Blue Sky Solo

Dusk was creeping into the music room after school.

The light coming in through the window gradually began to take on an orange hue, stretching the shadow of the old piano long on the floor.

I took a deep breath and regained my grip on the neck of the guitar.

The festival is only a week away.

Every time I pluck the strings, the memories of the last year wash over me like a wave.

That time, too, I was practicing alone after school like this.

But in the end, it ruined the important solo part.

Nervous, trembling fingers gripped the wrong strings, and the sound echoed through the space, disappointing the audience's expectations.

It only took a moment.

And yet, the scene from that time still comes back to me vividly.

The puzzled expressions on the faces of my friends who were cheering me on in the front row.

The indescribable look in Shiraishi's eyes as he stared at me in the back seat.

Shiraishi-kun's eyes, in particular, were strangely stuck in my mind.

He was the vocalist of the band and always played flawlessly.

In his presence, I made a fatal mistake.

Indeed, I managed to get the part after that.

But that failure shook my confidence to the core.

Since then, every time I recall the performance at the festival, I feel a tightening sensation in my chest.

Okay..."

The sound of a guitar quietly fills the music room.

Just before approaching the important solo part, my fingers hesitated again.

A moment later, the pressure on the strings loosens and a muddy sound resonates.

Huh..."

With a sigh, I took my hand off the guitar.

Outside the window, I can hear the voices of students returning from club activities.

Their cheerful voices seemed like something from a distant world to me now.

Mr. Sasaki, are you still practicing?"

The sudden voice made me turn around in a panic.

There stood Mr. Shiraishi.

He was a high achiever in his class and usually gave the impression of being indifferent to others.

He rarely praises anyone or shows any interest in anything other than his own performance.

Oh, Shiraishi-kun...yes, we practiced after school yesterday, but I still wasn't confident."

I replied, a little embarrassed.

Shiraishi-kun stares at me, which is unusual.

I felt some warmth in his gaze.

I've been hearing noises in here since yesterday."

Huh?"

I like your guitar. I like your guitar. Especially when he plays bluesy songs.

My heart nearly stopped for a moment at those words.

I can't believe that Shiraishi, who always gives a perfect performance with a cool face, would evaluate someone's performance in such a way.

And I can't believe that's my performance.

But last year I messed up...I ruined the mood of the song that time..."

Words break off.

Shiraishi walked over to the window and gazed at the schoolyard lit by the setting sun.

His profile looked softer than usual.

You mean last year. Sure, you made a mistake, but you made up for it in the next song.

I thought it was amazing how quickly he switched from one to the other."

In the music room at dusk I could see my performance from a different angle for the first time.

And my heart secretly fluttered at the fact that Shiraishi, who is usually so quiet, could say so many words to me.

Actually..."

I summoned up all my courage and continued to speak.

I'm working on a new arrangement... would you like to hear it?"

The moment I finished, I was surprised at my own audacity.

Shiraishi-kun made a little thoughtful gesture.

My heart starts beating hard again.

He then nodded, showing an unusually soft expression.

Let me hear it.

That one word changed something in me.

There was definitely tension.

But it was not a backward-looking nervousness like last year; it was more like a sense of anticipation, as if something new was about to begin.

I took a deep breath and readjusted my guitar.

Then he began to slide his fingers.

The sound spun out more naturally than in normal practice.

Occasionally, I glanced at Shiraishi-kun, and he was listening with his eyes closed.

I felt a strange sense of relief at the sight of him.

When the performance ended, there was a brief silence.

The evening sun was slanting further, and the music room was tinged with an azure color.

In its warm light, they searched for words.

Like."

Shiraishi's words were brief, but they carried a certain weight.

But here's the phrase."

He began to make specific suggestions.

It turned out that he was listening to more details than I would have imagined from his usual indifferent attitude.

I was a little surprised, but happy, at his sincerity.

From that day on, we began trying new arrangements after school.

At first, they were reserved with each other.

But little by little, through music, the language grew.

One day, when I was having trouble tuning my guitar, Shiraishi-kun spontaneously helped me.

The gesture was so natural that I was a little surprised.

As I watched his fingers touch the strings, I felt his unexpected tenderness.

At that moment, the air in the music room seemed to change a bit.

Mr. Sasaki, why don't you play this phrase more freely?"

That was in the second week of practice.

This was when I kept repeating the same phrase over and over again, demanding too much perfection.

But if I make a mistake..."

You're too afraid of making mistakes."

Shiraishi's words took on a slightly stronger tone than usual.

I think music doesn't have to be perfect.

I think it's much more interesting to show how you're feeling at the time and how you are."

With those words, I felt I had realized something important.

Maybe I was seeking perfection too much and tying up my music.

At the moment I thought this, I felt something unleash in my heart.

Sasaki."

Suddenly, Shiraishi called my name without "san".

Huh?"

I think Sasaki is more natural.

...Sasaki's performance is so honest and straightforward. So I wanted to be honest when we talked."

At that moment, I felt something melt away inside me.

It seemed to me that this was something more significant than a mere change in terminology.

From then on, practice was much freer.

Sometimes I try drastic new phrases, and sometimes I play completely improvised.

There were many failures, but I became less and less afraid of them.

And in the process, our distance grew ever so slightly closer.

One day, we had a great conversation about the blues, which was the basis for the song I was playing, and we shared a ride home together.

Usually quiet, he becomes surprisingly talkative when talking about music.

My heart secretly fluttered every time I learned of this new side of him.

Conversations with Shiraishi-kun eventually expanded to other things besides music.

From dreams for the future to trivial day-to-day events.

Perhaps it was through these casual conversations that we gradually came to understand each other.

Two days before the festival.

In the music room at dusk we were practicing for the last time.

Hey, Shiraishi.

Hmm?"

I think I've learned that music doesn't have to be perfect.

I continued on, illuminated by the evening sun streaming in through the window.

Last year, I was afraid of making a mistake, so I couldn't make my sound. But now it's different.

Even if I make mistakes, that's part of my music."

Shiraishi-kun listened silently, but there was a definite light in his eyes.

At that moment, the air between us felt a little more special than usual.

Then came the day of the festival.

A buzzing sensation had been spreading through my chest all morning.

But that wasn't the same anxiety as last year.

It was a somewhat pleasant tension to show my new self.

As I was making final adjustments offstage, Mr. Shiraishi approached me.

Sasaki."

Yeah?"

Have fun."

Just one word.

But those words seemed to melt away the last of the anxiety in me.

Yeah, thanks."

I looked at the audience, and there were countless eyes shining with anticipation.

Taking a deep breath, I readied my guitar.

Now I am no longer afraid of failure.

More importantly, I am excited about delivering my sound.

Under the blue sky, my guitar began to echo.

I could clearly see each and every expression on the audience's faces.

And the sight of Shiraishi-kun smiling slightly offstage gave me courage in a strange way.

The solo part was approaching.

I smiled secretly as I concentrated on my fingertips.

This is not the end.

Surely the beginning of something.

My sound stretches out into the blue sky.

And the sound was surely reaching someone's heart.

The small challenge that began in the music room after school that day had now become big wings for me.

It was much more important to me to take a new step than to fear failure.

My guitar is playing today under the blue sky, playing the hope for the future.

And within those tones, there may be a special feeling for someone else gently woven into the sound.