I spent the remainder of August without ever stepping out of my house.
After the live show, I’d slept the entire next day away, and my whole body had been sore when I woke up, to the point where even taking a shower was a struggle. It felt as if I had used up an entire summer’s worth of energy in that forty-minute performance.
After lazily flopping back into bed, I watched the recording of the live show over and over again, to confirm I had done everything properly. Surprisingly, I had not done too badly; I supported the songs as I should have. Furthermore, I was practically invisible from the audience-side; despite the spotlights illuminating Shizuki and her drum set, the area around her was perfectly dark, like an empty void, to say nothing of the monitor amps blocking the view. The neck of the bass did show up on occasion, but anyone who didn’t happen to know would not have noticed a bassist there. For all intents and purposes, we had appeared to be a glamouros, three-girl group.
Actually, I came out on stage for the encore after our performance, against the request of the event organizers. I wondered if that had caused any problems; it was hard to say because after the show had ended, Kakizaki-shi came around to tell us things like “Good work!” and “That was the best!” and I hadn’t heard anything since from him.
Oh well. It wasn’t something I needed to worry about.
Though to be fair, I hadn’t been in contact with the other three in the band either. Finishing the live show had left all of us so exhausted that we immediately split up afterward for the night. We hadn’t made any plans for after the event either, but we would be seeing each other in school again anyway come September.
How they were able to harmonize with me, for our encore song? — I intended to ask, after we had finished, but in the end, I didn’t. It felt like if I did, the miracle that happened that day would no longer be one.
*
Just like that, summer vacation came to an end – like a sudden blaze that burned itself out – and the second term began.
I was really worried about going back to school; the live show we performed in had been streamed all over the internet, and my face was clearly visible in it. The event had been pretty big on social media, and several news sites even had featured articles on it. It was very possible at least some of my schoolmates had seen it.
And my fears were spot on, because on the morning of September 1st, as soon as I walked into the classroom, my classmates had me surrounded.
“Hey, Murase, I saw the concert!” “You were amazing!” “Didn’t know you were in a band, man!”
“And wasn’t that Saejima-san from Class 4 with you?” “Wow, I knew you guys were a thing!” “Hey, you played on the same day as Kuwata-P and Hidetaka-P, right? You got their autographs, right? I’m so jealous! I’ve always been a big fan!”
But as they bombarded me with questions, the bell chimed. The questioning was on hold since the class had to make their way to the gymnasium for the opening ceremony, but it immediately resumed on our way back.
Thankfully, the commotion only lasted until the first break period, and it was surprising how quickly my calm and peaceful everyday had returned. Girls from other classrooms did come by, but the most they would do was peek in through the doorway, spot me, and giggle and whisper amongst themselves before running away. Apart from little things like that, my life was nice and quiet.
It felt somewhat anticlimatic.
“…The heck’s with you, Murase? What, were you hoping they’d make a bigger deal out of it or something?”
“Are you for real? You already have people jealous of you being in a band, and it’s not enough? Come on, man!”
When I brought it up, the guys in my class had other ideas.
“No, that’s not what I mean,” I said, to excuse myself, “It’s like, well, I thought people would’ve been more surprised, like how I upload my songs online and stuff… I don’t think I’ve ever mentioned it to anyone.”
“I just found out the other day though.” “Yeah, and it’s not like it was that surprising anyway, y’know?”
Huh? ‘Not that surprising’? What’s that supposed to mean?
“You see, Murase, we already know you play like every instrument, you can sing, and you even write the music for music class.”
“Yeah, right? Like I don’t think anyone would’ve been surprised if you’d told them you were a semi-pro or something already.”
“Speaking of music class, you’re pretty much teaching it yourself, aren’t you?”
What the heck? That’s whats going on? I let out a tired sigh.
Since they know about my channel, they must have found out about the cross-dressing, right? So why haven’t they brought it up yet? Wait, oh no; I really hoped they wouldn’t say “Oh, seeing you cross-dress wasn’t that surprising either, haha!” or something…
No, no, no, let’s think about this a little more calmly. I should be fine; the MusaOtoko name and the old channel description that said I’m a male are completely changed and gone. In other words, it’s safe to assume that if they watched any of the older videos, without any prior knowledge about the channel, surely they would just assume the person playing in the video was Rinko, Shizuki, or Akane! Okay, that’s definitely how it had turned out. Phew, my social life was safe for another day…
I flopped over on my desk, melting with relief as my classmates peppered me with more questions.
