Chapter 8 Daily Life Without My Childhood Friend, and the Sound of the Piano

After parting ways with Kashiwagi-san, I didn't head home.

Instead, I went two stations past my own to a small piano school where my former mentor lived.

The building felt nostalgic. It was a two-story house that had been renovated to include a small classroom on the first floor.

I felt a faint prickle of homesickness as I pressed the doorbell.

“—Iori-kun!”

The door flew open almost immediately, and I was greeted by Tokiko-sensei’s beaming face.

Just from her expression alone, I could tell she was thrilled. All the time I’d spent worrying about coming here felt ridiculous.

“Oh, you finally came! I was starting to think I’d never see you again!”

“I-I’m sorry.”

She started rubbing my head aggressively. It actually kind of hurt.

But I accepted it. It was my punishment... well, not quite. But if it served as even a small apology for the pain I’d caused her, I’d take it.

“Come in, come in! I’ve got the room all ready.”

She grabbed my hand and led me inside.

But the moment I stepped into the room, I lost my breath. A tightness squeezed my chest as memories from a year and a half ago came rushing back.

—Everything was exactly as I remembered it.

The picture books for the kids. The weird zebra-patterned sofa. The shelves lined with stuffed animals.

And then...

“Ah...”

I found myself stopping in my tracks.

Hanging on the wall were two drawings. Both depicted the same woman.

One was a clumsy mess of colored pencils; the other was so skillfully done it was almost irritating.

I remembered them vividly.

“You... still have those?”

At my question, Tokiko-sensei gave me a mock pout.

“Of course I do. These are my treasures—drawn by little Iori-kun and Mizuki-chan.”

I scratched the back of my head.

She was the type of person who could say embarrassing things like that without batting an eye.

“Now, this way.”

She led me to the room at the back. It was the very same room where I’d studied piano for ten years, starting from the age of five.

“...Pardon the intrusion.”

“Hey.”

“Huh?”

“In this house, we say ‘I’m home,’ don't we?”

“...”

I wasn't so sure about that. It wasn't actually my house.

But the words wouldn't come. This place was, in every sense that mattered, a second home.

Even on days when I didn't have a lesson, Mizuki and I would often drop by just to play, and Sensei would always treat us to her homemade cookies. She never seemed to mind; she always welcomed us with a smile.

She’d loved us as if we were her own children. I was well aware of that.

So... yeah.

“...I’m home.”

“Yes. Welcome back.”

It was the right thing to say. Sensei watched me with a warm, gentle gaze as I scratched my head to hide my embarrassment.

◇

I entered the classroom and took a seat at the piano.

This room, too, was frozen in time. The wallpaper, the curtains, the furniture—nothing had changed.

And then there was...

“You still have that chair, too.”

I looked at the small chair sitting alone in the corner of the room. There was no need to ask who it belonged to.

“Yes. Hehe, Mizuki-chan was so cute back then. Whenever you were practicing, she’d just sit there quietly and watch you the whole time.”

“...She stopped doing that once we hit middle school, though.”

“Oh, she still dropped by quite often during middle school, you know. Usually on the days when you weren't here.”

“Wait, really?”

“Mm-hm. Though all she ever talked about was you. How you were doing, that sort of thing. You really are loved, Iori-kun.”

“...It’s not like that.”

Not knowing how to respond, I carefully lifted the fallboard of the piano. I removed the red felt dust cover, folded it neatly, and placed it on the side table.

I ran my fingers over the keys, checking the feel, getting ready to play.

But before that, there was something I had to say.

“—Sensei.”

“Yes? What is it?”

“Would you... teach me the piano again?”

I bowed my head deeply. I’d walked out of this classroom on a whim. I’d hurt the person who taught me everything.

But when it came to the piano, she was the only person I could truly rely on.

“...”

Tokiko-sensei didn't say anything.

Honestly, I’d expected her to agree immediately. Her silence made me feel a sudden surge of anxiety.

“...Iori-kun. Before I give you an answer, can I ask you one thing?”

“Yes?”

“Why did you decide to start playing again?”

I looked up. Sensei was watching me with an incredibly serious expression.

Ah... I see.

I understood her intention the moment our eyes met. She was worried. She didn't want to see me get hurt again, like I had at that competition.

But I’d already made up my mind. I knew this was something I had to do.

“I want to give myself one more chance,” I said.

“A chance for what?”

“To see what I’m capable of. If I don't do it now, I don't think I’ll ever be able to reach... what I’m looking for.”

