I'm back.
Lots of things happened, lots of things needed my attention. Life ensued, and with it the world has seen many a great change.
But, I'm looking towards some extra free time as I manage my little shop that is my main source of income. And I have the next chapter already planned and half written too, so there goes that. Just need a bit of rechecking before proceeding.
Anyhow, here we are. This is becoming a pattern. And great, great thanks to the three editors/proofreaders I asked for help on this: Silentcook, NuclearStudent, and a guy called CelestialCaesar aka Alex on the Yamaku Academy discord server. Without them, my hastily written draft is likely gonna get shredded to bits had I jumped straight into posting it here. And thank you StealthyWolf for your ever persistent interest in this despite my slow uploads and writing speed. There'll be some confirmation for your theories here, aye, and debunking others.
And without further ado, let's jump into it.
Scene 16: The Evening Thief
Scene 16: The Evening Thief
What?
Someone stole the drum set?
I nudge Mao aside a bit to see the band room for myself.
The setup in the middle of the half-tidied mess of cardboard boxes and makeshift furniture is still unchanged from yesterday; the music sheet stands are roughly where they were, Mao’s bass is sitting on its case leaning against the wall, and Shouhei’s keyboard is stashed against the far wall. The missing elephant in the room, the drum set, is however indeed gone. In addition to that, some of the clutter we left behind yesterday was moved aside as if a team had come in, disassembled the drum set, and carried it out. I turn around. The door was locked, right? I remember Mao locking it before we left for the restaurant yesterday evening. Mao takes off her glasses and points aggressively at the empty space where the drums once sat. “IT’S GONE!”
“Yes, I know,” I tell her, still trying to wrap my head around how they got in. “But how? Yesterday it was there.”
“Our stuff is here, though,” I hear Shouhei chiming in. He shimmies past me and the boxes to enter the empty space. “Did they just take it apart and…”
“This is weird.”
Mao puts her glasses back, places her hands on both our shoulders and starts to violently drag us both out to the hallway. I manage to shake off her grip. “H-hey!” I protest.
“We’re going to look for them,” she grits out.
“Where?!”
“THE ENTIRE CLUBS WING!” she yells back, turning on her heels and stomping. “I am NOT tolerating ANYONE stealing my senior’s equipment!”
The two of us hold our hands up to appease her. “Okay, okay! Just give me a moment…” She huffs, but lets me put my guitar case on the makeshift table before hoisting my bag back up. Shouhei instead drops his off entirely. By the time we’re done, Mao is gone. “Shit.”
Shouhei sprints ahead of me and I chase him down the stairs, following the chaos of noise and commotion below. By the time we reach the third-floor landing, Mao is already interrupting the newspaper club’s activities by rapping her cane on their door. “Yes, yes, coming!” a voice responds as we catch up to Mao, who huffs at our tardiness.
The door opens to reveal a girl with a shoulder-length blonde bob. She briefly glares at Mao, as if she had been roughly roused from a good nap. Inside, the newspaper club room is hectic with purpose, unlike ours; two of the walls are lined with tables, occupied by junior members busy writing and editing what seem to be drafts for the newspaper. The center of the room is occupied by two large machines, humming loudly as they print sheet after sheet for tomorrow’s release. At the far wall, by the windows, is a much more official-looking table occupied by another familiar face; long messy brown hair, and most recognizably, two distinct eye colors. “What is it, Mao-chan…” the blonde girl grumbles, folding her arms.
Mao does not respond, instead pushing her aside enough to step inside, look around, and step back outside. The blonde girl is visibly miffed by Mao’s silent treatment and tries to stop her, but the bespectacled girl is relentless and marches out, her cane rapping against the floor. The blonde girl turns to us now, her red irises glinting as she demands answers. “What the hell was that?”
Shouhei bows down to apologise. I follow suit. “Sorry, Naomi! Mao is currently very, very pissed off. Someone took the drums from our band room.”
Naomi raises an eyebrow. “The drums? That big thing?”
He nods and I add, standing back up, “Uh, she said she’s gonna check every single club room in this entire wing.” We hear a yelp of surprise in the distance as Mao swings open another door. She pokes her head inside then leaves.
We watch her, and Naomi sighs, exasperated. “Oh for… right, drums, is it?” she turns to us while pinching her forehead, annoyed. “Tch. Nat! Message everyone that Mao’s on a rampage for her drums!”
“On it!” Nat shouts back.
Naomi turns back to us, her red irises lighting up upon taking a closer look at me. “Oh wait, you’re the new guy, right?”
I chuckle nervously. “Yeah, I haven't formally introduced myself yet.” I extend a hand. “Hisao Nakai, new member of Mao’s band.”
