Chapter 2

Dark blue skirts fell just above the knee. Below them, in neat rows in the school gymnasium, were pairs of pale legs. Skinny legs, thick legs. The boys fidgeted in their stiff collars as they stole furtive glances. The girls seemed not to notice as they openly displayed their youthful skin. Kumiko took in all of this absentmindedly, then looked down to regard her own form: a girl of meager physique wearing a dark blue sailor-style school uniform. She wondered why she’d believed the rumor that your chest got bigger when you started high school. She sneaked a peek at the girl next to her, whose generous curves were evident even under the uniform’s material, and sighed. Kitauji Prefectural High School was famous for its cute sailor suit uniforms—they were the only sailor-style uniforms in Uji city and well regarded even by students from other schools in the region. Academically, Kitauji was on the better end of the middle range, but its college admissions record was nothing to write home about. Kumiko had chosen Kitauji because of the uniform. If she was going to end up at a school more or less like this one anyway, then she preferred the one with the cute uniform. Yet despite the superficial criterion she’d used to make her decision, now that she was finally wearing the uniform, she strangely didn’t feel particularly cute. Kumiko had recently been preoccupied with a wish to have been born beautiful. “Continuing with our program, please stand for the singing of the school song.” At the vice-principal’s words, everyone moved. Kumiko stood, too, not wanting to seem sluggish to react. On the stage was displayed a large sheet containing the school song’s lyrics for the benefit of the new students. In middle school there hadn’t been many students who actually sang the school song, but Kumiko didn’t know whether that would carry over to high school. She looked carefully around her to avoid being the odd one out. The rest of the entering student body looked just as uncertain. Maybe they were doing the same thing she was. On the stage, the concert band readied their instruments, with serious expressions on their faces. A girl with a scary-looking expression on her face readied a conductor’s baton. The golden euphoniums glittered beneath the fluorescent lights. As Kumiko watched, her breath momentarily caught in her throat. The conductor raised her hand, and the next instant, all the instruments raised their various faces. The trumpet section seemed to aim directly at Kumiko. She was certain she heard the sound of the whole band taking a breath. The baton flicked sharply up, then came slicing down. “…Oh, this is bad,” said Kumiko in spite of herself. The sounds assaulting her ears were horribly dissonant. The rhythm was off, and the tempo was all over the place. The sounds coming from the band were utterly unrelated to the baton’s movements. She’d planned to continue in concert band in high school, but if this was the best they could do, she would pass. Forget about the Kansai Regionals—even the All-Kyoto Competition was off the table for this group. Unconcerned with Kumiko’s rumination, the band played on. She could hear the teachers singing from where they stood by the gym’s walls, but it didn’t seem like a single student was joining in. The performance finally ended, and the students took their seats. The entrance ceremony continued, but Kumiko’s mind was filled with uncertainty and anticipation regarding what might await her in high school. Which club would she join? Would she be able to make any friends? What would her homeroom teacher be like? “Moving on, we’ll now have a word from a representative for the entering students, Reina Kousaka.” At the sound of the familiar name, Kumiko looked up with a sharp breath. “Here!” The clear voice echoed across the gymnasium as a sailor-suited beauty stood. She had long, shiny black hair and large, expressive eyes. Her back was ramrod straight, and she radiated confidence. Reina Kousaka. She had attended the same middle school as Kumiko and had played in the same concert band. With her excellent grades and good reputation among their teachers, it wasn’t remotely surprising she’d been picked as the representative for the entering class. But given Reina’s brains, she definitely could’ve gotten into a better school than this one—so why had she decided to come here? There was no way it had anything to do with the uniform. Kumiko craned her neck to get a better view, and suddenly Reina faced her, her obsidian eyes directed right at Kumiko. Is she looking at me? The pair’s gaze definitely met. It was only an instant, but to Kumiko it felt much longer. Reina’s expression softened, and then she looked ahead as though nothing had happened. Her lips parted to speak, and the words came to her without any hesitation. Representative for the entering students. Kumiko repeated the stately title in her mind and gave a soft sigh. “Heya! What’s your name?” came the voice, no sooner than Kumiko had taken her seat in the classroom of Year 1, Class 3. She looked over to see the grinning face of a girl with short hair. White teeth shone past slightly parted fine lips. Her noticeably tanned skin hinted at her participation in a sports club of some kind. She was not the kind of girl Kumiko had ever had much to do with. Kumiko smiled pleasantly to hide her agitation. “I’m Kumiko Oumae.” “Kumiko, huh? I’m Hazuki Katou. You can call me Hazuki, Katou, whatever!” said Hazuki, leaning over the desk. Even though she thought the other girl was being awfully familiar, Kumiko turned to face her. “So where’d you go to middle school? Not Higashichu, right?” “I went to Kitachu.” “Kitachu? Wow, don’t see that too much!” Hazuki’s eyes widened in surprise. “I dunno why, but Kitauji’s lousy with kids from Higashichu. That’s where I went, too, but now I’m seeing so many people I know it barely feels like I’m actually in high school, y’know?” “It must be nice to have lots of friends, though. I’m envious.” “No, no, no, it’s no good at all! It’s the worst when people know you from middle school. It totally wrecks your high school debut!” “I’m sure that’s not true.” “Oh, it’s true, all right. That’s why I suffered through dyeing my hair. Really wished I could’ve done red or something, though,” said Hazuki, twirling her hair around her finger. It seemed excessive for a “high school debut” to Kumiko, but she kept herself from saying so. “But anyway, I was wondering—how come you use standard Japanese?” “Hmm. Because I used to live in Tokyo, I guess?” “Huh! You didn’t pick up Kansai dialect?” “My whole family just uses standard Japanese, so I never really picked up Kansai dialect. Oh, but my friends complain about the opposite—like, ‘I’m catching standard from you!’” “Hmm. I’ll have to make sure it doesn’t rub off on me, then,” said Hazuki nonchalantly, resting her chin in her hand. Her right cheek was smushed upward so that it seemed like she was vaguely smiling. Kumiko was about to ask her why, but then with terrible timing, the teacher entered the classroom. She looked to be in her early fifties, her white hair tied back. There was something imposing about her. She considered the assembled class with a sharp glance, then cleared her throat loudly. “Take your seats.” The voice was quiet but somehow commanding, and the classroom went instantly from noise to silence. The students who had just been chattering quickly found their seats, which were arranged in alphabetical order. “Whoa, scary,” murmured Hazuki. “I can’t say that I’m