* * *
It was the day after Rock On, the first day of summer vacation, when I realized something was wrong.
Just like any other holiday, I picked up my guitar with sleepy eyes.
Should I make today's song in D major or A minor?
After hesitating for a few seconds, I eventually held my left hand in the shape of a C chord, took out the pick I had tucked between the strings, and struck a note.
Starting song composition from that first strum was pretty much a daily routine for me on holidays.
And yet.
“Huh...?”
The musical scales had vanished from that guitar.
The sound was no longer a Do, a Mi, or a So.
It was like the sound of a heavy glass being placed on a desk, the sound of typing on a keyboard when pressed for time, or the sound of someone's footsteps approaching from somewhere.
It had become 'just noise' that wouldn't form a melody, just like those sounds.
What is going on? I thought, as I tried holding a different chord.
But it was no use. Nothing changed from before.
I tried re-tuning, and I tried plugging it into an amp, but it was the same.
From the guitar I played, it wasn't a harmony.
It was just a string of inorganic sounds ringing out simultaneously.
The situation was the same with other instruments; whether I played the piano or the bass, the sensation was identical.
Only the drums seemed like I could handle them almost the same as before, perhaps because the concept of a musical scale doesn't exist for them originally, but everything else was completely hopeless.
Once more, I spoke it aloud to confirm.
“Have the musical scales... vanished from my ears?”
* * *
“And so, you can't write songs...”
Ichikawa and Sako were awkwardly averting their eyes.
“Then, did the song I just sang sound like it had no scale too? Like... what would it be... a Buddhist chant or something...?”
“No,”
I shook my head.
“Everything except my own performance sounds perfectly normal. It seems like only the sounds I produce myself sound as if the scales have vanished.”
Seeing Ichikawa looking anxious, I made sure to tell her clearly.
“Your song was definitely a good song, Ichikawa.”
“You don't have to say that right now...!”
Ichikawa looked at me with teary eyes.
I hurriedly waved my hands in front of my chest.
“No, no, you don't have to take it so seriously! I'm sure it's just temporary.”
It would be a problem if things got gloomy. This is a fun training camp, after all!
“Takuto, do you know the cause?”
Sako asked while grabbing the hem of my T-shirt (probably).
“No, I have no idea at all...”
I gave a good performance at Rock On, everyone was moved, I got applause... I wonder what it is, maybe something like burnout syndrome?
“Did my voice... steal Konuma-kun's scales away...?”
Ichikawa said such a thing with a worried expression.
“How could it be something like a curse from a fairy tale?”
A bitter smile escaped me. If we're talking about poemers, there's Azuma, but Ichikawa also seems to have a somewhat fairy-tale way of thinking since she writes lyrics.
“Anyway, I'm sure it'll be fine. It's only been like this for less than two weeks. Sorry, I might have exaggerated too much by saying I can't write songs.”
Was I trying to fish for sympathy? How pathetic.
“...But then, what should we do about the other song?”
That single sentence Sako whispered was like a drop of black ink falling into the transparent air, slowly but surely staining the inside of the studio into a murky color.
“Yeah...”
I didn't have an answer for that either.
“Hey, Konuma-kun.”
Eventually, Ichikawa spoke softly.
“What do you want to do, Konuma-kun?”
Her serious expression brought back a flashback of Ichikawa in the classroom at dusk that one time.
『The truth is, I... want to be able to sing again... I have so many things I want to say... but I'm scared...』
A flashback of Ichikawa on the way home that one time surfaced.
『What do you want to turn into music, Konuma-kun?』
“I... honestly don't really know. Whether I want to write songs myself or not. Even if I could get the scales back, I don't know what kind of song I'd want to make...”
I let the words spill out, one by one, as if dropping them slowly.
What is it that I want to do?
“Hey, I,”
She took a deep breath.
“I want to hear Konuma-kun's new song.”
Her straight gaze captured me.
“I love Konuma-kun's songs.”
I gasped at those words.
“...Me too.”
Sako muttered from the side.
“I want to play Takuto's songs too. Even more than Ichikawa-san, I want to play Takuto's songs.”
“...Sako-san, was that second half of the comment necessary just now?”
“It just pisses me off how things are going at Ichikawa-san's pace.”
Sako huffed and turned away.
Ichikawa gave a wry smile, saying something like “Geez...”, before turning back to me.
“Hey, Konuma-kun, I don't know how we should go about it, but,”
Ichikawa stopped there, cleared her throat pointedly with a 'ahem', and—
“『Someday, even in the distant future is fine. I'll wait as long as it takes. You don't even have to release it to the world.』”
She began to speak in a tone just like someone had once used.
She really remembers it word for word, doesn't she?
“Will you let me sing your song, Konuma-kun?”
Ichikawa, smiling gently with a look like she was about to cry, was somehow incredibly beautiful.
“O-Oh...”
While I was giving a half-hearted reply, completely mesmerized, Ichikawa's cheek was pulled hard.
“Eh, w-wait, Sako-san, it hurts!”
“I told you to stop entering a world of just the two of you.”
“In this kind of situation, aren't you supposed to pull Konuma-kun's cheek?!”
“Takuto isn't at fault this time.”
Sako was pouting in an unusually obvious way.
Looking at Sako like that, I also came back to my senses a little.
Dangerous, dangerous, I was about to be captivated by a natural angel... Don't say it's too late for that now.
“Hey, Takuto. For now, we'll keep one slot open for a song until the very last minute of the school festival, so why not give it a try?”
Sako was proposing (probably).
“But Sako-san, if we set a deadline, won't it become pressure for Konuma-kun...?”
Interrupting Ichikawa, who spoke out of concern for me—
“Takuto can do it.”
Sako stated clearly, with absolute certainty.
“...I don't really get why you're making such a smug face, Sako-san.”
As if exasperated, but also as if raising a white flag, Ichikawa laughed with both hands up.
That's right.
Sako wasn't worrying, nor was she being indulgent.
With an expression of someone convinced of victory, she said it.
“Because Takuto can do it.”
She said it once more.
“Right, Takuto?”
“Yeah, just you wait.”
There was no way I could give a weak-hearted answer to my childhood friend's question, which she had uncharacteristically asked with a rising intonation.
“Wow, Sako-san took the best part!”
“I told you I'm not going to keep letting you have your way.”
Watching the two of them joking around like that, I renewed my resolve.
“...Thanks, both of you.”
“Then, Konuma-kun, it's a race!”
“For what?”
“Which is faster: me becoming able to write lyrics, or you becoming able to write a song!”
Ichikawa grinned.
“...Yeah, you're on.”
Once again, Ichikawa's cheek was pulled.
“That's why I said it pisses me off how you try to take the final word for yourself at the very end.”
“Ahaha, I don't know anything about that! ...Wait, it really hurts, so let go! No, you're too strong! Konuma-kun, help!”