After school the next day.
This time, including the classmates we’d summoned, we had a total of eight people. Nanase put on a flawless performance and received extremely high praise. And like yesterday, I held her hand before she played.
The days passed one by one, and her audience grew in number. Throughout the process, there were times when her face would contort with pain. However, each success built up her confidence, and eventually she could play in front of twelve people.
This process was taxing on Nanase’s mind, but she didn’t complain once. She only ever thanked us for helping her practice. All of our classmates were convinced that she had overcome her condition.
The only people who knew that Nanase was holding my hand before each session were me, Hikari, and Nanase. We kept it between the three of us to avoid any misunderstandings.
Although our plan for Nanase to overcome her trauma was working and she seemed to be making good progress, her expression became more somber with each passing day. I couldn’t say I didn’t know why.
Then, our practices during music class for the choir competition began. We would use class time to rehearse for the festival right up until the day of. Our motivation levels were all over the place. The girls were relatively serious about it, but a lot of the boys seemed to lack interest and spent most of the time chatting. There were a few enthusiastic guys, though.
“Hello, boys. We’re going to start practice now, okay?” Fujiwara—who stood in front of the room as our conductor—admonished them angrily.
However, their leisurely attitudes didn’t change, and some of them even mocked her.
“We’re singing ‘On the Day of Departure.’ We’ll split into our respective parts and practice...but first, let’s listen to the song.”
We had picked our song during a class meeting led by Fujiwara and me. It was a popular tune usually played at graduations, so I expected everyone knew it; however, it was still important to listen to it again to refresh our memories. Our music teacher played the song on a radio cassette player and explained the part splits as deemed necessary. After that, the class divided up into three parts—soprano, alto, and tenor—and began to practice.
Because the others cajoled me with compliments like “You’re good at singing” and “It’s gotta be Natsuki,” I wound up forced into the role of leading the tenor section. Well, I guess I don’t mind. Going all out for events like this gives you a strong dose of vitamin youth (according to my research), so I want us to put together a good choir.
We practiced while the indifferent boys noisily jabbered away.
“Practice a little longer in groups, and then let’s try putting all the parts together once. We’ll call it a day after that,” our teacher said.
I glanced at the clock, amazed at the way time had flown by. We only had ten minutes of class left.
“Now’s our chance... Yuino-chan, Natsuki-kun, let’s step outside for a second,” Hikari furtively called out to us.
She intended to have us perform our usual ritual (can I call it that?) before Nanase played the accompaniment. However, Nanase shook her head.
“Huh?” Hikari looked at her in confusion.
“I want to try playing without relying on Haibara-kun today.” Nanase’s face was steeled with grim determination.
“But playing in front of this many people all of a sudden? It’s a huge difference compared to what we’ve been doing,” Hikari said hesitantly.
Nanase remained firm, though. “Please, Hikari.”
“Okay, if that’s what you want.”
“Hellooo? You three over there, we’re starting,” Fujiwara called out to us.
“Yes, coming.” From the beginning to the end of our little exchange, Nanase hadn’t looked at me once. Was that on purpose?
She took her place in front of the piano. No one was worried about her. Of course they weren’t. She had just put on an immaculate performance for an audience of twenty of our classmates the other day, and she hadn’t failed to play during any of our recent practice sessions. Word was spreading that she was fine now, so the atmosphere was lax.
“Okay, okay! Quiet. Yuino, are you ready?” Even Fujiwara had shed her concerns and now had full faith in Nanase.
There was the slightest pause, and then Nanase replied, “Yes. I can start at any time.”
I was sure that Hikari and I were the only ones feeling uneasy. Fujiwara, without an ounce of fear, raised her hand to conduct. The intro of the song rang out—Nanase had begun to play. Her fingers were certainly moving on top of the keys, which was why—
“Nanase?!”
—the only people who noticed something was clearly wrong were Hikari and me. I pushed past our classmates and ran towards her. The music suddenly stopped. She wobbled and then collapsed like a puppet whose strings had snapped, and I caught her in my arms. Hikari was by her side only a few seconds after me.
Nanase was panting, her breathing irregular. Her complexion was pallid, and she looked like she was in pain. Her hand shakily groped in the air.
“Natsuki-kun!” Hikari cried.
I grabbed Nanase’s hand and squeezed tightly. I didn’t know if I had done it because of Hikari or out of instinct.
“Haibara...kun?”
“It’s okay, Nanase. Calm down.”
The rest of our classmates and the music teacher were dumbfounded. Nanase leaned her head against my chest, and slowly her breathing returned to normal.
Our teacher—who knew nothing about Nanase’s condition—finally snapped back to life. “L-Let’s get her to the infirmary first!”
“Yeah,” I responded. She looks like she’s settled down, but she should lie down and rest just to be safe.
Nanase stopped me and stood up. “I’m sorry. Sensei, I’m okay now.”
“R-Really? Um.” Our teacher hesitated. “Are you feeling ill?”
“I just...felt a bit anemic. I can play.”
While Hikari and I were busy hemming and hawing, Nanase pushed the conversation along.
“Then... I suppose I don’t need to be too worried. I’ll allow you to continue.” The music teacher gave Nanase a once-over and then decided she was fit to keep going. Our classmates couldn’t contain themselves and broke out into an unsettled buzz.
“Are you really okay?” I asked.
“I’ll be fine. After all, you’ve held my hand already.” There was a smile on her face, but she looked like she was about to cry.
Unable to get another word in, Hikari and I returned to our respective rows. We had a hunch she really was okay.
“Y-Yuino? Are you sure you can continue?” Fujiwara asked her nervously.
Instead of answering, Nanase began to play. The intro to the song that had been interrupted began to fill the air once more. Every single person in the room had their gazes glued on her.
She took her fingers off the keys. “Yes. There’s nothing to worry about. I’m fine now.” She had played a few bars to prove it, and as she was playing, the tense mood had gradually dissipated.
“Th-Then...we’ll start, okay?” Relieved, Fujiwara waved her hand and began to conduct.
Nanase pressed note after note until they weaved into one strand of melody. Her performance was so entrancing that the sopranos and altos entered their part a little late. However, Nanase trusted Fujiwara’s lead and continued without hesitation.
Some students only had a vague recollection of how the song should go, some were off beat, and some didn’t sing at all. This was the obvious result since it was our first practice, but we weren’t a good choir by any means. In sharp contrast, our top-tier accompanist stood out.
“Th-That was marvelous! Nanase-san, what a truly excellent performance!” praised our starstruck music teacher. “However, the choir part still needs a lot of work. Keep practicing, okay?”
“Okaaay,” we replied weakly.
“She looks fine.”
“Yeah. I was shocked when she fell over, but I’m glad it worked out.”
I heard some girls whisper among themselves. Everyone seemed relieved, but Nanase’s expression was dark.