particularly impressed with the noisy classroom, given that you’re all high school students. A high school education is not compulsory, a fact of which you should all be quite aware.” The formerly feverish atmosphere of the room instantly chilled. The teacher breathed a resigned sigh, then picked up a piece of chalk with one bony hand, putting white characters on the green blackboard’s surface. “I am Michie Matsumoto, the homeroom teacher for Year 1, Class 3. I teach music, and I’m the assistant director for the concert band.” At the words “concert band,” Hazuki visibly perked up. “You should all know that I pride myself on being the strictest teacher in the school. Understand that I have no intention of coddling you,” declared Michie as she deliberately took out a black portfolio. “I’ll now take attendance. When your name is called, answer clearly. Asai, Yuudai.” “Here!” “Ishikawa, Yuki.” “Here!” During attendance in middle school, students got by with a lazily raised hand. Evidently in high school, a proper response was required. Kumiko wondered if rules just generally got stricter as adulthood approached, or if this teacher was just scary. “—Oumae, Kumiko.” “…Uh, here!” In her thoughtful reverie, Kumiko had stopped listening, and her hasty response broke the tense atmosphere of the classroom. Hazuki grinned over at her. Kumiko couldn’t help but look down at her desk out of embarrassment. “—Katou, Hazuki.” “Here!” “Kawashima… Ryokuki?” For the first time, a puzzled look came over Michie’s face. Right in front of the teacher, the fluffy-haired girl whose name had interrupted roll call tentatively raised her hand. “S-sorry. It’s pronounced ‘Sapphire.’ The characters are ‘green’ and ‘shine,’ but they’re pronounced ‘Sapphire.’” Sapphire? The murmured word rippled through the classroom. The girl seemed terribly embarrassed by her own name, her already petite form withering as she shrank further and further into her seat. “Excuse me—Sapphire, then. I’ll be sure to get it right in the future,” said Michie before briskly moving on to the next name. The murmuring class, too, fell immediately quiet again. But still—“Sapphire”? The girl had better be pretty with a name like that, Kumiko mused, looking ahead at her. Unfortunately, as Kumiko was seated well back in the classroom, she couldn’t see the girl’s face. “Sapphire, huh? What a cool name!” whispered Hazuki. Hazuki’s aesthetic sense certainly was peculiar, thought Kumiko. “That will be all for today. Make sure you all apply yourselves in tomorrow’s academic placement tests.” With those words from the homeroom teacher, the first day of high school came to a close. Kumiko sighed with worry—she hadn’t done any studying at all since finishing her high school entrance examinations. “Hey, Kumiko, where d’you live? Let’s go home together.” Kumiko was still packing her textbooks into her schoolbag, but Hazuki was standing right in front of her, totally ready to go. From her black leather backpack hung a keychain with a trumpet charm on it. “I live near Byoudou-in. Is that the right direction for you?” said Kumiko. “Sure is. I take the Keihan line to Oubaku Station.” “Oh, really? We live close to each other, then,” replied Kumiko, standing. There was nothing decorative attached to her bag. She didn’t much care for that kind of clutter. “Hazuki, did you do concert band in middle school? I saw your trumpet charm,” she said, pointing to the keychain. Hazuki laughed energetically. “Nope! I was super into tennis club.” “You do seem like the athletic type.” “’Cause of my tan, right? You get it practicing. I used to be a lot paler.” Hazuki grinned, rolling up her sleeves as proof. Her tan was starting to fade in places, becoming more of a patchy, school-uniform tan. “Oh, but I’m planning on doing band in high school. Seems fun!” “Oh, really? I did band in middle school.” “For real? Are you gonna keep it up here?” Kumiko was about to answer that she hadn’t decided yet, but just as she was opening her mouth to speak, a third party cut her off. “Um, are you two planning on joining the concert band?” Hazuki and Kumiko looked up at the source of the voice. Standing there was the fluffy-haired girl from earlier—the one with the absolutely unforgettable name. Sapphire Kawashima. The peculiarly named girl had a gentle, almost meek appearance. “Oh, Sapphire!” Hazuki called her by name without a trace of derision, but when the girl heard it, her face turned as red as a lobster. “Um, I’m sorry, but would you please not call me that?” “Huh? Why?” “I just really hate my name. It’s so humiliating.” “It’s so cool, though! ‘Sapphire’! I love it!” “Some people might think it’s cool, but hardly anybody can read the characters, and it’s just really embarrassing,” said Sapphire, looking downcast. Inwardly, Kumiko agreed entirely with the girl. If Kumiko’d been given a name like that, she was certain it’d constantly overshadow her. “So please, call me Midori.” “Midori! Okay! You got it.” Hazuki nodded, slapping Sapphire’s back heartily. That might have been Hazuki’s idea of friendly physical contact, but Sapphire’s—Midori’s—delicate frame wobbled unsteadily at the sudden violence. “So where’d you go to middle school, Midori? Let’s walk home together!” Midori looked questioningly to Kumiko, as if asking permission. Kumiko smiled and gave an enthusiastic nod. Of course! Outside the school’s front entrance, the air was faintly chilly. The courtyard was enclosed by a border of sakura cherry trees, which were already shedding their pink petals, and pale green buds were hesitantly beginning to peek out from the slender branches. The students passing beneath seemed uninterested in the scattering blossoms; not a single one paid them any mind. To Kumiko, the students in their matching uniforms all seemed to wear the same expression. “Um, I went to Seijo. I did private school for elementary and middle school, so.” “Wait, but Seijo’s got an incredible concert band,” said Kumiko. Hazuki made a surprised face. “Oh yeah?” “Yeah, they’re amazing. They make it to Nationals all the time.” “Whoa! That is something.” Hearing this, Midori bashfully rubbed the back of her head. When the sun shone through her fluffy hair, it turned a golden brown. “Um, I’m nothing special, but our director was amazing.” “Does the director have much to do in band? It always looks like they just kinda…play.” “They definitely don’t ‘just play.’ Just like how a team captain has a big effect on a sports club, a great adviser can make a band a lot better,” explained Kumiko. “Huh, how ’bout that.” Hazuki nodded, seemingly impressed. She sent a pebble skittering off with a kick from the sole of her shoe. The walk was smoothly paved with a thick smear of asphalt, and there wasn’t a single weed to be seen. “What instrument did you play, Midori?” “I play contrabass and have for ages!” “Contrabass? The heck’s that?” Midori pouted at Hazuki’s question. “It’s like a big old violin! It’s super-supercool!” “O-oh, yeah?” said Hazuki with a nod, taken aback by Midori’s sudden intensity. “Contrabass, huh,” murmured Kumiko, watching the exchange out of the corner of her eye. Midori looked to be 150 centimeters tall—at least ten centimeters shorter than Kumiko. Kumiko had a hard time imagining someone Midori’s size playing an instrument nearly two meters tall. “What about you, Kumiko?” asked Midori. “Huh?” “What instrument did you play? You said you did concert band in middle school, right?” While Kumiko had been distracted by her own thoughts, Midori had come alongside her and was