out of those that got gold go on to the Kansai Competition, and then the top three schools from there go on to Nationals.”

“Hmm, sounds tough.”

She could understand winning and losing based on differences in points through a match like baseball, but how could music be evaluated? Unconsciously, Natsuki rubbed her chin. A world where your hard work was evaluated by others, it seemed somehow stifling.

“Minami Middle got to go to the Kansai Competition when we were second years, but in our third year, we weren’t good at all. We stopped at the Kyoto Competition with silver. Not even a dud gold.”

“Dud gold?”

“Ah, we call gold prizes that don’t let you move on to the next competition dud gold. Our advisor told us to stop using that name, saying that we didn’t have respect for the gold prize.”

Her hands still on the desk, Nozomi crossed her legs. Natsuki followed her dropped gaze with her eyes. Nozomi slightly clenched the tips of her fingers. The shadow made by her straining herself made the hollow of her hand look somehow lonely.

“It was frustrating, the competition in our third year.”

Her downcast eyes, and the lips making the shape of a smile. The pushed-up cheeks told her that Nozomi was trying to force a smile.

It was unexpected. Because she had been crying that much at the graduation ceremony, she’d thought that the concert band had had nothing but good memories for Nozomi.

“So, are you planning to give it another try at Kitauji? Is that why the kids from the band at Minami Middle came to Kitauji? You all came here for club activities or something.”

In response to Natsuki’s question, Nozomi’s eyes widened in amazement. The opened pair of eyes kept sparkling repeatedly. 

“No way. You’d pick a powerhouse school if you wanted to choose your school based on club activities.”

“Really?”

“Natsuki, do you know how many people were in Minami Middle’s concert band?”

“There’s no way I’d know.”

“When I was president, there were 83 people. There were especially a lot in my grade, 34 people. So, in a normal year, around 30 percent of Minami Middle goes to Kitauji.”

“Basically?”

“That the kids in the band didn’t all arrange going on to high school beforehand. Kids who picked their school based on club activities are, if you think about it, usually in the minority, right?”

Being coolly told this, Natsuki opened her mouth wide. No, you’d say something like that? Her true thoughts were about to spill out.

From the start, Natsuki had thought those who went on to high school with club activities in mind were considerable weirdos. That was because she thought that choosing where you would go based on commute time, school spirit, and academic level were important. She thought it wouldn’t be strange for types like Nozomi to choose their school with a youthful way of doing things, such as wanting to give a competition another try. Anyhow, it was because their way of thinking was different from a person like her.

“So, then why are you joining the concert band?”

“Because there’s a band.”

“Oh no, I don’t get it.”

“Whyyy, it’s simple. Even if I didn’t go to Kitauji, even if none of my friends from concert band were there, I’m sure I’d enter the concert band. At any rate, I love music.”

Nozomi opened her mouth widely and smiled. At this pleasant smile that made her think of the summer sun, Natsuki arbitrarily let out a sigh. She rubbed the wrinkle that naturally came to her brow with her thumb.

“Then, you don’t care if Kitauji’s concert band’s good or not.”

“I mean, Kitauji is honestly on the pretty poor side, but we can change it as much as we like once we enter it ourselves. If a weak school rose in the world, wouldn’t it be fun, like a shonen manga?”

“Hah, that’s quite a positive thing there.”

“How about you too, Natsuki.”

“What.”

Nozomi moved her hand. The index finger of her right hand was directly thrust at Natsuki’s chest. The trimmed-short nails, the white wrist peering out from the cuff of her uniform. It was just one small part of Nozomi’s body, but it was burned intensely into Natsuki’s retinas.

“Want to join the concert band together?”

Her voice was cheerful. It was a voice that didn’t expect one bit that the person she spoke to would agree, but simply one-sidedly expressed her own desire.

“Why me?”

“I thought it would be fun if it was together with you, Natsuki.”

The sun peeking through the rift in the clouds shone white light onto half of the desk. The direct sunlight that flowed in from the window was, in any case, radiant. Natsuki averted her eyes right away, but Nozomi was smiling broadly. Dazzling, dazzling. So much so that her eyes felt like they would burn up. Even so, the only one paying attention to it was Natsuki, and Nozomi didn’t even seem to pretend to care. 

This was why she didn’t like her, Natsuki sighed deeply. She sheltered herself with her left hand to protect her body from the sunlight.

“Nozomi, you invite people to the band no matter who they are, don’t you?”

“Aha, you caught me. But, you know it’s true that it would be fun if it was together with you, Natsuki?”

“Seriously, you’re really…”

Natsuki was hesitant to say the words beyond that aloud, so she faltered into a mumble. Misunderstanding that, Nozomi corrected her posture in a panic.

“Ah, was there maybe another club you wanted to join?”

“Not really. Well, if I had to pick, the going-home club.”

“No, no, that’s not a club.”

“Thinking that the choice of entering a club is obvious isn’t right to begin with. The going-home club is a respectable option.”

