The notice board mocked me.
Big, bold letters: "School Festival Audition Sign-Ups."
And right below, scribbled in neat handwriting: Haruto Takeda – Guitar.
I wanted to rip the paper down, crumple it, set it on fire, scatter the ashes into the ocean, and then bury the ocean.
Instead, I just stood there, frozen, as students passed by whispering.
"Is he good?"
"Guess we'll find out."
"Can't believe Rina roped him into this."
My stomach twisted.
---
After classes ended, I found myself in the music room again, gripping Mom's guitar like a lifeline. My fingers hovered over the strings, but every note I tried died before it could take shape.
What if they laughed?
What if they dismissed me, dismissed her, all over again?
My chest tightened until I couldn't breathe.
"Music Boy."
I jerked my head up.
Rina stood in the doorway, her usual smirk absent. She stepped inside, closing the door softly behind her.
"…You're freaking out," she said flatly.
I looked away. "I'm not."
"You are." She crossed the room, leaning against the piano. "You look like you're about to puke on the strings."
"…Maybe I am."
Silence. Then she walked closer, her boots echoing against the wooden floor.
"Why are you so scared?" she asked quietly.
The words tumbled out before I could stop them. "Because if I play for them and they don't care—if they think it's nothing—then it'll be like she was nothing. Like my mom's whole life meant… nothing."
My voice cracked at the end. I clutched the guitar tighter, nails digging into the wood.
For once, Rina didn't have a comeback. She just stood there, staring at me with an expression I couldn't read.
Then she sat down across from me, folding her arms on the desk. "Listen. People are idiots. They'll laugh at anything, even stuff they don't understand. But that doesn't erase what's real."
"…Real?"
"Yeah." Her eyes locked on mine. "You told me once she smiled even if just one person listened, right? Then maybe that's all it takes. One person. Not the whole school. Not the whole world. Just… someone who hears it."
I swallowed hard.
"You've already got that," she added, her voice softer now. "I heard it. I liked it. That's not nothing."
My chest ached, but in a different way than before. Lighter. Sharper.
"…Why are you saying this?" I asked, almost a whisper.
She looked away, tucking a strand of dark hair behind her ear. "Because I don't want to watch you choke yourself out with fear. It's pathetic. And…" Her voice faltered, just slightly. "And because I think your mom would kick my ass if I let you quit."
A laugh escaped me—small, shaky, but real.
Rina smirked again, but it didn't reach her eyes this time. "See? I'm great at pep talks. Should start charging."
I shook my head. "…Thanks."
The words felt heavy but right.
She stood, slinging her bag over her shoulder. "Don't thank me yet. The audition's in two days. You still have to not screw up."
And with that, she left, leaving me alone with the guitar.
I stared at the strings. My fingers trembled.
But when I strummed, the notes didn't die this time.
They carried.