now peering curiously at her face in a way Kumiko couldn’t help but associate with an adorable little animal of some kind. “I played eupho.” “Wow! Eupho!” “Whaddaya mean, a UFO?” While Midori’s eyes sparkled at Kumiko’s answer, Hazuki’s face turned dubious. She’d probably never heard the term used to refer to an instrument before. It was a reaction Kumiko was well accustomed to. “Not a ‘UFO,’ a eupho. A euphonium. It’s in the bass section… It’s a relatively minor instrument, though.” “Huh! I’d definitely want to play something flashy. Like trumpet, or sax!” “Yeah, that happens kinda a lot. Most of the bass instruments are pretty plain. When I first started band, even I was thinking I wanted to play the flute,” said Midori with a chagrined smile. True, she definitely seemed more the flute type. “Are you going to do concert band in high school, too, Midori?” “Yeah, for sure!” Kumiko was taken aback by the speedy answer, but Hazuki’s eyes sparkled. “Really? Then we’re gonna be in the same club!” “Still… Our school’s club is…well, kinda…” As Kumiko fumbled for words, Midori finished the thought like she’d read Kumiko’s mind. “They’re so bad.” “Oh yeah? They sounded pretty normal to me,” said Hazuki, tilting her head. Over the years, the skill of high school concert bands had steadily risen. The same performance would have sounded very different to someone with ensemble experience, like Kumiko, than it did to the inexperienced Hazuki. Midori laughed at Hazuki’s response. “They probably couldn’t even get a silver medal at the city competition with that performance. No way they’d have any chance at fool’s gold and forget about going to Kansai.” “What’s ‘fool’s gold’?” “Schools that move on to the Kansai Regionals are chosen from the ones that win a gold prize. But when you win gold and still don’t progress, that’s called fool’s gold.” Just hearing the words “fool’s gold” was enough to dampen Kumiko’s mood. “Midori, you said you went to Seijo? Can you deal with a band as bad as Kitauji’s?” she asked, trying to change the subject. The girl scratched her cheek as she thought it over, then answered in a thoughtful voice. “As long as I get to play my instrument, I’m happy, so I’m not too worried about the level. Just so long as it’s fun.” “Oh.” “What about you, Kumiko?” “Huh?” When Kumiko was asked the obvious question, her voice caught. She hadn’t decided which club she was going to join, but she was hesitant to even admit that much. A strange silence briefly fell over the trio. Hazuki threw her arm over Kumiko’s shoulder as if to dispel the awkward moment. “You’re gonna join band, right, Kumiko?” she asked innocently. Who could refuse that face? Kumiko managed an awkward smile and nodded like she was conceding defeat. “Y-yeah…I plan to.” Evidently pleased with the answer, Midori beamed. “Oh, good! I was super worried about whether I’d be able to make friends in the band.” “Guess the three of us better get along!” said Hazuki energetically. Seeing the two other girls smile, Kumiko started to feel like her own decision hadn’t been wrong at all. But even as she mused that maybe it wasn’t such a bad thing to go with the flow, she remembered the concert band’s performance at the entrance ceremony and quietly sighed. Not far from the exit at Keihan line’s Uji station was a bridge—Uji Bridge. If you went for a walk there in the early morning, you could see the vermilion red bridges spanning the water to an island called Tounoshima and drink in the spot’s scenic beauty that could have been a tourist attraction. Then if you made the crossing and turned left, you’d end up on Byoudou-in Avenue. The street was lined with historic teashops and traditional sweet shops, and it was Kumiko’s very favorite place. The scent of tea that drifted on the breeze was enough to fill her heart to the brim. As she walked down the cobblestone way, the entrance to Byoudou-in temple came into view—but since entering the grounds proper took an admission fee, the main shrine remained out of sight. “So you’re going to Kitauji, huh?” The shock from hearing those words interrupted Kumiko’s pleasant walk. It was like someone had shoved her from behind. She lurched forward, then quickly recovered and looked over her shoulder. “What’s your problem?” “Just happened to see you, is all.” The answer and the feigned innocence belonged to Kumiko’s old childhood friend, Shuuichi Tsukamoto. He was slim-framed and about 170 centimeters tall. He’d been in the same middle school concert band as Kumiko and through some twist of fate had also been in her homeroom class for three years running. Their high school, however, divided homerooms into science and humanities tracks, which had finally kept them out of the same class. “You never told me you were going to Kitauji.” “So what?” “It would’ve been the normal thing to do. We did wind up at the same school, after all.” “Hmm. Normal, huh.” Kumiko curled one corner of her mouth up meaningfully, then turned on her heel away from Shuuichi. The Ajirogi Path that led away from Byoudou-in Avenue ran alongside Uji River, and Kumiko could take it all the way home to her family’s apartment. “Hey, wait up,” said Shuuichi hastily, lengthening his stride and drawing alongside Kumiko. They lived in the same apartment building. “What’re you so mad about?” “What am I so mad about? Are you seriously asking that?” shot back Kumiko without so much as looking at Shuuichi. He folded his arms and hmmed, seeming to give the question some thought. “There aren’t really any clues.” “Is that so. Well, good-bye,” said Kumiko, turning to leave Shuuichi behind right then and there, but he hastily grabbed her arm. “Wait, wait, wait! Don’t just ignore me!” “In that case, I would like an apology for what you said.” “Ugh, what’s with that cold formality?” “I am being neither cold nor formal.” “Liar,” said Shuuichi with a defeated sigh. In his black uniform with its stiff, high collar, he looked taller and rangier than he had in middle school. He had been shorter than Kumiko, once upon a time. Irritated at now having to look up at him in order to properly see his face, Kumiko smacked him on the back, and he rewarded her with a fake-sounding “Ouch!” “Back in the last year of middle school, you said, ‘I got nothin’ to say to you, ugly!’” “Oh, uh, that was…y’know…” Shuuichi was obviously flustered. Perhaps he’d finally remembered his own words. “That was what?” “I mean, you just asked me if you could come over for dinner that night, in front of a bunch of other guys. Right in the middle of puberty like that—I was trying to hide how embarrassed I was.” “What kind of excuse is that? Are you saying it would’ve bothered you if somebody knew we were eating dinner together?” “No, not bothered, just, like…it was kind of embarrassing.” “Oh okay then I see how it is that’s fine please stay away from me.” “Spare me the run-on sentences! It’s been, what, a year? Would you just forgive me already? Plus, my mom misses you. She keeps asking when you’re coming over again.” “If you apologize, I might consider it.” “Fine, fine. I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” “My god, that’s even worse,” said Kumiko, furrowing her brows and not even trying to hide her anger. Shuuichi pressed his palms together and repeated, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” There was something comical about a big guy hunching over in apology like that, and Kumiko finally capitulated with a sigh. “Fine, whatever. Who even cares.” “Ah! So you forgive me, then!” “I didn’t really say anything