Traveling With a Beautiful Girl - Chapter 44: Kanade's Melody

“Here is…” 

In front of the street piano where I brought her, Kanade-san’s eyes widened.  It’s no wonder, as there wasn’t any hint or preamble. 

“I want to hear you play piano, Kanade-san.” 

I told her my true feelings. At my words, her expression visibly darkened. 

“…You didn’t say that because you simply want to listen to my performance, right?” 

She’s sharp. Deception probably won’t work, so I confess my true intentions. 

“I want you, Kanade-san, to play the piano.” 

“You want me to play?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Why?” 

“Even though you truly want to play, you don’t. You lose yourself in work you don’t even enjoy, diverting your eyes from that fact. That attitude…it’s making me uneasy.” 

The atmosphere changes abruptly, turning tense. This topic is a sensitive area for Kanade-san.  I knew that, yet I deliberately stepped into it. It’s natural. Ah, I really can’t read the room.  I act on impulse, saying unnecessary things based on momentary emotions. 

But, curiously enough, I didn’t regret my actions in this moment. 

“I see.” 

After gazing at me for a moment, Kanade-san let out a nonchalant smile and said, 

“Sho-kun, you’re the type who says whatever comes to mind, aren’t you? You’re not suitable for sales.” 

“I’m aware of that.” 

“So…well…maybe you’re more suited to being a creator.” 

“Don’t dodge the topic.” 

I say it with a serious tone, and the smile disappears from Kanade-san’s face. A heavy sigh. 

“I told you, I quit playing piano. Completely, when I was in my third year of high school. For me, I’ve already reconciled with it, I have no intentions of picking it up again.” 

It was almost as if she was trying to convince herself. 

“Besides, you decided that I’m not interested in my current job, but I’m somewhat satisfied and fulfilled with it. Sure, it’s taxing, I have few days off, and it’s nerve-wracking on a daily basis, but there’s a sense of fulfillment. Denying that is just rude.” 

“But your true desire is to play, isn’t it?” 

I inadvertently raised my voice. I won’t let her deny it.  In response to my words, filled with a firm belief, I heard the sound of her breath hitching. 

“Are you not aware of how much you’ve been grumbling about your current situation, yesterday and today? Sure, you feel a sense of fulfillment, and it’s somewhat fulfilling…but isn’t it more than that? Don’t you want to play the piano?” 

Kanade-san didn’t respond. Her silence affirmed my words. 

“If you want to play, you should play. It’s best not to lie to your own ‘likes’.” 

That was also a self-reprimand for me. 

“…It’s impossible.” 

After a long pause, Kanade-san murmured. 

“I haven’t played in years, I’ve probably forgotten the rhythm…” 

Excuses that I’ve heard somewhere before flowed smoothly from her mouth. 

“My fingers probably won’t move as I want them to, I can probably only play terrible songs, and first and foremost, I have loads of tasks left, I don’t even have the time…”

“Are you planning to run away again, by making excuses?” 

Nanase, who had been silent until now, overlapped with strong words. 

“Not exactly… running away…” 

“You’re running away, from your past self, who couldn’t achieve the results you desired.” 

People feel anger when they’re made to face a part of themselves they want to avoid. This is what they call hitting the nail on the head. 

“Why does Riho-chan know something like that…” 

Kanade-san, whose anger was apparent at Nanase’s words, was probably hit where it hurt. 

But Nanase didn’t flinch. 

“I know. That’s because…I see the same face as the performers I’ve crushed.” 

Nanase continued with a somewhat dry expression. 

“Many of the performers who lost to me quit piano for the same reasons as you. When the goal is to achieve results through piano and get evaluated by others, in the presence of an absolute champion like me, no matter how hard they try, it’s only despair.” 

“…Absolute, champion? What are you…” 

At that point, Kanade-san seemed to realize something, her eyes widening. 

“That’s right… the time Riho-chan was playing the piano…” 

With her hand on her chin, Kanade-san thought deeply. 

Then, as if the pieces of a puzzle connected, she gasped. 

“I remember… the winner of the 34th National Piano Competition, elementary school division, was…”

“That’s irrelevant. Anyway, if you were playing the piano just because it was fun, not for evaluations…” 

Taking a deep breath, Nanase said in the strongest tone she had used so far.

“Play. If not for anything else, then for yourself.”

The words were unarguable, and a fiery passion sparked in the eyes of  Kanade-san, who had been staring off into the void until now—and then, her smartphone began to vibrate.

