There was this novel I read recently, about an old woman who prepared her own funeral for when she died.
She specifically wanted the Beatles’s Eleanor Rigby to be played at her wake — fitting, since the lyrics described the funeral of a lonely old lady. I remember feeling chills run down my spine after reading the part with the woman choosing the song herself.
And I wondered, what would I do for myself?
Since I was a musician, should I have my own music playing at my funeral… Wait, wouldn’t that mean I also needed to write at least one song that would be appropriate for a funeral? I once read a news article about a rock musician who played upbeat rock tunes at his funeral and how the whole affair was like an uplifting send-off of the deceased by the attendees; it was an awkward mismatch to see ‘Posthumous Name: XXX-inkoji’ in the obituary afterward though. In any case, funerals are serious, somber affairs in the first place, so I would probably want something softer and solemn to play.
Well, realistically, it actually doesn’t matter what would happen at my own funeral — I would already be dead by then.
Besides, funerals were for the sake of the living, not the dead, meaning it was up to the living to decide how to hold one, to say nothing of holding one at all. To be honest, I actually wouldn’t want to have a funeral when I died, nor did I want to attend someone else’s either.
In the end, I was still too young to be thinking about death like that, but… in the winter of when I was sixteen, I was forced to face it.
*
Having temporarily left the band, I found myself back in my room with my headphones on, deep in thought as I stared down a piano roll of the sequencer program on my computer. And I mean, doing live shows are fun and all – there was nothing comparable to basking under the dazzling lights of the stage and the deafening roars of the audience while strumming an instrument and singing into the mic – but what I truly loved was composing music. So here I was alone in my room, digging deep into myself in search of sounds that I could put together. Things don’t usually fit most of the time, so I repeat the process over and over again; sometimes I would even delete all of the work I had done and start over from nothing. There were also times where I just closed my eyes to try and catch the humming of a still wind; I would wait and wait, only to desperately grasp at the faint melody that brushed against my fingertips. It wasn’t a melody that came out of the sky, but one that had rested in the damp, dark deep under the earth, that revealed itself only after I dug with my barehands until dirt caked my fingernails. That just made it all the more precious.. and why I couldn’t ever stop composing; every time I finished something to my satisfaction, I became excited enough to faint over it.
And now, more importantly, I also had people that would want to listen to it as soon as possible.
So when the song finished rendering, I would upload it to the band’s shared file server before announcing it in the LINE group chat.
Though, on this day in particular, Rinko also sent a message in the chat.
“I wrote a song too.”
Surprised, I tapped on the file that was her new song.
During lunch break the next day, the topic we immediately started with was, of course, Rinko’s new song.
“You actually wrote a song, Rin-chan! I’m shocked!”
“Doing this much is just the basics, so…”
“I think it’s a good song, but I’m not sure how well it fits with the band’s sounds; Kaya-san will be the key.”
“And that’s why I will need everyone’s help. I was also thinking I should learn a little about how to play the guitar; it would help with composing music.”
“Oh, then we should go to the music store together! I love helping people buy new instruments!”
Meanwhile, I quietly read the sheet music again on my phone.
“Is something wrong, Murase-kun? Could it be that my song is better than you expected, and seeing it has left you feeling like you have no place left?”
“What? Well, no, not really.”
She was mostly right; if the others could write the music on top of how well they played, I really wouldn’t need to be here.
“But Makoto-chan, since you quit the band, doesn’t that mean you don’t have anywhere to go anyway?”
“Ugh… You’re not wrong, but…”
“That’s okay, because Makoto-san still has an important role to fulfill as my eye candy!”
“Couldn’t you just use a wallpaper on your phone…”
“I am already doing that, of course!”
Huh, really? That’s kinda scary, actually… Wait, isn’t that from when I was cross-dressing at the cultural festival?! Delete that, right now!
“So, Murase-kun, now that you are free from band activities, it seems you are enjoying a carefree bachelor life, and I imagine you must have a lot of free time.”
For some reason, Rinko spoke in a rather formal tone.
“I mean, yeah, I guess you could say that.”
“Then I suppose you do not mind taking full responsibility for taking care of cantata practice for the music festival?”
“—Whaaat?!”
“After all, I do not have the kind of free time you seem to have now.”
The main event of the music festival that would be happening in the third term was a class choir competition, but there was also a special performance of a Bach cantata by students from music electives and any volunteers. Obviously we wouldn’t be doing the entire piece, but even just the choir part would be a lot of work, to say nothing of organizing practice and rehearsals.
“Murase-kun, you’re going to take care of everything? Wow, thank you so much!” Komori-sensei, showing visible relief through a broad smile. It was no surprise she would feel that way; she was only 22 and a fresh graduate out of college that took over for Hanazono-sensei starting this term; suddenly having to take responsibility for putting together a Bach cantata like this must have been overwhelming.
That being said, it didn’t mean the task was any less difficult for me.
“It’s going to be hard without your help, Rinko. I still need an accompaniment, you know.”
“Since it’s only practice, I’m sure you can handle it yourself, Murase-kun. Besides, you should remember that I will be extremely busy preparing for our Christmas live show — especially since, at a time like this, our band leader just went and quit on us.”
“Right… that’s my fault…”
“And really, why don’t you also take care of the accompaniment during the actual performance? Personally, I think having only a piano play the accompaniment for a cantata would be rather unimpressive; wouldn’t it be better to have an entire orchestra for it?”
“What the? And you want me to do it all on my own?! You know the music festival is going to be in the third term, right? There’s no way you don’t have free time by then, Rinko.”
“Well you see, that would depend on our band leader. If he doesn’t come back after the Christmas show, I don’t know if I will get to have free time then.”
“Right… sorry…”
“Also, I feel like drinking oolong tea, so go and buy some for me.”
“What does making me be your gofer have to do with any of this?!”
“It’s because I feel so stressed and anxious over our band leader quitting that I don’t even have the energy to buy my own drinks.”
“Right… and I’m really sorry for that — Wait, are you planning on guilt tripping me like this for the rest of my life?”
“Yes, and?”
Rinko didn’t even hesitate to answer. Seriously, what was with this girl?!
She hadn’t seemed fazed at all back when I said I would be leaving, but now I was beginning to suspect she was just holding herself back. Still, it really was my fault, so I couldn’t just ignore what she asked for…
Then, at that moment, Komori-sensei spoke up, sounding apologetic.
“Actually, I’m the unreliable one, so let me take responsibility. I will go with you to buy the drinks, Murase-kun.”
“Excuse me?”
