I was afraid of stopping.
I felt that if I stood still, I would start overthinking things again, so I passed by Shin-Koganei Station where no train was coming and headed toward East-Koganei Station.
I felt like if I waited for the train that only comes once every twelve minutes, that guy—my clever, dexterous self—would call out to me.
My relentlessly cowardly and lazy self.
The self that couldn't even bet a single life on the most important thing in that life.
I felt like he would tap my shoulder and speak some sound logic.
The moment I arrived at East-Koganei Station and ran up the stairs, a train happened to pull into the platform, and I jumped on.
Start moving, Chuo Line!!!!!
Octa Studio, near Kichijoji Station.
As soon as I entered the soundproof room, I sat on the floor, clutching the guitar the manager had handed to me.
The manager started to say, "Oh, aren't you amane's... wait, aren't you a high schooler..." but when I pleaded, "Personal practice, alone! I want to go in right now!", he closed his eyes and guided me to the room.
Ever since we failed the selection for Seishun Rebellion—no, maybe ever since the last live performance—I had been thinking about it.
With my current self, I can't do any more than this.
What was undoubtedly the best song we could produce at the time didn't even graze the public's interest.
That fact was frustrating, painful, and agonizing.
...Because of that, I lowered the expectations I had for myself.
I readjusted my self-perception, thinking that my best effort was only worth that much in the eyes of the general public.
'The fact that I can't flip the world with this means... I'm just not good enough. Even with my whole heart and soul, even with my 100 points, even with my 1000 points, I can't even reach the feet of the world, of Japan... no, probably even this town.'
In a sense, that might be the truth.
But, but.
"The thing that changed my life was amane's music, you know? It was the music you made, Senpai!"
When I heard those words, it felt like something snapped. I heard the sound of an explosion.
Without waiting for a four-count, an upstroke A major chord rang out loudly.
It was a sensation that couldn't be compared to when I saw the figure of five million views.
What the hell, the world had definitely been changing after all.
With amane's music, the world had changed, even if only by zero point zero-something millimeters.
The single word of a single person moves me more than any massive number ever could.
"—Konuma-kun, was your dream something you could just let slip away here?"
"You told me you wanted to make songs that change people's lives, just like 'Watashi no Uta', didn't you?"
Sure, it would obviously be better if it could be fulfilled through amane. But if that's difficult, there are times when you have to change direction to make a dream come true, right?
—That's what I thought. I had been completely mistaken.
I thought this situation was a choice between 80 points and 100 points.
The future where I disband amane but still deliver and spread my music was 80 points. If things went well, I might be able to aim for 90 or 95 points.
The future where I continue amane and one day make music that thunders throughout Japan was 100 points. But there was a possibility that path would end up being 20 points.
I was wrong.
Reality is far more cold-hearted and cruel.
This was a binary choice between 0 and 1. A choice between nothingness and existence.
A dream that didn't come true wasn't 20 points, or even 0 points; it was zero. It was completely wasted. It was exactly synonymous with throwing one's life into the gutter.
Even if I achieved 'something that looked like it', it wouldn't mean the dream had come true.
"Even if it doesn't come true, the effort you put into dreaming and working hard will remain."
No, such things do not remain.
To be precise, it's meaningless even if they do remain.
"amane is a band that absolutely must not be turned into just a 'kind memory' like that."
"Those were fun times, weren't they?"—I don't need even a milligram of such memories.
"It's only when Yuri Azuma applies lyrics to the song I, Takuto Konuma, made, and Sako Hasu plays the bass, and Amane Ichikawa sings it—that's when it finally becomes this song."
Whether it was because I said so, or because we promised, or because we're friends, or because I like them—none of that matters.
It's not that 'it would be better to fulfill the dream with amane'.
It's that 'unless it's with amane, the dream won't be fulfilled'.
What the hell, dammit.
Who was the guy who thought a peaceful life was waiting if he just moved on?
Who was the guy who thought that if he just closed his eyes to various things and kept going, he would have a somewhat peaceful, unruffled, gentle happiness!
This... continuing on like this is way more of a hell.
Where I can't blame anyone, where I clash with my whole heart and soul at full power, and yet things don't go well at all. Where it's nothing but pain and failing to reach.
If that's the case, it would be much more peaceful to make things tailored to the market or trends, thinking 'I thought they might like this kind of thing.' Even if it was rejected, I wouldn't budge. I could remain without feeling anything. I could nonchalantly make the next song, saying "Then, how about something like this?", and live a reasonably fun life.
Rather than chasing a dream that won't come true, it's much more peaceful to live by knowing your place, giving up, lowering the hurdles, and not having expectations.
'This song was none other than myself...!'
But amane isn't like that.
It's not like that; it's because it's ourselves that it's this tough. That it's this painful.
Of course it is.
To keep one's most precious thing exposed is, no matter how you think about it, far too painful.
But even so.
I don't care if I get hurt, I don't care if I'm torn to shreds.
No matter how much it hurts, I want to be here, I want to be in amane.
That's why I'm going to get them back.
I don't know what Ichikawa is thinking, but I don't think she'll just withdraw her decision even if I tell the current her, "Let's keep going after all."
She's a fairly troublesome musician in her own way.
But it has to be with Ichikawa, it has to be with Sako, it has to be with Azuma.
And it has to be me, or it's meaningless.
My dream can't be fulfilled unless it's me, and our dream can't be fulfilled unless it's us.
A 'similar dream' fulfilled by someone else isn't my dream.
So, the only thing I can do is keep making songs for amane.
Even if Ichikawa doesn't sing it, even if Sako doesn't play it, even if Azuma doesn't write for it, even if the four of us can't perform it, even if it reaches no one's ears.
If there's even a single millimeter of a chance—no, even if there's no chance at all, I'll keep creating.
What the hell, I should have realized it sooner.
Whether it comes true or not had absolutely nothing to do with the criteria for dreaming.
I was just one person from the start anyway.
Someone who was just recording alone in a cramped room has somehow made it this far.
It's a miracle that worked out too well.
That's exactly why I don't need any more miracles to happen.
Even if everything fails to go well.
I will live for this band, and I will die for this band.
"!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"
Along with the strumming of the guitar, before I knew it, I was singing, or rather, screaming out loud.
Usually, I would add the main melody later with a keyboard, but I couldn't stand it, I couldn't help it, so I let my voice out.
My voice shook, grew hoarse, cracked, and cut out; it really didn't look like anything impressive at all.
Even so, I turned these unspeakable feelings into sounds with wordless words.
My throat tastes like blood.
But that's fine.
I should have always been doing this with the resolve that any song could be my last.
So, strongly, strongly, strongly, until my fingers, my voice, and my ears feel like they're being torn off.
I sound out the notes toward the future.
...After strumming frantically, my brain lost oxygen, and I collapsed backward as if losing consciousness.
"Ah..."
While staring at the ceiling with hollow eyes, I suddenly realized.
...Crap, I failed to record that just now.
Ugh, are you serious? There's no way I can ever make a song that surpasses that one...!
"Ahhhhhhhhh......!!!"
Just as I covered my eyes with both hands,
"It's okay, I'm recording. ...There's no way I could just stay here without recording that."
I heard a familiar voice.
When I opened my eyes and looked over there,
"As I thought, Konuma,"
Azuma was there, smiling while tears streamed down her face.
"You're at your coolest when you're running around for Amane."