“I get that the going-home club is one respectable choice. But isn’t the band the same as that?”

“Yeah, yeah. I get it, I get it.”

Whatever she said, it would end up getting connected to being invited. Nozomi smiled pleasantly at Natsuki, who hadn’t even tried to hide the exasperation in her reply.

“I think you’d be suited for percussion or something, Natsuki.”

“Which one’s percussion.”

“It means the percussion instruments. Like drums and timpanis and stuff.”

“If you’re saying that, then I won’t do that one.”

“So that means you’d be a bit more motivated to do any of the instruments besides that!” 

Nozomi gave a vigorous thumbs-up. It seemed that somehow she’d been skillfully talked into it. She should say, as expected of an experienced club president, since Nozomi had a nice personality. It definitely didn’t mean that her personality was good at all.

“Let’s go to the club activity workshops together.” Natsuki shrugged her shoulders in resigned relief as Nozomi said this happily. Even though she could have refused, the fact that she didn’t was because Natsuki herself was starting to feel comfortable with being pushed around.

And so, in the end, Natsuki decided to join the concert band. Nozomi inviting her was one reason, but the largest deciding factor was that Kitauji’s concert band was weak.

There was some practice, but you didn’t need to do it desperately. There were many senpais who slacked off, and there was no intention of seriously challenging themselves in competitions or performances. In Natsuki’s eyes, that half-heartedness was reflected as something that seemed pleasant. If there had been a strict practice schedule like at a powerhouse school, Natsuki definitely wouldn’t have joined. She had an interest in club activities, but even so, she didn’t have the smallest idea to dedicate the majority of her time in high school to it.

She found out for the first time when she joined, but the concert band had all different kinds of instruments prepared. Those that Natsuki knew the names of were the trumpet, trombone, horn, sax, flute, and the clarinet. She even knew percussion because she had heard about it from Nozomi. However, there were even more instruments in the world.

For example, the euphonium. The brass instrument that had been allocated to Natsuki. It was a relatively new instrument when seen historically, and it was on the relatively less known side. At Kitauji, it was a part of the bass section with the giant brass instrument, the tuba, and the giant-violin-looking contrabass.

“Newbie-chan, do this and you should be fine for now.”

The senpai one year above her who passed over the sheet music while saying this to her—Asuka Tanaka, was recognized by club members of every year. Good at her instrument, intelligent, and beyond that, she was a profuse talker. As long as that senpai was there, no problems had ever occurred in the bass section. Her friends in the same year had kind personalities, and there were hardly ever any disputes.

Very mild days continued. At least, in the bass section.

[watchingyouflytl]

Chapter 1: Nozomi Kasaki is Unlucky (Part 1)

“We appreciate your cooperation in making the graduation album.”

15 questions were printed on a handout passed out by her classmate during homeroom. They used the word “cooperation,” but her participation was being forced. Even now that she was in her third semester of her third year of high school, there had never once been a time when she had looked back on her middle school graduation album. Surely she would never look back on her high school graduation album either. Because, at the bottom of her heart, she didn’t care at all.

Natsuki lightly shook her head and looked out the window. Her hair, done up in a ponytail, had certainly grown compared to middle school. When the sunlight hit it, the damaged hair looked tinged all over with brown. Her face, indistinctly reflected in the glass, looked pretty good in profile. It was the special privilege of her seat being by the window, being able to look out of it whenever she wanted.

Resting her chin in her hands, Natsuki held down the handout with her right elbow. Stupid questions were lined up in a row.

Q5  What is a memory you can’t forget from your time in high school?

Q6  Who is your favorite teacher?

Q7  Which person do you think will definitely make it big in the future?

It was depressing to think whether she could answer all of these questions. However, turning it in blank would also feel awkward. Natsuki read on to the next questions, only moving her eyes.

Q12  What is your impression of your friends?

The moment she saw that topic, her gaze was naturally drawn to the back of the friend sitting in the seat diagonally in front of her. Straight black hair that reached her shoulders, to the white nape of her neck peeking through. Her navy-colored sailor uniform concealed her slightly-bent-forward back.

Mizore Yoroizuka is—as she thought just that far, Natsuki took out a mechanical pencil from her pen case. She and Mizore had been at the same middle school, but had only become friendly once they had entered high school. Unlike Mizore, who had been a part of the concert band since middle school, Natsuki was part of the group who had started in high school. It felt somewhat mysterious that Natsuki, who had been in the going-home club in middle school and hadn’t had a point of contact with Mizore, could now get along with her like this.

Inside Mizore’s school bag, hung on her desk’s hook, was her woodwind instrument, the oboe, within its black instrument case. It wasn’t one of the school’s instruments, but her own. Its price should have been close to one million yen. Among the instruments used by the concert band, the oboe fell into the rather pricey category. It was an instrument utilized by both concert bands and orchestras, but was also registered in the Guiness Book as “the most difficult woodwind instrument in the world”.