Naomi snickers and accepts with a handshake. “Oh, you’re in for a treat. I’d introduce you to the rest of the club, and Natsume-” the girl inside waves at us, right on cue, ”-but you gotta catch up with Mao there.” She points down the hall, where another door gets slammed open, followed by another yelp of surprise.
Shouhei grits his teeth. “Yeah. Message me if you and your guys find the drum set, Naomi!” he yells at her as he speeds down the hall to calm Mao down.
“You got it!” the blonde girl salutes. She then steps back into her clubroom.
I hesitate for a moment, sigh, and fast walk over there, hands on my bag’s straps because I’m not sure where they should be. What the hell am I doing? Why am I here? So what if we’re missing the drums?
Well, if we don’t have drums, we can’t perform, stupid.
But we don’t even have a drummer, idiot.
I look up at the ceiling. “Tch.” Not now. As soon as I catch up to the two of them, Mao reaching a hand for the door frame, a familiar face stumbles out.
“Mao, you--!” Tsubaki yells, arms stretched by her sides as she walks backwards to avoid Mao’s stomping into the astronomy club as labeled above the door..
Ah shit. I hurry inside to the jostling of others trying to escape her wrath. Inside are simply rearranged class desks and chairs, the arrays of photographs taped on the walls, and a closed off room in the corner made from plastic dividers. As Tsubaki steps back, she stumbles into me, then realizes that I’m here. “Oh finally, Hisao! Where’ve you been?”
“Practice! Or I was gonna, until Mao started throwing a temper tantrum,” I protest. I know I missed the chance to see her last lunch period, and she’s probably talking about that. Tsubaki looks like she wants to laugh, but then a tanned girl with twin braids pulls her back in.
“Tsubaki! She’s messing up the telescope!” The girl begs her to intervene as Mao pushes the telescope aside to head to the closed off room within. Almost immediately everyone in the club room stands up, panicking.
“Yukimura, that’s the dark room! Please don’t open the door, we’re--”
Mao shuts the door closed and marches outside, followed by Shouhei who’s fervently bowing to apologise. “Sorry, very sorry, you guys!” he keeps repeating as I follow them both into the hallway.
Mao keeps barreling forward, both I and Shouhei getting pulled into her wake, barely able to catch our breath. Every few seconds she slams open another door, and after each club we enter we leave another set of wide-eyed students behind us. I barely manage to register what’s going on as Mao hastens her pace, until some of them come up in the chaos.
Our misadventure leads us down the main wing. I manage to read the sign above the newest door - Literature Club - when Mao steps in. Shouhei and I try to catch up to her, and we come across a blue-haired girl rubbing her eyes as if she had been sleeping. Next to her is a bewildered red-haired boy. I briefly recognise both of them as my fellow classmates, and he seems to recognise me too. “Akio, what’s going on?” the sleepy girl mutters.
“I don’t know, Suzu,” he answers while Shouhei keeps up with Mao as she scans each aisle of this mini-library. I press my lips together, unsure of what to say. The bespectacled girl then huffs and leaves, and we both apologize, leaving them bewildered.
We return to the hall to see Mao already halfway down the staircase. Her speed is incredible, considering she’s using a cane to walk. Had I been an audience and not a member of this bloody race, I would’ve been amazed!
Arriving at the second floor, the checking resumes as the angry girl slams open nearby club doors and leaves promptly. Shouhei clicks his tongue, irritated, and stops my chase after her briefly. “Hisao, I’m… I’m gonna go check the medical wing,” he tells me, in equal parts frustrated and exhausted by Mao’s illogical rampage. Before I can protest, he splits away heading back to the main wing, and Mao slams open the doors to the Computer Club. I grit my teeth and catch up to Mao instead of pulling him back.
Inside, I catch sight of a small nameplate reading “Izumi” on a cluttered desk. Right above a mess of keyboards and cables, that student looks up from her screen, eyes wide and nervous. Mao is further back, checking the club’s storeroom, and just as quickly she stomps out. I bow my head and apologise to the club’s sole member before following the bassist.
The next few club rooms are a blur. Catch up, apologize, leave, repeat. I’ve long discarded any reservations about how this is very much not my fault and apologise on the band’s behalf instead, just to make sure nobody reports us. We reach the end of the hallway, yet Mao’s rampage shows no end in sight as she slams the staircase door open, determined to keep marching. I take a deep breath and catch up.
At the first floor, I briefly thank the decision to combine classrooms here into big ones. Less of a hassle. But still, she’s halfway down the dimly-lit hallway before I’m at her side again. Another class, more half-turned heads, and we finally come to the music club’s double doors. Mao stops for once, fists clenched, her warpath paused for a moment. I take a second to catch my breath, bracing myself as she places her hands on the double doors’ handles and throws them in.
