Chapter XLI - The Sonata You Played Without Looking At Me (III)

"Did you see his face when Sairenji appeared? I swear, the great Arisato nearly swallowed his tongue!" Akise crowed, spinning in circles with his arms outstretched.

Sosuke, perched on the edge of the command table, allowed himself a rare, unguarded smile.

"It was pretty damn satisfying, I’m not gonna lie."

We decided to have our "celebration meeting" in the old music room—well, the Four Symbols Club room now.

"Satisfying? It was glorious!" Akise bounded across the room to where Sairenji stood, her guitar case now carefully propped against the wall. He grasped her hands in his, eyes glittering like a maniac. "You, Sairenji Satsuki, are truly Seiryuu incarnate! The timing! The entrance! The delivery! Worthy of the greatest theater productions!"

Sairenji laughed, the sound brighter and more genuine than I'd heard since her return.

"I can't take all the credit. The doctor only discharged me this morning, and I wouldn't have known about the confrontation if Minazuki hadn't texted me."

All of our eyes shifted to Minazuki-san, who leaned against the far wall, arms crossed over her chest. A faint color touched her cheeks at the sudden attention.

"What?" she demanded. "I just thought four was better than three. Simple math."

"And here I thought it was my charming personality that swayed you~"

"Per l’amor di Dio..."

I found myself watching Minazuki-san with a warmth spreading through my chest.

The small act of consideration—reaching out to Sairenji when we needed her most—revealed layers to Minazuki Serena that she kept carefully concealed beneath her icy exterior. For all her protestations of indifference, she had committed herself to our cause more thoroughly than any of us had dared hope.

She was... well, I didn't quite have a word for it. Not yet.

"We all contributed," I said, drawing their attention. "Akise never gave up on the club, even when I did. Sosuke came back when we needed him most. Sairenji risked her health to stand with us. Minazuki-san hit Arisato-senpai where it hurt—"

"And you, Shou-chan?" Akise asked.

"Me? I..." I faltered, uncertain. I'd stumbled through that confrontation more on instinct than anything else. Did that even count as a contribution?

"You did the killing blow after Minazuki set it up. 'We accept those terms.' So calm, so final! Didn't know you had it in you, Shouma." Sosuke chuckled.

I shrugged, uncomfortable with the praise but not entirely displeased.

"I just said what needed saying."

"Thus speaks the humble Genbu!" Akise declared, draping himself dramatically across a chair. "The stoic tortoise hides his steel beneath a modest shell!"

The laughter that followed felt like a release valve for weeks of accumulated tension. Even Minazuki-san's lips curved in what might generously be called a smile, though she quickly concealed it behind her customary scowl.

Yet Sairenji remained somewhat subdued, a thoughtful expression crossing her features as our celebration continued around her. I initially chalked it up to her not being fully recovered. She moved to the piano, running her fingers lightly across the fallboard and disturbing years of accumulated dust.

"...Seven days," she said quietly, and something in her tone made the room fall silent. "The Cultural Festival starts in seven days."

The reality of our situation crashed over us like a cold wave.

In the euphoria of our confrontation with Arisato, we'd temporarily forgotten the enormity of the task before us.

"Seven days to prepare a performance worthy of the most votes... we don't have a setlist. We haven't practiced together even once. We don't even know if our styles will complement each other," Sairenji continued.

Akise's exuberance dimmed slightly. "Minor details—"

"Not minor," Minazuki-san cut in, pushing away from the wall. "Sairenji's right. We just committed to something nearly impossible."

"I wouldn't say impossible—" I began.

"The alumni who attend the Cultural Festival aren't just any graduates. They're some of the most successful former students—corporate executives, government officials, renowned artists. They come to evaluate potential scholarship recipients and internship candidates," Sairenji explained.

"Not to mention the foreign elite Arisato invites to showcase the school's 'international prestige,'" Sosuke added. "My coach mentioned ambassadors' children and even minor nobility sometimes attend."

"...Goddamn it," I sighed.

"An audience of discerning cultural 'critics' and entitled rich kids. Perfect," Minazuki-san summarized bluntly.

Silence settled over the club room as the reality of our situation sank in. We had staked everything—our academic futures, our records, potentially even Minazuki-san's enrollment—on a performance we had yet to create, for an audience predisposed to sophisticated tastes.

Just in Arisato's trap, yet again.

"So what do we do?" I asked finally, looking from face to face.

"We practice."

Minazuki-san looked like she knew exactly what and for how long "practicing" would entail.