What would Mizore write down? She imagined her thin eyelids slowly rising and falling. Though she usually didn’t outwardly show her emotions, her lips abruptly opening into a smile. The white hand gripping her mechanical pencil moving to write down a single person’s name.—Nozomi Kasaki. The tidy words meant a friend in another class who wasn’t there at that moment.

Of course, this scene only existed in Natsuki’s head. She could only see Mizore’s back from this seat, and there was no way she could tell the contents of what she had written on her handout. Still, Natsuki was convinced that Mizore would write Nozomi’s name. That was because, to Mizore, Nozomi was a special person.

How would she herself capture Nozomi? She moved the mechanical pencil in her right hand as she thought of it.

Nozomi Kasaki is unlucky.

Looking at the sentence she had written, she laughed wryly, thinking she could never show this to the person she had written it about. Sliding her gaze further down, the next topic caught her eye.

Q13  What impression do you have of yourself?

I…

Upon writing this, her mechanical pencil stopped moving. What on earth was Natsuki Nakagawa? She couldn’t properly grasp the self that other people saw, nor the self that she saw.

Placing the mechanical pencil atop her desk, Natsuki exhaled deeply. Up until a little while ago, she had had a title. Vice president of the concert band. Bass part, in charge of the euphonium. But now that she had lost that, her very image of herself had become uncertain. By nature, she was no kind of leader. The self that had been relied on by someone was what her true self had been desperately trying to reach towards.

Natsuki Nakagawa is—. Was there someone out there, at this very moment, thinking that? Imagining it gave her a chilly feeling, so Natsuki violently pushed the handout into her desk.

Kitauji High School, where Natsuki attended school, was, as written in its full name, a public high school in Uji City, Kyoto Prefecture. In a time when blazers were becoming mainstream, it still had gakuran collared shirts and sailor uniforms as its uniform. Since it was said that more than a few students took the entrance exam for this uniform, this may have been its strategy.

Closing the buttons of her gray peacoat, Natsuki wrapped her predominantly purple and black check-patterned scarf over it. Since it was the third semester, her school bag was quite light. Classes were like a bonus alongside entrance exams, and were almost entirely close to self-studying. Before, she had brought a water bottle and towel for club activities, but they weren’t necessary anymore.

“Mizore, what are you doing today? Want to go home together? Or are you going to stay at school?”

In response to Natsuki’s inquiry, Mizore, who had been getting ready, turned around. Her black hair, without a wave in it, stretched along the length of her cheeks.

“I’m staying today. To practice.”

“I see.”

“Are you staying too, Natsuki?”

“No, no, what would I stay for?”

Even though she was different from Mizore. Mizore tilted her head with a puzzled expression at Natsuki, who had shrugged unconsciously, 

“Because you looked like you wanted to stay.”

“At school? No way. I wanna go home soon.”

“Really?”

“Really, really.”

Mizore’s long eyelashes rose and fell, and she lightly pursed her lips. Her slim hands were visible from the cuffs of her uniform. Her fingers were long. They could even play piano. They could even play the oboe. These hands were beloved by the god of music.

Placing her school bag on her shoulder, Mizore looked out the window. The hazy gray altostratus clouds covered the entire sky like a filter. Mizore pointed to the rays of light leaking from between the gaps between clouds with an expressionless face, saying,

“It’s glowing, over there.”

“Yeah?”

“Like a spotlight.”

“Ah—maybe.”

“I could almost catch it and eat it.”

“Eat what?”

“The light.”

Saying this, Mizore faintly relaxed her cheeks. Had that been her idea of a joke, or else, had it been genuine words? Keeping her hands on the back of her chair, Natsuki shifted her weight from her right foot to her left foot for no reason.

Mizore often made crazy statements, but it never felt as though she did so with the intent to trouble or startle the other person. Surely everything was connected in her head. Though there were many things that Natsuki couldn’t properly grasp the meaning of.

“Ah, there you are! Good work today, you too!”

Two female students had turned up at the door at the front of the classroom. One was Yuuko Yoshikawa. She had been in the trumpet part, and had been the president of the concert band. She had a rowdy, yappy personality and was, at any rate, strong-willed. Though she had some meddlesome parts, that had been one of the reasons she had been evaluated as an ideal club president.

Next to her was Nozomi Kasaki. She had been in the flute part and had quit the concert band once in her first year of high school, and had come back again in the summer of her second year. A cheerful personality, and highly cooperative. She was well-known, with many friends.

The four of them, Natsuki, Yuuko, Nozomi, and Mizore, were from the same Minami Middle School. Three of them aside from Natsuki had been a part of the concert band since middle school.

“Mizore’s going to stay behind today.”

As Natuski pointed towards Mizore, Yuuko responded, “I see,” disappointedly. Nozomi slightly narrowed her eyes.

“Lessons?”

“Yes.”

Mizore nodded. Possibly becoming restless, her hand had touched her bangs several times. When she spoke with Nozomi, Mizore appeared to sparkle more than usual. That may have been because of her wide-open eyes, or because of her excitement making her complexion better.

