“You want to meet Nerine? What’s this about all of a sudden?”
As we sat down at the usual izakaya, after we endured the usual ribbing from the staff—“What, you two still together? Glad to see it!”—and shared a toast, I broached the subject with Sanae.
“Well, not the whole band per se. I just want to meet the person who wrote the lyrics to the song ‘Silhouette.’”
“Oh, well, most of their lyrics are written by their vocalist, a girl named Aki. I’m actually pretty close with her. She’s a nice girl, but seriously, how come?”
It’d be a lie to say I wasn’t hesitant to explain, but there was no reason to hide the truth at this point. I explained to her what had happened that afternoon, as well as what I remembered.
“I see.”
“I mean, I could just be remembering wrong.”
“I mean, it’s crazy if it is the same song, whether it’s a total coincidence or if it does actually mean something. Plus… Oh, wait.” She started to say something, then took her planner from her bag on the floor and checked it. “Anyway, that’s pretty amazing either way, but actually, Aki’s doing a solo performance next weekend. I don’t know if she’s going to do that song, but do you wanna go? I’m sure I can at least get you in to say hello.”
“Th-thanks.”
I really was thankful. I had expected a smile out of her at this, but instead she stuck out her lip.
“Or will that not work with your schedule?” I asked.
“No, it’s just, well, I get it, and I’m an adult, so I know there are a lot of things I have to accept, but I guess I’m just a little jealous,” she said, poking at my gut. I felt a little guilty, but I figured that this would give me some hint about Chika and about how I ought to face my own reality from here on out.
The following week, we met up in front of a station in a busy shopping district. I was told that I would be introduced as a colleague, but when I showed up dressed in an inoffensive suit, she withdrew the offer, saying “No one dresses that sharply at a radio station.” I had come here in a suit to keep my back straight and hide how nervous I was, an emotion I hadn’t felt in some time.
We moved swiftly away from the station, passing through the crowds toward the venue. We crossed a busy intersection and passed by a large movie theater, listening to warnings directed toward solicitors.
We arrived at what appeared to be the entrance to some kind of cellar, Sanae pointing down excitedly and said, “We’re here!”
For the first time ever, I entered a music hall. Thinking of how deeply Sanae liked to immerse herself in music, I couldn’t help but remember that bus stop where I met Chika.
We descended the stairs. As we arrived at some sort of reception area, I realized that I had not yet received a ticket from Sanae. As I started to call after her, she held up a hand to silence me.
“Pardon me,” she said to the receptionist. “I’m Sunou. Shinkawa-san invited me.”
“Of course. Could I get you to sign in here?”
After a brief exchange, Sanae received two stickers from the woman at reception, one of which she passed to me. I don’t think my face conveyed any particular opinion, but Sanae entered the main area and headed to the nearby bar counter to grab two beers, giving one to me.
“There are a lotta ways to drop money on music. Cheers.”
I took the plastic cup and clinked mine to hers, when, as though awaiting our arrival, the room lights lowered. The place wasn’t packed, but there were a fair number of attendees. We moved to a spot it would be easier to see from.
The crowd broke out in scattered applause and cheers as someone appeared on the stage. I could tell it was man by his appearance. I’d heard there would be two performers today, so that meant Aki would be the second.
The man, who looked to be around twenty, gave a bright smile to the crowd looking up at him. He had a rather delicate air to him, but when he picked up his guitar and sat down in his chair, the atmosphere in the room shifted. His voice was relaxed but powerful, and the thought crossed my mind that if I had been born with a voice like that, it wouldn’t have been wrong for me to think of music as my gale as well.
There was applause after each song, and once he had finished eight of them, it seemed his time was done. He gave another brilliant smile, bowed, and disappeared into the back. As the last smattering of applause faded, the lights came up. I happened to glance at Sanae, who stood beside me. She raised both the corners of her mouth at me, then started entering something into her phone. I thought she might ask me my impression, but she was already aware that I was incapable of being moved by others’ creations. So her not asking me wasn’t for my sake so much as out of consideration for the others around us. Any fans of the singer who was just on probably wouldn’t enjoy hearing that.
I wondered if one day I would learn to be moved by books and music so that I could share in Sanae’s joy. Even if that day did come, it might be far off in the future; I might not even see that day before I died. Still, it wouldn’t be such a bad thing if there was a future where I could shed tears alongside her in the cards.
About ten minutes passed as they changed out the equipment on the stage. In the interval, Sanae shared some memories of this venue with me. She told me how nervous she was coming to this town for the first time in high school and walking down the road to this place, and how moved she was to step across the threshold of a spot that she had heard the name of so many times before. How countless emotions raced through her head the moment the music started and how she ended up crying her eyes out. She came here many times after, and of course, given that it was a place where people gathered, there were some bad memories as well, but even now she looked forward to these visits.
“Obviously, it’s impossible for me to experience the same burst of emotions that I did the first time, but there are plenty of new things for me to be impressed by now that I know more.”
So, it’s fine, she didn’t say, but I got the impression that was what Sanae was trying to tell me. It could have just as likely been directed toward me as toward herself. It might have even been directed toward all the people here.
Finally, the staff finished their preparations and cleared the stage, and the lights dropped again. I was nervous. Who was this person we were about to see? What connection did the girl who sang that song have to Chika’s world? In direct contrast with the wild racing of my heart, the girl called Aki moved languidly onto the stage.
In the dim light, I saw her hazy form sit down in the chair, guitar in hand. There was a single round of applause, and as she moved closer to the mic, the lights on stage slowly raised.
“Good evening. I’m Aki from Her Nerine.”
Her expression was much more sullen than I had seen it in the photos on the band’s homepage. After greeting the audience in a tone that could be called neither genial nor amiable, she immediately launched into her first song.
As with the last performer, the moment she started to sing, her entire aura changed. You could scarcely have imagined it from her narrowed, sleepy eyes or her sullen expression, but the voice that flowed from her lips made the whole room vibrate. I had heard her on the radio before, but I was stunned at the difference when hearing her in the flesh.
After finishing two songs, she took a drink of the water that sat beside her, returned her guitar, and brought the microphone to her mouth.
“Next up is a cover of a favorite of mine, ‘Fifteen,’” she said briefly, then again began singing in a voice that it seemed she was pouring every fiber of her being into.
I listened closely to the words, thinking about myself at fifteen years old. Perhaps Sanae was doing the same. Many of the people present here today were probably in the same boat. I wondered how many people lament having grown into the sort of adult they never thought they would be when they were younger. I wondered what you were supposed to do once you were done crying over it.
The end of the song brought more applause, through which Aki casually said, “Next up is a new song. It’s called ‘Silhouette.’”