about forgiving you, but.” “Aah, I understand. My apologies.” Kumiko glanced at the self-satisfied boy next to her and sniffed. She shifted her bag full of textbooks to her left shoulder, slowed her brisk walk, and shrugged faintly. “…So which club do you plan on joining?” Perhaps Shuuichi was relieved at the change of subject as his expression softened visibly. The unfashionable sneakers his mother had probably bought for him made a small sound as he kicked at the path’s pavement stones. “Yeah, I’m still thinking about that.” “You’re just going to do band again, aren’t you?” “C’mon, what’s with the ‘just’? What’re you gonna do?” “Me? I’ll…probably do band.” “Just band again? So you’re not one to talk.” “I really hadn’t planned on it, though,” said Kumiko, pursing her lips. “So why do it?” said Shuuichi, peering at her. Kumiko looked away, trying on a noncommital smile as a smoke screen. But her old friend seemed to see right through it. “Or was it that thing you do—just going with the flow?” “…Mm, something like that.” “Don’t you think it’s time to fix that already? You gotta be able to speak your mind, or it’s trouble.” “I know.” Kumiko became quiet at the pseudo-lecture. It wasn’t very funny, somehow. “Still, if you’re gonna join, I might as well. Wonder what instrument I should do…” said Shuuichi lightly, stretching. The pale insides of his wrists peeked out from under his cuffs. It seemed to Kumiko that there was something catlike about him. “Is that really how you should choose which club to join?” “Sure, why not? I’m lousy at sports, so it’s not like I have much of a selection to begin with.” “…Ah,” Kumiko murmured, as brusquely as she could manage. Her brand-new dark brown loafers shone dully in the evening sun’s light. The boy in front of her smiled bashfully, then transparently changed the subject. “Hey, so apparently there’s a superhot girl in our class.” Hearing this, Kumiko kicked him in the back as hard as she could. Club activities started in earnest near the end of April, about two weeks after the entrance ceremony. The potential new members of the concert band had gathered in the music classroom and taken their seats, expressions of uncertainty on all their faces. They were surrounded by senior band members, one of whom was the scary-looking girl who’d wielded the baton during the band’s entrance ceremony performance. “I don’t think we’re going to get any more than this, President,” a girl holding a clarinet murmured to the scary-looking girl. Kumiko glanced furtively around. Fewer than thirty new students were seated there, and scattered among them were faces she recognized. “Yeah? I guess this is about it, then.” The girl who’d been called President stroked her chin thoughtfully. From her neck hung a large saxophone—a baritone sax. She walked to the front of the classroom and took a deep breath. “All right, everybody. It’s nice to meet you. I’m the president of the concert band, Haruka Ogasawara. I play the baritone sax, so any sax hopefuls will see a lot of me,” said Ogasawara with a pleasant smile. She had the strong voice you’d expect from a club president. “Our concert band has a lot of history, and we were a well-known name in competitions up until about ten years ago. We even went to Nationals…although we’re pretty out of shape now.” The music room’s walls were festooned with the honors the concert band had won, including multiple appearances at the Kansai Regionals and a gold prize at Nationals. The framed photographs were old, their faded dustiness somehow melancholy. “So, then, uh… Yes, actually this year we have a new director. Last year our director was Ms. Rikako, but she’s on maternity leave this year. We’ll be getting a new director, but right now we don’t know much about him. At the entrance ceremony he said his name was Mr. Taki, but it seems he’ll be coming a bit late today. Also, our assistant director, Ms. Michie, is busy with parent orientations today, so she won’t make it. And, as a warning to first-year students, she’s really scary, so try not to get her mad at you.” Ms. Michie was also Kumiko’s homeroom teacher. Apparently she was as fearsome as she seemed. “So today what we’ll be doing is assigning instruments. The senior students you see standing around the classroom are representatives for each instrument. They’re going to introduce their instruments as a reference for anybody who hasn’t done any music before high school. Those of you with prior experience, please make sure to inform us. Each instrument has a different affinity, so we’ll be taking that and your individual aptitude into account as we assign them. No complaining if we don’t assign you the one you were hoping for.” Immediately after Ogasawara finished speaking, she called the standing students over to her part of the room. The first one to step forward was a stunning girl with a trumpet. Her straight, black hair was similar to Reina’s, but the impression she gave off couldn’t have been more different. There was something faint and delicate about her. If Kumiko had been a male student, she mused, the girl might well have aroused her protective instincts. The straight-haired girl bowed modestly and politely, then glanced for just a moment toward Ogasawara. Her cheeks flushed faintly, maybe from nerves. “I’m Kaori Nakaseko, the section leader for the trumpets. The trumpet is the star of the brass instruments, so I don’t think I need to explain it to you. Right now we have six trumpets, and we all get along very well. We carry many of the solos and melodies, and I’m sure anyone who joins us will have a good time. We’re open to students with or without experience, so please don’t hesitate to apply.” Everyone applauded her introduction. Following Kaori, the instrument introductions proceeded briskly. Trombone, French horn, flute, sax, clarinet, oboe, percussion—the well-known instruments like flute or sax were popular no matter who introduced them, but competition for the more obscure parts dropped. While she’d played euphonium in middle school, Kumiko had been thinking about trying her hand at something different in high school, and her gaze wandered out the window as she mulled it over. The music room was on the third floor of the building at the campus’s northernmost end, and its window offered a good view of the school’s sports field. The incomprehensible shouts of the baseball and soccer clubs echoed across the grounds. Kumiko didn’t get along especially well with sporty types. She could never understand what they were thinking. “Next is the introduction to the eupho.” Hearing Ogasawara’s words, Kumiko came back to herself with a sharp breath. A tall, beautiful girl with distinctive red-framed glasses came to the front of the room holding a silver euphonium. There was something about her—maybe her sharp gaze—that gave her an intellectual air. She pushed her glasses up smartly with an extended index finger, and a smile quirked at the corners of her mouth. “I’m Asuka Tanaka, the bass section leader, and as you can see, I play the euphonium.” Some students, apparently unfamiliar with the instrument, tilted their heads at the strange term. UFO? Apparently anticipating this reaction, Asuka nodded heartily. “That’s right! The euphonium is a piston-valved B-flat member of the tuba family. The history of the instrument is not well understood, but some believe it to be an improvement on an instrument created by the Weimar concertmaster Ferdinand Sommer called the sommerophone, but some say the modern euphonium may also have arisen as an English continuation of the Belgian Adolphe Sax’s saxhorn family of instruments. It was originally known as the euphonion, which comes from the Greek euphonos, meaning ‘of good sound.’ And just as the name would suggest, the euphonium is an excellent instrument that lends a broad, mellow tone to the bass section. The history of the euphonium in Japan is uncertain, but it began in the year 1870 with the arrival of the euphonion from Britain. The military concert band was originally trained in the British style, but after the split into army and navy branches in that same year, the naval band continued in the British—and later German—style, while the army band used the French style. The parts we would now use the euphonium for went by a variety of names—in the navy bands, they were called the euphonion or the baritone horn, while the army referred to it as the petite bass or small bass. According to many of the images we have from that period, we know that the French-style bass saxhorn was used, but many ensembles, including naval and educational bands, referred to the instrument in the German way, as the baritone or euphonium, at the behest of their directors. With the proliferation of the school band introduced by the United States after the end of the Second World War, the instrument became firmly known as the euphonium, and the use of the piston valves developed in England became common. Then—” “All right, that’s enough! Asuka, you’re welcome to present everything you looked up on Wikipedia, but at least try to summarize it a bit ahead of time,” said the club president, cutting Asuka off despite her apparent readiness to continue for eternity. Given the mostly unchanged expressions on the faces of the other seniors, this seemed to be Asuka’s standard behavior. Asuka pouted, displaying her dissatisfaction at having been interrupted. “Aw, I haven’t even gotten to talking about the eupho’s many charms!” “No, you’ve definitely said enough. Next! The tuba presenter, please come to the front!” Still clearly frustrated, Asuka reluctantly retreated to her corner. The obvious question arose in Kumiko’s mind: How had a person like that gotten to be section leader? “…I’m…Takuya Gotou, on tuba.” The student who came up to replace Asuka was male and both vertically and horizontally large. In contrast to Asuka’s volubility, he seemed downright gloomy. He wore glasses with thick black frames and carried an instrument that seemed like a magnified version of the euphonium that had just been explained. It was the tuba—the largest wind instrument in the ensemble. “The tuba is a bass instrument, and it doesn’t really play melodies…so it’s kind of boring. Also, it weighs about ten kilos, so it’s heavy. It uses something like six meters of tubing. When we march, we use a big white version called a sousaphone… That’s heavy, too…” “…” “…” “Uh, is that all?” asked Ogasawara, her eyes widening in surprise. “Um, yeah, that’s all…” replied Takuya with a slightly flustered expression. “Aw, come on, Gotou! You didn’t get the tuba’s appeal across at all! I suppose I, Asuka Tanaka, will have to introduce it—” “No, you be quiet,” said Ogasawara, immediately shooting down Asuka, who’d energetically raised her hand. “Normally there’s one more bass part, an instrument called the contrabass. Unfortunately, since the third-year students graduated last year, we lost our contrabass section. If there are any students with any experience, please do try out. Otherwise, we’re going to be in trouble.” Asuka carried the contrabass up, as if to say, By the way, this is a contrabass! The big stringed instrument was even taller than she was, and an impressed murmur arose from the students who hadn’t known what to expect. “Anybody played one before?” Ogasawara looked over the classroom. In the middle of the room, a slender hand hesitantly rose. It was Midori. “Um…I played contrabass in middle school.” Asuka’s eyes glittered brightly the instant they fell upon the petite girl. She pushed the instrument off on the president, then strode with purpose toward Midori. Midori’s eyes went wide and she froze, overwhelmed by Asuka’s presence. Asuka grabbed the girl’s raised hand, her handsome profile closing in on Midori. Asuka’s hair fell over her shoulder as she leaned forward and obscured her face from Kumiko’s view. “You’ll do it, then?” There was something seductive in Asuka’s suddenly lowered voice. Even Kumiko’s heart beat a little faster. Midori had been gazing, stunned, at the senior girl in front of her, but the words seemed to suddenly bring her back to her senses. The color of autumn leaves tinted her cheeks. “Y-yes! Um, I mean, if you’re all right with just me, then I’m happy to.” “No kidding? Perfect! It’s a huge help!” The seriousness from just a moment earlier vanished as Asuka flashed a big, carefree smile. Ah, I see. This is how she psychologically manipulates people, Kumiko quietly concluded. “There you have it, Haruka. This one’s all ours.” “Fine, fine. Whatever you say,” said the president, setting the big instrument down on the floor and waving her hand dismissively. She then picked up a notebook that had been left on top of the classroom’s piano. The thin notebook had BAND MEMBER REGISTRY written on it and appeared rather worn from heavy use. “Okay, we’re going to decide the other parts now. It’d be a pain to have each of you say what instrument you’d like to play, so instead just go over to wherever the representatives are. If you aren’t chosen, then you’ll move to your second choice. That’s about it, so, good luck.” At Ogasawara’s casually tossed-off instructions, the first-year students began to move. “Geez, what should I do?” murmured Kumiko uncertainly as she looked in Asuka’s direction. As the new contrabass, Midori seemed to have become Asuka’s plaything. For some reason, Asuka was pinching Midori’s cheek while an exasperated-looking Takuya looked on and tried to placate her. “That Asuka’s a trip,” chuckled Hazuki, amused. “Seems like there are a bunch of characters in the bass section.” “I mean, that’s how it goes, right? Your taste in instruments says a lot about your personality.” “Does it?” “I’m the type that wants to stick out more than supporting people, so that’s why I thought the trumpet or something’d be cool.” Hazuki pointed in Kaori’s direction. It seemed like most of the girls gathered in the trumpet section had a certain flashiness to them. “Guess I better go line up!” Hazuki flashed an affable smile, then inserted herself into the queue of students hoping for the trumpet. Most new students had made for the corner of the room corresponding to their preferred instrument. Kumiko was about the only one still indecisively wandering around the classroom center. I want to play this. That one looks cool. Kumiko had no such strong preferences. She wished they’d just give her whatever instrument they had to spare. Then she wouldn’t have to agonize like this. Kumiko gazed down at the palm of her hand as though searching for a destination. The fine lines crossing her palm were like a map of some nameless town. “Not sure which instrument to choose?” Kumiko drew a sharp breath at the sudden voice and looked up. There was Asuka’s face, right in front of her. Kumiko was startled enough to jump. Asuka pushed her glasses up with a finger and stared shamelessly at Kumiko. “Y-yes?” Kumiko couldn’t help but take a step back. “Except for that one girl, nobody’s come over to our section.” “Ah,” replied Kumiko, politely noncommittal, which for some reason made