Inside there is Saki at the front of the hall, directing a group of students as they put together stage decor and props. She looks taken aback by Mao’s sudden intrusion, her enthusiastic smile fading into confusion. “Mao? Hisao?” Her brow furrows. “What’s going on?”
Mao steps forward. I can see her trying to maintain a calm demeanour, but after her trek across the school, her legs are as shaky as mine. She leans against her cane a bit more. “Saki, do you have a minute? It’s important.”
The blonde girl looks distracted, glancing at her juniors then back at us. “If it’s about the stage, you might wanna ask Rika about the sound tech. She’s out there with the rest of the Computer Club--”
Saki pauses when she sees Mao gripping the head of her cane. “It’s not about that,” Mao clears her throat. “It’s the drum set. The one Koizumi left. It’s gone.”
The music club president frowns and raises her hand, signaling the juniors to keep working, then turns to look at us. Some of them comply and others keep watching. “What do you mean, gone? Did someone move it?”
The two of them stand in the middle of the hall, their canes planted firmly, like two generals squaring off. I linger near the door, uncertain if I should step in or not, being the stranger that I am. The atmosphere is tense enough that everyone else stops what they're doing. For a brief moment, Mao billows out metaphorical steam as she cools off in front of Saki.
“You knew I was counting on it, Saki,” Mao says, her tone sharp, but not harsh. She gestures broadly with her free hand. “You don’t just move something like that without telling me!”
Saki raises an eyebrow as she leans on her cane. “I didn’t move it. And even if I did, do you really think I’d just… what, toss it in a closet somewhere?”
Mao snorts. “Wouldn’t put it past you.”
Oh. Banter? Do they know each other?
“Oh, please,” Saki rolls her eyes. “If I’m going to hide something, you’ll never find it. I’m way too good at this game.”
“This isn't a game!” Mao snaps, though her voice wavers somewhere between frustration and exasperation. “It's my drum set, Saki. Koizumi gave it to us. You know how much it means to me.”
Saki sighs and crosses her arms. “And you know I wouldn’t let anything happen to it. If it's not here, someone else must’ve moved it. Maybe Shouhei needed space for his keyboard and stashed it somewhere.”
That does not sound like something he’d do. Mao looks at the suggestion with incredulity, but it fades when Saki smirks. It was meant as a joke, huh. Regardless, Mao’s cane clicks against the floor as she steps forward, her eyes narrowing. “Don’t make excuses. You’re the club president. If anyone’s moving equipment around, you should know about it. Either you, or Kaori, or Rika.”
“Ah, yes, because I have nothing better to do than babysit a room full of instruments,” Saki shoots back, her words laced with dry humor. “Let me just… clear my schedule of all the other nonsense I’m dealing with so I can keep tabs on every drumstick and cymbal in this building.”
“That’s not the point!” Mao snaps, and throws her hands up, giving up. “You - ugh! You’re impossible.”
“And you’re dramatic,” Saki counters, chuckling with amusement. “Look, let’s head to the practice hall’s storeroom, okay? But if I find out you’ve blown this out of proportion—again—you’re buying me lunch.”
I press my lips together. Do I tell her that Mao has gone through a rampage through the entire clubhouse annex? Mao herself looks winded and annoyed, but too tired of stomping all over the place to fight back as Saki wraps her arm around her with a cheeky grin on her face.
Best to spare her the trouble by telling her now.
“Actually, she - Mao, went through every single club room in this wing.”
Saki freezes in place. Her eyes widen as she looks at Mao pursing her lips, then at me, glancing back at the hallway. We can hear footsteps approaching rapidly. “…Oh dear,” is all she mutters.
“...Yeah,” I nod, awkwardly. As soon as the footsteps get close enough, I step aside to let whoever it was in. All three of us assumed it would be one of the disgruntled club presidents from the floors above, but instead, a familiar face pops out of the dimly-lit hallway as he holds on to the door to catch his breath. “Shouhei?”
Shouhei looks up at me, his other hand holding his phone. “They found it,” he pants, “one of Naomi’s guys found it. It’s in the Nurse’s office.”
“What.” I couldn’t tell who said that, it felt like all three of us said it simultaneously.
He holds on to the door as he straightens his back. “Yeah. And the Nurse told me to get you guys.”
Mao steps forward, her energy revitalized, and before we realize it she’s already out of the door. Shouhei nods to Saki as he follows her. I pause briefly. “Saki, are you gonna come with us?” I ask her.
The blonde girl pauses, pursing her lips, and turns to her juniors. Some of them gave her thumbs up. She smiles and returns the favor before coming with me to the hallway. “Sure, let’s see what the Nurse is up to with that thing.”