What, exactly, was she taking responsibility for? If she really did feel that guilty, shouldn’t she just go in place of rather than with me? Not that I could say something like that to a teacher, of course.
So like that, Komori-sensei and I began to make our way to the door, only for Rinko to unhappily speak up.
“Wait, I’ll come along too then.”
“Huh? If you’re going to come along, why can’t you just go by yourself then?”
“Because then there’s no point.”
“What do you mean ‘no point’?! You think there’s a point like this? In three of us going together?”
“Then I will come along, too!” Shizuki added, getting to her feet, “I’m a little worried if only Rinko-san is keeping watch.”
“Hey, I’m not about to stay here alone, so I’m coming too!”
In the end, the five of us went out to buy drinks. I honestly had no idea what was going on.
*
Somehow I was at the studio practice, too.
“So, uh, didn’t I say I would be taking a break from the band? I mean… I did, right..?”
I had followed the girls to Moon Echo like it was any other day, and I only thought to timidly ask when we had gotten to the entrance.
“Yep, you did. Which means all Makoto-chan gotta do is carry the equipment, set everything up, and pay the studio fee.”
“You also need to handle the PC, the mixer, and the recorder. Oh, and of course, you’re my eye candy, too.”
“And remember to get me an oolong tea.”
Could you guys stop already?
And now even Kaya was joining in on the teasing.
“I haven’t spent as much time with the others so it would be awkward if I were here alone! That means I need you to keep coming to practice, Murase-senpai!”
Uh, and who was it that was so happily talking it up with the others during our first meeting again? Really I should be the one feeling awkward and left out, especially when the topic was girls talk stuff.
After practice had finished and I settled the rental fee, the girls headed for the usual McDonalds for a post-practice meeting without needing to say a word. As for me, my sister wanted me to return home as soon as possible today, and I hurriedly let the others know.
“So we’re kind of expecting a big delivery tonight, and since my sister’s the only one home right now, she wanted me to get home early so we could take turns waiting for it, and… I mean, it’s not like I actually need to be at the usual meeting, right?”
When she heard my words, Kaya rounded on me, with displeasure clear on her face.
“In case you weren’t aware, Murase-senpai, this was our first practice session as a four-person group, which means there is a lot we have to go over — in other words, we need your opinion too, since you were the one listening!”
“I get what you’re saying, but I still have to go home you know…”
“Th-then we can just go to your house! We can have our meeting there while you wait for the delivery! That works, right?”
Shizuki’s eyes widened as Kaya’s words registered in her, and she spoke up in a trembling voice.
“Kaya-san, you have so much potential… Even I wouldn’t have been able to use such an overbearing excuse…”
“I-it’s not an excuse!” Kaya retorted, turning red in agitation.
“Yeah, let’s go then! I wanna check out Makoto-chan’s room myself, and it’s not every day we get a chance like this!”
Meanwhile Akane didn’t even try to hide her curiosity.
And just like that, the four of them followed me onto the same train, and for the entire time, the girls excitedly chattered on about it.
“So Rin-chan, you’ve been there before, right?”
“I have. It’s pretty much my home as well, so go ahead and get comfortable.”
“Huh? Rinko-senpai, you’ve… what?! Wait, what kind of relationship do you have with Murase-senpai?!”
“You could say we’re more than strangers but not quite friends.”
“…So you’re just strangers.”
“That kind of retort isn’t good enough, Kaya-san. I cannot formally accept you as our bassist if that is the best you can do.”
“Oh, sorry, I’m not really used to doing something like this.”
“Gosh, so this is what happens without Makoto-chan around, huh? It’s kinda rough…”
“Couldn’t you at least use a music-related reason for why things are hard without me?”
“See, like that, Kaya-san, a back-and-forth with that kind of tempo to it! Do you get it now?”
You know I’m not trying to teach her or anything, right?
Before long, we got off at my usual station and began making our way to my apartment. It was only now that I put more thought into what was happening; I’d gone with the flow and just brought the girls along, but how was I supposed to get them in without my sister noticing? I guess I could have them wait outside while I went in first and — unfortunately, Rinko already pointed out the building as I was still thinking.
“It’s over there, up on the sixth floor. His sister is already waiting, so let’s hurry up.”
And without giving me a chance to stop them, the girls moved quickly and entered the building…
…and ended up meeting my sister at our front door.
“Welcome home Mako… Oh?”
My sister’s eyes widened a little when she saw the four girls standing behind me in the hallway.
“You’ve got a lot of friends with you, huh?”
“Uh, y-yeah, they’re my bandmates…”
My sister carefully squeezed through our small crowd to get down the hallway as the girls bowed and apologized with a “Sorry for the bother.”
“It’s a bit messy inside, but go ahead and make yourselves at home. I’m heading out for now.”
But as she began walking to the elevator, my sister seemed to realize something, and she turned around, facing Rinko.
“Oh, actually, aren’t you the one that stayed overnight before?”
“Yes, that’s right. Thank you for having me back then, and I apologize for intruding without mentioning it.”
Rinko gave a meek and polite reply.
“Nah, it wasn’t a problem at all. It seems like you’re doing better now, and that’s good.”
“Hey, wait, you knew all along?!” I couldn’t help but raise my voice in surprise — I had sheltered Rinko in my room when she ran away from home, but I’d been careful not to let my sister find out.
“Did you really think you could hide it from me?” she answered, staring at me in disbelief, “Anyway, I’m leaving Mako in your hands, girls. And just so you know, mom and dad won’t be home until around 10.”
She waved a hand goodbye before disappearing around the corner. She knew all along then?! I could feel cold sweat beading on my forehead, though Rinko seemed unfazed.
“S-s-so that was Makoto-san’s sister… In other words, my sister-in-law-to-be… I was s-so nervous I couldn’t even greet her properly…”
Shizuki stammered once my sister was gone.
“She’s so pretty…” Akane added with a sigh, “You guys think Makoto-chan will look that pretty when he’s a girl in college?”
“Of course not! And what the heck are you talking about?! Why would I be a girl in college?!”
“W-was that… was that the MusaOtoko I’ve always admired..?”
Yeah, no, unfortunately for you, Kaya-san, the one wearing the sailor uniform, in those videos, was actually me…
My room, already hard to navigate across the instruments, book piles, and sheet music strewn about and around the computer desk, felt too cramped to even move around in with five people now occupying it.
“Ahahaha! This is exactly how I imagined your room would look! Definitely feels like you too, Makoto-chan!” Akane said, laughing as she jumped into and rolled around in my bed.
“W-wait, Rinko-san really stayed in this small room? Where did she even sleep?”
