Quest

"WHATDIDIDOWHATDIDIDOWHATDIDIDOWHATDIDIDO?"

I tossed and turned in bed, gripping the blanket over my face as if I could hide from reality—a reality that had completely changed in a matter of minutes, or so it seemed.

"What's wrong with me?" I groaned, unable to even open my eyes. "At what point did I think it was a good idea to ask a complete stranger to let me watch him play?"

I punched my pillow, feeling the weight of embarrassment consume me.

"Ugh… I'm such an idiot!"

My phone, resting on the mattress beside my head, was still on. I picked it up again, as if to confirm the "mistake" I had just made, staring at our last conversation on the screen.

LC_TheEcho:
"Sure :D**"**

That message shouldn't have been terrifying. On the contrary, it was proof that something new was entering my life. But every time I looked at it, a pang of panic hit my chest, making me want to hide forever.

"Maybe this was all a mistake. I should apologize and tell him I’m not going."

I started typing, trying to pretend none of this had happened:

"Sorry, I don’t think I can make it. Thanks for..."

I stopped, a sting of guilt cutting through me. My eyes landed on that "Sure" again.

"I can't," I concluded. "I was the one who asked and insisted. And he... he sent me his location without hesitation. It would be too rude to back out now."

I sighed, loosening my grip on the blanket.

"I’ll just go… see how it is… and if he’s weird, I’ll leave. Yeah. Solid plan. Besides, it's not like I have anything better to do."

I turned off my phone, and with the room completely dark, I finally let sleep take over. It took a while—my mind kept running through different scenarios of my meeting with LC_TheEcho.

I also thought about my mom, which made me grasp the pendant hanging around my neck once more, as if asking her to protect me the next day.

"Awiwi, awiwi, awiwiwiwi." And though I tried not to, that dumb MiuMew soundbite played in my head again, stuck in my brain like an annoying loop.

~~~🌟~~~

A few touches here and there, and my hair was back to being smooth and sleek. I looked in the mirror, adjusting the neckline of my sweater with a thoughtful frown. It was oversized, a bit worn, but comfortable for a cool summer day. It made me feel good. Even… a little cute.

I frowned, caught off guard by my own appearance. I hadn’t meant to dress up—I just wanted to look decent. Nothing fancy, nothing flashy. And yet, somehow, without realizing it, I had chosen this outfit.

My gaze drifted to my pants, my sneakers, the way I had styled my hair almost without thinking.

"Huh..."

I lowered my arms with a sigh, letting my shoulders drop slightly. Neither happy nor sad—just strangely at peace.

I checked the clock.

Thirty minutes.

Thirty minutes spent getting ready to meet a complete stranger.

"..."

I walked out of my room with an unreadable expression, closing the door behind me.

"I’m leaving!" I called out to the only other occupant of the house—my dad. He didn’t answer, probably lost in his own world of negativity, letting the suffering outside wither him away inside.

"Huh, there’s no helping him."

I grabbed my bag, my phone, and for the first time in a long time, I stepped outside to meet someone who wasn’t a grocery store cashier.

~~~🗺️~~~

Miyakojima Station was as empty as the streets surrounding it. Its white walls were still covered in colorful posters and advertisements, but now they looked dull, faded by indifference. The few passengers waiting on the platform stood in silence, like shadows without urgency, without clear destinations. The fluorescent lights flickered slightly over the metal benches—benches that once overflowed with students and office workers during the now nonexistent rush hour.

"Next stop: Tenjimbashisuji. Doors will open on the left."

As the train pulled away from the station, I absentmindedly adjusted my sweater’s neckline again. I couldn’t stop thinking about the upcoming meeting, nor could I ignore the reason why I had put in the effort to get ready. As silly as it seemed now, ever since Amane’s announcement, I had spent most of my days in the same pajamas. This was a big change.

I pursed my lips, uncomfortable with the thought. I had dressed up. Not much, not in an obvious way, but I had taken my time. And I hadn’t done that in a long time.

"Maybe I got ready like this because I’m going to see someone. Someone real..."

I shook my head. No point overthinking it. I quickly pulled out my phone, intending to put on some music and watch the scenery pass by, like I always did when traveling.

