“I-It’s not Ayanokoji-kun’s fault!
It’s me…
I’m the one who didn’t talk things through with Tomori-chan beforehand, desuwa…”
Sakiko, belatedly realizing her own lack of consideration, lowered her head in guilt upon seeing Ayanokouji getting caught up in her mistake.
As for Shiina Taki herself, she was silenced by Ayanokouji’s refusal to evade responsibility—even taking it upon himself—and his reasonable, neither servile nor overbearing words; much of her earlier momentum withered away.
Seeing Sakiko’s self-reproachful look now, Taki also realized that her words just now had been a bit hurtful.
She bit her lip lightly and looked away awkwardly, but still muttered stubbornly:
“What’s the use of just saying that…
Ayanokouji, since you admit it’s your failure, as the manager, you have to come up with some remedial measures, right?”
“Taki-chan, Ayanokoji-kun only joined us yesterday.
Isn’t it a bit much to ask him to come up with a solution immediately?”
Worried about cracks forming among the members they had finally gathered, Nagasaki Soyo stepped forward decisively.
After defending Ayanokouji, she turned and looked gently at Tomori, who was hiding behind him.
“We can just take it slow, Tomori-chan.
Don’t feel too much pressure, and don’t push yourself, okay?”
Seeing the atmosphere at a stalemate, Kiyotaka slowly stood up under the girls’ watchful eyes.
“Shiina is right.
Since I’ve taken on the role of band manager, I should indeed be the one to find a way to resolve the current situation.”
He turned to look at Takamatsu Tomori, who was still clutching the hem of his clothes tightly, looking lost.
If he followed the education and mindset he had been raised with, the most efficient and simple way to deal with a [part] that couldn’t function would be to directly discard this [defective product] known as Takamatsu Tomori.
Replacing her with a vocalist who dared to speak up would perfectly satisfy Shiina Taki’s current expectations.
But that approach wouldn’t work here.
Not only would Sakiko never agree, but even Shiina, who seemed to have complaints about Takamatsu Tomori, would surely feel guilty for driving someone away afterward, making it impossible for the Band to function long-term.
With that premise, the only option was to start with Takamatsu Tomori herself.
Singing ability or psychological resilience—these could all be trained through efficient curricula.
However, the White Room’s high-pressure education and methods, which didn’t treat people as human beings, would never work on Takamatsu Tomori. New chapters come out on g.com first.
He would have to start with deeper psychological guidance to reconstruct Takamatsu Tomori’s perception from within.
Facing what most would see as a hot potato, Ayanokouji remained calm in his analysis.
Compared to the trials and brutal competition he had faced in the past, this was not particularly difficult.
Therefore, there was no thought of giving up.
After eliminating the unfeasible approaches one by one, the correct solution would emerge.
Watching the twilight descend, Kiyotaka first gave instructions to the four girls other than Takamatsu Tomori:
“It’s getting late.
For safety’s sake, everyone should head home for now.”
Glancing at Taki, who was still sulking, he made a promise in a flat tone: “When we gather tomorrow afternoon, I guarantee that everyone will be able to have at least one normal rehearsal.”
Having said that, he turned his gaze back to Takamatsu Tomori.
“As for Takamatsu…”
“I live not far from your house.
If you don’t mind, let me walk you home today.”
“I also happen to have some things I want to say to you in private.”
Hearing that Kiyotaka was going to take Takamatsu Tomori home, Sakiko, as the leader, also stood up.
She stated that she also needed to take responsibility and had things to say to Tomori-chan, so she hoped to go with them.
But she was politely declined by Ayanokouji.
Sakiko’s emotional and passionate approach might also move Takamatsu Tomori.
But at this point of setback, it definitely wouldn’t work in one go.
Therefore, on the grounds that ‘too many people will only increase Takamatsu’s pressure,’ Ayanokouji took Takamatsu Tomori alone onto the train heading toward her home.
When they walked out of the station, night had already fully fallen.
Due to the less-than-pleasant experience in the practice room today, Takamatsu Tomori walked with her head down and heavy steps.
But as they walked, she suddenly crouched down by the roadside.
From the soil at the edge of a flower bed, she picked up an ordinary pebble.
Kiyotaka stopped with her, without rushing her.
He had long been accustomed to the girl’s’strange’ behavior that ordinary people couldn’t understand, so he just stood quietly to the side.
Watching her carefully wipe the dirt off the stone and put it into her uniform pocket.
Takamatsu Tomori’s fingers rubbed the stone in her pocket a few times, her voice soft:
“Because…
it doesn’t change.
No matter when, it will always be like this.”
Perhaps out of consideration for Ayanokouji’s feelings, not wanting to waste too much of the time he kindly spent walking her home, or perhaps worried that Ayanokouji wouldn’t be able to fulfill his promise to Shiina Taki tomorrow because of her.
The girl with short gray hair didn’t dwell too much in her own world.
Still crouching, she took the initiative to reflect on today’s events.
“The things I write…
are always a mess, and they never meet everyone’s expectations.”
“I feel like I’m…
out of place with everyone, with this world…”
The girl before him was suffering because of her hypersensitivity to emotions, yet even so, she was working hard to analyze her own shortcomings for the sake of others.
Looking at her, Ayanokouji spoke the sentence least mixed with lies or pretense since he had started spending time with these girls:
“Is that so?
Then in a sense, we are the same kind of people.”
“I also often find myself unable to understand human emotions.”
Takamatsu Tomori was slightly taken aback and looked up, meeting Ayanokouji’s emotionless amber eyes.
“The feelings of pain, confusion, and being out of place with the world that you write in your lyrics…
for me, I can only try my best to understand them, but I never quite grasp the essence.”
Takamatsu Tomori stared blankly at Ayanokouji for a few seconds.
Her traits, similar to autism, gave her a keen perception of surrounding emotions.
She could clearly distinguish who was being perfunctory and who was lying.
And at this moment, in Ayanokouji’s eyes, Takamatsu Tomori saw no sympathy or hypocritical consolation.
“Ayanokoji-kun…”
Takamatsu Tomori murmured Ayanokouji’s name, her trust in him deepening as he was willing to speak to her so sincerely.
Thus, after standing up again, although she still kept her head down for the rest of the journey, her body instinctively leaned closer toward Ayanokouji.