Asuka furrow her brow. The senior in front of Kumiko folded her arms, took a breath, and sighed dramatically. “Except for that one girl, nobody’s come over to our section.” “Um, yes. I heard the first time.” “Except for that one girl, nobody’s—” “Um, why do you keep repeating the same thing?” interrupted Kumiko in spite of herself. Asuka narrowed her eyes and ran her hand back through her hair. “You’re pretty dense. I’m obviously inviting you to join my section.” “I-inviting me?” “That’s right. Inviting you.” Her lips curled into a smile. “Interested in the euphonium? Right now all we’ve got in the section is one eupho and a tuba. Every year we’re the unpopular ones, which makes it tough…but what do you say? If you don’t have something else you want to try for, why not give it a shot?” “Eupho, huh?” “That’s right. Eupho.” As Kumiko reluctantly struggled for a response, Midori came trotting over, the white bow at her chest swaying. “You’re doing bass, too, Kumiko?” “Huh—?” “I’m so happy! I was getting kinda worried that there wouldn’t be any girls I knew.” Midori cocked her head cheerfully. Evidently in her mind it was already certain that Kumiko would be joining the bass section. “…Fine. I’ll do eupho.” “Sweet! Section member secured!” A triumphant Asuka snapped her fingers in victory. “We’re gonna be in the bass section together, so—let’s do it, Kumiko!” Midori smiled innocently up at Kumiko. Behind Midori, Asuka murmured, “…I can use this girl.” “What are you planning, Asuka?” Kumiko asked without thinking. Asuka turned to look at her and grinned widely. “Me? Oh, nothing.” “…I see.” Evidently this particular senior club member was a tough nut to crack. “Now then, since all the other kids have gone over to their first choice of instruments, we’ll just have to wait for the second round.” “So you put students who didn’t get their first choice on tuba?” “We pretty much have to, since there aren’t enough applicants. This is a problem for tuba and eupho every year. I dunno why, though—they’re such cool instruments.” The bass section hadn’t been popular in middle school, either. Students who wanted to join the concert band mostly wanted to play the cool, front-and-center instruments. Kumiko herself had wanted to play the trombone back in elementary school when she’d joined the brass band. She’d adored the way its slide moved in jazz music—but somehow she’d ended up being assigned to the euphonium. Kumiko looked in Hazuki’s direction. Hazuki seemed to be in the middle of some aptitude test. All brass instruments had a mouthpiece that the player blew through. The smaller the instrument, the smaller the mouthpiece—and vice versa. The difference between a tuba’s mouthpiece and a trombone’s was like the difference between an adult and a child. Unlike woodwinds, brass instruments produced sound when the player vibrated their lips against this mouthpiece. However, this blowing action was often the first barrier a beginning brass player faced. It was easy enough once you got used to it, but there was technique involved in producing a sound. Simply blowing through the hole as though it were a recorder would get you nowhere. An instrument you could blow and yet still make no sound was a fairly stressful one, and more than a few students seemed intimidated by the prospect. “Ugh, I can’t get a sound!” said Hazuki, holding her instrument and pouting in displeasure. The section leader, Kaori, encouraged her from beside her. The only sounds coming from the bell were the huffs and puffs of Hazuki’s breath. It seemed like it might take a day before she was likely to produce a tone. “Kaori’s such a nice section leader,” said Midori, impressed. For some reason Asuka puffed up with pride. “She’s the Madonna of the concert band! She’s super popular. Everybody loves her.” “Super popular…um, with who?” asked Kumiko hesitantly, even though she felt like she had a pretty good idea of what the answer would be. “What’re you talking about? With the girls, of course!” snickered Asuka. Kumiko smiled weakly by way of an answer, nodding. Concert bands were a special place. The ratio of girls to boys was usually around nine to one, but strictly speaking, it was often even more lopsided than that. So it was not uncommon for girls to end up idolizing someone of their own gender. The objects of such infatuated gazes—gazes that were much too fervid to be interpreted as simple envy—tended to either radiate pure femininity or possess a boyish stylishness. Unfortunately, the boys in concert bands were rarely seen as actual boys and so were never the object of such idolization. Kumiko had decided that this was why boys in the band never seemed to have girlfriends, despite being surrounded by girls. “Tanaka… You’re pretty popular yourself, though,” said a voice from behind Kumiko. “Whoa!” said Kumiko, twisting around in surprise at the sudden voice. She turned to see an expressionless Takuya standing right there. “Is she a definite yes on the eupho?” Takuya asked Asuka, not so much as looking in Kumiko’s direction. You betcha, nodded Asuka in reply. “He called you Tanaka…is Asuka your senior, too, Gotou?” Midori tilted her head curiously. “That’s right. He’s a second-year student. We’ve gotten along just fine!” Hearing this, Kumiko hastily bowed and introduced herself. “Ah, I’m Kumiko Oumae. I’m pleased to meet you!” “…Gotou,” was all he said in response before falling silent again. Asuka snickered. “My esteemed junior band member is quite shy, so he doesn’t talk much. Don’t sweat it.” “Ah, okay.” Just as Kumiko nodded to show her understanding, a trumpet sounded in the classroom. It was a long, high tone that faded into a soft echo. It had an obvious power unlike any other sounds in the room, and everyone present turned their eyes toward its source. The person responsible didn’t change her expression as she let the trumpet come away from her lips with a casual, easy movement. “…Will that do?” asked Reina Kousaka. Evidently she’d been asked to play the note as part of a test. A slightly taken-aback Kaori nodded. “Ah, yes.” “Kousaka, you’re so good, it’s a waste you’re attending our school. Which middle school were you?” asked Ogasawara, impressed. “Kitachu,” answered Reina without a smile. “But I also take lessons.” “Wow, so that’s why you’re so good. I was kinda surprised!” “Thank you for the kind words. I appreciate it,” said Reina with a small bow, though her face didn’t show any sign she was pleased. Kumiko got the sense that despite Reina’s perfect manners, her expressions were doing her few favors. “Well, since we’ve had everybody play, let’s go ahead and decide on our trumpets. Let’s see…we’re limited to three so we’ll go with Kousaka, Yoshizawa, and Itoda. Everybody else, move on to your second choices. Let’s go, let’s go!” At the club president’s behest, the students who didn’t make the cut for the trumpet section milled about in the room’s empty spaces. Among them, of course, was Hazuki. As Kumiko watched her vaguely, Midori murmured, “Looks like Hazuki didn’t get to be a trumpet.” “Too bad.” “Hmm? Midori, are you friends with that girl?” Asuka asked, listening to the pair’s conversation as she crept up behind them. Kumiko had a bad feeling about Asuka’s pasted-on grin. Midori, however, seemed unconcerned as she nodded affirmatively. “I see, I see…” said Asuka, stroking her chin and giving Kumiko a meaningful glance. “She didn’t do band in middle school, right? She couldn’t get a note at all today.” “She said she was in tennis club.” “Oh? So she should have no