“Obviously I slept in the bed like I usually would.”
“Doing that kind of thing before marriage… How immoral…”
“I actually slept on the floor, you know!”
As the others made a fuss over nothing, Kaya slowly looked around the room, her face flushed with excitement.
“Ahh… So this is where it all happened… Oh! This is the Ibanez used in Rococo-style Slash! And this harp was used in Rachmaninoff-ish Little Rondo! This is the towel rack that was used as a substitute stand in Saint Hieronymus’s Geometric Electropop! Wow, and here’s the Koujien dictionary that was the footrest in Great Drought Baroque Metal! I can’t believe I got to visit the place where MusaOtoko made it all happen… There’s so much to take in…”
Kaya sounded like she was in ecstasy just by being here, though it was pretty embarrassing to hear her correctly name song titles I had haphazardly thrown together.
“Kaya-san is what we would call a true believer, isn’t she…” Shizuki trembled as she looked on.
“Yeah, she’s a hardcore MusaO fan, like on the same level as Misao-san…” Akane said, just as taken aback.
There was almost no place to sit, so Kaya and Shizuki took the edge of the bed, Akane lying down behind them, and Rinko took the only chair in the room. I had to stand in the doorway.
“So let’s go over the main topic for today’s meeting…”
Rinko spoke rather ceremoniously.
“We need to think about how to explain this situation to Murase-kun’s parents, who will be home at 10 PM.”
“Can you go over the actual agenda so we can finish sooner?”
“But since we’re just here to play, there’s nothing we need to talk about.”
“Then go home already!”
*
In early December, I received a surprise LINE message from Hanazono-sensei. It was just after dinner; I was absentmindedly listening to Tchaikovsky’s Piano Trio on the speakers when my phone began to vibrate as it played its notification tone.
I had to check the screen twice, but I wasn’t seeing things: it really was a message from Hanazono-sensei.
“You quit the band?“
I carefully brought my phone with me to my bed, where I hunched over under the covers. I tried to type out a reply, but my fingers seemed unwilling to move.
“How did you know?“
It took ten minutes before I could finally answer with a short message. A reply came almost instantly.
“I saw the live show announcement. Who’s Kaya?“
I went to see for myself and found the webpage for the Christmas live show was already up. The page featured Paradise Noise Orchestra, but my name wasn’t there as the bassist; the name that appeared there instead was Shigasaki Kaya.
“She’s a great bassist they introduced to us, and we’re letting her sub in for me this time so I can try listening to the band from the outside. I haven’t actually quit.“
“If that’s all it is, then that’s fine.”
That’s it? Just a casual ‘That’s fine‘?
It was just text going back and forth through LINE, so it wasn’t like I could see her facial expressions. But what had she intended, suddenly contacting to me like this? There was so much I wanted to say to her – to talk about, to ask about, to tell and be told – but I couldn’t; my fingers seemed to lose track of the letters as I tried to type them out, and I couldn’t write out a single word.
But before long, a new gray bubble popped into existence.
“No stream either?“
I quietly exhaled, letting out the breath I had been holding little by little.
It was much easier to just talk about business matters like this instead.
“They can’t put one up this time because they invited professionals in addition to the usual net musicians.“
“Too bad.” “But still amazing.”
In between the two messages was the sticker of a depressed tanuki.
I wanted Hanazono-sensei to be able to listen to it – to come to the venue even, if it were possible – but I already knew that was an impossible wish. Still…
“So take me with you.” “You’re going, aren’t you, MusaO?“
I stared wide-eyed at her message.
Hanazono-sensei wanted me to bring her? Like she really was asking? Did that mean she had been discharged from the hospital? I gripped my phone in anticipation and sat up straighter. I could feel the blanket sliding off my back.
But then the next message arrived soon after.
“You just keep a call going on speaker mode.“
I read the line over twice before falling backward into bed and staring up.
Oh, so she had meant to bring her over through the phone…
I slowly typed my reponse.
“I can’t be open about it, but I can keep it on in my pocket.“
“Thanks.” “I’m looking forward to it.“
She sent another sticker – a tanuki waving its hand goodbye – and our conversation ended.
I reread our conversation over and over again.
In the end, I still hadn’t heard her voice; all we did was exchange text. Well, she seemed fine, but — no, she had to be fine, right? She probably couldn’t talk because it was already late at night. For her to send a message over LINE though, that was a good start considering there hadn’t been any communication between us over the past six months. It was a huge step forward.
Later that night, after a long period of nothing, a new upload appeared on the MisaOtoko channel.
What appeared on screen with a little toy piano atop a bedsheet; it was smaller than a nearby pillow, but that didn’t make the antique-looking instrument look any less intricate. Its keys, spanning only two octaves’ worth, were each thinner than a single finger, but the hands hovering over it were skillfully playing a three-voice arrangement.
Last Christmas by Wham!
I used to think the title referred to a ‘final Christmas’; it had been before I learned the lyrics, so I assumed it was a sad song about the death of a lover or the singer or something. I did eventually read them, and that was when I learned it was actually a rather pitiful song about a guy who was dumped on the ‘previous Christmas’ and how he was now trying to find a new lover.
So it wasn’t a ‘final Christmas’ at all.
And, well, obviously there would be a Christmas this year, another one next year, and so on as long as you lived.
When I checked the video description, all it said was ‘Advent #1’ — the advent of Christmas, in other words. So there would be new uploads counting the days until Christmas, like opening the windows of an advent calendar to enjoy a candy with each day, or lighting another of the four weekly advent candles, or cutting small pieces out of a large stollen…
And just like that, I eagerly looked forward to the upload of the next song as well as the arrival of Christmas.
It was then I realized I should check on the social media accounts for PNO.
There were a lot of comments under the article that contained the live show announcement.
“Did MusaO quit?” “Why’d they change the bassist?” “It’s a completely different band without Makoto-san!” “Did he change his stage name because he finally got gender reassingment surgery?” “Is Shigasaki Kaya here THAT Shigasaki Kaya?!” “This is such a shock!“
In a panic, I quickly put up an explanation on our different accounts.
Unfortunately, Murase will not be participating in the Christmas live show because he wants to compose a new solo piece. The bassist that will be substituting for him is a reliable new member that fits in perfectly with the sounds PNO wants to create, and she will be key to bringing the best of PNO to the Christmas show…
I placed my phone at my bedside and switched off the light before wrapping myself under the blanket.
I closed my eyes and mulled it over.