"Every day, for as many hours as we can manage, starting tomorrow."

Sosuke raised an eyebrow. "Where? The music room is always booked, and this piano—" he tapped its worn surface "—hasn't been tuned in years."

"My place," Minazuki-san said, the words seeming to cost her visible effort. "My parents' place, I mean."

"Your apartment? There's enough room for all of us to practice?" I asked doubtfully.

"Not my apartment. My mansion."

"..."

"..."

"..."

"MANSION???!!!" Akise screamed. "The Crimson Witch dwells in a palatial fortress?! The prophecies mentioned no such stronghold!"

"I don't 'dwell' there. I've never set foot in the place since I arrived in Japan," Minazuki-san clarified.

We all stared at her like her hair was on fire. Recognizing our bewilderment, she sighed and elaborated.

"When my parents exiled me to Japan, they bought a mansion for me to live in. Fully staffed, obscenely luxurious, every comfort money could buy. I refused to live there. Took my allowance—which is essentially hush money to keep me out of trouble—and rented an apartment instead."

Her disdainful tone could have cut glass.

"Why?" Sairenji was brave enough to ask the question we were all thinking.

Minazuki-san's mouth tightened.

"Because I hate them, and I hate their attempt to buy my silence with expensive things. The mansion is just another cage, prettier than most but a cage nonetheless."

She then turned away, focusing intently on a constellation chart pinned to the wall.

"But it has a professional-grade music room. Grand piano, recording equipment, sound isolation, even a decent drum kit gathering dust. Everything we need."

"And the staff won't mind us using it?" Sosuke questioned.

A sharp, humorless chuckle escaped her. "The maids check on me biweekly at my apartment, reporting back to my father. They'll be thrilled to actually have something to do besides dusting empty rooms."

The rigid set of her shoulders, the way her fingers curled into almost-fists at her sides... This decision cost her something—a compromise of principles, perhaps, or an admission that maybe, in this one instance, her parents' extravagance might serve a purpose beyond control.

"We'll need intensive practice," she continued before anyone could comment further. "Weekends at the mansion—all day, with sleepovers to maximize time. Weekdays, as many hours after school as we can manage."

"Starting tomorrow?" I confirmed.

She nodded sharply. "Saturday morning through Sunday evening. Bring whatever you need to stay overnight."

"Slumber party at the Crimson Palace!" Akise clapped his hands in delight. "The prophecy grows more fascinating by the hour!"

"Call it a palace again and you sleep in the rose garden," she threatened, and he paled dramatically.

"Eh, it's the offseason, so my coach isn't breathing down my neck for now. I'm in, I guess," Sosuke shrugged.

"Count me in too!" Sairenji chimed.

"What about the songs?" I asked, bringing us back to the immediate issue. "What are we going to perform?"

All eyes turned to Minazuki-san again, a natural gravitation toward the only professional-adjacent musician among us. She hesitated as her fingers unconsciously tugged at a strand of scarlet hair.

"What about the song?" I asked, bringing us back to the immediate issue. "What are we going to perform?"

All eyes turned to Minazuki-san, a natural gravitation toward the only professional-adjacent musician among us. She hesitated, fingers unconsciously tugging at a strand of scarlet hair.

"I have an idea, but we should discuss it tomorrow when we can actually try it out."

"Very mysterious... the Vermilion Bird guards her secrets well." Akise nodded approvingly.

"The Vermilion Bird will set your hair on fire if you don't stop with the animal references," she retorted.

"Children, play nice," Sairenji chided gently. "We need to focus. Seven days isn't much time."

"Seven days to create a miracle. Appropriately biblical, don't you think?" Akise mused.

"Seven days to save our futures," I corrected soberly.

The weight of my words settled over the room, replacing exuberance with focus.

"Address and directions," Minazuki-san announced, breaking the momentary quiet. She took a piece of paper from Akise's notebook and quickly sketched a map. "Be there by nine tomorrow morning. Don't be late."

As we gathered our things to leave, the setting sun slanting golden light across our impromptu sanctuary, I found myself studying the faces of these people who had, against all odds, become the center of my universe. Akise with his boundless imagination, Sosuke with his quiet strength, Sairenji with her gentle wisdom, and Minazuki-san with her fierce, prickly independence.

For the first time in longer than I could remember, the future held something beyond mere endurance. We might fail spectacularly. We might succeed against all odds. But whatever happened, we would face it together, as the Four Symbols reborn.

And somehow, that made even the prospect of disaster seem worthwhile.