“That’s right, exams are just around the corner,” muttered Nozomi, as though she were thoroughly reflecting on it. Unlike Natsuki and the others who had already been accepted to the same university, Mizore would be taking the entrance exam for a college of music.

“Mizore, good luck!”

Mizore nodded gently at Yuuko’s thrust-out thumb.

Natsuki didn’t really know what kind of studying was necessary to take the entrance exam for a college of music. The option to choose a college of music had never been one for her from the start. Even if they were in the same concert band, there were those who picked colleges of music and those who didn’t. Natsuki watched and compared Mizore and Nozomi as they faced each other, wondering where that boundary was.

“What?”

Nozomi had noticed her gaze and turned toward her. Her ponytail, tied at a high position on the back of her head, was something of her characteristic feature. She had had the same hairstyle since middle school.

“No, I was just kinda looking.”

“What’s up with that.”

With a fed-up face, Nozomi burst into cheerful laughter. From the gap between her short bangs, she could see the ends of her eyebrows faintly falling.

“Come on, don’t just stand here talking, let’s get going soon.”

Natsuki responded obediently to Yuuko’s command. It was something like a deeply ingrained habit from their concert band days. Yuuko was the president, and Natsuki was the vice president who assisted her. Those around them thought of them as a set, and Natsuki herself didn’t hate being treated that way.

After that, once they waited for Mizore to bundle her coat in her arms, the four of them left the classroom behind. Heading down the hallway, they split up into three and one as they reached the stairs. Natsuki and the others waved and saw Mizore off as she walked in the direction of the music room.

Mizore’s navy-colored sailor uniform was sucked into the deep-green depths of the hallway. Natsuki waited until she was completely out of her line of sight, then pulled on the cuffs of her own coat.

“Phew, just looking at Mizore makes me feel nervous.”

In response to Yuuko’s words mixed with a sigh, Nozomi asked, “Why?”

“Because it’s almost exam time. I want her to get accepted.” 

“Are you Mizore’s parent or something?”

Yuuko pouted, “I’m not, though?” at Natsuki’s unintentional interjection.

As they came down the stairs, Natsuki slid her finger along the rail. Nozomi’s ponytail, on the top of her head in front of her, was swinging like a metronome.

“Well, I definitely can’t say this in the classroom, but we don’t have any entrance exam nerves.”

Yuuko also nodded and replied “Yeah” to Nozomi’s spilled words. In a classroom colored by the entrance exam mood, those in the position of Natsuki and the others were out of place.

Natsuki remembered how she secretly listened to music during self-study time to fight off the boredom, the recollection of her behavior causing her to scratch the back of her head.

“It can’t be helped, the others are fully in entrance exam season.”

“How are you spending your time, Natsuki?”

“Just lazing around as usual. And you, Nozomi?”

“I’m doing a lot.”

“A lot, huh.”

Being evasive with her words there must have some hidden meaning. Beside them, Yuuko snorted, “You two are being cowardly.”

“So if you’re saying that, Yuuko-san, are you possibly doing something?”

Yuuko quickly got on the bandwagon with Natsuki’s intentionally rude wording phrased as politely as possible.

“Ohoho, a little tea and ikebana.”

“Liar.”

“Why, there’s a chance I could be doing that!”

“The way you’re saying it, you’re definitely not doing that.”

“Well, it’s true that I’m not.”

“So you’re admitting it.”

“Unlike you, Natsuki, my heart is straightforward. I properly admit what I need to.”

“You’re an idiot.”

Nozomi stopped the seemingly unending exchange of words as a mediator with a “Now, now”. Conversations with Yuuko becoming an empty verbal catch-ball was something that always happened. Joking conversations didn’t need her to unnecessarily worry about anyone, so they were easy.

Nozomi laughed as though she were fed-up. Because she had been following her back without thinking anything, Natsuki didn’t notice the stairs had stopped. The feeling of floating that stuck to the bottom of her shoe gave her a chill. But that was only momentary, and her feet properly touched the ground. Putting on a face that made it seem as though nothing had happened, Natsuki kept an eye on the other two. She worried that they had seen her do something embarrassing, but it didn’t seem as though either had noticed.

Changing their shoes at the entrance, they left the school gates behind. On the way, Yuuko said, “Wait,” and crouched down on the side of the road to re-tie her shoelaces.

“You should’ve gone with loafers,” said Nozomi. Unlike Natsuki and Yuuko, who changed between sneakers and loafers depending on their mood, Mizore and Nozomi were always loafer-wearers.

“But I like these sneakers. I have to wear them a lot by graduation.”

Yuuko stood up and stretched her legs as if to show off. Her pink sneakers had thick soles, a design that wasn’t fit for gym class.

“Speaking of, what are we going to do for the concert band graduation trip? Last year’s senpais apparently went on a ski trip.”