We make our way across the main building, down the very long hallway that stretches to the medical wing at the other side. Mao is ahead, her pace slower, making it easy for Shouhei to catch up and ask her things. We pass by the First Year classrooms; all are empty and closed for the evening, but there are the occasional students here and there, nodding in respect and greeting. Saki waves at them with a warm smile. Both her cane and Mao’s click on the tiled floor as we pass the grand lobby and across another stretch of classes.
When we round the corner, a familiar sound cuts through the usual hallway noise, sharp and measured. Unmistakably, drums. We all stop and listen intently. Even Mao stops, because we can tell that whoever is on that stool isn’t messing around. The strikes have intent, the fills have structure. A solid, practiced hand.
Both Mao and Shouhei look at me, as if silently asking me if their minds didn’t make it up. I nod. Our progress resumes, but slowly this time, to hear more of this mysterious drummer that has eluded their capture for months.
And as we listen in, we can tell something is off. The rhythm stutters in places, like an old engine turning over after sitting on idle for too long. A clean roll across the toms suddenly halts, as if the drummer is second-guessing their own technique. The snare hits are crisp, but hesitate a fraction too long before the next kick. Whoever it is, they aren’t just playing - they’re remembering.
Mao and Shouhei keep on marching forward, intending to find out who avoided their recruitment pitches. Me? I just want to see who is behind those sticks.
The drumming grows louder as we approach the same double doors where I had dropped off Ritsu earlier in the afternoon. Mao and Shouhei pause, the latter taking a peek through the open crack at the side of the infirmary door. He turns back to us and gestures to Mao to take a look as well. Mao huffs before tiptoeing to see. “Who is it?” I whisper, as Saki steals a peek as well.
Mao’s foot falls back on the tiles as she turns to me with an intense frown on her face. “Hisao,” she says, sounding calm for the first time in a while, “you said you asked Ritsu if she drummed before, right?”
Huh? I nod, slowly. “Yeah, I did, and she said she didn’t,” I confirm, glancing at Shouhei. “Did he tell you?”
Mao nods, but steps back to let me take a look. “See for yourself.”
I purse my lips, but do so nonetheless. We huddle close as we all strain to get a better look. Inside, I can see the Nurse’s long white coat, as well as the coat of another woman whose brown hair is tied into a ponytail with a pink hairband. She obscures the drummer for a moment, as if asking them something before stepping aside to talk to the Nurse.
And there she is. Ritsu herself, at the stool behind the drum kit. Drumsticks are sticking out of her bulky wrist braces, as if slotted into it, and she is watching as the two medical staff discuss something on their clipboards.
What are they talking about? I lean in just a little more, trying to get at least some snippets of what they’re saying. Just a little—
My hand, slick with nervous sweat, slips against the doorframe. My weight tips forward before I can stop it.
Oh no.
The door swings open under my momentum, betraying all four of us in a single horrifying second. I stumble into the room, arms flailing, and before I can recover, I feel the solid thuds of Saki, Mao, and Shouhei crashing into me from behind, sending us all into a tangled mess on the tile floor.
…
I bite my lips and dare to look up. The Nurse is staring down at us, his pen frozen in mid-air over his clipboard. The other medical staff blinks. Ritsu’s mouth is slightly open, somewhere between shock and embarrassment.
I swallow hard.
“Uh, hi?”
The Nurse frowns as he puts the clipboard on his desk and reaches down to help us up to our feet. The woman rushes to help as well, pulling Saki out of the pile. “Ow,” Saki and Mao groan, as Shouhei clambers off of us three.
“What the hell were you…” the Nurse starts as he pulls me up. “I mean, I told you guys to come over. That means knocking on the door and saying hello, not taking a peek like a bunch of kindergartners.”
I can’t help but laugh at the comparison. All I can do is shake my head and shrug; I have no excuses.
“Sorry about that, Dr. Tamura, Dr. Asami,” Saki apologises, as she and Mao bow. The second doctor is startled by her sudden apology for a moment.
“Oh, it’s fine, you two, don’t worry about it!” she tells them as she sits on a nearby hospital bed. “Still though, you guys are… the Backroad Burners?”
Mao jerks back up and nods, while Saki steps back to let her take the lead. I quietly shuffle to her side as Shouhei steps out of his awkward spot to Mao’s other side. “Uh, yes, we are the Backroad Burners,” she confirms. I glance behind me. Saki is smiling, with an evident awkwardness on her face. She is not part of the band, but thanks to her curiosity, she got roped into this.
I then turn towards Ritsu behind the drum kit. Her eyes widen when she notices me staring, and she looks away, keeping her wrist-bound hands behind the drums as if hiding them. Her lips are pursed and her shoulders are slumped forward. I want to ask her if she was hiding that she can drum that well, when the Nurse puts his clipboard between me and Ritsu. “Okay, okay, all four of you,” he intervenes with a smile that belies his annoyance at our intrusion. “I’m gonna need all of you to step outside until we’re done here, alright?”
