Please stop.
My body trembled.
His—no, their—determination was a kind of violence to someone like me, who couldn’t live like that. When someone gave up trying to be right and just kept marching forward, wrong or not, it didn’t matter what I said anymore. They were invincible. If they kept coming toward me even after I rejected them, then all I could do was run away.
“…I’m sorry,” I whispered softly. Then, I started walking.
I was sure my heart would never waver, but for some reason I was afraid to hear his performance. I couldn’t shake the feeling that the sound he remembered, altered and distorted within him, would drive me crazy. So I hurried toward the exit.
But I didn’t make it in time.
“Huh?”
Once he played the first note, I froze. I instinctively glanced at the stage where he stood and felt his gaze stop on me for a moment. Everyone in the audience was staring at him, entranced. But it was clear to me that his music was directed only at me.
“Why…?” I muttered. Then, someone suddenly appeared in front of me. “…Misuzu.”
When I saw what she was carrying on her back, my eyes went wide.
“When you quit the band, you said ‘Do whatever you want with this,’ didn’t you?” she asked, looking me right in the eye.
“…Yeah.”
“Well, that’s exactly what I did.”
“Idiot. There’s no way Andou can play—”
“He’s playing it right now,” Misuzu said, interrupting me.
He…
I looked at Andou up on the stage.
…He sounds terrible.
His arpeggios were all over the place and so was his strumming. Why was he putting so many embellishments into a part where the music only specified the chord? The techniques he was attempting were too advanced—something a pro would do. It didn’t match his skill level. And because he was recklessly challenging himself, the rhythm of the chord progressions was all out of whack.
But I knew what he was trying to play, because it was the song Yasu and I wrote together.
“Sousuke accused all of us—me included—of trying to act mature and letting you quit music. And I agree with him. I should’ve forced you to keep playing the bass, even if you didn’t want to.”
“How could you have done that back then?” I protested. “And it’s good you didn’t. That saved me.”
“Don’t lie.” Misuzu usually just brushed off my words, but now she was aggressively confronting me. “You confused admiration, disappointment, and music. You knew the difference, but you lumped them all together, closed the lid, and ignored them all. You know it too, but you’re pretending not to see! That’s why you’re still suffering!”
Andou’s crappy guitar playing echoed through the gym, and so did the audience’s clapping. Despite his embarrassing performance, everyone was cheering him on. And thanks to their cheers, his music grew stronger.
“Don’t act like you know everything!” I shot back. “I believed in music and it betrayed me! I’m done! Done with being betrayed, and done with betraying others!”
“Aren’t you the one betraying yourself?!” she yelled.
A few students turned to look at us, but I didn’t care.
My chest ached. Misuzu’s words were raw. It felt like they were scraping against my skin, trying to rip out my heart.
“Your music was always so clear. And when you held the bass, you always had so much to say! You never spoke your mind, but your true feelings always came out through your music! Then, you got better at covering them up with shallow words and fake smiles.” She glared at me, her eyes glistening with tears.
Bombarded by her heartfelt words and the music in the background…I felt my chest constrict.
“I saw how much you enjoyed listening to Asada playing the drums,” she continued. “Music is still alive inside you!”
“It’s dead! And I’m not digging it back up now!”
“Then, why did you leave this behind?!” She roared. “Why didn’t you tear up the sheet music you made with Yasunaga and throw it away? Why didn’t you smash your bass to pieces? Instead, you purposely saved it!”
“I…”
My words stuck in my throat.
I couldn’t destroy it. But I also couldn’t explain why.
When I fell silent, Misuzu arched her eyebrows and strode up to me. Then, she lifted the case off her back and opened it.
My heart skipped a beat.
There it was. My bass, just the same as it was back then.
My heart was pounding now, sending blood rushing through my body.
Misuzu picked up the bass and thrust it at me.
“Andou’s putting it all out there up on stage. He’s waiting for you!”
“Why would…?”
“Play. Please play.” Tears spilled from her eyes, and I couldn’t look away from her. I could hear more crappy arpeggios in the background. “If you don’t do this now, you’ll regret it for the rest of your life!”
Why? How could she know that?
“I regret it, too. I regret silently watching you give up on music.”
She said I left those things behind on purpose…and that I regret it. Why? How?
Those words kept repeating in my mind.
“This is your song,” Misuzu said. “It’s for you. It’s the song you left behind. Sousuke cherished it, and now he’s inherited it. Can’t you hear it?”
I could hear it loud and clear. And it hurt.
“He’s screaming. Clumsily, awkwardly. But he’s calling out to you, Risa!” Misuzu pushed the bass toward me again, her voice hoarse.
✦ ✦ ✦
“He’s screaming that he wants to hear your music again. That he wants to hear you speak again!”
✦ ✦ ✦
I gasped.
The words were stuck in my throat, refusing to form, swirling around in my chest. If I took the bass, would those words take shape and come out?
“Risa!” Misuzu looked straight at me, tears streaming down her face. Even in the dim light, I could see her makeup streaking. “Please.” She pleaded. “Please tell us how you feel.”
✦ ✦ ✦
Something inside me exploded.
I wanted to say something, but the words wouldn’t come.
I grabbed the bass. Misuzu’s eyes widened. I slipped past her and started walking. I walked and walked, and then I started running. Why? Why was I holding the bass? Why was I running toward the stage?
I locked eyes with Andou.
He smirked.
I climbed the stairs up to the stage.
The audience murmured.
I didn’t care.
I plugged the adapter that had been connected to Yushima’s bass into mine and switched on the amp. The speaker crackled. I knew that wasn’t the proper way to connect it. But right now, I didn’t care. The speaker buzzed with a low, electronic noise. I knew if I plucked the strings, they would sound through the speaker.
Andou kept playing guitar, looking at me.
I met his gaze and said,
✦ ✦ ✦
“…You suck.”
✦ ✦ ✦
He flashed me a genuine smile from the bottom of his heart.
✦ ✦ ✦
“I don’t care. Because now, you’re here.”
✦ ✦ ✦
My heart felt like it was going to burst. I didn’t understand what I was feeling. I was full of all sorts of emotions, and I couldn’t name any of them, because I didn’t know the words.
But that didn’t matter. That was how it was meant to be.
✦ ✦ ✦
And then, I started plucking the strings on my bass.
✦ ✦ ✦
It felt like the world around me went silent.
The thumping of my heart, the roughness of my breath.
Thump, thump. Haah, haah.
Only the sounds of my body echoed in my ears.
And then, the “Why?!” inside my heart exploded.
Its energy traveled down my arms, making the bass strings vibrate. I couldn’t really hear the sound I produced, but it moved from the amp to the speaker and shook my body.
The cheers from the audience sounded very, very far away.
✦ ✦ ✦
Why?
What pushed him so far?
Why?
Did Etsuko have to die?
Wasn’t it enough to just have fun?
All I needed was the two of them and their music.
So why did they both have to disappear?
The sensation and the emotions from the first time I cut my arm came back to me. Forgotten feelings resurfaced.
✦ ✦ ✦
Why did things turn out like this?
✦ ✦ ✦
I didn’t understand. Something had gone irreversibly wrong, and everything I believed in had disappeared. I was left behind, all alone, and the only thing I could do was try to forget.
But music had been too big a part of my life to force myself to forget it.
Music had always been there for me.
I realized that, even when I tried to erase it, I’d been leaving a piece of it there, in the corner of my heart.
And without music, I’d lost my only means of expressing how I felt.