Tokiko-sensei tilted her head at my words. Maybe I was being too cryptic. But that was the truth.

Manager had told me I’d given up too early. I didn't know if he was right.

So, I was going to find out.

“Do you remember... my failure at the competition?”

“...Yes. I’ve never forgotten it.”

Sensei lowered her eyes. She probably felt more responsible for that failure than anyone else.

That was why, when I’d said I was quitting, she’d tried to stop me but never forced the issue. She’d just smiled sadly and told me I was welcome back anytime.

“I want to play "Moonlight" at the upcoming school festival.”

Sensei’s eyes widened.

“If I can make up for that failure... I think I’ll be able to believe in myself again.”

I didn't expect much from myself. I didn't aim high. I’d chosen a life where I only pursued goals that were well within my reach.

But then I’d realized... living that way meant I’d never get the thing I wanted most.

I couldn't stand that thought, no matter how much I tried to rationalize it.

“I need a catalyst. Just one thing is fine. I need some kind of proof that I can trust myself.”

A way of living that has been ingrained for years doesn't change easily. It takes momentum to break it.

“If I can play "Moonlight" all the way through at this festival...”

I stopped there. I couldn't bring myself to say the rest out loud.

At this point, it was all just “what-ifs.”

But I knew this was my last shot.

“...I see,” Sensei murmured, as if sensing the weight behind my words. “Honestly. When you put it like that, I can't exactly play hard to get, can I?”

Despite her words, she was smiling with genuine joy.

“So...?”

“Yes, of course. If you’ll have me, I’d be delighted to help.”

I let out a massive sigh of relief.

“Thank you so much. Um, as for the lesson fees—”

“Don't worry about it. I don't need them.”

I’d brought the small amount of money I’d managed to save up, but Sensei just shook her head.

“You can pay me back once you’re an adult and making your own way in the world.”

“...Haha.”

She saw right through my childish bravado. I scratched my head.

“That competition was a disappointment for me as well. So, to make sure history doesn't repeat itself... I’m going to be a lot stricter than before. Understand?”

“Wait, what?”

Sensei’s usual gentle demeanor vanished, replaced by a sharp, intense look in her eyes. I felt a cold sweat break out.

Wait... was she actually serious?

Well, I guess I did say I wanted her to be tough on me, I reminded myself.

“Let’s see. At the very least, you’ll be practicing seven hours a day. Aside from eating, bathing, sleeping, and brushing your teeth, you are not to rest. Got it?”

“Huh?”

...It seemed that for the next three weeks, I was going to have to abandon any semblance of a normal human life.

“First, let’s spend a week just getting rid of the rust, shall we?” Sensei said, gleefully flipping through a textbook.

I could only nod, my face pale and twitching.

◇

“...I’m home.”

After being subjected to a training regimen that would make a star athlete weep, I was finally released around nine at night.

I... I’m dead...

She really hadn't held back. I let out a long, weary breath.

I was grateful, of course, but if this was how the next three weeks were going to go, I wasn't sure if I’d actually survive until the festival.

I flexed my cramped, trembling fingers as I unlocked the front door.

What greeted me was a cold, heavy silence. The childhood friend who was always there... was gone.

...I really need to get used to this.

The sound of a knife hitting a cutting board, the aroma of warm miso soup—all of it had vanished.

It was as if it had all been a daydream. Every trace of that girl had been scrubbed from the house.

“...”

I tossed my bag aside and slumped onto the sofa. No sound. No voices. I was hungry, but the idea of cooking for myself was laughable.

I’d known I wouldn't have the energy, so I’d picked up a convenience store bento on the way home. I gave a dry laugh; I felt like a burnt-out corporate drone.

I guess I don't really need tea... or a salad...

Even the effort of chopping or tearing vegetables felt monumental.

I forced my heavy body off the sofa and trudged to the kitchen. I pulled the cold barley tea out of the fridge and poured myself a glass.

“Thanks for the food.”

I opened the bento—which I’d at least had the sense to microwave—and put my hands together out of habit.

One bite, and I immediately grimaced.

It was loaded with heavy, artificial seasoning. Salt, sugar, and chemicals, with zero regard for the health of the person eating it.

It was a cold dish that just happened to be warm. There was no heart in it. No warmth.

“This is terrible...”

The words slipped out. But I didn't have a choice. This was dinner.

I began shoveling the food into my mouth like a chore. Chew, then swallow as soon as it was soft enough. I washed down the grease and sauce with tea, just wanting the whole experience to be over.