I wrote about wanting to write a solo piece and then announced that plan to the public… If I didn’t upload something for that by Christmas, that wouldn’t end well for me…
No, well, it wasn’t about putting my back against the wall with an announcement like this — rather, seeing as MisaOtoko would be uploading so much content, the namesake – that is, MusaOtoko – couldn’t just sit around doing nothing. I did wonder how many songs I could write by Christmas… But what kinds of songs should I write? And what kinds of sounds would resonate best on these coming nights of different colors? As I counted the bubbles of sound that seemed to floated into view from the darkness within me, I eventually fell fast asleep.
*
As it turned out, December was building up to be a busy month for me; I continued attending studio practice with the rest of PNO, I singlehandedly oversaw cantata practice for the music festival, and I still had to worry about the upcoming end-of-term exams. That being said, I still had more free time compared to when I was still playing with the band.
And that extra free time made all the difference.
Over the past six months, all I could think about was the band; Paradise Noise Orchestra had been a central part of my life. It was so important that it took up probably 90% of my thoughts; from the moment I woke up every day, I would already be thinking about the next studio practice or a recent live show.
But now, with the burden that was my obligation gone, it was like I could finally raise my head to see the sky and… how wide it was.
And it wasn’t only being able to write music; I now had the freedom to just listen to it, too. For the first time in a long while, I could spend entire nights just swimming in the sea of music — listening to new album releases, following subscription service recommendations, reading music blogs, or even browsing other net musician channels. I liked to think of it like I was rehydrating myself, because after all, if all I did was make music, I would eventually dry out of it all.
Then, on one of these escapades, I happened to find a certain sound source.
It started from a certain music blog I had followed for a long time. They wrote a post about an interesting song with an unknown artist, and how they had found it while browsing more obscure video-sharing websites.
“No matter how many times I listen to it, both the playing and the recording are like actually pro level! But I just can’t figure out where it came from or who made it. I wanna say the voice sounds familiar, but I also don’t recognize it at all. I’ve tried putting it through a few search sites, but I haven’t gotten any good results. Still, it’s pretty exciting that something like this, that’s this good, was hiding in a corner of the Internet like this.“
…Or so the blogger had written.
I only half-believed in how good the song could be, but a half-interest was enough to get me to click the link. And then it blew me away.
There was the violent stroking of an acoustic guitar that was like a saw shaving away the surface of the heart. There was the percussion that fell like rain sending the smell of rich earth into the air. There was rap that suddenly started, appearing out of nowhere and sounding like the whispers of an indigenous people whose voices blended together and became indistinguishable against the drums. I had thought it was a single voice at first, but as I listened, I felt I could hear the lament of boys, of girls, of the dead in it. Then, there was the ominous arpeggio that came from a sitar, stirring the night into restlessness.
Suddenly, a falsetto sliced the night sky open, freeing the flood of light and driving away the smokey darkness. For a moment, I felt like I couldn’t breathe; what was this? What was I listening to? How could a song like this be lurking in a dark corner of the Internet? How could no one know about this song?
I forced myself to take a deep breath and calm down before letting it replay.
There were no visuals to the video; all that appeared on screen were the words ‘AUDIO ONLY’. The video title was just ‘0000864.mp4’ but it was less the song name and more the filename itself. There was no other information, but, as the blogger had written, it was clear this was the work of a professional. And how could it not be? There was a kind of resilience and beauty in the vocals, there was a deliberate tension in the arrangement, the ranges were well-balanced, and…
…yet, the piece was unfinished.
The rap portion seemed too effeminate — too sharp and aggressive against the clearer, high-pitched chorus. Individually, both parts had the power to move the listener’s heart, but together, they just didn’t fit. If I were to describe it, it would be like they were arguing voices that kept going at it until the very end.
This song needed a third voice that could bridge the divide between those two voices.
And I think this overly oriental-ish rhythm also needed something that was like the ebb and flow of the tide… maybe something like an undulation of strings? And then this weak bass line could use reinforcement…
I launched a DAW application and imported the 0000864.mp4 file. I began painting sounds over it, overlaying all the different arrangements that came to mind. I could feel the melody that would connect the two dissonant voices emerge from the depths of my subconscious; I could hear a sound pattern like a question-and-answer back-and-forth that would fit that falsetto of a guitar solo; I wrote both of those on the score and added an electric piano that could carry on the song from climax to conclusion; I added my own breathy singing voice into the microphone from inside the closet and fine-tuned the sound with different effectors. To me, the song was like a dried-out riverbed, and everything coming together was like a flood that revitalized the flow, returning the river to its former state.
It was only after the mixdown finished that I returned to my senses. My room suddenly felt darker and colder than ever, and I shivered as the chill of reality finally set in. I quickly wrapped a blanket around myself.
The date had already changed.
How many hours had I spent working on this? I’d even forgotten about eating dinner.
I stumbled out from my room to find the rest of the house pitch black — the rest of the family seemed to be asleep, so I quietly made my way to the kitchen to grab some bread before returning to my room. Once back at my desk, I slurped down some coffee, feeling it settle in my stomach as I put my headphones back on.
I listened to the finished song one more time.
…What do I do with this?
I’d made it using a sound source I took from the Internet and without permission — in other words, breaking copyright.
But I still wanted to put it out there; if I were to upload it to the PNO channel, it was possible one of the many subscribers would know where this song had come from… No, actually, my intentions weren’t that pure; I just wanted to show this song off, and I mean, with how amazing it is, it was hard to keep it to myself. I wanted everyone to hear it.
After taking off my headphones, I threw myself onto my bed, rolling around in agony over and over until I finally decided to give in to my desires.
So I switched on the light, setup my guitar, and recorded a basic performance video. After putting the recording on the computer, I overlaid the mystery song, adjusting its length as I did so, before uploading the finished video to the PNO channel. To try and avoid any possible trouble, I turned off monetization for the video, and in the video description, I linked the original video and explained that I was using the song as a backing track, that I was using it without permission since I didn’t know who the original artist was, and that if anyone found a problem with this upload, they could let me know and I would immediately delete the video.
As I watched the upload begin, a new worry came to mind: this channel was no longer exclusively my own, and selfishly doing something like this could cause trouble for the rest of the band. Still, it wasn’t like I could make a new channel to put this on; it probably wouldn’t even get any views. In the end, what I wanted was for as many people to hear this song as possible, and I didn’t think it would really cause any big issues… At least, I hoped it wouldn’t…
Oh well, I would just have to see what happened from here…
And with my desperation still clinging to the back of my mind, I crawled back into bed.
