“Let’s end amane... properly.”
As Ichikawa spoke those words with a quiet but heavy determination, the air seemed to be sucked out of the room, making it difficult to breathe.
“Wait, Amane... Does that mean... you’re disbanding amane? Disbanding this band?”
“...Yes, that’s right.”
Ichikawa nodded firmly.
“No way...”
“How can you say that...!”
Sako and Azuma couldn’t bear it and looked down.
“Today, right now, at this very moment?”
When I asked as their representative, Ichikawa shook her head.
“No. I want to end it properly. I want to end on a high note so we can move forward. We’ll do the best live ever—a live that rings into the future—and then... we’ll end it properly.”
“At the December Lock-on?”
“Yeah, probably... No, it might be better to do a one-man live on a different day so we don’t involve other bands, but...”
“Understood. Well, let’s think about that later.”
“Konuma, why are you acting so normal about this!?”
Azuma must have hated how I was moving the conversation forward in such a businesslike manner. She raised her voice and glared at me.
“We’re a band. All four of us are amane!”
“Then—!” “That’s exactly why!”
Azuma flinched, perhaps surprised by me cutting her off with a loud voice.
Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.
“...It’s because the four of us are amane. We’re a rope that binds the four of us together. If even one person leaves, the whole thing falls apart.”
“I understand that, but... but why aren’t you trying to persuade her not to leave...!?”
“You can’t lie to your own feelings.”
“...!”
“A member said this. If we gloss over it... if we say we can continue even when a member isn’t fully into it, then we would be denying what amane is.”
“...That might be true, but...”
It was a bit surprising to hear that from me, since it was usually something Azuma would say.
But because Azuma was being like this, I was probably able to remain calm.
“In that case, I will put on the best live performance no matter what. Then—”
I swallowed the faint hope I was about to voice.
“—We can end it properly.”
I substituted it with those words.
“...Hey, Yurisuke, smile.”
“Smile? This isn’t the time for—”
Azuma looked up and gasped.
There stood Sako, her lips curved into a gentle, firm smile.
“Let’s move forward. It’s tough, it’s lonely, and it’s sad. But Yurisuke’s lyrics, Takuto’s songs... and Ichikawa-san, too. You aren’t people who should stay stuck here.”
“Sakohasu...!”
“You’re going to flip the world with Yurisuke’s words, right?”
“What will you do, Sakohasu...?”
Sako lit a flame of determination in her eyes.
“I... will still play bass behind Ichikawa-san. I’ll practice like crazy until I’m chosen.”
“Does that mean you’re going to be a professional studio musician?”
“Yes. I’m declaring it now. Even though I wasn’t chosen by anyone before, this is something I chose for myself.”
“...Why?”
“Because there’s someone I want to deliver music to. This is my own resolve and determination.”
Azuma muttered, “Resolve and determination...” under her breath.
And then.
“...I see. So that’s how it is. Sakohasu, Amane... You’ve both decided.”
Azuma looked at Ichikawa’s face.
Ichikawa nodded softly with a serious expression.
“I understand. If that’s the case.”
Azuma stood up and quietly held out her right hand.
“I will do it to flip the world.”
“I’ll do it at least to stick to my own choice.”
“I will... so I can sing with my head held high.”
“I will... reach for my dream—”
Maybe that wasn’t quite the right resolve.
“—to make my dream come true.”
As I said that, I placed my right hand on top of Ichikawa’s.
...There was no shout of “Yeah!”
We just looked at each other and nodded silently.
One hour later.
Ichikawa and I were sitting on a bench in the park in front of Shin-Koganei Station.
Azuma and Sako had gone somewhere, saying they had things to do.
This was the bench where, at some point, I had been forced to sit formally and be scolded.
Why was I scolded so much back then...?
...Oh, right, it was because I went home without saying anything to Ichikawa.
Looking back now, I think about what a peaceful argument that was. I mean, you guys aren’t even dating.
“...You’re serious, aren’t you?”
I asked Ichikawa on the way back.
“Yes. I wouldn’t say something like this as a joke.”
“I guess so...”
It’s not like I actually thought it was a joke, but I brought it up anyway.
“Everyone was surprised.”
“...Yeah.”
“It was so sudden.”
“And also, Konuma-kun.”
...I wanted to take the long way around as much as possible.
“...Yeah.”
Even I, who people call dense, knew what she was going to say.
“Let’s disband too. Right here, right now.”
“...Why?”
I knew it was pathetic. I knew it was miserable. Even so.
“I mean, even if the band is ending... this and that are different matters, right?”
“They aren’t different.”
“Why...?”
“Once things have reached this point... I can’t stay like this.”
“What do you mean...?”
“I can’t say anything more than that, because if I do, nothing will have meaning anymore.”
When she put it like that, I couldn’t say anything else.
“Hey, Konuma-kun. I know I’m being selfish, and you might think I’m crazy for saying this.”
With her voice trembling, she continued.
“I have one last... request.”
“A request...?”
The sunset-colored air wrapped around us.
It felt just like that day in the classroom.
“Could you give me one of your songs?”
“That’s...”
“I’m going to aim to debut again as ‘Ichikawa Amane.’ So, not as a ghostwriter... I want you to write a song by Takuto Konuma for Ichikawa Amane, just for me.”
The thought that she should debut again with a song she wrote herself crossed my mind, but she surely knew that too.
It wasn’t about that. Ichikawa... Ichikawa wanted an omamori, too.
She wanted to take that first step with the band amane pushing her forward.
“...I understand. I’ll give you my song, Ichikawa.”
“...Really?”
Ichikawa looked at me as if clinging to me.
I nodded once more.
“But, I have one condition.”
“A condition... I see. This time it’s just one.”
Maybe I’m being lingering.
Even so, I spoke softly.
“Someday, even in the distant future. I’ll wait as long as it takes. So—”
“...!”
Amane seemed to guess what came next, her eyes widening as if holding something back.
“—I want to hear amane’s songs in your voice, Amane.”
Then, Ichikawa’s eyes began to redden.
“amane is my pride.”