problem with lung capacity, then,” murmured Asuka, placing her hand on Midori’s shoulder—that touch alone was enough to bring a bit of color to her cheeks. “What do you say, Midori? Don’t you think it’d be fun to have her in our section?” “I do!” “Nobody’s tried out for tuba yet, and we’ll be in a bind if there aren’t any takers… Doesn’t she look like a tubaist to you? She looks like she has the stamina for it.” “Yeah, maybe Hazuki could be a really good tubaist.” “Would you go over there and invite her? If it comes from a senior like me, she might feel dragged into it, but if it’s her friend Midori, she won’t feel like she can’t say no.” “Okay! I’ll go ask her!” replied Midori cheerfully, immediately trotting over to Hazuki. When she got there, she immediately hugged the slack-shouldered girl. From a distance, it looked like Hazuki was still a bit attached to the trumpet, but she would probably cave to Midori’s invitation in a matter of minutes. “…Wow, you’ve really gotten Midori on your side.” After hearing Kumiko’s observation, Asuka let a chuckle slip out. “I’m so happy to have so many adorably agreeable juniors this year.” “‘So many’? Don’t tell me you’re including me in that count.” “Obviously,” said Asuka, pushing up her glasses with her index finger. From the other side of those thin lenses, her dark eyes fixed Kumiko in their unreadable gaze. “I can’t wait to see how you do, Kumiko.” It was about an hour later by the time everyone’s instrument assignments were settled. The Year 1, Class 3 trio of Kumiko, Hazuki, and Midori all landed in the bass section. Reina sat among the trumpet chairs, and Shuuichi was in the trombones, despite having played French horn in middle school. “Now that we’ve decided on instruments, I’d like to set the club’s direction for this year.” Ogasawara cast her gaze around the group. The room was bursting with students, which seemed reasonable for the band’s first full meeting. The second- and third-year students busied themselves with languid chatter. There were perhaps eighty people in the room, and their murmurs formed a mass of noise in the room’s still air. “Hey, quiet down! This is a meeting!” Then, as if to cut Ogasawara off, the sliding classroom door rattled open. “Ah, I see everybody is already here.” “Mr. Taki!” The club president raised her voice happily. He had a slender, lanky physique, with a well-proportioned musculature that was evident even underneath his shirt. The gentle features of his open, boyish face instantly seized the hearts of every girl in the room. His short-cut black hair sparkled in the light. The brief flash of his white teeth only accentuated his fresh, pleasant charm. Noboru Taki. Thirty-four years old. Homeroom teacher for Year 2, Class 5, and the school’s music teacher. “Wow, it looks like quite a few new students are here. Thirty, perhaps?” “Twenty-eight.” “So we’ll be able to fill all of our empty positions. That’s quite a relief,” Taki said, then narrowed his eyes in a smile. “I should introduce myself first. I said a few words at the entrance ceremony, so I imagine many of you know who I am, but even so. My name is Noboru Taki, and starting this year I’ll be the music instructor at this school. Ordinarily Ms. Matsumoto, who’s served as the assistant director to the concert band for many years, would become the new director, but at her request, I’ve taken the position. I very much look forward to working with you all.” He bowed, looking entirely sincere. Kumiko had never known an adult who treated children with anything apporaching this level of respect. The students’ applause filled the music classroom. Taki looked up, and his expression softened ever so slightly. “Every year at about this time, I ask a favor of my students,” he said, and began to write on the blackboard. The characters were abnormally neat and even, as though he’d typed them on a computer. “It’s my policy to value my students’ initiative very highly. Therefore, I’d like you all to decide together what your goal is for the year, so I can best help lead you toward it.” Taki pointed to the blackboard, upon which was written Perform at National Competition. “This was your goal last year, wasn’t it?” At Taki’s question, an embarrassed-looking Ogasawara bowed her head. “…No, um, Mr. Taki—that wasn’t a goal so much as it was, you know…a slogan, or something…it wasn’t like we thought we could really go…” “Ah, I see. Well then, let’s not concern ourselves with this,” he said lightly, and drew a large X on the blackboard. Its straight, bold strokes seemed to erase the words. As Kumiko watched, it felt somehow difficult to breathe, and she exhaled softly. It was painful. Like her dream had been denied. Suddenly the image of herself in middle school came rushing back to her. Stupid, Kumiko spat in self-deprecation. It’s not like you ever seriously thought about trying to get to Nationals. “Still, this is a bit of a problem. There’s nothing more pointless than setting a goal you don’t intend to reach.” Taki folded his arms thoughtfully. “I’ll follow the goal you set. So if you decide as a class that you’d like to try seriously for Nationals, then practices will be very intense. On the other hand, if you decide that you’re happy simply performing and making some fun memories, then there won’t be any need for that kind of extreme effort. Personally, I’m happy to take either approach, so please decide for yourselves what you’d like to do.” “We should decide ourselves?” asked the club president, looking a little worried. That small smile still on his face, Taki nodded. Please decide for yourselves, he said. Kumiko wondered if this particular adult had any idea how much trouble those simple, pleasant-sounding words really were. She sighed, then furtively glanced around the room, trying to see what her fellow students were thinking—so her opinion wouldn’t be the only odd one out. Ogasawara’s gaze fluttered this way and that before finally landing on Asuka, as though she’d suddenly remembered the other girl existed. The leader of the bass section gave a disquieting grin, evidently understanding what was being asked of her. “Fine, fine. I’ll be the secretary,” she said, standing. “That’s our vice president!” came a heckle from a corner of the room. “Wait, Asuka’s the vice president?” whispered Hazuki, who sat next to Kumiko. “Looks like it,” Kumiko murmured in reply as she looked in Asuka’s direction. “But how should we decide what our goal’s going to be?” said Ogasawara. “We oughta be able to put it to a vote, right?” “A vote, huh,” said Ogasawara, quirking her head slightly in response to Asuka’s proposal. To Kumiko, she looked a bit apprehensive about the idea. Majority rule. It was the fundamental principle of democracy and one of the ways to decide what action a group would take. And Kumiko, for her part, was not a fan. From the moment she was born, she’d been pushed around by the whims of the majority. The majority was strong and the minority weak. There was strength in numbers, and Kumiko’s small voice always seemed to get swallowed up instantly. Fear of being shunned had always kept her from being able to say “no”—just emptying her brain and going along with the crowd. Kumiko sometimes hated that dishonest part of herself. “I mean, what other way is there?” said Asuka. “I guess you’re right,” admitted Ogasawara. “So what’s there to think about? Let’s hurry up and do this thang!” From behind her, Kumiko heard Midori repeat the words “do this thang,” as though there was something about them she liked. Ogasawara