*
It had been a long time since the last solo MusaOtoko video, and yet the view count was already almost as high as the other videos – the ones with the band performing. At first I had been worried that people weren’t interested in a video where I wasn’t cross-dressing – to say nothing of its weird title, ‘If You Know Anything About This Song, Please Tell Me’ – but that worry had been for nothing.
“You look just as cute when dressed like a guy.“
— was the first comment I read, and that was enough to tempt me into deleting the whole thing. Thankfully, the other comments on the page all seemed to be song-related.
There were a number of guesses and theories about the original song, with most of the viewers focusing on the distinctive rapping voice. I tried listening to some of the artists the comments named, but they were all different in some way.
Meanwhile, the song had the rest of PNO just as clueless as me.
“This isn’t by some foreign artist, right? ‘Cause otherwise there’s way too many to try.”
It was now lunchtime in the music prep room; I had the girls listen to the original song, and Akane was the first to comment.
“It shouldn’t be since the chorus is in Japanese,” Shizuki pointed out.
“That doesn’t discount the possibility that the voice was sampled from somewhere else.”
Rinko countered, and Akane agreed.
“Yeah, and they do that a lot in rap. It’s pretty much why it’s hard to figure this one out.”
I was nervously listening in to them, and it wasn’t until there was a lull in the conversation that I timidly asked a follow-up question.
“So, um, the other thing is, uh, I’m kind of worried about the copyright, but what do you guys think? I know I uploaded it on my own and all, but…”
“As long as you take responsibility for it, it makes no difference to me,” Rinko said, shrugging her shoulders.
“Since the video is not monetized, if the copyright holder finds out and gets mad at you, you can just apologize and delete it. You aren’t trying to hide it either, so I do not see a problem with it,” Shizuki added, expressing a general opinion.
“If you were that scared, you could’ve just not uploaded it, you know!” Akane mercilessly cut in.
I guess she did have a point; I shouldn’t have done anything if all I was going to do was worry. Still, I couldn’t not upload it; it was such a great song, and it had become the foundation of an even greater song.
“Now that I think about it, you’ve been acting more and more selfish lately, Murase-kun.”
I could feel the blood drain from my face as I turned to face Rinko.
“Uh… r-really..?”
I couldn’t help but nervously stutter, hearing her nail my own thoughts so perfectly.
But it was true; I’d selfishly recruited another bassist, selfishly quit the band, and now I’d selfishly wrote and uploaded my own song after listening to a sound source I’d found off the Internet.
“I, for one, think it’s perfectly fine for you to continue acting selfishly, Makoto-san! In fact, I will do anything you ask!”
Um, excuse me, Shizuki-san? Could I ask that you follow what I usually say then?
Suddenly, Akane, who had been flicking through her phone with a finger, spoke up.
“The comments just keep coming… Hm? You guys ever heard of someone named Kuboi Takuto?”
The three of us peered closer at her phone.
Akane had the comments sorted to the most recent ones, and over the past few hours, many had mentioned the same name.
“Isn’t that Kuboi Takuto rapping?”
“Might be Kuboi Takuto. Sounds like him.”
“I think Kuboi Takuto sung something like this on a web radio show.”
We turned to exchange looks.
For some reason, the name really did sound familiar, but I couldn’t quite remember from where.
It took only a quick search of the name to find a number of photos of the person in question, and it seemed the girls recognized him.
“Oh, I’ve seen him before. I think he’s… a model? Or maybe he was an actor?”
“He was in a musical, and I think he was even the solo feature of an art exhibition.”
“Isn’t he a dancer? I think I’ve seen him in a video before.”
Hearing the three of them list completely different things confused me, but as I dug deeper, the most surprising thing was how he actually had done all of those things.
So the man in question, Kuboi Takuto, was born to a Japanese father and British mother. He lived in Tokyo until he was 10, which was when his family relocated to London, where he learned to dance and sing, and eventually became an actor for musicals. He was well-known not just as a unique fashion model in Japan but also for his oil paintings, which apparently had been a featured exhibition at a number of galleries before — and, of course, there was also the matter of his skill in songwriting and playing the guitar. After adding in his dashing, spine-tingling looks, I really couldn’t help but wonder how the heavens could have blessed one man with so much.
As it turned out, he also had his own video channel, and I went to take a look.
Most of his uploads were dance videos, but there were some whose thumbnails depicted a person holding a guitar. I clicked on the most recent one of these.
What opened was a cover of Beck’s Where It’s At.
It only took hearing just a single listless, melancholic phrase to place the voice; he was the one.
“It’s gotta be him,” Akane muttered. Rinko and Shizuki nodded in agreement.
I skimmed the rest of the guitar-playing videos, but not one of them was of the ‘original song’ I’d heard.
“It doesn’t look like he’s ever released any albums.”
“But that that one song sounded like it was professionally made, like someone really put the effort to make it sound good.”
“Maybe it was for an overseas release or something?”
“Since the lyrics are in Japanese, that would not work. It must be something they just never released.”
“Then why did it get uploaded to the Internet?”
The girls went back and forth, when Akane suddenly turned a bright voice toward me.
“You can just ask the guy yourself and get all the answers! And while you’re at it, you can check if you’ve got his permission to use the song, too!”
That was true, but… was that what I should be doing?
Despite having found a valuable clue, I couldn’t help but feel nervous; even if the song did belong to Kuboi Takuto, that didn’t mean he would allow me to use it. It was possible he’d be angry and scold me for stealing his music or, worse, demand payment for using the song.
I shook my head to clear my thoughts.
I would accept the consequences of my actions; I was the one who let that song free and into the internet, and it wasn’t like I could go back or undo it. All I could do now was take responsibility for what I had done.
Having resolved myself, I tapped on the contact button in the channel profile.
“Greetings, Kuboi Takuto-sama. My name is Murase Makoto, a net musician. I recently uploaded a video that used an unknown song as its backing track, and I am contacting you now because I believe the song may belong to you. If so, I would like to apologize for not obtaining your permission beforehand, and…”
Each word I typed was like another blow to my stomach.
To my surprise, I received a reply that same night.
“Hello, Murase-sama. How do you do? This is Niijima, an agent representing Kuboi Takuto that manages his general affairs. I apologize for the suddenness and possible inconvenience of such an abrupt invitation, but would it be possible for us to meet sometime this week? There are some complicated matters that need to be addressed and clarified regarding the matter you brought to our attention, and Kuboi wishes to discuss this matter directly with you. Furthermore…”
Things were starting to happen at such a rapid pace that I began feeling dizzy from it all.
*
And so, on an evening three days later, I found myself before a small building in Ochanomizu.
