“…Because my music died a long time ago.”
✦ ✦ ✦
Her words were simple, yet oddly heavy. I didn’t fully understand them, but they seemed to resonate somewhere deep within me. We’d been speaking for some time, but I felt like her entire heart had been poured into that one sentence.
“I don’t intend to deny Andou’s feelings about my music. But even if he can’t forget it, it’s gone for good. That sound is never coming back. Because…I don’t believe in music anymore.”
Her words echoed sadly through the garage, disappearing like mist into the rain.
“I can’t see any value in playing the bass…and nothing is going to change that,” she muttered. “So, I’m not gonna play, no matter how many times Sousuke asks.” Even I could tell those were her true feelings. “Forget what I said about asking Andou to stop. I know you don’t want to. But…I hope you understand that I’m not going to play.”
Her answer was so direct, all I could do was nod. If I didn’t accept her honest feelings now that she’d finally expressed them, our entire conversation would lose its meaning.
“All right,” I said. “I won’t mention it again.”
“Thanks.”
She smiled slightly and said, “I’m a little tired,” before sitting down on the sofa.
I bowed a little anxiously. “I’m sorry. That was out of line.”
She shook her head. “You really love words, don’t you? And words love you, too. Your words are kind and gentle, and somehow they just feel right.” She leaned over slightly and peered into my eyes. Her expression was sad and clouded. “But sometimes being gentle and right…can be a little cruel.”
I didn’t know what to say. I knew nothing about her beyond what she’d told me, so all I could do was consider what I knew and make pronouncements like some kind of know-it-all.
Being made to realize this obvious fact all over again…was really frustrating.
I fell silent, and Nagoshi watched me from her spot on the sofa. I kept my face lowered, but I could feel her gaze.
“About those drums…,” she said. “Someone really important to me used to play them.”
I was surprised to hear her suddenly bring up the past.
“Someone important?” I repeated, and she nodded.
“Yeah. It was my dad’s…girlfriend. She was like an older sister to me.” Her eyes narrowed slightly as she spoke. It was as if she was slowly digging through her own memories. “She used to come here a lot and play those drums. When I heard you practicing so earnestly, it reminded me of those days…and made me feel a little nostalgic.” She stood up from the sofa. “So I don’t mind you practicing here. Sorry if I sounded threatening earlier. Feel free to use the drums whenever you want.”
As she spoke, she leisurely strolled toward the door. “Hope the after-party goes well.” And with that, she left the garage in her usual carefree manner.
I continued to stare after her for some time, thinking about what she’d said…about the woman who was important to her who’d played the drums. Nagoshi had closed off her heart when it came to music, but when she’d talked about that woman, she’d had a gentle smile on her face.
Whatever was going on inside Nagoshi, it was too complicated for me to figure out from what she and those around her had said. The story seemed odd, inconsistent.
Once, she’d played music with such intensity that it had captivated Sousuke’s heart. He’d said her music spoke more eloquently than her words ever could. That was how much she’d loved music.
But then, something happened, and everything changed. According to Misuzu, it had been enough to make her stop playing the instrument she loved.
But even after experiencing such great despair, it was clear that she didn’t hate music itself. And yet, she was rejecting her love for the bass and refusing to play it.
What should I do? My position in all this was too vague. It left me frustrated.
Sousuke wanted to hear Nagoshi play again. He wanted to hear what she had to say through her music. But Nagoshi had made up her mind to give up the bass for good. Though she never said she didn’t want to play, for some reason, she held fast to her decision not to.
Sousuke’s and her feelings were completely at odds. I couldn’t see a solution that would make them both happy. I could only watch them continue to clash until one of them gave in.
A feeling of helplessness washed over me as I took out my drumsticks. I plugged in the electronic drum set and powered up the console, then began my usual basic practice.
Since I was frustrated, I had a harder time keeping a good rhythm. Every time I drifted away from the beat of the metronome, I became a little more irritated and my drumming got rougher.
As I forcefully hit the snare, it made a sharp sound. The off-beat rhythm and the noisy snare exasperated me, even though I was the one responsible for it. I felt like I was stuck in a vicious cycle, but I couldn’t stop.
I continued practicing for the next few hours, letting my emotions seep into the beats, until my arms began to ache.