But as I opened my music app, I was overwhelmed by choice yet found nothing. Millions of songs that had once made me happy, that reminded me of other times, or that the app suggested I discover.

None of them felt right.

Since that day, I had lived in silence, because sound no longer seemed capable of healing my pain. That made it all the more surprising—and captivating—that the music of that faceless guitarist had truly reached me so deeply. Of course, I wouldn’t travel just to meet just anyone.

"I want... to hear your song one more time," I murmured, lost in thought.

~~~🎤~~~

After taking two trains and walking a few blocks, I found myself in front of a building that seemed forgotten by time. Sanyou High School of Suminoe stood before me, its worn façade and dusty windows reflecting the high summer sun.

"Sanyou High School of Suminoe. I made it."

As I approached, each step revealed new details of its decay: peeling walls, faded graffiti, and vegetation beginning to reclaim its space between the cracks in the pavement. I stopped in my tracks.

"Is this really the place?"

I checked the location on my phone once more. I hadn’t made a mistake. But… why did it look like this? I knew the world was changing, that many places had been abandoned after the Tragic Decade, but seeing a school in this state hit me in a strange way.

I swallowed hard. It wasn’t fear— not exactly— but something in my chest tightened at the thought of going inside, as if my safety depended on what I would find within.

I took a deep breath. There was no point in turning back now. I had done this many times before, and besides, I was going to die anyway. I took the first step, then another, then I didn’t stop anymore.

I pushed the front door, which gave way with a long, drawn-out creak, and stepped into the dark, deserted hallways. The air was thick, heavy with dust and an almost supernatural stillness. There were no signs of life, only the echo of my own footsteps bouncing off the crumbling walls.

My eyes adjusted to the dim light as I moved forward, guided by the faint illumination filtering through a few broken windows. When I found the staircase, I took a breath and climbed, each step’s creak amplifying the emptiness of the building.

One, two, three floors.

Upon reaching the last one, I stopped. At the end of the hallway, on the left, a single light broke through the darkness.

"Could it be?" I swallowed and proceeded cautiously.

I walked slowly toward the doorway, keeping an eye on all sides for any danger, and paused once more to read the sign above the door.

"Classroom 3-2M. This is it."

The door was slightly ajar. I took one last breath, pushed it open gently, and stepped into the music room. It was time.

"Ex... cuse me."

I stopped at the threshold, surprised.

The room was filled with instruments, but no people. Electric and acoustic guitars rested on their stands, a bass lay next to an unplugged amplifier, a drum set sat at the center of the room, keyboards lined up against the wall. Everything was there, as if waiting for their owners to return for a rehearsal that never happened.

However, the place wasn’t completely abandoned. Though there was some disorder—loose cables on the floor, a toppled chair, randomly stacked sheet music—every instrument was meticulously placed, untouched by dust.

"Hello?" I called out, though I kept moving forward despite the silence.

My breathing slowed as my eyes and legs explored the room, feeling a mixture of respect, awe, and an odd melancholy.

"Oh... this is..."

Before I realized it, I was face to face with one of the guitars, positioned right in the center of the classroom. In front of it, a bench covered in sheets filled with hastily scribbled chords.

Electric and acoustic guitars rested on their stands, a bass lay next to an unplugged amplifier, a drum set at the center of the room, keyboards lined up against the wall. Everything was there, as if waiting for their owners to return for a rehearsal that never happened.

It was the same wall. The same chair. The same guitar.

"This is where he played yesterday..."

Suddenly, a faint noise snapped me out of my thoughts. I turned immediately, my heart racing from the surprise.

There, in the doorway, stood him.

Seeing him sent a strange sensation through my body. Something about his presence left me speechless, though I couldn’t pinpoint what. It wasn’t just his dark silhouette outlined against the hallway light, nor the way his relaxed posture contrasted with his exhausted expression. It was something deeper, harder to describe.

"Oh... Hi. Are you...?"

He took a few seconds before answering, as if carefully choosing his words. Then, at last, he spoke.

"...s... u..r... A...r..."

"...Huh?"