When I entered at exactly 5 PM, a man looking to be in his thirties and wearing a dark suit suddenly stood from a sofa in the lobby. He wore serious-looking glass that, combined with his neatly-combed hair, gave off a clean, well-groomed air.
“You must be Murase-san. I am Niijima, the one who answered your message. Thank you very much for coming today.”
He must have learned what I looked like from all the pictures of me on the internet now, but… Well, it was pretty convenient that someone I was meeting for the first time recognized me so quickly. To answer him, I started by giving a deep bow.
“So, um, before anything, I just want to say that I’m very sorry for using that sound source without permission, and…”
“Actually, Murase-san, please hold off on that until later. Right now, Kuboi is already waiting for you downstairs.”
Just like that, Niijima-san urged me over to the elevator.
We got off in what appeared to be a spacious basement studio furnished with equipment: two amps, a Korg KRONOS LS on a keyboard stand, and two mic stands.
And there, sitting alone on a pipe chair in front of the guitar amp was a young man tuning an Ovation acoustic-electric guitar.
As I approached, he raised his head and noticed me.
“I’m Kuboi Takuto.”
That was all he said.
Despite having see how beautiful he had looked through pictures on the internet, I still wasn’t ready for how much more intense his appearance was in person. Here, his hair was dyed completely white, and his narrow, almond-shaped eyes had a glint to them that was like sharpened icicles. I felt as though I were staring down a hungry predator, one that was ready to pounce on me the moment I became even a little distracted.
He seemed to have finished tuning his guitar, and now Kuboi Takuto rose from his seat. I instinctively stepped back.
But rather than attack me, Kuboi Takuto instead tossed something over – a folded bundle of paper. I caught it and opened it up to find it was sheet music. Now I was completely lost; what was going on here? My confusion continued as he suddenly pointed toward the keyboard. I turned to Niijima-san in puzzlement, but he just gave a bitter smile and a look that seemed to be saying, “Sorry kid, it’s all you.”
“Key’s in D. Jump in whenever you feel like. ‘Kay, one, two…”
And without any further explanation, Kuboi Takuto began with a riff on his guitar — the start of ‘that song’. He still had that same look in his eye – the one that made it seem like he was ready to attack me – even as I stood around in confusion in front of the keyboard. Did he really call me over to meet just so we could play a session together? Weren’t there things we were supposed to discuss? By this point, so much confusion, so many questions filled my head that I felt like it would all begin to leak out of my ears.
But the moment Kuboi Takuto stepped forward to begin murmuring into the mic, I felt my consciousness slip down into my fingers as I basked in the sound of his voice. Hearing it live, in person, was so much sharper, so much more ominous, so much more… hypnotic.
His gaze turned, now boring through my cheeks.
My hands, previously lingering about the pearly-whites of the organ, pulled the mic in front of me closer.
A thrilling, almost frightening tingle crawled through my throat as I added my voice atop the sounds. It was like two different songs were mixing together; they shared the same beat and chords, but the vocals, the rhythms, the melodies, and even the languages were all different. I could never have imagined it could sound like such sweet, beautiful poison.
When he suddenly stopped after just one chorus, an overwhelming chill and despair seemed to come over me like a wave of nausea, and I found myself lurching over the keyboard. A cacophonous of sound erupted from the instrument, filling the studio with unpleasant noise, and I quickly reached over to reduce the keyboard’s volume; I looked back over at Kuboi Takuto find him fixing a glare at me as he replaced his guitar on its stand.
“So it’s really you. Turns out you actually are a high school student, too.”
He spoke like he was spitting the words out as he sat back down in his pipe chair. Did that mean he had done this – the impromptu playing and everything – just to confirm who I was? I mean, he could tell just by looking at me, right? Surely this wasn’t all he called me over for…
At some point, Niijima-san had brought over a chair, and I wearily collapsed into it with my anxiety still hanging over me.
“Niijima-san, could you wait outside? I want to talk alone with him.”
His words left me startled; I gave Niijima-san a pleading glance, and he returned a look of sympathy.
“I apologize, but I believe it would be better if I stayed. It seems Murase-san would be more comfortable with me here.”
I wanted to nod in agreement with such force that for a moment I worried I might break my own neck trying to stop it. In response, Kuboi Takuto bluntly replied…
“Look, this is gonna be hard for me, too. And It’s not like I’m doing anything to him. If you think it sounds like I’m about to beat him up, you can just come back in and stop me.”
“Why would you do something like that in the first place?!” I wanted to shout. Niijima-san, on the other hand, let out a reluctant sigh and exited the room; once he was gone, it felt as though the temperature of the room had dropped three degrees.
Kuboi Takuto stood and dragged his chair about five centimeters closer before sitting back down, crossing his legs as he did.
“So… Musa… uh, Mura..?”
“It’s Murase Makoto.”
“So, Murase Makoto-san, you really have no idea who uploaded that sound source?”
He was just as curt as before, though it would be a little creepy if he were to suddenly switch to a polite tone of voice, especially considering his appearance and demeanor until now.
“That’s right. It’s exactly as I said in the email to Niijima-san.”
I tried to imply our conversation would proceed more smoothly if Niijima-san was around to elaborate, but he seemed to ignore it.
“Then… are you saying the song really does belong to you, Kuboi-san?”
“Just Takuto is fine,” he suddenly added, looking clearly displeased, “It just sounds insulting after all the people I’ve heard calling me ‘cool boy’ because of my last name.”
“Uh, all right…”
I suddenly remembered he used to live in England. That must have been a rough time…
“Anyway, that song is mine, but it isn’t just mine. And it’s not something that should have been made public either, so I don’t know how or why it made its way onto the internet in the first place.”
Takuto-san abruptly stopped speaking, instead letting his head drop to stare at the leg of the mic stand by him. It didn’t look like he was trying to find what words to say next; no, it seemed more like he was waiting for something.
After a brief moment, he continued to speak.
“I forgot how many years ago it was, but it had been back when we were in the talks of releasing a debut record in Japan. They had already finalized the details for a commercial tie-in; I’d chosen a producer, and recording had just finished.”
“In Japan..? Oh, I get it, that’s why…”
Takuto-san frowned as I murmured to myself.
“What are you talking about?”
I had a feeling I might make him angry with what I was about to say, so I steeled myself by clearing my throat before answering.
“What I mean is, well… the kind of music you like, Takuto-san, actually isn’t very popular in Japan. But the way you play the guitar and your rapping are both really cool, so if you were to add a catchy melody to bring the two together, it could actually catch on… Which is how that arrangement came to be… right?”
I’d felt a disconnect between the chorus and the rap when I’d first listened to the song, and I finally understood that was intentional — the result of a creative process that put it all together.
