Chapter 2 – EP09 Tempo Empathy

Lunchtime in the classroom. Seated by the window, Momoko was part of a circle of friends who had pushed their desks together.

“Hey, I just noticed lately—don’t you think Sora-kun is kind of cool?”

The moment one of the girls in class whispered it, several people around her giggled softly.

“I get it! He gives off this vibe like you can’t just leave him alone.”

“Yeah, yeah, and those eyes! Sometimes they look a deep green, and it makes my heart skip a beat.”

Momoko, straw still in her mouth, couldn’t help but furrow her brows.

“Eeh? Sora’s always spacing out. During class he only looks out the window. He’s a weirdo.”

Even as she said it, somewhere in her heart she remembered the moment when her eyes met Sora’s. She had quietly caught her breath at those eyes that drank in a pale light.

“But he’s actually pretty popular, you know? Like in PE, he’s surprisingly focused.”

“True, and his voice is calm and on the low side.”

“Even when he’s spaced out, he has this slightly mysterious aura. Slippery to pin down.”

While the girls got excited, Momoko made a wry smile.

“Hm. Aren’t you all just beautifying Sora however you want?”

“You say that, but you’ve been getting along with Sora-kun lately, right, Momoko?”

“I’m just teaching Sora chess. A master–disciple thing.”

While trading such light jabs, her gaze was naturally drawn to the edge of the classroom.

By the window. As always, Sora had his lunchbox open alone, moving his chopsticks quietly. As if he had no interest in the surrounding clamor, he ate in silence. Now and then, the sunlight slanting in lit his profile and dyed those eyes a deep green.

(…Sora changed after that match with the cheat bastard. I guess I am curious…)

Unconsciously, Momoko gripped her pen and doodled a small chess piece on the corner of her notebook.

____________________________________________________________________________________

That afternoon, the music room windows were filled with noonday whiteness.

The smell of chalk dust and a floor so polished it reeked of wax. From the speakers along the wall, the teacher’s slightly bouncing voice.

“Today we’re doing a ‘Name That Chopin Piece’ quiz. I’ll play only the opening; if you know it, raise your—”

Kachi (click), the play button was pressed.

Within the first three seconds, Sora set a breath. 1, 2, 3. Inhale, exhale.

Behind the piano’s sound, the ventilation fan kept a steady drone. The fluorescent lights gave a faintly misaligned beat. The click of a mechanical pencil knock from a boy in the front row was a little laid-back today. All of it mixed together and became the classroom’s pulse.

(This recording’s beat is coming to meet the classroom’s beat.)

“Anyone know it?”

At the same time as the teacher’s voice, Sora’s hand rose slowly.

“Yes, Sora-kun.”

“...I’m not confident about the title… But.”

Sora glanced up at the clock above the blackboard. The second hand slipped past 12 toward 1.

Inside his chest, another clock started to sound. ♩ = 144.

“This piece will end in one minute and twenty-nine seconds.”

The air in the classroom laughed a little, then stopped.

“Eh, the end time…?”

“Not the title?”

Momoko poked her desk and quietly laughed, “Głuptas (you dummy), there you go again, saying stuff like that.” Her eyes were amused.

With a puzzled lift of the brow, the teacher didn’t stop the playback but took off his wristwatch.

“Then let’s measure it. From now… okay, start.”

Sora closed his eyes.

The piano’s melody gradually swallowed the classroom’s noisy pulse, then aligned it.

The fan’s drone softened once every three measures. The front-row mechanical pencil had a habit of clicking twice on the weak beat.

(Here, I steady my breath once. 1, 2, 3, 1, 2, 3.)

The inner clock at ♩ = 144 wasn’t his own. It was this room’s clock.

Sora ran his fingertip along the edge of the desk, tapping it three times.

The piano returned to the same pattern. A sign it was heading to the end.

His breath shortened by one beat.

(Next, the final chord will drop.)

Sora lifted a single finger, gently.

At that moment, the piece ended.

The teacher’s wristwatch second hand stopped at 29, and a break in the pulse came to the classroom.

“...Exactly one minute twenty-nine seconds.”

Eyes wide, the teacher stared, and here and there in the class, murmurs popped up—“No way,” “Creepy.”

Propping her chin on her desk, Momoko looked at Sora. “Hey, how did you know that?”

Sora shrugged. “When the pulses line up, the end becomes visible. There’s this moment when the room’s breathing and the music’s breathing become the same.”

“Huh?”

“I can’t quite put it into words… Like the moment when a bell’s echo fades away—

it feels as if the shape of the ending is already decided before the first sound.”

The teacher cleared his throat and smiled.

“As for the title—too bad, you didn’t get it. But you got me with the prophecy.”

On the blackboard he wrote: “Chopin: Op. 64 No. 1 (Minute Waltz / ‘Puppy Waltz’).”

“Okay, next we’ll do it normally—just the title guessing. Sora-kun, you can only guess the end time once.”

The class laughed, and Sora laughed too. Deep in his chest, ♩ = 144 slowly quieted.

____________________________________________________________________________________

When music class ended and they stepped into the hallway, the music room door was tapping the jamb with the air conditioning at regular intervals: kon, kon (soft clunk).

Sora couldn’t help but set his stride to that odd meter. 1, 2, 1, 2, 3.

Momoko kept pace at his side.

“The tournament—today is the draw for the prelims. Are you nervous?”

“No. If the pulse matches, I’ll be fine.”

“There it is, your ‘pulse.’ Is this some kind of religion?”

“Not so much faith. It’s just that—when I play, I want it to be 1:29.”

“There it is again. Why 1:29?”

After thinking a moment, Sora answered, “Because that’s exactly when the breath changes.”

Momoko snorted and muttered softly in Polish, “Dziwak. (weirdo)”

Even so, her hand lightly touched Sora’s elbow and helped match their walking pulse.

On the stair landing, a poster on the bulletin board read District Prelims: Matchup Draw Event.

Sora’s steps naturally went 1, 2, 1, 2, 3 as he descended, with a slight pause on the last step.

The second hand on the landing’s clock pointed to 29.

He smiled unconsciously.

(Aligned. Today, it’s aligned.)

And then in the afternoon. Before the chessboard, as usual Sora did not look at the clock.

His ears listened to the pulse of the venue’s air conditioning, his opponent’s breathing, and the wood grain of the board.