“Um, um, I don’t quite understand what Hasu-senpai is saying...?”
Taira-chan blinked her eyes.
“Then, I’ll say it one more time. The one who made that terrible tweet about amane, the one you say is unforgivable... it was me.”
Sako exhaled sharply, as if bracing herself.
“The tweet that said ‘I wish a song like this was never born into this world’ was mine.”
“That’s...!”
She shook her head, as if to deny it, as if to reject it.
“Sakohasu, why would you go out of your way to say that...?”
Azuma furrowed her brow.
“Because I share the same opinion as this girl.”
“Sakohasu and Tsubame?”
Sako nodded gently.
“I can’t forgive it either. Not the person who made that horrible tweet about amane, not the person who said those awful things to Yurisuke, and also...”
Sako looked at me for a moment, her face contorting, before she continued.
“So, you can say everything you want to say to me.”
She turned back toward Taira-chan.
“If that’s what it takes to move forward.”
“Sakohasu...”
Azuma let out a soft voice.
“...Don't mess with me.”
In a voice trembling with emotion, Taira-chan spoke quietly.
“Tsubame-chan...”
“What do you mean, same opinion? What do you mean, if it’s to move forward? I am different from you! From you, who could do something that plucks away talent!”
Taira-chan grabbed Sako’s arm.
“...That’s right.”
She glared up at her and shouted with all her might.
“Why are you! You, who hurt amane-san, why are you here, casually playing music with everyone!? Give it back to amane-san right now! The time! The talent! The songs that should have been made during these three years! The lyrics that should have been written!”
“...I’m sorry.”
Sako apologized, yet she maintained a resolute stance.
“But, I can’t do that.”
“Huh...!?”
Taira-chan’s brow crumpled in confusion.
“I blamed myself many times. I regretted it many times. Just like you said, I wondered if there was something that should have existed that I took away. I don’t know how many times I thought about how great it would be if I could go back and do it over.”
“Of course! It’s still not enough! That kind of reflection isn't enough!”
The junior was enraged, yet Sako’s expression did not change.
“But, there is no time machine.”
“Time machine...?”
Sako nodded.
“The past can’t be changed. I felt like I could never make up for it, that I wanted to disappear, that I wanted to run away. But then, Ichikawa-san told me...”
The scene on the stairs to the rooftop from that day came back to me.
“She said, ‘I won’t let you escape, Sako-san.’”
‘Instead of cutting off the fingers that tweeted those things, I’m telling you to play the bass for the songs I sing.’
“That’s why I play bass for amane. Even if I’m stripped of everything, it’s for amane’s future. That’s the only thing I can do.”
“That’s just... selfish, it’s unfair...!”
Taira-chan’s tone dropped slightly.
Her emotions probably had nowhere to go.
She didn’t want to be convinced, but she was on the verge of it. It was a conflict within herself, having at least understood the situation.
“Tsubame...”
Azuma looked at her worriedly.
“Amane-san, is that really okay with you...?”
Eventually, Taira-chan asked Ichikawa, as if clinging to her.
“Hey, Tsubame-chan,”
Having been addressed, Ichikawa spoke to her gently.
“Tsubame-chan, did you see the Rock On in July?”
“Yes... of course.”
Even in front of the amane she admired, she showed a slightly sullen expression.
“How was it?”
“It was very... moving. It really was, tremendously.”
To the junior who still couldn't discard her honesty, Ichikawa smiled like an older sister.
“Thank you. Then, that is the answer.”
“The answer...?”
Ichikawa nodded with full confidence.
“Tsubame-chan, try clapping your hands.”
“Yes...?”
“Just do it.”
Overwhelmed by Ichikawa’s gentle but strong gaze, Taira-chan let out a modest clap.
“Yeah. Why do you think a sound rang out just now?”
“Huh...? Because my hands hit each other?”
...I didn’t know what Ichikawa was trying to do either. Azuma was also tilting her head. What is this, some kind of Zen riddle...?
“That might be only looking at the very end.”
“Then, what is it...?”
Ichikawa raised her index finger with a somewhat theatrical flair.
“You swung your arms up and swung them down. As a result, your hands hit each other, and a sound was born.”
“I see...”
She still didn't follow the conversation.
Taira-chan looked up at Ichikawa suspiciously.
“Tsubame-chan. Sound... music is a result. The sound that just rang out is the result of everything in your life up to now. The words spoken to you, the wounds given to you, the wounds you gave others, your bitter thoughts, and even what you ate for breakfast today.”
Ichikawa smiled.
“I think music is taking all of the past together and sounding it out toward the future.”
I heard someone gasp.
“That’s why I turn all the painful wounds and the agonizing past into music. The performance that day that you said was ‘tremendously moving’ was the entirety of my life up to then—hurting from that tweet and then overcoming it.”
“That means...”
“If Sako-san hadn’t said those words, that ‘My Song’ wouldn't have existed. That is the answer. That is our music, amane’s music.”
She said it with a dignified smile.
A smile naturally escaped my cheeks.
I felt like I was seeing the amane I knew after a long time.
That’s right. This was the kind of person I admired.
“So cool...”
Azuma also had the face of a true believer.
“...As expected, I’m no match for that.”
Before I knew it, a smile had returned to Taira-chan’s face as well.
Taira-chan turned back to Sako.
“Hasu-senpai... I’m sorry.”
And then, she bowed her head deeply.
“No, Taira-chan didn't do anything wrong...”
Sako was unusually flustered.
“No.”
Interrupting those words,
“I was one step away from hurting Hasu-senpai and regretting it for the rest of my life. I haven't... completely swallowed it yet, but I will do my best too. For the sake of the future.”
She declared it straight out.
“No, I mean... if anything, I’d like Ichikawa-san to apologize to me.”
““Eh...?””
Ichikawa and Taira-chan tilted their heads at the same time at Sako’s comment.
“This wasn’t Ichikawa-san’s turn to speak, was it? What is it, you can’t help yourself unless you take the spotlight? Is it some kind of disease?”
“What!? I don’t know about that! ...Ah, stop the cheeks? Ah, it hurts, Sako-san! It hurts!”
Sako was pulling Ichikawa’s cheeks as usual, and Ichikawa was being pulled.
“Um, um, I can’t tell if you two trust each other or if you just get along badly...”
““Exactly.””
“Ah, even Master.”