...Had eating always been this hollow?

"—Is it good, Iori?"

The girl who used to ask me that with such a happy smile was nowhere to be found.

In a silent, cold dining room, I was eating alone, just to stay alive.

It was normal. Anyone living alone went through the same thing.

...I’d just been spoiled for far too long.

“Thanks for the meal.”

My stomach full and my basic nutritional requirements met, I stood up.

It was ten o'clock. I’d take a shower and then squeeze in two more hours of practice before bed.

—The Mr. Pageant. "Moonlight".

It was the symbol of my greatest failure, and my one and only shot at redemption.

For now, I’ll only think about that.

I stared at the empty seat across from me and reaffirmed my resolve.

◇

“—I see. So you want to take a break from work for a while.”

“Yes. I’m sorry for the short notice.”

The next day was Saturday. I stopped by "Nocturne" to speak with Manager. I bowed my head and explained that I needed the next three weeks off to prepare for the school pageant.

The cafe had originally been a one-man operation. Manager could handle it without me, but I still felt bad about increasing his workload.

Manager gave me a sharp grin and nodded.

“I don't mind. I know the circumstances, and more importantly... I’m glad you’ve finally decided to stop dragging your feet.”

“Ugh.”

He looked at me with those soft, perceptive eyes that seemed to see right through me. It was that gaze of an adult with a lifetime of experience. Between him and Sensei, I was really starting to hate that look.

Manager gave me a teasing smirk.

“Is it for her?”

“...Yes.”

I didn't even try to hide it anymore. Given how things went when she’d come to the shop before, he probably knew everything anyway.

Manager nodded, looking strangely pleased for some reason.

“I see. Well, it certainly takes courage to pursue a girl like that. With a presence like hers, anyone would be intimidated. It’s not just you.”

I found myself wanting to nod in vigorous agreement. Seriously. Why did a girl like that have to be my childhood friend?

“But even so, you’ve chosen to challenge her. Excellent! That’s how youth should be! Why, back when I was in college, I confessed to the most beautiful girl in school and got shot down in spectacular fashion!”

“...”

You got shot down? I thought to myself.

That wasn't exactly an encouraging anecdote.

“I know I don't really have a chance, but...”

I didn't have a strategy. Even if I played "Moonlight" perfectly, I didn't think it would actually change anything.

So, in a way, this was just about closure. Something I needed to do so I could move forward, regardless of the outcome.

Manager fell silent, crossing his arms.

“Hmm, I wonder... I have a feeling the odds aren't quite as bad as you think.”

“What?”

“Oh, nothing. So, what exactly are you planning to do for the pageant?”

I hesitated for a second. To be honest, I didn't really want to say it. But since I was asking for time off, I figured I owed him the truth.

“I’m going to... play the piano.”

“The piano?”

Manager’s eyes widened. He seemed genuinely surprised.

“You can play?”

“Well enough for people to listen, I guess.”

“Well, well. I had no idea. You should have told me sooner!”

Manager chuckled, looking like he was genuinely looking forward to it. Dammit. He was enjoying this way too much. I felt like I was heading off to war, and he was treating it like a fun little show.

He didn't know what it was like for a social outcast to step onto a stage. I scowled, but Manager’s smile only deepened.

“But I see. Of course, you have my full support. Don't worry about the shop.”

“Thank you. I appreciate it.”

I bowed. I felt guilty, but I was going to take him up on his offer.

The conversation hit a lull. I’d said what I came to say and was about to head out, but Manager was still frowning, his expression turning serious.

“Manager?”

“Hm? Ah, sorry. I was just thinking... now that you’ve said that, I have another concern.”

“A concern?”

“About your childhood friend.”

Mizuki?

Manager hesitated, searching for the right words.

“I’ve only seen her once, but... how should I put it? There was something about her that felt... off.”

“Off? In what way?”

I tilted my head, and Manager rubbed his chin.

“She was almost too perfect. Normally, a girl that age has at least some immature or flighty qualities, but... I didn't feel any of that from her.”

“...Well, I mean...”

That was true. She was certainly mature for her age.

I looked at him skeptically, wondering what he was getting at, but Manager wasn't looking at me.

“To be honest, she didn't strike me as a student at all. ...If I’m being blunt, she almost felt uncanny.”

He was dead serious now, his voice dropping to a grave tone.

“I... don't really follow.”

“I suppose not. Anyway, sorry. I’m just talking to myself. Don't mind me.”