The next thing we know, the door clicks shut behind us.
….
Saki dusts off her skirt as she lets out an awkward chuckle. “Okay, so… who was it that sent us all tumbling like a bad slapstick routine?”
I exhale through my nose. “That would be me, yeah.”
“Damn it, Hisao,” Mao groans, as she runs a hand through her hair. “We could’ve listened to it properly too.”
I raise an eyebrow. “We were peeking inside. It’s not exactly Metal Gear.”
Shouhei, who has been quiet since our accident, inches back to the door. As Saki calms Mao down, I follow him but keep my distance in case we interrupt something again. He wears a serious expression, almost too serious for his usually laid-back attitude. “You guys heard that, right? When we walked up?”
The two girls turn to him. Mao crosses her arms. “The drumming?”
“Yeah,” he nods. “It sounded good. Like, really good. She was just… stuttering, in some parts, like she was trying to remember how it goes.”
Mao and Saki exchange glances. “So she lied to Hisao earlier,” Mao murmurs. “She does know how to play the drums.”
I blink. “...I mean, there could be a reason why she said no.”
She looks at me as if I just said the sky is orange. “Why shouldn’t she tell the truth from the get-go?”
I shrug. “I don’t know. Maybe because she’s unsure of herself? Maybe she doesn’t want the attention?” The two girls look at me. “When I hesitated to join the band yesterday, it wasn’t because I didn’t know how to play the guitar—it was because I wasn’t sure if I should.”
Mao furrows her brows, mulling that over. Saki however, takes a seat on a nearby waiting bench, content to let her friend handle it as she smiles knowingly. Shouhei gets off the door to sit down next to Saki. Before Mao can comment, the infirmary door swings open and the Nurse pokes his head out.
“Hisao, come in. The rest of you, wait.”
I comply and the door shuts behind me. Suddenly I feel like I've walked into something bigger than I expected.
Ritsu isn’t at the drum set any more. The other doctor, the one Saki referred to as Dr. Asami, is still standing beside the drum set when she turns to me with a bright, easy grin. “Hi there,” she starts, “Hisao, right? I’m Dr. Asami. I’m in charge of making sure you kids don’t implode mentally while Tamura here makes sure you don’t fall apart physically.”
I blink. The Nurse sighs. “A little more professionalism, Asami.”
She waves him off. “You’re no better.”
Oh. A psychiatrist. My last school had one, a counselor of sorts that I met a couple of times. I didn’t get into trouble; it was Shin who did, and I had to bail him out again and again.
Dr. Asami gestures towards Ritsu, pulling me back to reality. “So, I heard you were her knight in shining armor earlier today?”
I glance at Ritsu as she steps out from behind the examination table, arms behind her back, looking anywhere but at me. “I…” I start, unsure of what to say of that impression, “I just helped her get to the infirmary. It’s… not really a big deal.”
The psychiatrist nods. “Well, it was to her.”
That catches me off guard. I glance at Ritsu again, but her expression is unreadable. She instead shuffles back to the drum set’s stool, sitting on it.
The Nurse glances at her and clears his throat. “Ritsu has been… hesitant to engage with the school community since transferring here. I’m sure you’ve heard the rumors. But today, she took a step forward, and she named you as the reason.”
I shift uncomfortably, looking around for something to sit on. I drag over a nearby stool with my foot, sit on it, and with that the pressure on me is abated, somewhat. Somewhat. “W-what does that mean, exactly?”
He crosses his arms. “It means she trusts you. And while we know there is a risk when it comes to involving someone else into the whole thing, I am confident that as a Third Year student, we can rely on you.”
“I…” What? I frown. What does that even mean? “But… I don’t… okay, look, I get it. You want me to…”
Before I continue, I catch Ritsu glancing at me. My words get caught in my throat, so I swallow them back in and force myself to reconfigure my thoughts. I know. I heard the rumors; Tsubaki told me yesterday at the restaurant. “I… don’t even know what’s holding her back,” I resume, “and I don’t know how to help someone through something I don’t understand.”
Dr. Asami tilts her head. “Then don’t overthink it. Just let her into your band. That’s all she’s asking for, right now. Right?” She glances at Ritsu, who gives an almost imperceptible nod. The psych looks at me again, with a confident smile. “She wants to play. And that’s the first time she wanted anything in a long time.”
I exhale through my nose. That sounds… familiar. Almost uncomfortably so.
Still, I hesitate. This shouldn’t exclusively be my own decision. “Can I ask my bandmates first?”
The psych grins. “Of course. In fact, let’s bring them in.”