“Y-Yes, this is Shinoda…Yes, indeed, Ogawa from my team is in charge of Yorinji Trading…What? A huge loss due to a failure in Narcha!?”

She seemed to be dealing with an emergency situation. What awful timing.

I found myself involuntarily clenching my fist.

“I’m very sorry for my lack of supervision…Yes, yes, ah…You want me to head to the head office now?”

Are you serious?

“I’m… I’m currently on paid leave in Hamamatsu, and given the circumstances, I thought it might be best to formally apologize tomorrow…Oh, it doesn’t matter? You want me to come now? Eeh…?”

The look on Kanade-san’s face seemed to say, “I’ve had enough.”

I put my hand on her shoulder. She turned towards me, looking like she was about to burst into tears. Ranting and raving could be heard leaking from her smartphone, presumably from her superior. With a smile on my face, I said, “Isn’t it time to be honest with yourself?”

Kanade-san’s eyes went wide.

In that instant, her clouded expression cleared up.

“I’m on vacation, so no can do!!!!!!”

Kanade-san shouted with a volume that startled the passersby. She hung up the call. Her phone started to vibrate again right away, but this time she shut it off and put it in her pocket.

“If you regret it because of your poor skills, I won’t take the blame.”

Kanade-san said with a refreshing smile that seemed like a weight had been lifted off her shoulders.

“I’ve heard plenty of bad performances at contests.”

“That’s the best backhanded compliment.”

With a defiant smile, Kanade-san hastily threw off her suit and tossed it to me.

“Here, hold this. It’s too stuffy.”

Leaving those words that felt like a female gang leader about to raid an enemy’s headquarters, she walked over to the street piano. After gently stroking the expensive grand piano as if it were nostalgic, she sat down with a graceful movement.

The audience was me and Nanase. Passersby either had plans or were not interested in an amateur’s performance, so they walked on without stopping.

But, as if to say that was enough, Kanade-san wore a challenging smile. She then took off her red-framed glasses and let her tied-up hair down loosely.

It looked like she was forcibly freeing herself from all constraints.

“Eh…?”

At the same time, Nanase let out an incredulous voice. Before I had a chance to think about what had happened, her delicate fingertips touched the keyboard… The following ten or so minutes were unforgettable in my life. It’s a cliché, but my heart was shaken.

It was a performance full of soul. Whether it was good or bad transcended judgment—it was purely raw energy.

I don’t know the name of the piece. But I found myself drawn in, wanting to keep listening.

I don’t know anything about the technical aspects, but I could tell that Kanade-san was putting her all into the performance. Even if she played a wrong note, or the timing was off, she wouldn’t stop.

Playing was fun, fun!

Oh, why haven’t I played until now?

This, this is what I’ve been all about!

The melody seemed to echo those cries.

The performance ended all too soon. Before I knew it, a crowd had gathered.

Families with children, a pair of high school girls, businessmen in suits. Everyone was motionless, with serious expressions on their faces. It seemed as if they were stunned by Kanade-san’s performance.

Clap…clap…

Starting with the applause from a young girl in a family, the venue was filled with loud applause. I clapped with all my might.

Nanase offered a modest applause. After Kanade-san bowed to the audience, she came back.

“Well? Was it terrible?”

Kanade-san, drenched in sweat, asked Nanase with a self-deprecating look on her face.

“You’d be knocked out in the first round of a competition.”

“I knew it.”

“But…”

With a smile full of tender affection, as if caressing a child who had done her best, Nanase spoke.

“It was a wonderful performance.”

“—!”

Words that couldn’t be voiced. Tears flowed from Kanade-san’s eyes.

“Adult tears… are so uncool…”

Her voice trembled. Tears fell freely, wetting her smile.

“Someone once said that adults are just children who are good at pretending to be adults.”

“If we go by that definition…I’m also a child right now, so it’s not strange for me to ask something of you, another child, right, Riho-chan?”

“…There’s only so much I can do.”

“It’s a simple request.”

She said with a teary voice, then leaned into Nanase’s chest and put her arm around her back.

“Can you lend me your shoulder for a bit?”

Nanase didn’t say anything.

Instead, she put her arm around Kanade-san’s back and patted it like she was comforting her.

That was the signal. In Nanase’s arms, Kanade-san cried, suppressing her voice.

It was as if she was purging years of pent-up feelings. I watched silently as this unfolded. The confusion in my heart had disappeared at some point.