“Oh that reminds me, have you talked to Hana-chan-sensei lately, Murase?”
“Oh yeah! How’s she doing?” “We wanted to go visit her, but do you know which hospital she’s at?”
“Ah, sorry, but I don’t really know…”
I shook my head, and their faces grew disappointed.
It wasn’t like I didn’t feel the same; I was expecting Hanazono-sensei to contact me after the live show, either through LINE or with a DM to the channel, but to this very day, the start of the second term, she still had yet to send a message. It was painful to imagine the possibility that her condition had grown serious enough to keep her from staying in touch with us.
When classes ended for the day, my feet began taking me over to the music room without my realizing it.
I had walked across the connecting hallway with the overbearing sun beating down on my back and climbed the stairs to the fourth floor. I entered the music room in time to see someone coming out of the attached prep room.
“…Ah, are you Murase-kun? Err, Murase Makoto-kun, that is?”
The person coming out of the music prep room was a young woman who, upon noticing me, jogged over. This was Komori-sensei, the new music teacher. Apparently she was a fresh graduate out of a music college, though she didn’t quite look the part; she could probably even pass as a high schooler with the right attire, but on the other hand, the office attire she had on didn’t suit her at all. The principal had introduced her earlier, during the opening ceremony, and she gave off a kind of cute newbie vibe that already made her a popular topic of conversation. That aside, how did she already know my name?
“I’m the new music teacher, Komori. It is nice to finally meet you.”
She gave a deep bow.
“Hanazono-senpai told me all about you, and she also said that if I ever needed help with the lessons, I should look for Murase-kun from Class 7. I’m sure there will be times in the future, where I will be depending on you, Murase-kun, so thank you in advance!”
“Um, yeah, sure..?” I couldn’t help but wonder if that was really okay; wasn’t she supposed to be the teacher? “…Wait, did you say Hanazono-senpai?”
“Ah, yes, I was her underclassman back when we were in music college together. After I graduated, I couldn’t find a steady job, so I had to settle for part-time work. Back in spring, she called me up saying she had a job for me as like a replacement, so I went over and listened to what she had to say.”
Oh, I see, Hanazono-sensei’s underclassman, huh…
Which meant this was just another part of the arrangements she’d already made, this time for the person that would be replacing her. This also explained why she had me and Rinko take care of music class all the time: when the time came to bring in her replacement – that is, her freshly-graduated underclassman from music college with no teaching experience – we would be able to assist. It was annoying that she was leaving this behind for us, but…
Oh, actually, it was possible that Komori-sensei know which hospital Hanazono-sensei had checked into, or maybe at least she has a message from her.
“Komori-sensei?”
“Oh! Did you need something?”
“Would you happen to know how Hanazono-sensei is doing right now? I haven’t heard anything, nor do I know the hospital she’s staying at.”
“I’m so sorry, but I don’t know either,” she answered, lowering her gaze, “I think she just doesn’t want anyone seeing her.”
“…Did she… um, did she tell you anything else? Like something about me, or…”
Komori-sensei shook her head.
“I haven’t heard from her since the start of summer break.”
I let my shoulders fall.
“Oh, but she did say I should ask you if I needed help with the second term classes, Murase-kun. And I think she also mentioned there was something for you, and how you would ‘know what to do’.”
Komori-sensei passed me a key with a plastic tag as she spoke.
The tag read ‘North School Building Roof”.
As I stepped out onto the rooftop, the intense sunlight mercilessly beat down on me. A faint scent of grass and sand hung in the air, and the sky stretched endlessly beyond the borders of the fence in a painful shade of blue. The nameless flowers that once clung tenaciously to life in the gaps between the concrete blocks were yellowed from the summer heat.
A strong gust of wind blew in, peeling away the heat that clung to my skin and sending it off into the sky.
I hadn’t been up here since that duel with Rinko. Hanazono-sensei had taken the key from the staff room back then, but…
There was ‘something for me’, but what could it be?
I had no idea at all, and it wasn’t like she’d ever mentioned anything before.
I used a hand to shade my eyes as I looked over the rooftop. Nothing really stood out among the sparsely growing grass, the bare concrete, and the fence around me.
Did she really just rope a new teacher along to play a prank? I sighed in exasperated frustration, but when I turned around to make my way back down the stairwell, I found it.