What happened next seemed unbelievable.
After a moment of quiet, Takuto-san suddenly burst into laughter.
He leaned back into his chair, laughing toward the ceiling. His wavy hair bounced about as he threw his head back in laughter, and his upper body trembled from the mirth. All I felt from this was fear.
Takuto-san calmed down soon enough, though he was still breathing heavily as he turned his attention back to me.
“That guy said the exact same thing you just did.”
I felt as though I was having a conversation with a leopard that pretended to understand human language; I could hear the words he was saying, but I couldn’t understand their meaning or his intentions.
“And yeah, the both of you were right — the song as it was wouldn’t sell. Which was why the producer went and added Japanese lyrics to the chorus… without even telling me.”
The producer had gone behind the artist’s back? Did that really happen? In a professional setting like this? Or maybe, it’s because it was in a professional setting that something like that could actually happen.
“But…”
I had more to say but stopped. Was I even allowed to say it?
Takuto-san stared closely at me.
Fine, whatever, I’ll say it. I’ll put everything right on the table, without holding any thoughts back.
“I think the chorus was very well done, especially the part that starts with following the guitar solo, only to separate and expand from the second verse on.”
“‘That so… I feel the same, too.”
He wasn’t going to deny it? Ugh, seriously, what was his angle?
“But… weren’t you angry about the producer selfishly doing what he wanted with the song?”
“Of course. I was furious — it doesn’t matter if it still sounded good because it wasn’t my song anymore. And so I told him that, and then I canceled on the debut offer.”
I couldn’t stop myself from gasping in disbelief — those kinds of stubborn, eccentric artists really did exist. And wait, didn’t he say they had already planned for a commercial tie-in, too? Backing out of a deal like that was sure to have caused a ton of trouble for everyone involved in it…
“And that sound source you uploaded, that was the tentative mixdown we were going to use, but… why did it only now go up on the internet? I have no idea where it could have come from.”
So Rinko’s guess – that it just hadn’t been released – was actually correct.
“So, uh… I guess I shouldn’t be asking for permission to use the sound source then? I’m very sorry for using it, and I’ll have the video taken down immediately.”
“I don’t really care.”
“Huh?”
“The thing is, and I said this earlier too, I’m not the only one who owns the song. If you want to get permission to use the song, you should be asking the producer who did the arrangement and added that melody to the chorus.”
“Wait, but what about the other musicians that were involved? Like the bassist? And the drummer? And if the project was just archived after you declined the offer, would they have taken care of the copyright on the song?”
“Okay, so re-record it then.”
I could feel my head starting to hurt. Did this guy even think about what he was saying? Like, the only reason why I came was to get permission to use the sound source — surely he knew that, right?
“I mean, I didn’t intend to go that far with it so…”
“Why not? You’re just gonna give up on a song that’s already almost finished?”
Shouldn’t I be the one asking you that question…
“Anyway, the producer’s a guy named Makita Shun. He was might have been the one who uploaded the song in the first place. I’ve no idea what he’s up to now, though it’s not like he did jobs that were all that front-facing to begin with. I think he’s scrubbed his contact info since then, too. Probably felt like he couldn’t show his face or something after what happened.”
“Uh-huh…”
“You got anyone on the inside to help?”
“I wouldn’t say I know many people, but I think there are a few that can help.”
Kyouko-san was the first to come to mind, but besides her… maybe President Tamamura? Nah, I wouldn’t count him as an acquaintance in the industry.
“Then you should be able to find Makita-san.”
“What? No, it can’t be that easy, can it? The industry is huge.”
“It’s actually a smaller world than you think. Besides, you won’t know for sure until you try.”
Why was he pushing so hard for me to do it myself? Why couldn’t he just let me off more easily?
But as I thought that, another realization hit me, and I hesitated for a moment before asking another question.
“Um… It couldn’t be that you actually want to get in touch with Makita-san yourself, but… you feel like it’s too awkward if you were to do it yourself, so you want me to do it instead… right, Takuto-san?”
Takuto-san’s face instantly contorted in a grimace.
“Tell me: who exactly fed you that crap?”
Asking like that was as good as admitting it.
He seemed to have realized it as well, and he seemed to clench his teeth as he looked up and away toward the ceiling. After a moment, he emphatically exhaled through his nose.
“Listen. I was… just a dumb brat back then. There were so many things I could’ve done better, but what else could I do when it felt like I had nothing left? I wanted to smash his face and then smash all traces of the song afterwards.”
Sure, but so what?
Why couldn’t he just go and apologize himself? Why was he using a stranger he had literally just met to try and reestablish a connection?
But… I swallowed back the harsh criticism and instead said
“I understand. I’ll ask the people I know.”
*
As soon as I returned home, I made the video private.
Of course, I also posted an explanation for doing so: Thank you all for providing information about the original song. As there may be problems regarding copyright infringement, I have made the video private for now. I apologize for any trouble.
And then I looked up the name Makita Shun.
Apparently he had released two original albums a long time ago; at the same time, there wasn’t much information about him available. The best I could find was that he had previously done background music, wrote songs for idol groups and commercials, and even co-authored a book as a freelance writer.
And luckily, his albums were available on the music streaming service I was susbcribed to.
The impression I got after listening to his songs was of a deliberate craftsman; the music itself was psychedelic, and yet it felt as though the sounds had been carefully tuned and the distance carefully measured as though with a ruler, giving the listening experience a very pleasant aloofness.
That is to say I really liked the music… but it wasn’t something that would be popular.
It was the same kind of lukewarm electronica I used to do – before my sister had me try cross-dressing for my videos, I mean – but refined across tens of thousands of trials until becoming a real song. Had I never met the girls and formed PNO, my music probably would’ve gone in this direction, though I would have been floundering about miserably and unsuccessfully in the digital sea.
I turned the volume of the music lower as I continued with my research.
It wasn’t long before I found news articles that mentioned Kuboi Takuto’s debut record as well as the subsequent falling out of the deal; some of them did mention the producer, Makita Shun, by name, but otherwise, none of it amounted to more than just net gossip.
All the while, I listened to all of Makita Shun’s songs, one after another.
Slowly but surely, I was putting together in my mind this image of a man I’d never before, Makita Shun.
I could tell he was the kind of person who followed his clients’ requests exactly and fulfilled 100% of their needs; his drive for perfection was so strong, it practically wafted out from the nooks and crannies of his arrangements. His style was hinted at jazz fundamentals, but there were clear influences from Electric Light Orchestra; overall, it reminded me of Yamashita Tatsurou’s style.