He cut the conversation short, leaving me confused. He didn't elaborate further, and I eventually left the shop without ever understanding what he’d been trying to say.

◇

Uncanny, huh?

On the walk home from the cafe, I found myself ruminating on Manager’s words.

Mizuki was scary. I didn't really understand it myself, but come to think of it...

"—Whenever we lock eyes... I always feel... scared."

Kashiwagi-san had said something similar.

Her otherworldly beauty, her charisma that bordered on the divine—I knew those things were intimidating, maybe even abnormal.

But I had a feeling that wasn't what they were talking about.

Was there something about Mizuki that I was missing?

No...

In the first place, how much did I actually know about her?

We’d been together forever, and yet, like the phases of the moon, her true shape felt hazy and indistinct. I didn't even know what she was thinking right now.

And... I was about to lose even the chance to find out.

Seriously, what a high-maintenance childhood friend.

It would have been so much easier if she were simpler.

But there was no point in complaining now. My task remained the same.

The Mr. Pageant. "Moonlight".

For now, I would pour everything I had into that.

The rest... I could worry about that once it was all over.

I cut off my train of thought and headed back toward the house of my “demon teacher.”

One week later.

"H-hey, Iori... You okay, man?"

"No. Not even a little bit."

I was currently face-down on my desk at school. When Renji called out to me, I didn't even have the energy to put up a front; I just let the weakness pour out.

At this point, school was my only sanctuary. I never thought I’d see the day where I’d find peace at an educational institution.

The voice of my mentor, smiling ever so sweetly, echoed through my mind.

"—Say, Iori-kun? Did you know? I have a very strict policy: romance stories are only allowed to have happy endings."

"Wait, what?"

"That’s why, no matter what it takes, I need you and Mizuki-chan to end up together. To make that happen, I wouldn't hesitate to kick my darling pupil right off a cliff if I had to."

"U-um, that sounds dangerously like a threat."

"For now, let’s make sure you can play at the same level as you did during your last competition. We have one week."

"..."

To put it bluntly, I had seen hell.

Tokiko-sensei had completely erased the word "mercy" from her vocabulary, subjecting me to what could only be described as demonic coaching.

Between the grueling practice schedule and returning home on the last train every single night, my fingers had—miraculously—regained their former sensation in just seven days.

It was essentially the musical equivalent of blood doping.

In exchange for that shortcut, however, my physical and mental stamina were pushed to their absolute limits.

And I still had two weeks to go.

"Dude... seriously, what are you even doing?"

"...It’s a secret."

Renji looked at me with an expression that had moved past curiosity into genuine concern, but I stubbornly refused to budge.

At this point, I was determined to blow everyone away at the actual event. If I didn't, all this suffering wouldn't be worth it.

I’ve come this far. I am not failing now.

That spark of defiance was finally starting to burn... though I suspected that, too, was exactly what Sensei had planned.

As it turned out, I wasn't the only one with the eyes of a cornered animal.

"K-Kashiwagi-san? Are those... dark circles under your eyes? Are you okay?"

"Oh... yeah. I'm fine. Totally fine."

Kashiwagi-san replied to her classmate with a flat, hollow voice and eyes that looked like they had forgotten the concept of light.

Her usual gentle, serene aura was nowhere to be found. Her expression was so gloomy that the girls surrounding her actually flinched.

She’s in the same boat, I realized.

Just as the thought crossed my mind, Kashiwagi-san happened to turn around. Our exhausted gazes met.

In that moment of mutual understanding, we exchanged a single, dry laugh.

Let's just hope we both survive until the festival. I’m sure we were both thinking the exact same thing.

Then, it happened.

Slide.

The sound of the door opening.

Naturally, my eyes drifted toward the entrance.

"Oh, Yukimura-san!"

Mizuki stepped into the classroom.

The moment she appeared, she was swarmed by the other girls. It was the usual sight. But suddenly, her eyes shifted, and she looked directly at me.

"..."

Our eyes met for only a fraction of a second. Mizuki immediately looked away and returned to her conversation as if nothing had happened.

It was the distance we were supposed to maintain at school. The appropriate response.

Seeing that "so close yet so far" distance, I couldn't help but let out a bitter smile.

If we weren't childhood friends...

I probably wouldn't have felt this strange ache at the distance between us.

◇

"—There. I’d say you finally made it."

Two weeks later. The day before the cultural festival.

As I played the final note, Tokiko-sensei nodded with an air of satisfaction.