There, stuck on the door at eye-level, was a small white square — a sticker. Printed on it was a geometric pattern of numerous black squares.
A QR code..?
I held my breath in anticipation as I took out my phone and scanned the code with my camera app.
The browser app opened, and after an agonizing moment of connection lag, the site finally loaded. It was the same video hosting site I used. A list of videos with similar thumbnails appeared.
I tapped on the first video.
A familiar room appeared on screen. A lustrous, black grand piano took up more than half the screen, but a blackboard with a five-staff notation on it was visible in the remaining space while in the foreground was a cream-colored tabletop — there was no mistaking the scratches on the blackboard or the stains on the carpet, two things I saw on a daily basis. This was the school’s music room.
Then a shadow appeared, looming over the piano’s keys — a person.
Their face was out-of-frame even after sitting on the bench, but I could tell who it was after seeing those hands, hands that pushed me around and messed with me all the time — hands that also pushed me forward from behind.
Those hands were at rest on the lap when they suddenly jumped to the piano and began to dance over the white keys.
Her fingers played a repeated broken chord, like splashing water, in the key of D. It softly emphasized the vivid melody that floated out from the piano. I reflexively held my breath; I knew this song. I knew it better than anyone else because it was the third song I had ever uploaded to my channel, and it was from before I started calling myself MusaOtoko. It was a song that I created then shamefully deleted when I realized how bad it was. But here it was now, completely rearranged for a piano solo. No trace of what it was should have been there, and yet I could still hear it if I just listened carefully.
I swiped a finger across the screen and went to the next video, then the next, and the next. They were all my old songs, music that I’d birthed into and spread across the world, before killing them, smashing them into nothingness myself. And yet here they were, with a different but nostalgic sound breathing new life into the once-dead songs.
And then it hit me, something that person had once said:
So once you finish an arrangement, I’ll play it, I promise!
I had forgotten about that promise until just now.
But now I knew; I knew that person really had been watching me, had been listening to me, had been with me for a very long time. And in a way, she really did know me better than I knew myself, in a way that also explained something else: how Rinko, Shizuki, and Akane had been able to support me during the encore. They must have also heard this. And I could already imagine the sleepy afternoon in the sunny music room where it happened; I could even vividly imagine how it happenend. I could already hear her going off and saying, “And I know MusaO the best. I know him better than any of you. And I know things about him that you could only imagine.” She would boast on and on like that before finally sitting herself at the piano, and then she would gently bring the songs from my beginnings back to life through those keys, just like how she was now —
I felt a lump of heat suddenly form at my chest and rise to my throat. I felt my breath catch, and I paused the video.
I pulled my earphones from my pocket, connected them to my phone, and put the other end in my ears.
I tapped the play button once more. In my ears was the song of migratory birds, birds that crossed the seasons, the winds, the clouds to return from beyond the sea. It was a song that belonged to me yet was not mine.
The channel description had the following written in it: We will continue recording the remaining songs, one by one. Please subscribe to the channel.
And then I read the channel name: MisaOtoko. I tried to choke back the rising laugh, but it spilled out anyway. Heh, I get it: Misao. And furthermore, we were only off by one sound.
I approached the fence, pressing my forehead against it as I leaned in. I spied the cream-colored walls of the school building and the burning green tips of the courtyard gingko tree. From beyond the school gates, the occasional gleam of light coming off passing cars on the road would burn my vision. Beyond that was the bamboo thicket that surrounded the temple, then the roofs of houses that flickered in and out of the haze of heat. As my eyes looked out further and further, the city seemed to melt into the summer sky, making it impossible to distinguish the boundary between the two. Amidst all of this, the piano that played in my ears felt as though it was coming directly from the music room under my feet.
Then came a voice.
It was a voice that called my name; I turned to where it came from to see three girls walking together through the connecting hallway. They waved up at me, and I waved back.
I switched off the music and removed my headphones. I can still feel the sound of the piano that played — it could have been coming from the music room on a distant spring day or from a hospital room on a summer day somewhere else.
I leaned my back against the fence and closed my eyes, letting the sunlight touch down on my eyelids as I listened carefully. In this brief moment before they came to join me, amidst the sound of wind, machinery, and breathing, I searched for the melody of the fountain of paradise. It was a nostalgic voice, a forgotten song, a whisper from a nameless flower, and perhaps even the beating of my own heart.
<Fin>
Headcanon TL 
Leave a comment