The Nurse stands back up and heads to the door. “Mao, Shouhei,” I hear him calling for them, “come inside.” A moment later, the two of them are at my sides. Mao catches sight of Ritsu behind the drums and glances at Shouhei, who nods. Were they discussing something while I was in here? Seems like it. And Ritsu shuffles in her seat, glancing elsewhere. “So, what’s up?” Mao starts, placing her cane in front of her.
The Nurse sighs like a man resigned to repeating himself and runs through the situation. The bespectacled girl listens, nodding slowly. When he’s done, she places her cane to her side. “We do need a drummer, and she’s good,” she admits, “at first hearing. I… just don’t know how to help someone with her kind of situation.”
I spot the Nurse chuckling to himself, but only the psych notices. On the other hand, Shouhei also chimes in. “I think it’s worth a shot.”
Mao looks at him in surprise. “You sure?”
He grins. “Yeah. Y’know how I got Hisao in? A hunch told him that the spot is free.”
I cast a look at him. He makes a cheeky grin, and I can’t help but chuckle as well. This guy, really.
The Nurse turns to me. “Well, Hisao? Your call.”
I think about it. About the first bungled attempt at conversing with her at the convenience store, and how she didn’t mind the chocolate. About the way she lets me walk with her, on the condition we don’t talk about needless things. About how she’s been pulling herself forward, slowly, step by step.
I find myself back at the concrete banister. I look at my hands. Then at hers, hidden behind the toms, bound by those bulky wrist braces. So that’s it. That’s what I saw in her.
“Yeah,” I say. “I’m in.”
The two doctors chuckle and Mao steps forward to offer Ritsu her free hand. Ritsu retreats a little, but doesn’t shy away as I and Shouhei follow, approaching her all together. She glances at me before shaking Mao’s hand. “You’re in,” Mao says. “Welcome to the Backroad Burners.”
For a moment she doesn't react. But then, just briefly, the corner of her mouth twitches up. A small, fleeting smile.
And for some reason I find myself thinking it fits her.
The Nurse claps his hands, already moving to the next order of business. Ritsu dismounts the stool and goes around the drums as Mao leads her outside. I and Shouhei were about to follow them, when the Nurse speaks up again. “Alright, Hisao, Shouhei,” he says with his wide and cheeky grin. “You two are in charge of moving the drum set back to your band room.”
I glance down at it. All this?
Shouhei groans. “C’mon, doc, can’t we ask some first-years to do it?”
“Would you trust a couple of first-years with an expensive drum kit?” the Nurse counters with a wink.
I glance behind me. Mao is giving Shouhei a death glare. He gets the message without turning back. “Fair enough,” he nods, as he sets to work. “Alright, let’s get moving.”
With that, we begin the tedious process of carrying everything out. Shouhei takes the heavier bass drum, and a couple of toms stacked on top of it. I am in charge of carrying the snare, cymbals, and the hardware stands. I tried offering to take one of the toms, because he can barely see what’s in front of him, but Shouhei just shooed me away. I can’t help but chuckle, reminded of the first time I met the guy, blindly lugging around that big box. Mao and Ritsu didn’t offer to carry anything, but that’s honestly fine, considering the former relies on a cane and the latter has issues that might be exacerbated by luggage. Mao is leading the way, and Ritsu trailing behind slightly. With our burden, of course we’re behind them.
The atmosphere is… awkward. There is something about knowing that two of my friends here view the third with some suspicion which makes me feel like I should say something, but I’m not sure where to start.
Eventually, I settle for something simple .”So…” I say, hastening my pace to walk alongside Ritsu, “you can drum.”
She glances at me then looks away. “I used to.”
I nod. I get it. I really do.
“I wasn’t lying when I said I don’t drum anymore,” she continues, her voice low. “I stopped.”
Yeah. I don’t push for more. Instead I say, “Yeah, I get that.”
She looks at me again, this time with a glimmer of curiosity. We pause in front of the elevator as Mao presses the call button to bring it down. Shouhei sets his heavy luggage down to relieve his shoulders. “I didn’t touch my guitar for a long time either,” I tell her. “After I transferred here, I thought… what’s the point? But then Shouhei ranted about missing a guitarist… and Mao forced me into an audition when I asked about it, and here I am.”
Mao gives me a leery look. I raise an eyebrow. Ritsu doesn’t reply, but I can tell she’s considering my words. Pushing the drums forward a bit, Shouhei chimes in from behind us, his tone light. “Y’know, I was kinda wrong about ya, Ritsu.”
She turns to him, frowning a little. “...Wrong?”
He nods, unfazed, as he leans over the bass. “I thought you were gonna be all cold, unfriendly, that sort. But it turns out you’re just quiet.”