There was a photo of him, taken during an album release. He looked slender, with gentle-looking eyes and a wispy, faint impression that seemed likely to fade from memory if I were to look away. At a glance he seemed about the age of a college student, when, at the same time, it wasn’t wrong to describe him as a man in his fifties.
That being said, I wondered again if I should get in touch with him by contacting the record company that released this album..
The thing was that the sound source wasn’t any sort of official release – it was supposed to stay stored away – and there was still the matter of how it had been leaked. With all of that in mind, asking for permission to use the sound source was starting to seem too high of a hurdle to overcome.
And really, why did I even need to bother with all of this?
But strangely enough, that unease… began to fade away.
Was it because I’d been listening to Makita Shun’s songs this entire time? Did I start wanting to meet him because of it?
No, wait, it went back further than that; my thoughts started becoming more positive ever since I’d met with Takuto-san.
Because really, it should have been enough that Takuto-san gave me his permission, but then there was what he said — about how I should just re-record the song…
It made me want to laugh, because I mean, that was just absurd.
But even crazier than that was how I was beginning to think the same. And it wasn’t impossible, because of the three irreplaceable parts of the ‘original song’ – the guitar, the rap, and the chorus – two were already in my hands. The song as it was now, in its unfinished state, was already shining so brightly; it made me want to complete it.
Then… did I have no choice but to use my connections?
If I contacted Kyouko-san… She was the one who knew the most people, but it would be presumptuous of me to call on her for a favor as an acquaintance. I did have her contact information, but knowing how busy she must have been, I was hesitant to bother her by asking for help, especially when it came to a personal matter like this.
If I contact President Tamamura… To be honest, I really didn’t want to put myself in debt to him. I could have asked Kakizaki-san instead, but I knew that would actually turn into a matter of asking President Tamamura anyway — going in the same direction, in other words. In the end, I contacted neither of them; Naked Egg was an event management company after all, so I doubted they had the type of connections I was looking for.
And that left…
An idea came to mind as I read another article about Makita Shun releasing an album.
I opened the LINE app on my phone and sent a message to Kaya. Sorry for messaging you so late at night, but I have an important favor to ask. It’s rather long and complicated, so would it be okay if I called? I wrote.
A reply came almost immediately.
“I need to get changed first, so please wait a little.” “I’ll call you when I’m ready.”
She needed to get changed? For what? This was just a phone call.
Fifteen minutes later, I received an incoming call; when I answered, Kaya appeared on screen, dressed up so nicely that I wanted to tease her about mistaking the time and day of a Christmas party. Actually, why was this a video call in the first place? I ended up leaving my own camera on anyway, since I would feel bad if I were to turn it off.
“Yeah, uh, sorry for bothering you so late at night, and thanks for calling. But, um, we didn’t need to do this over a video call, you know…”
Kaya’s eyes widened in shock.
“Huh? But Shizuki-senpai said all PNO calls should be video calls with the camera turned on.”
Hold on, why exactly was Shizuki teaching her that kind of nonsense? Was she trying to scope out Kaya’s private life or something?
“Okay, look, you gotta understand that the girls of PNO are the kind of people that could set ridiculous conditions like that without batting an eye, and that goes for all three of them. So let me assure you that you don’t have to take everything they say that seriously.”
“Oh, I see. That sounds especially convincing coming from you, Murase-senpai, after all the times you’ve lied to me with a straight face.“
Wait, no! I mean, you’re right, but, well, I really am sorry for having done it…
“Anyway, what’s this important favor about?”
“Right, so it’s a bit of a weird story, but…”
I started by talking about the record company that had produced Makita Shun’s album.
“So I called because I remembered one of your dad’s album was also produced by this same company, right?”
Kaya made a displeased expression – most likely because I mentioned her father – but I held back any apologies to continue speaking.
“The thing is, there’s something I want to talk about with someone from that company, and I was hoping you could use the connections you have to help me with that.”
Of course, none of this would make any sense as it is, so I ended up summarizing everything that had happened so far: the solo recording I uploaded the other day, my talk with Kuboi Takuto earlier today, and how I decided I wanted to get in touch with the producer, Makita Shun.
As my explanation went on, Kaya’s expression seemed to grow fiercer and fiercer, fueling my fear — this was exactly why I didn’t want to have a video call…
Once I finished, Kaya seemed to lose all tension and gave a long and deliberate sigh.
“Murase-senpai, you know that I really don’t like having anything to do with my father’s connections, right?“
“Y-yeah…”
“So you know, but you’re still asking me to do this?“
“Yeah, but, I mean, you remember what I said, right? About connections and stuff? What kind of person would I be if I said that but didn’t follow it myself? That’s why I’m asking you now, and, um, it’s not like I’m asking you to do it for free, either. I’ll do anything you want as thanks — if it’s something I can do, I mean.”
She let out another sigh, this one twice as long as the first.
“I heard a lot about you, you know, Murase-senpai. From the others.”
Kaya suddenly changed topics, and I wasn’t sure what to make of it.
“Rinko-senpai, and Akane-senpai, and Shizuki-senpai… they all had a lot to say. I think it would take at least two nights for me to tell you everything they told me, Murase-senpai.”
What the heck, really? That’s actually scary! What was there to even talk about?
“Really, they just kept going on and on, and I was just getting more and more confused. Eventually I asked them to describe you with only one sentence. And you know what happened? They all said the same think: you’re a music-obssessed idiot.“
“Guh…”
“‘His brain only has room for music, all day every day,’ they said, and they mentioned how you don’t pay attention to anything, how nothing else matters once you get stuck on writing a good song. And you know, that did sound like you, though I didn’t really get it. Now, though, I really understand what they were talking about: you, Murase-senpai, really are an absolutely, hopelessly music-obssessed idiot.“
I instinctively pulled away from the screen.
Was that really what they all thought of me? Not that I had an excuse anyway; even I was starting to think of myself that way lately…
“So anyway, I’ll ask my manager. They might have an in with the company you mentioned.“
“You’ll… O-oh, I mean, thank you!”
I reflexively brought the phone back over, drawing closer to Kaya’s face on screen.
“But only because you made a promise!” Kaya’s face grew noticeably redder as she spoke. “Anything I ask, like you promised! You better not forget!“
Kaya immediately hung up before I could respond.
I took a deep breath before reaching over and plugging in the charging cable to my phone.
Meanwhile, the laptop was playing another Makita Shun song, though at a barely audible level. I could hear a vague but gentle and captivating singing voice, one that was like an ephemeral dreaming already fading after waking up.
Headcanon TL 
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