To the left of Natsuki, who had broached the topic, was Nozomi, and to her right was Yuuko, lined up and walking beside her. When the four of them were together they often walked in rows of two and two, but they always walked in one line when it was just three. However, when the three included Mizore, they always ended up split between two people and Mizore. It wasn’t because she was being cut out. Mizore was just the kind of girl who tended to want to be alone.

“It’ll cost a lot if we went too far away, so how about Mie or somewhere? Iseshima.”

In response to Yuuko’s suggestion, Nozomi cried out, “Ahh, so nostalgic! We went there for my elementary school class trip.”

“We went to the aquarium, the hot springs, the theme park.”

“That’s great. Once all the entrance exam dates are over would be best, right? The end of March or sometime.”

“I want to see a dugong.”

As she said this, Natsuki realized that she had hardly any memories of her own time in elementary school. She could remember that they had gone on a school trip. She could also remember going to the aquarium, and that she had bought a mascot character piggy bank. However, she had no memories of who she had been there together with at the time. Because she hadn’t cared about most of the people in her classroom, their faces and names were both blurry. And she had never once been inconvenienced by it.

She wondered if she would forget even more things once she became an adult, since it was like that during her time in high school now. Wouldn’t that be the best? she secretly thought. She wanted to forget all the bothersome things right away, and only remember what had been fun. The things and people she liked, those were the things she wanted to spare her brain’s resources for.

“Well, we can do all sorts of things once Mizore’s accepted.”

“It’s not decided that she’ll get accepted, though. There’s people who take another year.”

“You don’t have to worry so much, Nozomi, what will be will be.”

Nozomi, in response to Natsuki’s words, vaguely trailed off with, “It’s not like I’m worried…” At the end of her averted gaze were tired-looking weeds that someone had trampled on.

“Can’t Mizore’s entrance exams hurry and end soon? Then we can all go hang out a lot.”

“Where do you want to go, Yuuko?”

“To karaoke.”

“We’re always going there.”

“Yeah, with you, though? Not that, the four of us.”

“Mizore doesn’t really sing. She’s always hitting the tambourine, that girl.”

Natsuki’s mouth naturally loosened remembering the post-Nationals party for only the third-years. Mizore wasn’t the type to show her feelings outwardly, but that didn’t mean she didn’t express the feeling of having fun either.

“Ah, I have somewhere I want to stop by today.”

Natsuki pointed to the other side of the crosswalk as they approached the intersection. Yuuko slightly tilted her head.

“Where are you stopping by?”

“I’m going to buy a CD.”

“Ahh, was today the release day for your favorite band’s album?”

“Yep, yep.”

“What’s it called? I’m pretty sure it was Angkor Wat or something…”

“It’s Antwerp Blue.”

Natsuki immediately corrected Yuuko’s mistake. Antwerp Blue was a four-person rock band that had recently had a major debut. They had been a two-person male-female twin guitar unit during their indie days, but had added a bass and drums on the occasion of their major debut. Recently, their achievements had been remarkable, such as being responsible for the theme song in a movie.

“You should just buy it and download it online.”

Natsuki shook her head at Nozomi, who didn’t get it at all. “I want to properly buy it at a store. Reserve it, then pick it up the day it’s on sale. It’s an event connected all the way up to the excitement of peeling off the film.”

Yuuko made some agreeable responses to Natsuki’s impassioned speech with an annoyed-looking face. It was a face that seemed to say she didn’t understand, no matter how many times she heard it.

“See you tomorrow, then.”

“Bye-bye.”

The two of them waved and parted from her, and Natsuki walked off towards the shopping mall. Her strides were much bigger when she walked alone compared to when she walked with someone else. She loved walking without having to pay attention to anyone. She loved being alone. But it was a little sad to always be alone.

She walked with her legs wide apart on the inner side of the guard rail. Following the passing cars with her eyes, Natsuki took her earphones out of her pocket and fit them in her ears. Pressing the play button, the guitar melody beginning to sound. The powerful male vocalist’s singing voice almost like a roar. She thought it was a song that was a condensation of “cool”. It was a song from Antwerp Blue’s indie days.

For a long time, Natsuki had loved intense music like punk and rock. Well-mannered classical music was boring, and she felt it wouldn’t be compatible with her. However, her view on that kind of thing had changed since she joined the concert band. She herself didn’t really know if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

At the start, Kitauji’s concert band had been weak. Though there were a lot of members, competitions had felt more like a commemorative participation, and there hadn’t been much of a custom of practicing. That had been changed entirely in Natsuki’s second year. A music teacher had come from another school and become their new advisor, and in his first year, he’d produced the magnificent result of taking them to Nationals. Kitauji had accomplished an overnight entry into the ranks of the powerhouse schools, and had left the result of gold at the Kansai Competition in its second year.

She herself also thought that it had been a unique club experience. It was a rather rare case to go through the same school’s weak era and powerhouse era. Kitauji when it had been weak, and Kitauji after it became a powerhouse school. And in those tossed in that interval, the club members who had quit.

