* * *
On the road home filled with the scent of fragrant olives, I walk through the streets of Kichijoji as if being led by something.
I thought I wouldn't be able to bear it and would end up crying.
I thought I wouldn't be able to bear it and would end up screaming.
Since entering high school, nothing good had happened—no, nothing bad had even happened to me. But in June of this year, I miraculously obtained something.
The fact that it is about to reach its end, and that it has already reached its end.
And the fact that I was the one who chose that.
Even if I were to plead that it was a decision requiring great courage, I'm sure they wouldn't forgive me.
—Don’t forgive me, please.
Passing in front of the instrument store by the station,
“Jazz basses are used for things other than jazz, too. I don't know why, though.”
Passing in front of the McDonald’s in the shopping district,
“No, it’s a fresh drink, so hurry up and drink it already...”
Passing in front of the record store,
“Because this CD changed my life.”
Passing in front of the Planetary System,
“I’ll bring you back with me.”
And then, I arrive at Inokashira Park.
“Um, that’s...?”
There should be plenty of cooler memories, yet the ones that come to mind are always his slightly awkward expressions.
Strangely, the back of my nose feels a sharp, stinging pain.
I sit on a bench and look up at the sky where night has completely fallen.
“amane is my idol.”
“It’s okay to take it slow. Slowly, become able to sing again. But let’s definitely sing together again.”
“In order for me to reach out for the thing I admire.”
“Amane!!”
At first, I thought he was a strange person.
Someone who lacked self-confidence to the point of being self-conscious, someone who didn't seem to expect anything at all.
Even though he acted calm, he couldn't hide the passion within his heart. The emotions that overflowed pierced my heart again and again, driving me forward.
“...I don't want that.”
“I am in love with Ichikawa Amane as a single, special girl.”
I, who didn't even know what love was in the first place, learned about love for the first time.
...I see. My entire world has become centered around Konuma-kun.
He always makes a pathetic face or an indifferent face, but like the protagonist of a story, he always comes to save me.
I'm like a kidnapped lady, simply taking steps forward while being led by the hand.
I'm just being treated like a genius, supported by songs of mine that were created by chance a long time ago.
See, if it stays like this, I’ll become a burden.
He, she, and the other she are all struggling desperately to plant the meaning of their existence there.
What about me?
If we had met for the first time today, would I be chosen as the guitarist and vocalist for amane? Would I be chosen as his girlfriend?
—No matter how much I thought about it, that doubt wouldn't clear, and finally, the decisive blow was struck.
“Let’s... properly end amane.”
I wonder what I've done.
I might regret it.
No, the regret has already begun.
I'm sure there was a way to make things work even without doing this.
But this was necessary for me to stand before that microphone with pride, and to stand by his side. I didn't know any other way.
If this reckless act results in that not coming true, then I didn't have the right to it anyway.
I wasn't as clever as I thought, but I wasn't straightforward enough to be called clumsy either.
Rather, to others, it might look like I've jumped off the straight path and am zigzagging, winding my way through the mud.
There might actually be a shortcut that reaches the destination much faster. It might even be something as simple as searching for it on the internet.
But it doesn't have to be a shortcut.
It doesn't have to be a shortcut, because I want to go as far as possible with everyone, and with him.
With how I am now, I would eventually say, “Leave me behind.”
So, so that I can be chosen even without my past.
Because first, I have to lose the 'now'.
So, please.
Forget everything.
The songs we sang together, the scenery we saw together, the scents we smelled together, the sounds we heard together, the feelings we felt together—every single bit of it.
“...Don't forget.”
* * *