silently hesitated, but then with a final murmured “Oh well,” she cast her gaze around the room. “All right then, we’re going to put it to a vote.” “Leave the counting to me!” said Asuka with a strange note of pride. “Raise your hand when the goal you prefer is called. The choices will be whether to try for the national competition, or to take it easy and just play in the local ones.” Kumiko put her hand to her cheek in worry. In times like these, usually the right answer had already been decided. Children had to choose the best option from the ones presented by the adults around them—the right answer socially, or globally. The possible options would be naturally narrowed down until you were certain of the correct one. “Okay, so, people who would like to try for Nationals, please raise your hands.” The students’ hands went up together in response. Kumiko, as she raised her own hand, saw the glitter of pink-coated nails in the fluorescent lights and wondered how anyone could play with such long nails. Asuka, seeing an obvious majority of raised hands, stopped writing on the blackboard, presumably because the outcome was obvious. “Next. People who are satisfied with just going to the Kyoto competition.” A single hand in the middle of the room poked up, a pale white hand sticking out of the dark blue cuff of her blouse. Ogasawara saw who it was, and her breath caught. “Aoi…” Ogasawara seemed surprised. Her eyes were wide, and her expression made Kumiko hold her own breath. The person upon whom Kumiko’s eyes landed was a very familiar figure indeed. Aoi Saitou. “So, just Aoi for the second choice, then,” said Asuka, putting a single mark on the blackboard, the lone bar nowhere close to completing a tally of five. Ogasawara’s face contorted in a painful-looking wince, but that, too, lasted but a moment. She brushed her bangs back, then looked at the blackboard with a neutral expression. Asuka’s eyes narrowed as though she’d just realized something important. “By a majority vote,” said the club president, “the band’s goal will be an appearance at the national competition.” The statement elicited a round of applause from the gathered students, and Taki joined in as well, a pleasant, mild expression on his face, as though he was pleased with the result. As Asuka opened her mouth to speak, he quietly stood and silenced her with a raised hand before looking over the classroom. “This goal is one you yourselves have chosen. There were some who openly dissented, and I’m sure there were others who, privately, also disagreed. But this is what you have decided together. I will do everything I possibly can to help you reach this goal, but you all must remember this: I can only instruct you. Do not forget that. Without effort from you, your dreams will never become reality. Is that understood?” At those last words, the classroom fell silent. Why wasn’t anybody saying anything? Just as the awkwardness made Kumiko start to squirm, Taki clapped his hands together. “Why the blank faces? What’s your answer?” A beat after the sharply voiced question from their director, a scattered series of affirmative replies came from the students. Wait, Kumiko thought suddenly, frowning. Have they never practiced responding to the director? “Are you awake? I’ll ask again. Do you all understand?” This time, the students’ voices rang out as one, filling the room. “That will be all for today. Good work.” The club president’s voice rang out cold and clear, bringing the day’s band activities to a close. As the murmur of exchanged pleasantries—“Thanks for today!” “See you tomorrow!”—rose in the classroom, Kumiko hastily looked for Aoi. Urgency forced her breath and dried her throat. As soon as she caught sight of a receding form she recognized, Kumiko couldn’t help herself from reaching her hand out. “Wait! Ao—um, Saitou!” Aoi slowly turned to look behind her. Black hair fell over her shoulder in a gentle wave as she did so. As her eyes landed on Kumiko, they widened in sincere surprise. “…Kumiko?” “Been a while…I mean, it’s been quite some time.” The third-year girl laughed slightly at the first-year’s halting attempt at polite language. She gently removed Kumiko’s hand from her shoulder and looked out the classroom window. “Want to go home together?” Kumiko nodded eagerly at the suggestion, as though she were afraid it might get away. “I didn’t know you were going to Kitauji, Aoi.” Aoi smiled softly. Her house was close to Kumiko’s, and she’d been like a two-years-older sister. Living in the same neighborhood, they’d often played together when they were in elementary school, but once Aoi had gone on to middle school they hadn’t seen much of each other. As a child, Kumiko had always looked up to her, and that hadn’t changed. Although Kumiko was now the taller one. Aoi brushed the black hair she’d always been so proud of aside with her fingertips and nodded in an exceedingly adult manner. “The truth is, I really wanted to go to Horiyama, but I didn’t pass the exam.” “Ah, I see.” Horiyama was one of the top prep schools in the Kyoto area. Aoi had always been a hardworking, studious girl, which evidently hadn’t changed. “Um, can I just talk to you normally instead of being all polite?” Aoi waved her hand, granting her permission. “Sure, sure! It’s really weird to hear my old friend Kumiko being all formal. Although, be polite when other people are around, okay?” “Sure, gotcha.” Kumiko nodded affably at the upperclassman’s request. Aoi put her hand to her mouth as she let slip a quietly refined laugh. The schoolbag slung over her shoulder creaked under its heavy load. “So, Aoi, why did you raise your hand back there?” “What do you mean, ‘back there’?” “I mean when they asked whether we wanted to go to Nationals. Nobody was answering seriously anyway, so there really wasn’t any need to bother raising your hand, was there?” Aoi quietly looked down in response to Kumiko’s question. Their two shadows fell upon the black asphalt. A chilly spring breeze blew through the space between them. For no particular reason, Kumiko smoothed her uniform’s skirt, though it was brand-new and there weren’t any wrinkles yet. “I guess…to have an alibi,” said Aoi. “An alibi?” asked Kumiko. Aoi smiled with amusement and repeated herself. “That’s right, an alibi.” From the strap of Aoi’s schoolbag dangled a keychain, and Kumiko couldn’t decide whether it was cute. The cheap-looking eyes of the deformed little rabbit character stared at her. “So when I quit, I can say that I’d been very clear about my opinion from the beginning.” “Aoi—you’re planning on quitting?” Kumiko’s voice was suddenly high and pinched-sounding. Aoi smiled with chagrin at the wide-eyed Kumiko. “Who knows? It’s too early to say.” “Why, though? You’ve kept it up all this time, after all.” “I mean, band stuff won’t get you to college.” Though her voice was carefully disguised with a casual tone, a glimmer of uneasy self-recrimination peeked out past the façade. The still-untouched textbooks in her bag shifted audibly. “Where do you want to go to college?” Kumiko asked. “Who knows. I haven’t decided yet.” That’s a lie, Kumiko instantly thought. It sounded just as dishonest as that particular kind of conversation students used to protect their fragile sense of self-esteem: Did you study for the test? No, not at all. Kumiko pretended not to notice and instead just smiled vaguely. “Ah, okay.” “You should be careful, too, Kumiko. Three years goes by awfully fast.” The words echoed against Kumiko’s eardrums with an unpleasant tone.