Ritsu blinks and looks away again. “...I don’t care what you think.”
Shouhei grins. “You care enough to answer me.”
Mao chuckles. “He got you there.”
The elevator dings and the doors slide open. Ritsu sighs through her nose but doesn’t deny it, heading inside first while Mao keeps the door open with her cane. Hurriedly, we move the drum kit components aboard, and the door slides closed once she presses the third-floor button.
The rest of the walk is spent in relative silence, but the tension has lifted slightly. Still, the trek is tiring - the band room is above yet another set of stairs, at the other end of this wing. I can feel eyes staring from within the clubs Mao blew through. Naomi is leaning against the door of her newspaper club with a cheeky grin on her face as we pass by her. It feels like she was gonna say something to Mao but held it back.
But a big portion of the attention is on our new member, Ritsu. She paid them no heed, but I can tell they’re wondering why she is with us. The Thorn Princess, accompanying a band? Incomprehensible, they’re probably thinking. I quietly switch places with Ritsu, placing myself between her and the people staring. It's the least I can do.
By the time we reach the bandroom, I’m already more than a little winded. In the wake of Mao’s rampage, I now have the luxury of time to assess the damage she did by turning the entire room upside down; the boxes we stacked yesterday, once neatly arranged in the corner, are once more haphazardly thrown about. The makeshift table made of boxes and plywood is in disarray. The instruments are in their place, as we knew they were, but the rest of the room is a mess. “Wow, you even threw the storeroom around,” I hear Shouhei commenting, noticing he’s taking a look at the side storeroom after placing the bass and toms on the floor.
“Enough of that,” Mao chastises him as she rummages through the nearby box for a folder. Ritsu comes to a stop at the table and I turn on the floor fan, because the summer heat is making the place swelter. “Hisao, Shouhei, put the drums together. Ritsu, take this.”
“Yes, yes,” both Shouhei and I groan as we start reassembling the drum set. Ritsu, on the other hand, is knocked out of her reverie as Mao hands her a small sheaf of papers.
“This is our track list for the performance we’re having soon. Pick one and try it out.”
She stares at the papers, visibly unsure. “..Now?”
The bespectacled girl raises an eyebrow. “Why not? We have three days before the festival. You and Hisao both need to get up to speed.” I flinch when she mentions my name. “He'll begin practicing his part tomorrow. Today I want to see your skills with this one.”
Ritsu presses her lips together and takes the sheet. Once we're done reassembling the drum set, the girl wanders to the drum stool and sits down as if in a daze. She adjusts her posture slightly, then sets the music score on a stand. As she reads through it, Shouhei joins Mao at the table while I decide to stand apart near the floor fan, to cool myself down as it turns blowing fresh air past me.
The first attempt is rough. She loses the beat midway, messes up a fill, hesitates too much. But every time she fumbles it, she takes a deep breath, picks up the sheet, scans it, and tries again.
And again.
And again.
She does not stop. I notice her wincing a few times. The Nurse told me I should ask her myself, but I can still remember what happened earlier today when she suddenly collapsed in the hall. But despite my worries, every time she seems like she might stop, Ritsu just clenches her jaw and keeps going.
She reminds me of someone.
Ah. Me.
I did the same thing just yesterday, when Mao tested my guitar skills.
The glint in her eyes. I remember that feeling, and I can't help but smile.
“She's actually good,” I hear Shouhei commenting, clearly impressed.
I glance behind me. Mao isn't saying anything, but she's watching closely. On occasions where Ritsu's chord progression goes smoothly, Mao closes her eyes, lost briefly to the song she has in her mind. I turn back to Ritsu. We both have volunteered for a very weighty responsibility here; the performance isn't just for our extracurricular activity scores, but it's Mao’s memorial to the one she cares much about, still in a coma, unlikely to ever wake up.
By the time Ritsu finishes the song properly, her breathing is a little heavier but there's clear determination in her eyes. It's difficult, yeah. When she notices me watching her, I give her an approving nod and a thumbs up. “That was good.”
She looks at me, surprised. Then—just for a second—her expression softens. But before I can really process it, she turns away, feigning indifference.
That's the same expression she gave me back at the stairwell. I'm still wondering what that's about.
Before I can say more, the school bell chimes its end of day, signaling the end of after-school activities. We all hurry to grab our stuff, picking up our bags. I reach for my guitar case—unfortunately unused today—and hoist it up my shoulder alongside my book bag. Shouhei and Ritsu wait for me at the doorway. “Coming, one second,” I tell them as I grab another copy of Ritsu's drum tabs for the track list on the way.
“Whatcha gonna do with that?” Shouhei asks me, noticing the sheaf of sheet music as I fold it up and put it in my bag.
