Episode 82: A Kiss

The dimly lit corridor outside the waiting room, a bustle of what must be performers and their people, moving in and out of doors. Beside all of that, I stood pressed close to Shion, holding her hand tight.

Anon-san beside us glanced at her watch and said:

“Well then, Uta-chan — it’s about time.”
“Yes.”

I understood without being told and started preparing to make my way to the audience seats. Of course — there’s no reason for someone who is essentially an outsider to be here. There would be costume changes, preparations; what I could do was simply watch Shion’s beautiful performance.

But Shion herself pushed back against that fact.

“Uta, stay just a little longer…”

At those words I stroked Shion’s head and glanced toward Anon-san. Anon-san let out a small breath and murmured:

“…Ah, it really is about time to start getting ready — but I’m a little thirsty, so — yes. I’ll just step away for a moment. So Uta-chan, can you look after Shion until I get back?”
“Of course.”
“Right then. I’ll leave her with you.”

With those words and a small wave, Anon-san disappeared down the corridor. Everything about her — her manner, her words, even the slight awkwardness of it — looked remarkably graceful, and I found myself thinking naturally: I want to become that kind of adult. Composed and effortlessly cool like that. The first time I met her I went at her in a food court; the time after the competition I did something similar again — and yet now I feel genuine respect for her. It made me newly aware of just how dense the time I’d accumulated with Shion and Anon-san had become.

I was watching Anon-san’s retreating back like that, when:

“…You’re looking at Mama too much.”

Shion pinched my blazer hem. As usual I’d had no idea what to wear, so I was in uniform — not exactly glamorous, but for this moment, in front of Shion, I needed to carry myself properly. I straightened my back and spoke to her.

“It’s all right — I’m always only looking at Shion. I’m really looking forward to today’s performance.”
“Thank you…”

But her expression didn’t match her words, and what the clasped hands conveyed was a temperature like cold.

“Shion, are you nervous?”
“I’m not nervous, but… I’m scared. I’m scared.”

Scared — she said it and went quiet. I didn’t rush her for more; I just stroked her head gently, with care. Her beauty shimmered right in front of me and my heart quickened, but more than that, I wanted to be beside her anxiety with everything I had. I could feel the eyes of performers passing in and out, drawn by how close we were standing — but nothing could matter more than Shion, so I kept my gaze only on those violet-indigo eyes trembling with fear right before me.

And then, like words falling from that gaze, the rest came out.

“I’m scared… what if I can’t play again today. Because this time, unlike before, you’re here watching — and if I still can’t play even with you there. It would mean I can never stand on a stage again. And then I wouldn’t be your ideal anymore, and I wouldn’t be able to have you watch me, or be with you — that’s what scares me.”

Shion said it with a face on the edge of tears. I gathered her words and pressed them into a single feeling, holding her hand. I wrapped those small hands, that pure-white skin about to go into battle alone, in both of mine. And then I offered her my heart.

“I’ll be with you. Even if your fears came true — I would still want to be with you. Because the music room after school, the train rides home, the photo stickers, the matching straps, the ice cream, karaoke, the aquarium, the sea — every moment I spent with Shion was something I loved. The whole time, I was only ever looking at Shion. So even if Shion changed — I’d want to put even that change into words.”
“…Uta.”

Shion threw herself against my chest. I felt embarrassed at having said something so unlike myself, and yet I wanted more than anything to be beside her.

“But that’s the worst case — I believe in Shion. You can do it. I believe in my ideal. And — setting aside anything that dramatic — I haven’t been able to hear you play lately, so today — let me hear your sound, Shion.”
“…I’ll play it for you!”

Shion lifted her face from the embrace and fixed her gaze on mine with conviction.

And then, just like that — she pressed her lips to mine.

In the instant, a murmur from those around us, and then a sweet current running through me that left all of it far behind. The contact felt like a moment and like forever, and while I was still lost in it, Shion’s warmth drew back.

“W — Shion—”

I covered my mouth with my hand, flustered, and—

“I’ll play it for you, so keep watching only me!”

Shion said it without the faintest trace of embarrassment.

◇◇◇

Anon-san came back considerably later than it would take to buy a drink. And she wasn’t carrying a drink. What was in her hand was a slip of paper, which she held out to me.

“Here, Uta-chan — your ticket. The seat number’s on it, and it’s in the reserved section, so you’ll find it if you head upstairs — but if you get lost, let me know.”
“Thank you.”
“…Also — there’ll be a judges’ panel quite nearby, I think, but please try not to get too close to them. Because, well — we wouldn’t want to disturb the judging.”
“Understood.”

I nodded, and at the same moment Anon-san smiled softly, then turned her expression and turned to face Shion.

“Right — shall we go, Shion?”
“Okay…”

Shion nodded, reluctance written in every part of her, and the joined hands came apart slowly. I called after her:

“Ittekimasu — do your best.”

Shion turned back. The light from the open dressing room door fell behind her, and she said:

“Thank you. I’ll play for you, so keep watching.”

The shadow of youth had left her face entirely.