Hitting the right notes was a given. The real question was whether I had the mental capacity to handle the crescendos and deliver a proper performance.

In just three weeks, my rendition of "Moonlight" had finally taken shape. It had been a hellish journey, but it seemed the results were real.

"Thank you very much, Sensei."

I took my hands off the keys and gave her a sincere bow. She, however, gave me a sharp look.

"It’s not over yet, you know? Don't you dare lose focus until you’ve played every note at the festival."

"Right."

"Good. That’s enough for today. Go home and get some rest. And don't you dare try to cram in extra practice just because you're nervous—that’ll only backfire."

She was reading me like a book.

Yeah, I probably would have done exactly that. I nodded, and she gave me a satisfied smile.

"You've worked hard to get here. It was quite the ordeal, wasn't it?"

"Yeah... something like that."

All I could manage was a dry chuckle. It really had been an ordeal. I had gained a whole new level of respect for people who took the piano seriously.

I’m definitely not cut out for the pros, I realized once again.

"Iori-kun."

"Yes?"

"I hope... I hope it reaches her."

I gave a wry smile to my meddling teacher, bowed one last time, and left the room.

I’d come back here once it was all over.

No matter how things turned out.

(Tomorrow, huh...)

On the walk home, I felt a strange, hollow calmness—like a windless sea.

I had done everything I could. All that was left was to pour it all into the performance.

If it didn't work... well, it didn't work.

I had pushed myself hard enough that I could actually accept that possibility. My body was dead tired, but my mind felt surprisingly fulfilled.

Then, as my house came into view...

"...?"

Right next door to my place.

A luxury car was parked in front of Mizuki’s house.

(Wait, I know that car...)

A sense of déjà vu washed over me, and I stopped in my tracks. Just then, two women stepped out of the house.

One was Mizuki. The other was...

(I knew it. She’s back.)

A tall, strikingly beautiful woman who gave off an aura of biting cold.

Mizuki’s mother.

"—If anything happens, contact me."

"Okay."

I caught a snippet of their conversation. Just as she was about to step into the car—

"...?"

"!"

She must have sensed my gaze, because she turned toward me.

Those sharp, temperature-less eyes locked onto me.

"..."

But she looked away almost instantly, as if losing interest, and climbed into the car before driving off.

I let out a small breath as I watched the car disappear.

(Same as always.)

I’d known her since I was a kid, but she clearly had zero interest in me.

Well, if it were just me, that would be fine. But that woman had always been like that... even toward her own daughter.

"Iori?"

"Whoa!"

I jumped slightly when she spoke. Before I knew it, Mizuki was standing right there.

It had been a while since I'd seen her outside of school. Not long ago, there hadn't been a single day where I didn't see her face.

"...Shizuka-san is back, I see."

"Yes."

Even when I mentioned her mother's name, Mizuki’s response was curt. She seemed just as uninterested as her mother was.

"Are you just getting home, Iori?"

"Yeah."

"I see."

She didn't ask what I’d been doing. Maybe she already knew. Or maybe she didn't care enough to ask.

"Well then."

We didn't walk home together anymore. I was about to say a quick word and head inside when—

"—You’ve been working hard on your piano."

The words were muttered softly. Her voice was cold and colorless.

So, she did know. Well, that made sense. We lived next door; she was bound to hear the music.

I turned back to look her in the eye.

"A bit late to back out now."

Goto-kun and the rest of the class had gone out of their way to accommodate me. I’d taken time off work, and Tokiko-sensei had put in the hours to coach me. I couldn't just walk away.

Mizuki shook her head slowly.

"No."

"...?"

"If you want to quit, I'll tell them for you."

She said it with a quiet, flat tone. There wasn't a hint of hesitation.

If she says it, everyone will accept it.

She believed that without a shadow of a doubt... and she was right. If Yukimura Mizuki said no, black became white. She had that kind of influence. But...

(Quitting the Mr. Contest, huh?)

Hearing it out loud made me realize something. I had hated the idea the whole time, but now, the thought of quitting hadn't even crossed my mind.

Sure, I still felt out of place. I still wondered why it had to be me.

But I didn't want to stop.

"I’m doing it. I’m going out there."

Mizuki’s expression didn't change. She just stared at me with eyes as still as the surface of a pond.

"I see."

I still couldn't read a single thing in her voice. Was she exasperated? Angry?

I knew it wasn't like me. But then again...

"—I think it wouldn't be so bad to try trying, just once."

It was probably my own fault for taking those words to heart.

"Mizuki."