On the way home the day we performed 'Last!' and 'Private Measure' for the first time.
Sako and I were on the same outbound train as Azuma.
It’s a bit of a detour from Kichijoji to Ichika-cho Station, but we can get back via the outbound train.
“Then you could always do that,” Yuri said.
““It’s outside our commuter pass range.””
“Don’t sync up, idiots,” Yuri pouted slightly, but she didn’t ask, “Then why are you going home this way today?”
To Azuma, that was probably something that didn't even need to be asked.
We couldn’t help but talk about Ichikawa’s new song, 'Private Measure'.
“With that song, I finally understand what Amane is thinking,” Azuma muttered with a sigh, looking out at the windows of the houses passing by.
“Amane probably thinks that if her songs can reach more people through her own strength alone, then she’ll be okay with re-forming 'amane' again.”
“Probably. I thought she’d lost her mind, but in the end, I guess that’s just like her.”
“Even though she’s a sheltered, airheaded lady, if she’s just being rescued like a princess, she starts questioning her own reason for existing, loses confidence, and feels like she’s drowning. She’s seriously high-maintenance... it’s so moe...”
You’re getting a moe vibe? Also, do people even say 'moe' these days?
...My mind got hung up on such trivial details, but some things finally clicked.
'I will aim for a debut once more, as Ichikawa Amane.'
She had said that on that day.
Why would she do such a thing? What was the difference between that and aiming for it as a band?
The reason was clear: Ichikawa truly believed she was a burden to 'amane'.
“But what does she mean by 'when her songs reach more people'?” Sako questioned, without rising her intonation at the end of her sentence.
“The obvious one would be surpassing IRIA. But knowing Amane, she’ll probably keep raising those standards and levels indefinitely.”
“Hmm...”
“I just don’t understand what goes through the mind of a stoic genius,” Azuma sighed, looking up at the ceiling.
“I kind of understand,” Sako said.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. Since Ichikawa-san wasn't chosen, she decided she wanted to become someone who is. ...I can't deny that feeling.”
“I see...”
Azuma grumbled, “It’s difficult, I can't deny it either,” then poked me. “Konuma, why are you so quiet?” What’s with this 'best friend' position she’s taking?
“...But if that’s really how Ichikawa feels, we still have one last trump card.”
That was something I’d been thinking about ever since hearing that song.
“...Well, maybe.”
“What’s that?” Sako furrowed her brows by a fraction of a millimeter.
“It’s about a hostage—or rather, a 'fact-hostage'—that we can use, which Amane doesn't seem to suspect or doubt at all.”
“Huh?” Sako raised her voice, which was rare for her.
“You don’t get it?”
“I don’t. Don’t be so cryptic.”
“Sorry, sorry. I just thought that not getting it is what makes Sakohasu so cool.” Azuma looked happy, in contrast to Sako’s irritation.
“The answer is simple. All three of us should just quit music.”
“...?”
“Amane’s dream is based on the premise that we will continue making music. Specifically, we just have to say, 'If it's not amane, we won't do music.' Then, no matter how hard Amane tries, her dream won't come true, right?”
“Whoa...” Sako was visibly repulsed.
“Yeah, you'd make that face. That’s exactly why we can’t use that tactic. We can’t betray the trust of our band members.”
“But it’s not actually an impossible scenario. I mean, if we weren’t trusted, the option to quit was definitely there,” I nodded.
“Why?”
“Why? Because... for me, there’s no meaning in doing music if it’s not with 'amane'.”
As I answered Sako’s question, Azuma’s eyes widened. “Ooh...!?”
“Konuma, since when did you become able to say things like that so smoothly?”
“.........?” Huh?
.........Oh, I just said something really embarrassing, didn’t I!?
“Whoa, your face is getting so red. Was that the 'said it without realizing' type?”
“Takuto, you're cute,” Sako said.
I-I am not cute!