Chapter 12

When Kento went to voice training classes the following week, he was complimented for the first time by his trainer, Hamanishi. This was a first triumph for Kento, whose singing had never been as good as his dancing.
“The tension in your voice box is gone, and instead there’s more power in your abdomen. You’re headed in the right direction.” Hamanishi looked satisfied as he closed the lid of the piano, finishing their lesson.
“Sound-collecting mikes at concerts will help, and tracks can always be adjusted in the recording studio, but either way, putting stress on your voice box wouldn’t have made you last very long.”
Kento felt immensely proud of himself, but froze at Hamanishi’s next words.
“You know, I was actually having second thoughts about recommending you. But if you keep up your singing and continue to improve, you’ll have no problem. It’s really a pity that you’ve hurt your leg.”
“Are you talking about the audition?”
“Yeah,” Hamanishi said, unfazed. “Well, Oka and Nishimura are definitely in, and I recommended Tomoya for his sugary-sweet voice. I’d say the results were good. I would have wanted one more person, though, to balance the sound.”
He was right about Tomoya’s high, sultry voice. His dancing was average, but when it came to singing, he was a head above the rest. But Kento was astonished to know that Tomoya had already passed the audition. He hadn’t known until then. Tomoya had told him nothing.
I know he probably kept it from me out of kindness. But it feels worse. It’s like he feels sorry for me.
Kento’s spirits sank rapidly, when just moments before he had been itching to tell Orihara the good news. When he returned to the dorm and saw that Tomoya was home early for once, he found he couldn’t look the boy in the eye. He turned on his heel, went right back out of the dorm, and headed straight to Miyashita Clinic instead.
“What’s the matter? You’re awfully early,” Orihara asked in surprise. He was still sitting in the consultation room.
“Um, I just felt horrible about myself and I couldn’t stand being my room. Can I listen to some records at your place, Doctor?”
“As long as you keep the volume down.”
Kento turned the volume low enough so the sound wouldn’t reach the consulting room, then lay down on the sofa to lend his ear to the classical music.
He picked “Finlandia,” which had been used in a movie, to cheer him up. The movie was about a gallant, unconquerable hero facing terrorists all by himself.
Orihara eventually came to join him in the living room.
“Doctor, I have good news and bad news. Which one do you want to hear first?”
“Good news, of course.” Orihara laughed and sat down in the arm chair in front of Kento.
“My voice trainer complimented my singing for the first time. It’s all thanks to you teaching me abdominal breathing. That’s the good news.”
“What’s the bad news?”
Kento put the record sleeve on the table and sighed.
“Remember I told you we were doing auditions at the agency for the new group that’s going to debut? My roommate Tomoya got in. He’s going to debut.”
“That’s good news, isn’t it?” Orihara asked curiously. Kento thought about it.
“…Maybe.” Then, he gave a deep sigh again. “Yeah. You’re right. It’s good news. It’s my heart that’s bad.”
“Your heart?” Orihara leaned forward and peered into Kento’s face. “What do you mean?”
“Well, remember I said I was feeling horrible about myself? I’m just jealous of Tomoya. I’m such a kid, aren’t I? I wonder why I can’t just congratulate him when he deserves it.”
As Kento sat dejected, Orihara smiled and gently took his hand.
“You know what? Not everyone in the world is like Mother Theresa or Gandhi. Adults get jealous, too. So there’s nothing wrong with your heart.”
“Yeah, but…” Kento irritably pulled his hand away from Orihara’s, then crossed his arms behind his head and flopped back onto the sofa. “That’s not it,” he said. “Tomoya didn’t tell me. That’s what gets to me. It’s like he feels guilty about it. If he saw us as equals, he wouldn’t do that. He’s probably doing it because he feels sorry for me.”
Orihara’s eyes crinkled into a smile behind his glasses. Then, he turned aside and lapsed into thought.
“Does feeling guilty really make you unequal?” he murmured.
“Doesn’t it? If it was me, I’d tell my friends I got the audition and I’d ask for their support.”
“Well… I don’t think Tomoya kept it a secret from you because he felt sorry for you. Maybe he didn’t want you to get jealous and hate him for it.”
Orihara turned his gaze back to Kento, and he spoke with a sincere and definite tone.
“When Tomoya saw you in pain at night, he didn’t turn a blind eye. That proves he cares about you.”
Kento was in awe at how forgiving Orihara could be. But when Orihara said it like that, the more true it began to sound. His words penetrated straight to his heart.
“Alright,” Kento said as he thought. “I’ll tell Tomoya this: I’m a little jealous, but that’s because I’m a normal person, and I’m not Mother Theresa, and that it’s normal and it doesn’t mean that I hate him. Does that sound alright?”
Orihara smiled. “That sounds perfect,” he said brightly.