Symphony of Life

The first sounds emerging from the piano were calm and gentle. Nami’s intention was to bring all her listeners to a place of comfort, reminding them of more peaceful times—of their childhood days filled with innocence and joy, when their worries were far fewer. Only a few stumbles here and there were intended to remind them that no time in life is completely free of moments they would rather forget.

But, of course, Nami couldn’t let her audience get too comfortable in their seats. Once she sensed they had let their guards down, the rhythm immediately shifted, becoming much more dynamic and full of passion. With this change, she could vaguely hear murmurs and the sound of shuffling. The pianist smirked to herself, knowing that the wildness of this part of her composition had worked exactly as intended. The further one went in life, the more dynamic and chaotic it became. So, too, did the notes of her melody. This was the moment when everyone began experimenting in life, trying different things, letting themselves go to fully enjoy their youth before entering the adult world filled with responsibilities.

Not allowing the audience to adjust to the change in tune, Nami once again shifted the mood of her melody. This time, it was calmer, though the way she played the notes brought no comfort. Quite the opposite—the current melody was meant to evoke uncertainty, mirroring how the brown-haired woman had felt before and during her Soullet Ceremony. However, instead of ending with a relieving note, which she had originally planned for the conclusion of her composition, she continued playing.

At this point, all three melodies merged, swapping unpredictably. Nami worried that this approach was too experimental, fearing that listeners might feel confused and fail to grasp the depth of her attempt to express emotional turmoil through a symphony. She had to credit Atsushi for reassuring her. He had insisted that true music enthusiasts would recognize the beauty in her creativity.

Then, she did something even more surprising to the audience.

She stopped playing.

The abruptness of the silence was startling, as if it promised more.

But it didn’t.

That was the whole point. Everyone would love to know what their future holds, but no matter how advanced technology becomes, nothing can predict it with certainty, especially not in detail. Not even the Soullet system could guarantee eternal happiness. After weeks of emotional struggle, Nami had finally come to accept this truth. She no longer wanted to play pretend, as others did. In her eyes, the Soullet was no longer an indicator of a good future. She didn’t know what would happen next. The only response she felt was appropriate was dead silence.

Just like her composition.

Nami gracefully gathered the material of her dress, this time to stand up. The stage lights made it impossible for her to see the audience’s reactions—they were too blinding. But unlike that time years ago at a concert, when she had spontaneously corrected a mistake, this time she was confident in what she had created. She simply bowed.

The silence remained, broken only by a few faint shuffles here and there, but she waited patiently.

Then, all of a sudden, a shiver ran down her spine.

The ovation had never felt so powerful. Though her career wasn’t long, this moment stood far above any concert she had ever performed. No first-place competition prize had ever given her this much adrenaline as the current reaction of the audience.

Nami finally rose from her bow, and the stage lights dimmed, allowing her to see the crowd standing and clapping in unison. Some were smiling; others were crying. She noticed her friends clapping a little faster than the rest, clearly trying to cheer the loudest for her achievement. And then there was Atsushi, his confident expression tinged with something more behind his gaze—a kind of admiration so intense that it turned her cheeks a rosy pink. No one had ever looked at her like that. Not even Tsukasa.

Soon, the other musicians who had participated in the concert flooded the stage, led by none other than their beloved director, Nakatani Wataru.

“Thank you all for coming here tonight to listen to our wonderfully skilled and talented musicians!” the older man began loudly. “It is thanks to your support that we can continue to use our creativity not only to reimagine well-known songs in new ways but, as our star of the night, Hayashi Nami, has shown,” he paused to look at the pianist and nodded before turning back to the audience, “to create something entirely new—experimental, shocking, and fascinating!”

The audience applauded his words, but, ever the talker, their director didn’t stop there.

“And, of course, we cannot forget to mention someone without whom this wonderful spectacle would not have been possible,” the lights suddenly shifted to illuminate a blond-haired, freckled man. “Our generous sponsor and patron of tonight’s event, Mr. Atsushi! Please join us on stage!” With a grand sweep of his arm, he gestured for him to come up.

Atsushi rose slowly, holding an object that Nami hadn’t noticed before. Careful not to stumble, he climbed the small stairs at the side of the stage to join the musicians. From her position, Nami could now see the object clearly—it was a beautiful blue potted orchid. Atsushi didn’t give her a chance to overanalyze; he handed it to her before taking the microphone from Mr. Nakatani.

“I wish I could say this event wouldn’t have been possible without me, but that’s not true. Unlike these talented people behind me,” he gestured theatrically toward the musicians, “I’m completely tone-deaf.”

The audience chuckled, and Atsushi smiled.

“So, I had to borrow their talent to bring you this unique experience tonight—to enjoy live music that is far too often underappreciated.”

A brief ovation interrupted him, but he continued, his tone softening.

“I must admit, though, this concert was born partly from selfish desire. I wanted to see my favorite pianist create something entirely new. Over the past few months, I’ve been persistently bothering Miss Hayashi to compose a melody no one had heard before.”

Caught off guard, Nami stood frozen, the orchid still in her hands, her expression resembling a deer caught in headlights. The audience chuckled at his candor, and his gaze didn’t waver from hers.

“I know a potted orchid might not seem like enough of a thank-you gift for what you’ve given us tonight. Maybe it’s even a faux pas—cut flowers are the standard, after all. But I chose these because I wanted them to last as long as possible. Just like I want this evening to linger in my memory.”

Atsushi’s words were masterful, and the audience cheered, not as loudly as for Nami’s performance but still impressively for a sponsor’s speech. When the applause settled, Mr. Nakatani took the microphone again.

“Thank you all once more for joining us tonight! I wish you all a good evening. And for those with VIP passes, I’m honored to invite you to the after-party on the top floor!”