When she remembered that time, Natsuki felt unsettled deep within her chest. They were bad memories. She didn’t want to think about them as much as possible. She wanted to pretend nothing had happened, just to gaze upon the outward appearance of her fulfilling student life. However, she also knew that was impossible.

The swaying sensation of her own ponytail, which she felt every time she took a step. That would, no matter what, remind her of Nozomi’s figure. Natsuki stopped where she stood, noticing that the music coming from her earphones had paused.

The January wind pierced Natsuki’s cheeks. Natsuki lightly closed her eyes as she kept her cold hands jammed into her coat pockets. The entire structure of the world seemed to feel somewhat suspended. Only the outline that shaped her was distinct, while everything else became blurry, like it was someone else’s problem. It had been like this for a long time. An alienated feeling, like she alone had been forced out of the world.

When she had had club activities, she hadn’t had to think about this. She didn’t know a meaningful way to use the time she had suddenly been given, and now had too much time on her hands. She didn’t know how to fill the large hole that had opened up in her heart.

Even though there should have been so many things she should be doing for her future, she disliked doing what was good for her.

I don’t want to become a respectable adult.

That statement was in one of Antwerp Blue’s lyrics. When she had been in middle school, Natsuki had strongly related to it. She didn’t want to become anything that had the word respectable stuck to the beginning of it, nor did she want to become an adult.

Lifting her eyelids, Natsuki exhaled deeply. The breath that spilled from her lips was white, and she sensed the fact that it was winter.

Very soon, her life in high school would end.

Peeling off the film that covered the case, she took out the donut-shaped CD. She put it in the player and pressed the play button. The lyrics card inside the case was a booklet with a design that reflected the concept of this album. The words Antwerp Blue, written in big letters. Giving it a glance, Natsuki sprawled onto her bed.

Soon after Natsuki had finished her shopping and came home, she had withdrawn to her bedroom. The room that had been assigned to her was a six-tatami-mat bedroom bright with the setting sun on the second floor of her two-story house. Her light-blocking curtains were gray, and her bed and carpet were black and white. In this room unified by monotone, only specific parts conspicuously stood out with their color. For example, the headphones on the side of her component stereo were purple, and the guitar hung on its stand was brown.

The light male vocalist’s singing voice filled the room. Curling up on the bed, Natsuki closed her eyes. Though she had once loved this singing voice in the past, she found herself becoming less and less drawn to it. The music video that had been uploaded to a video website had a bright finish, and was clearly different in its atmosphere than it had been in the past.

Pressing her cheek into the pillow, Natsuki sank into an ocean of memories. Her feeling that Antwerp Blue had changed wasn’t one that had come recently.

Last December, she had been shocked when she had seen the vocalist giving a forced smile on a variety show. He had appeared to promote the movie with the theme song that he’d been in charge of, and was challenging himself to a quiz on a team with an actor. The vocalist’s airheaded personality had apparently made him popular, and recently he was standing out with solo appearances on TV. The band’s work had clearly increased. The fans also increased. But still, somewhere was a part of her that couldn’t accept that.

What an ego of hers, to say that she liked them better during their indie days. She understood that. Because it was undeniable that the band members were now eating much better now.

The sound of the sticks hitting the cymbals, the resounding melody of the guitar, the vocalist’s bright singing voice. Last year, the song that had been chosen as the movie’s theme song had been a big change in style from everything up until now.

It was indeed pop, and she’d felt it was a song that would sell the moment she listened to it. Currently, it was Antwerp Blue’s best hit song. Natsuki herself didn’t hate it. But she still couldn’t come to love it.

“...Hah.”

How stupid of her, she thought, rumpling her own hair on top of her bed. It wasn’t even as though she’d been asked to love it.

Natsuki energetically got off her bed and stood up, pressing the CD player’s stop button. Silence came to the room as the vocals were cut off. Pulling off the elastic that tied her hair up, Natsuki violently shook her head.

Right next to the CD case displayed on her shelf, there was a photo frame given to her by her kouhais. On the wooden frame were drawings of Natsuki’s favorite bear mascot character. She had been told by her kouhais to “please display your favorite photo,” but in the end, she hadn’t put in any photos. There were a lot of memories that she wanted to cherish. However, she didn’t know which she should pick.

Taking the empty photo frame in her hand, Natsuki gave a short groan. Instead of thinking of this or that, it would be quicker to just prepare a photo to display from now.

“So, for that reason, karaoke? There’s got to be something better!” shouted Yuuko from the top of the sofa, gripping her mic. Karaoke places on Saturdays had a higher price setting when compared to weekdays. Even so, using “free time” meant that for around 1,000 yen they could kill time from 10:00 to 7:00, so it was a place that poor students were grateful for.

“It’s your turn next, Yuuko.”

“Hmm, what should I put on next.”

“Want to take a break?”

“Sure. I’ll get some juice. What do you want, Natsuki?”