“Just revisions,” I tell him, and the four of us start heading down.
The stairwells are quite busy, with the veritable flood of students all over the clubhouse wing heading downstairs to return to their dormitories. Mao waits for us before we join the crowd, and Ritsu is tagging along behind me at her own pace.
Eventually we reach the exits, where I spot Tsubaki waiting for us at the bottom of the stairs to the sidewalks. Shouhei grins and sprints down, whizzing past Mao. “...That idiot…” she grumbles, before noticing us two at the back. I nod my goodbye to Mao who nods back, but as Ritsu passes by her, Mao pats her shoulder. “Nice job,” I hear her compliment the shorter girl and turn to look at them, “keep this up and we'll be solid for the festival.”
Ritsu doesn't respond, but she doesn't flinch away from Mao's touch either. With that done, the bespectacled girl hastens her pace, her cane clicking against the concrete steps and pavement to join the duo ahead.
The walk is quiet as usual. Especially so now, because we lag behind them.
Mao's words from earlier still linger in my mind. “Ritsu lied about drumming because she didn't want to be seen as someone who still could.”
I didn't understand it at first, but now… I think I do.
After my four days here, I think I can conclude that Yamaku Academy is a strange place. Not the way I first thought it would be, back when I first learned I'd be transferring here, but in a way that unsettles me for reasons I'm not used to. Everyone is open here, about their issues, their disabilities, their struggles, their limitations. They talk about them like it's just another part of themselves, something to acknowledge and move forward with. But I can't bring myself to do the same.
Back in my old school, and in the rest of Japan, being disabled is like having a target painted on your back. Not only will you be made fun of even by your peers, your supposed friends. Your superiors will not take your concerns seriously either. I cannot lie to myself that my own judgement of a person is unaffected when I learn that person is disabled.
And then it happened to me.
Ritsu's lie makes sense to me, though. I know that reluctance.
The feeling of wanting to push something away because admitting to it means facing something painful; I don’t know what drumming means to her, or what it used to mean before her body made it harder, but I recognize that hesitation. That fear.
“Hisao.”
I am pulled out of my thoughts. The sun is setting now; long strands of orangish red stretch from the woods behind us as we take the steps down to the dormitories. There are still other students about, but Mao and the gang are by the building entrance now. I think I can see Tsubaki waving at us. “Thanks,” Ritsu murmurs, her voice as quiet as ever.
Pausing in my tracks, I glance at her from the corner of my eye. She doesn’t look at me, keeping her gaze ahead, as if the words were something fragile enough that she is not sure if she wants to say them out loud. As she notices me stop, she too stops a few steps ahead and looks at me out of the corner of her eye..
I wonder. What made you change your mind, Ritsu?
Yesterday it was my decision to take the gamble, to try again, that made me change my mind; from pushing away Shouhei’s and Tsubaki’s attempts to rope me in their antics, to enjoying these precious days where everything is normal, where the sun shines bright and not a cloud lingers in the sky. I fear the day I might burn these new bridges like I did with Takumi, but I hope, I dearly hope, that I can avoid such a fate.
What about you, Ritsu? What made you change?
I know it couldn’t have been just me helping you in that hallway. It shouldn’t be. I know I wouldn’t change my mind just because of that, since what made me change my mind was a very selfish reason in the end.
But I know I shouldn’t believe that everyone thinks in the same way I do.
I remember the way she looked at me when we were at that stairwell, the way she kept glancing at me when she thought I wasn’t paying attention. She didn’t say anything then. She didn’t say anything now, either, when I complimented her playing.
A part of me goes for wishful thinking, a fantasy. I suppress the notion with fervor; we met just four days ago.
But still, a friend is a friend.
I don’t know what she saw in me. I don’t know what made her decide, between then and now, that she wanted to be in a band after all. But I think… I think I understand a little of what that choice must have meant to her.
I lift my hand and rest it on her shoulder - a light pat, a wordless acknowledgement.
Ritsu stops. She turns to face me fully and looks at me as if I just said something incredibly stupid. Then she pouts and brushes off my hand like it was a stray leaf that landed on her.
I can’t help it. I laugh.
It’s the first laugh I’ve had since I came to this school. It catches even me off guard, breaking through this tension I didn’t realize I was holding.
She glances at me, her pout still there, but then - quietly, just for me - she chuckles. Not loud enough for anyone else to hear, but just enough for me to know she’s amused.
For the first time in days, I feel lighter.
And maybe, just maybe…
I made the right choice.
"They say, the best way to improve yourself is to believe in who you are. You are but a blip in the lives of many you pass by, so why worry? Be yourself - life is too short to worry about the minor altercations here and there.
"So, get out there. Break the chains that holds you back - and embrace the freedom ahead of you." - me
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