“The teachers kept nagging me about joining another club,” Nagoshi said, “so I chose the literature club.” She’d maintained her vague smile all throughout her story. “I thought that would be enough to make him give up, but apparently not.” She chuckled dryly. “…I’ve got my shirt back on. You can turn around now.”
Hesitantly, I moved to face her and saw that she was indeed wearing her usual long-sleeved shirt, rolled up to just below her elbows. I was relieved to see her back to normal.
Her gaze slowly rose to meet mine. “You asked me before, remember? How it felt when I cut myself.”
I nodded nervously.
“I don’t feel anything. It just makes me remember that I’m alive,” she said. “Because if you don’t feel like you’re alive, it’s the same as being dead. I don’t want to die, but sometimes I feel like I’m not alive, so I have to check,” she said, fixing me with her gaze. The corner of her mouth lifted as she spoke. “What about you, Asada?”
“……”
“Remember how you said you’d cut me with the box cutter if you thought it would really help me? If I asked you to do it now, would you?”
“……I don’t know,” I said, shaking my head weakly.
She still hadn’t told me why she quit music. I had no idea what could have shocked her so much that she quit playing, when she’d been good enough for Sousuke to not only fall in love with her music, but to call it her “words.”
If, after losing what she loved, she’d found solace in the pain of cutting herself, how was it any of my business to tell her to stop?
Still, now that I’d seen her arms in such a terrible state, I couldn’t recklessly tell her to continue if she didn’t see another way. I couldn’t take either side…there was nothing I could do.
But if I were to put my feelings into words…
“All I can say is…I wish you wouldn’t do that to yourself.”
The words felt pushy and meaningless, but I couldn’t think of anything else to say. Every time I tried to figure out what was right, I felt like I was only drifting farther and farther away from what I wanted to say.
Nagoshi listened to me, smiled faintly, then lowered her gaze. “You… All of you…are so damn annoying,” she said. “Just when I was sure you’d start playing the hero and tell me, ‘That’s wrong, you should stop!’ you say something totally different. Instead of lying to try to convince me, you’re just telling me how you feel.” She sighed. “If only you would lie more, then I could deny it. If I could call out your tricks, then I could escape. You guys are so depressing,” she murmured, then fell silent.
…Aren’t you the one being annoying, Nagoshi?
It seemed like she was still vacillating between her own feelings and the feelings of others. She was aware that she was wavering, and yet she deliberately pretended not to notice.
If someone tried to push their own values on her, she could point out the flaws in their arguments and escape. But things like values were subjective—they could never be absolutely correct, so arguing about them was a waste of time.
But Sousuke was different. He truly believed that Nagoshi shined her brightest when she was holding the bass, and in order to convince her, he told her how he felt again and again. Since his argument was based on his earnest feelings, it wasn’t right or wrong. She understood that, and it was why she couldn’t make him stop and why she grew more and more frustrated with him.
“You said words would eventually become lies,” I said, breaking the silence. “…But your music was different.”
She raised an eyebrow, and her expression hardened, like she wanted to say something. But she stayed quiet, so I continued.
“Your music wasn’t a lie to Sousuke. It’s stayed with him and never faded.”
“Nothing lasts forever. You can fool yourself into believing it will, but—”
“Nevertheless,” I said, interrupting, “you created something that made him feel that way. His desire to hear your music again isn’t a lie.”
“Maybe that’s true. But there’s no truth in the music I made. I was chasing lies. I was a girl chasing lies, making music that was a lie.”
“What do you mean by lies? You keep talking about lies, lies, and more lies, and refusing to discuss what really matters. In the end, what do you consider the truth, and what do you see as lies?” I realized Nagoshi and I were bickering back and forth. “Why shouldn’t Sousuke be moved by your music? Why shouldn’t he believe in it?” I pressed.
She rolled her eyes and said, “Because it was all a lie! And lies are a betrayal. They hurt those who believe in them and plunge them into despair! That’s why!”
“Is that why you only lie to yourself?” I asked.
Her expression froze. Her mouth hung open, and she remained silent, unable to say anything.
“I get it. You’re much more frightened of hurting others than you are of hurting yourself.”
“N-no… You’re wrong.”
“Nagoshi…” I paused and took a deep breath. My body was shaking slightly. Confronting her like this was scary. I knew this was a line she didn’t want me to overstep, and I was doing it anyway. But I understood that in cases like these, the other person wouldn’t take your outstretched hand unless you were a little forceful about it. “You were betrayed, hurt, and left in despair, weren’t you? And you…don’t want to make anyone else feel like that, right?”
Her eyes widened, and she weakly shook her head. “…You’re wro—”
“But aren’t you gradually hurting yourself when you push others away like this? You’re lying to yourself, betraying yourself. You must know that, right?”
“…N-no, it’s—”
“You still love music, don’t you?”
“No!!” She shouted so loud the walls of the garage shook. “Don’t act like you get it! Why would you think any of that?!”
“Because you’re not pushing me away. You keep letting me come over and play the drums. If you really hated music and didn’t even want to think about it, you wouldn’t let us practice here.”
“I just thought it’d be better for someone to use this stuff, rather than let it go to waste.”
“But letting us use the garage meant you’d have to see Sousuke again. And that’s painful for you, isn’t it?”
She glared at me.
“You don’t hate music…you’re just refusing to play it yourself,” I said. “That’s why whenever Sousuke asks you to pick up the bass, you say ‘I won’t,’ and never ‘I don’t want to.’”
She shook her head over and over. She kept opening her mouth like she wanted to say something, then closing it before anything came out.
At last, I gathered up my courage and said, “Nagoshi… Aren’t you doing all this to convince yourself that you don’t want to play anymore?”
Her gaze wavered.
That must be it, I thought.
“Maybe the thing you’re most afraid of is that Sousuke’s pestering will actually convince you.”
She looked down at the floor and sighed. “…I don’t stand a chance against you, Asada.” Then she smiled bitterly.
I slowly shook my head. “It’s not about winning or losing.”
“I hate that about you. You’re so honest. You drive me into a corner, and before I know it, you’ve got me talking, too. You’re such a pain…” She waved her hands in surrender and sat down on a stool. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe I just don’t want someone to make me feel like playing again.”
“So then, you do want to play,” I said.
She sighed uncertainly. “I don’t know. But…I hope not. I hope I never want to pick up a bass again,” she said with a lonely smile.