Ootsuka made what she thought was good work, even though it wasn’t the standard for the dance scene. And Harajuku evaluated that work based on standard dance criteria. This whole situation was caused by my lack of insight.
“Ryuzetsuran, huh… Still, I wonder if what I’m trying to do is the right thing…,” Ootsuka muttered weakly as she sat cross-legged on the floor.
Shibuya raised an eyebrow.
“I’m surprised…to hear you sounding so negative, Tatsuki,” Shibuya said.
“Well, what do you expect? I’m human, just like anyone else.” Ootsuka puffed herself up indignantly.
But then she drew her knees to her chest and buried her face in them.
“This isn’t the first time I tried something with the best of intentions and got shot down.”
“Has something like this happened before?” I asked.
“Yeah… Remember those girls you encountered here in the studio the other day?”
“Ah, uh, yeah. Harlequin Godzilla or something, right?”
“It’s Haruka Gokokuji. You’re completely off,” Akiba snarked at me, but I was just going by what I vaguely remembered.
Ootsuka nodded.
“That’s right. Harucchi. She’s also in the hip-hop subculture. In the past, we used to street dance and hang out together. Lately, though, we barely talk. I think maybe she’s…angry. With me and my activities.”
“Angry? I don’t really see why you pursuing something new and innovative would anger anyone,” I responded.
“She’s worried I’m trying to destroy the subculture. I mean, in media, being an innovator is painted as a good thing, but within the culture, it can feel like a threat.”
“Ootsuka…”
“I just wish I could find a way to express myself that would still be accepted in the subculture… While also reaching a new audience outside of it.”
“What are you talking about?”
I found myself speaking a little more harshly than I’d intended to.
Ootsuka’s dancing had a quality to it that made her stand out from the crowd. I may be an amateur who knows nothing about dance, but in my uneducated opinion, Ootsuka seemed to shine more brightly than any of the other dancers. I’m sure most observers would agree with me, too.
She was a genius. She had that X factor. No doubt about it.
But here she was, faltering, doubting herself. If she didn’t have the confidence it took to get ahead, what chance did us normies have?
“Maybe our effort this time around just didn’t suit Harajuku’s tastes. It was my fault, relying too heavily on your style, Ootsuka, and Harajuku’s judgment, without knowing the first thing about dance myself. Now I’ve gone and put a black mark on your record. I’m really sorry about that.”
“Huh? No, no, Gakkun! You shouldn’t be apologizing!”
Ootsuka gasped as I bowed and pressed my forehead to the ground.
Someone else approached, touched my shoulder, and tried to make me lift my head.
“That’s right, Gakuto. It wasn’t your fault.”
It was Nokia Komae.
“It’s my fault. I didn’t do my research.”
“Don’t say that, Nokki. Your track was great. It really was.”
“It’s okay. I don’t need consoling.”
Komae shook his head. Then he bowed, too.
“I’m really sorry. As for me composing a song for you… I don’t think I can fulfill that request anymore.”
“Huh…?”
“Please don’t misunderstand me. I’m not trying to be petty or hit back after what you pointed out about my music, Tatsuki.”
Komae gazed earnestly at Ootsuka, who looked uneasy.
“I just realized that I still have a lot to learn if I want to make dance music that will really get people excited. I need to immerse myself in the culture, really entrench myself in it. But if I do that…I won’t have time to provide music for both the Shibuya Gang and for you, Tatsuki. After all, the final exam is right around the corner.”
To do one, he would have to give up the other.
In that case, Komae must have made the decision to prioritize his allies in the Shibuya Gang.
“It won’t be a fair trade, though. Ootsuka taught us to dance, but we’re not going to do anything for her in return?”
“No, it’s okay, Gakkun. It’s my fault that Azu-pie opted not to choose your group. I’ll help you guys out for free. I’ll do the choreography for the new song, and I’ll do it to the best of my ability.”
“We can’t accept that. We made a deal, a contract.”
I love a free lunch. An easy ride. Those are my values, but at the same time I know there’s no such thing as a free lunch.
Relationships that are all take and no give are as risky as those that are all give and no take.
I like to avoid taking unnecessary risks, to avoid trouble.
But I wasn’t sure what to do now. With Komae stepping back from composing a track for Ootsuka, what else did we have to offer her? Shibuya was a singer, not a composer.
Could it be that it was finally time for her to step forward?
The eternal wannabe. Schrödinger’s composer. The one who could be a genius or a complete failure, with equal likelihood, depending on the quality of the work she never actually begins.
Now, surely, was the time for Mana Akihabara’s true talent to blossom…
“Nope. Nah. Not even a possibility.”
“Hey, Gakuto. I read your mind just now. That wasn’t very nice of you.”
“I wasn’t thinking anything bad! What kind of messed-up mind-reading abilities do you have anyway?”
“You looked at me! And you were smirking! Smirking!”
“I wasn’t thinking anything negative. Just the truth.”
“I’m gonna kill you!”
“Wait, wait. All right, then. So can you compose a track for Ootsuka instead of Komae?”
“Duh! Obviously not!!!”
“See, that’s what I thought! So why are you reaming me out for thinking the truth, huh?!”
“Shut up! My muse hasn’t come to me yet! What do you want me to do?!”
Akiba and I were at each other’s throats. Ootsuka, looking worried, tried to intervene, while Shibuya and Komae just rolled their eyes, as they were used to our bickering by now.
Then, beneath the noise…
A small sound, like a drop of water.
A quiet yet clear voice.
“I’ll compose it. A song for Tatsu.”
Shiika, who hadn’t said a word or expressed her opinion until then, walked over to Ootsuka and gently took her hand.
“Tatsu, you taught me how to dance. You took the time to study my body’s limits, and you taught me how to dance in a way that suits me… You came up with the perfect choreography for me to dance to.”
“…! Oh, Shi, you noticed how hard I tried?”
“I don’t know anything about dance. But when you taught me the choreography, Tatsu, I could see them in your voice—the colors. And the colors showed me what to do.”