—These kinds of online games are scary.
Because they can ruin your life.
I saw many people in my previous life whose lives were destroyed by online games.
It’s one of those genres that is terrifying once you get hooked.
I tried to play it only in my spare time.
Surprisingly, back in the days when I wanted to make a name for myself, I had once forcibly finished songs I thought were duds and sold them cheaply just to get my name out there.
I hadn’t really asked where they would be used.
A composer who sells their work cheaply is usually sold off by record companies at a bargain.
—But!
To think!
Here!
—I would reunite with it in this game…!
I felt a certain kind of emotion.
My own song had been implemented, and I could play it.
When I told senpai about that— “…You’re amazing…!” It’s incredibly embarrassing to have a trivial story met with such sparkling eyes.
I hadn’t done anything great.
I just took something that had been rejected and forcibly gave it a decent shape.
That’s why I used synthesizers or sound sources that make it hard to tell it was programmed.
No, composing actually uses a lot of energy, but basically, if you match standard chords to a melody you thought of, it turns out alright—when I explained that, senpai’s eyes sparkled even more.
Actually, the Batles surprisingly don’t have many strange chord progressions or keys.
Rather, it’s all simple chords.
The Ble Hearts and such are the same.
Maybe that’s why there are things that are loved across generations—as we talked about such things, the common topics between me and senpai increased.
Games, instruments, recent events in class.
Gradually, we became close enough to talk about each other’s private lives.
I lived alone in a house because my parents were stationed overseas; Mizore-senpai had been playing the oboe since middle school and was dedicated only to that.
And we shared serious concerns, like how Mizore-senpai felt betrayed by a friend she thought was important.
Even though I was in the bass section and she played a woodwind, I also consulted her about instruments.
Even though I was a composer in my previous life, I was a complete amateur when it came to wind instruments.
I wasn’t a performer.
I was desperate to keep up with people with long careers like Kumiko and Asuka-senpai.
But senpai praised me, saying that wasn’t true.
How unexpected…
Well, I practiced every day in the soundproof room in my basement (incidentally, it was my father’s hobby room, but before I knew it, I had taken it over with my equipment).
Of course, I still played the guitar enough so my skills wouldn’t rust, but currently, wind instruments were my main focus.
The distance between me and senpai kept shrinking.
The distance that used to be four fists apart was now only one.
Then, I was called out by senpai to discuss a separate matter.
The place was in front of the vending machine in the courtyard, where there were benches and a break area.
Today was Sunday.
Since our brass band was the only diligent club practicing on a Sunday, Mizore-senpai and I naturally ended up alone together.
It was the season when the rainy season was about to begin.
The humidity was gradually rising, the cherry blossoms had fallen, and it was already the season of green leaves.
I sat down next to Mizore-senpai, leaving a space about the size of one fist.
Mizore-senpai, holding a can of juice, opened up her heart to me.
“…What do you think of brass band competitions?” “…?” I gave a vague answer that didn’t quite hit the mark.
It was an extremely abstract and ambiguous question.
“Isn’t brass band music?
I can understand the quality of technique.
But, in the end, it’s decided by the judge’s subjectivity, right?
I just…
can’t accept that…” I see, Mizore-senpai was troubled by the fact that their performance was evaluated by the judge’s subjectivity.
Certainly, technical skill would be seen as the first round of judgment.
However, the more high-level music becomes, the more it is decided only by subjectivity.
Electric guitars and the like are different.
Playing the guitar with your teeth, rolling on the floor, jumping into the audience—that is a “performance” by a band.
—But brass bands aren’t like that.
Everyone plays the same song.
Arbitrary arrangements are basically not allowed.
—Perhaps Mizore-senpai can’t forgive that, or she doesn’t quite understand her own feelings.
—If so, I just need to untangle those thoughts.
“Mizore-senpai, why don’t you come out to a night establishment with me next time?” I made that joke and checked Mizore-senpai’s schedule.
Club activities basically end at 6:00 PM, so a night outing should work out.
When I took out my schedule book and looked at Mizore-senpai, her face was somewhat flushed, and she was averting her eyes from me.
“I…
it’s my first time for that kind of thing…” “S-senpai?
I don’t know what you’re misunderstanding, but please bring your oboe, okay?” I didn’t quite understand her misunderstanding at the time either.
At my mention of the “oboe,” senpai’s face turned bright red, perhaps because of whatever she had misunderstood.
In this society where men are few and women are prioritized in everything, even as a high school sophomore, senpai still had an air of virginity about her.
—Kyoto is an “old” town.
Sometimes, if you don’t know a man by 15-18, you are treated as shameful.
In this gender-reversed world, there are apparently cases where parents give their daughters money to take a male prostitute.
Thinking it’s pitiful to remain ignorant of men.
In such a society, many people lose their virginity once they become high schoolers.
In most cases, it’s with a classmate, but Mizore-senpai, who isn’t high on the school caste and has no interest in the opposite sex, seemed to be misunderstanding due to a lack of experience.
I realized it halfway through, but I pretended not to notice and invited senpai to a certain shop.