#justice for mizore | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

watchingyouflytl · 5 months ago

Text

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.

#thank you for your patience everyone #this is THE BIG DRAMA PART #hopefully wont have to post such a big chunk in one go again haha #translation #watching as you fly away #飛び立つ君の背を見上げる #響け！ユーフォニアム #hibike! euphonium #chapter 1 #novel #小説 #英訳 #to be continued #one last part to go and we'll be done with chapter one!#seriously if you love natsuki as much as me and wanna know her backstory this is the prime stuff

2 notes · View notes