“Lemon squash.”

“Gotcha.”

In the middle of Yuuko opening the door, the rowdy singing voices from the room next door suddenly poured into the room. When the door was closed, the narrow rectangular room once again became an isolated space. Though it should have been connected to the rest of the world, only the music flowing from the speakers sounded overly pronounced. 

Tilting her empty glass of juice, Natsuki crunched the ice with her back teeth. Going to karaoke with just Yuuko had already become a regular event. When they had been in the club, their few days off had meant they only went once a month, but now they could go as much as they wanted. Their free time had increased, but their financial circumstances had become somewhat more severe.

“Here, your drink, Natsuki.”

“Thanks.”

Yuuko placed the glass she had brought from the drink bar on top of the table as she returned. Natsuki usually drank cola or lemon squash, but Yuuko often chose apple tea or Earl Grey or something with black tea.

Taking off her short black boots, Natsuki sat cross-legged on the sofa. Her legs, extending from her short denim pants, were wrapped in red colored tights. Yuuko, sitting next to her, had on gray knee-high socks.

Natsuki’s preferences in clothing were largely influenced by her favorite bands. She wanted to be cool rather than cute, and liked vivid colors over pastel colors. She loved damaged jeans and leather shirts, and she also wanted to dye her hair someday.

On the contrary, Yuuko preferred neat-and-tidy kinds of fashion. That was because the senpai she had admired back in their concert band days had dressed like that. She liked clothing with ribbons and frills, and tastefully picked up fashionable accessories.

Yuuko, when looking at Natsuki’s appearance, often laughed over her “flashy clothes,” but to her, her girly clothes were very flashy. She herself could never wear them.

“If only Nozomi had been able to come too.”

“She did say she was going out with friends.” Natsuki murmured with sincerity. Nozomi, who hated boredom, usually wanted to immediately make plans. She apparently felt as though days off without plans were a waste.

“We couldn’t invite Mizore either,” Yuuko said with a sigh.

“Next week’s her entrance exam, after all.”

“Ahh, I’m getting restless!”

“What’s the point of you getting restless?”

“Not that it matters, but I can’t say that I’m getting restless to Mizore herself.”

“Well yeah, that’s right.”

“My stomach huuuurts.”

“She herself seems to be fine, though. The only ones who mind are those around her.”

Mizore Yoroizuka was that kind of person, thought Natsuki. Yuuko wanted to meddle and take care of everything, but Mizore was tougher than Yuuko thought.

Placing her cup of black tea on the desk, Yuuko turned her whole body to face her. Her elegant way of sitting with her knees together showed how good of an upbringing she had.

“Natsuki, you say those kinds of things when Mizore’s not around, right?”

“Those kinds of things?”

“I don’t know how to say it, but words that are a bit harsh to Mizore.”

“I’m harsh to everyone.”

“Well, I guess so.”

Yuuko moved her lips incomprehensibly as though she wanted to say something. Her eyelashes, which firmly faced upward, further asserted the fact that she was dissatisfied.

“Guess it can’t be helped, you’re on Nozomi’s side, Natsuki.”

“Then, you’re on Mizore’s side, Yuuko.”

“Of course.”

“So you’re admitting that yourself, are you.”

Natsuki forced a smile with her back slumped. The tip of her ponytail tickled the nape of her neck.

Nozomi Kasaki and Mizore Yoroizuka. Natsuki didn’t know how to express their relationship in words. Of course, she loved both Nozomi and Mizore. They were precious friends, and they were fellows who had experienced the same summer in the concert band.

However, on the other hand, Natsuki had some awareness that Mizore was hard for her to deal with. Completely unrelated from likes and dislikes, it was a bitter feeling that simply existed in isolation.

“Anyway, I just want Mizore to be rewarded.”

Rolling the mic in her hand, Yuuko slightly lifted the ends of her feet.

“That girl’s always been giving it her all. I want those types of kids to be rewarded for it.”

“Even Nozomi’s been giving it her all, though.”

“It’s a different kind of giving it your all when it comes to Nozomi and Mizore.”

“I kind of get what you mean by that.”

“Right?” sniffed Yuuko. Changing her crossed-leg posture, Natsuki sat with one knee up. Reaching out, she grasped the wet surface of the glass’s rim. The water droplets that had fallen on the table left traces behind. Natsuki stared at the drops of water that shone like jewels. Reflected memories of the past played quietly within their transparent membranes.

*

[watchingyouflytl]

Prologue

“Concert Band Retirement Ceremony”.

The music room’s blackboard was hung with a decorated imitation paper sheet. Yellow, light blue, pink. Natsuki Nakagawa smiled wryly at the overwhelmingly handmade feel of the balloons and paper flower arrangements. Though the creak of the floorboards she felt beneath her indoor shoes hadn’t changed at all, in this moment, the music room was becoming a place that held some kind of special meaning.

