After walking some distance from the station, Ayanokoji led Takamatsu Tomori onto the pedestrian overpass near her home that spanned the main road.
Night had fully fallen, and below the overpass the evening rush hour traffic stretched endlessly.
The roar of engines and the occasional sound of car horns intertwined into a noisy wave of sound.
Ayanokoji walked to the railing, looked down at the torrent of flashing headlights, and slowly spoke.
“Takamatsu, today in the practice room, you were afraid to speak up because you were actually afraid your voice couldn’t meet Togawa and the others’ expectations, right?”
Tomori clutched the hem of her clothes and silently nodded.
Ayanokoji pointed at the traffic flow below.
“Takamatsu, do you know? Under a complex white-noise environment, the human auditory threshold drops significantly.”
Tomori blinked blankly, somewhat not understanding why he suddenly brought that up.
Ayanokoji explained: “My point is, if you sing here, or shout, no one will laugh at you, and besides me, not a second person will hear it.”
“Do you want to give it a try?”
Hearing this, Tomori shrank back instantly and shook her head, still not daring.
Ayanokoji had long anticipated this.
If Togawa Sakiko were standing here right now, she would probably not hesitate to step into the night wind and take the lead in shouting.
Using her passionate sensibility, she would drag Tomori along to gather courage.
Such an approach was something Ayanokoji could not achieve even by profiling and mimicking her mindset.
From this perspective, it was a unique boldness possessed by people like Togawa Sakiko.
This let Ayanokoji Kiyotaka further recognize his own shortcomings compared to Togawa—something the White Room had failed to teach him.
But at this moment, he would not dwell on his own shortcomings, instead choosing to solve the problem in a way he excelled at.
For example, utilizing his existing cards to expand his advantage.
“Takamatsu, are you willing to trust me?”
Recalling every interaction with Ayanokoji over the past few days, as well as the sincerity when he openly told her on the way that “we are the same kind of people,” Tomori nodded.
“Ayanokoji-kun is very patient… Staying with you, I… feel somewhat at ease.”
Though her voice was faint, the trust she conveyed was firm enough.
Ayanokoji looked into her eyes.
“Just like the traffic flow below, Togawa and the others are good people without exception. Even if you mess up, absolutely no one will laugh at you. But if you still feel scared…”
“If, as you said, my presence can make you feel at ease, then when you sing tomorrow, you don’t need to look at anyone else; you only need to look at me.”
“Sing your lyrics, and those thoughts in your heart, to me.”
“I will take charge of receiving all your emotions.”
The night wind blew across the overpass.
Tomori stared dazedly at Ayanokoji before her, and in that instant, she felt the clamor of the entire world recede into the distance.
As her gaze sank into that pair of emotionless amber eyes, she felt for the first time that the long-standing loneliness of being rejected by the world was being dissolved by the sense of security contained within them.
After a fledgling breaks out of its shell, what it sees for the first time should…
probably be a scene just like this.
Therefore, even if weeping, even if lost, it is willing to continue living and sing praises to life.
Looking at Ayanokoji Kiyotaka before her, Tomori couldn’t help but feel that way.
“Well then, see you tomorrow, Takamatsu.”
Right below the overpass was the entrance to Takamatsu Tomori’s apartment building.
Having fulfilled the responsibility of a manager and safely escorted the entrusted band member to her door, Ayanokoji Kiyotaka prepared to head back.
Yesterday, he had selected a suitable new target again, so he needed to return to his quiet residence as soon as possible to formulate an approach plan.
“Uhm… Ayanokoji-kun!”
Just as he was about to turn and leave, Tomori suddenly called out to stop him.
“Is there anything else?”
“If… if I still can’t sing tomorrow… will the band dissolve because of me…”
Looking at Ayanokoji who turned back around, Tomori finally gathered her courage and asked the question suppressed deep within her heart.
Looking at her drooping head and trembling shoulders, Ayanokoji Kiyotaka slightly closed his eyes.
Now, this could ensure that the “big talk” he made tomorrow wouldn’t fall flat, and he could give Shiina Taki an explanation.
Hearing her personally confide these things at the very end when parting meant the time spent accompanying her home today hadn’t been wasted, achieving the ideal effect.
Up to this point, he basically understood the essence of the disordered thoughts within Tomori’s heart. Read this novel at g.com for the best experience.
From her unique perspective of observing the world and her slightly pessimistic view of life, this was her deepest fear.
Just like the emotions contained in the scribbled words and phrases in her diary: each advancement to a higher school and the alternation of seasons were, to her, cruel reconstructions of relationships time and time again, and the loss of “bonds” time and time again.
Therefore, every time a new connection was established, she would develop a subconscious fear, and what she feared most was that the connection would be severed once again.
Especially…
fearing the breakdown of a relationship because it was caused by her own reasons.
Ayanokoji Kiyotaka stopped in his tracks, turned around, and looked at her calmly.
“Takamatsu, why do you think a band dissolves?”
“Because… everyone’s feelings don’t match…” Tomori answered softly.
“There’s no problem with saying that either.”
Ayanokoji said patiently: “But in my eyes, the dissolution of any group is essentially due to uneven distribution of benefits or out-of-control emotional management among members.”
“And the lack of an anchor capable of forcibly dominating everything.”
Under the dim yellowish halo of the streetlamp, Ayanokoji extended his hand toward Tomori, but not to hold hers.
Instead, his palm was facing upward, spread out steadily.
Viewed from a distance, this action looked like gently cradling the petite girl in the palm of his hand, providing protection.
But viewed from another angle, it looked like grasping everything about her tightly, about to control her like a marionette.
“You like collecting stones that won’t change, right?”
Ayanokoji’s voice was flat and waveless, yet his words carried a promise that fragile sensibility could never provide.
“Then starting today, you can treat me as that largest stone.”
“I promise you. Tomorrow, as long as you can stand in front of the microphone and speak up, even if you sing terribly, even if you just read the lyrics without any tune…”
Ayanokoji Kiyotaka closed his palm.
“This band—you, Togawa, Shiina, Nagasaki, Wakaba—will definitely be able to join hands and step onto a true live stage.”
“This is not as the band manager, but an absolute promise given to you by me personally.”