As she readjusted the bouquet of flowers that she had just received in her arms, its weight settled on her palms. It was an elegant, predominantly blue and white bouquet. A white card printed with her own name, “To Natsuki-senpai,” had been stuck into a gap in the blue sage. Since the club president, in a spot slightly apart from her, had a bouquet with a configuration of yellow and pink flowers, perhaps they had been prepared in line with each of their preferences.

Directly in front of Natsuki, her teary-eyed kouhai appeared to have been overcome with emotion. It was Kumiko—a kouhai one year below her in the euphonium part, the brass instrument that Natsuki had been in charge of.

Since the very day Kumiko had joined the concert band, she had been an excellent performer and an excellent kouhai. So much so that looking at her made it feel as though you were about to suffocate.

“Thank you for all your hard work as vice president.”

“Next it’ll be your generation that’ll have to put in the hard work.”

As she smiled at her, Kumiko slowly blinked as though to hold back tears. Her wavy hair swayed at her shoulders. Those seemingly unreliable shoulders. I want to stay in the club just a little longer and look after her—as she thought this, she laughed at herself for her own train of thought. She was like a parent who couldn’t let go of her child.

Even though she had felt the title of vice president to be too heavy for her, she remembered how reluctant she was when the time came to let go of it. She hadn’t ever thought that loneliness would be added to the timidity and embarrassment that rose up inside her chest  every time she was called by it.

“We’ll definitely go to Nationals next year.”

Hearing Kumiko forcefully saying this, Natsuki was momentarily seized by the strong impulse to avert her eyes. It was like when she’d accidentally looked directly into the sun, its concentrated brightness trying to burn off her retinas.

Gold Prize at Nationals. That goal was the Concert Band’s dearest wish. The frame that had been hung on the wall contained the group photo from the Kansai Competition. The photo was the end, with no continuation.

This year, Natsuki’s club couldn’t compete in Nationals.

“I’ll be rooting for you.”

Natsuki consciously raised the corners of her mouth and showed her teeth in a smile. At that moment, Kumiko once again burst into tears. Natsuki burst into laughter at her kouhai hunching her shoulders and rubbing her eyes.

“Why are you crying now.”

“I’m sorry. The fact that you’re really retiring, it just hit me.”

“You say that, but you’re really relieved the older generation’s gonna be gone, right?”

“There’s no way that’s true.”

“Haha, just kidding.”

She was just a little pleased that her own words had been rejected right on the spot. She had never doubted her kouhai’s trust, but she was nonetheless still scared of losing the place where she belonged.

As soon as she exhaled, the bouquet in her arms felt as though it had become even heavier. Although she’d quickly wanted to be let out when she’d been busy with the club, when the time came, a huge gaping hole was being opened in the center of her heart.

“Truly, thank you for everything you’ve done up until now.”

The line, told as if it had been carefully reflected upon, sunk into her brain bit by bit. Thank you for everything you’ve done. The past tense at the end of the sentence was drawing a clear boundary between her and her kouhai in front of her.

Kitauji High School 3rd Year, Natsuki Nakagawa. Today, I retired from the Concert Band.

[watchingyouflytl]

Watching As You Fly Away Table of Contents

Prologue

Chapter 1: Nozomi Kasaki is Unlucky

Chapter 2: Mizore Yoroizuka is Narrow-Minded

Chapter 3: Yuuko Yoshikawa is Cynical

Epilogue

Short Story: Illumination of Memories

Commentary: Reiko Yoshida

(to be updated with FULL pages of translations!)

[watchingyouflytl]

Hello, everyone!

Thanks for coming to the blog. I started this on a whim after a discussion in the K-On! Discord server (where I'm still a mod, if you can believe it). I've had this book sitting in front of me for like a year and a half and it's taken me this long to really pick it up and get into it.

About me: My name is Ali, currently living in an obscure little corner in Japan working in translating and editing. I don't have any concert band or music-playing experience myself, but I consider myself a music appreciator and have been in the Hibike fandom since it first started airing. If you want to know a little bit more/don't mind me oversharing about my Hibike journey, visit the link to my intro essay! As I do with many things Hibike-related, I got really emotional writing it :')

(I'm also a Swiftie who will probably listen to lots of romantic bittersweet songs during the translating process, so I'll periodically link some to the blog's webpage as a little more oversharing)

In terms of actual real-life translations, I used to do some manga fan translations way back in my college years, and even started (but never finished) an experimental translation of the novelization of one of my favorite animated movies, which took way too long but is a lot of fun to look back on. I also did very amateur translations of Hibike S1 PVs when they'd be uploaded to the KyoAni Youtube Channel on my old analysis blog...which I was just reminded of today...oh boy.

Currently this project is just me with my book plugging away at a secret Google Doc. A lot of why I'm doing this is to prove to myself that I can, to polish up my translating skills a bit, so please keep in mind it won't be the fastest translation, but I have confidence in my creative writing and editing skills! Please feel free to send feedback my way~

So here I go, in the spirit of challenging myself to something new--watch me as I take off!

-ali