Not Just the Music

CHAPTER-4

The next few days passed quietly.

Too quietly.

I went to classes. I went to work. I went home. Everything was the same as always, yet something felt… off.

I caught myself reaching for my earbuds more often. On the train. Between classes. Even during breaks at work.

It didn’t really mean anything. I’d always had a habit of getting fixated on a singer or a song I liked for a few weeks at a time. This wasn’t new.

Still… maybe it felt a little different this time.

Because the voice wasn’t just random anymore. It belonged to someone I’d actually met. Someone I sort of knew… at least a little.

A few days later, I found myself slowing down in front of the bulletin board on my floor. I usually just skimmed the posters out of habit, but one stood out this time.

It was handwritten.

Kana Kobayashi, live at a local café.

That’s kind of cool, I thought.

I wasn’t sure if I’d actually go. Still, the thought crossed my mind.

While I was standing there, someone ambushed me from behind.

“Staring a little hard at that poster, aren’t you?” came Minori’s cheery voice.

“I’m trying to read it,” I replied. “So yeah, I’m obviously going to look at it.”

“Are you planning to go?” she asked, curiosity laced into her tone.

“You know very well I’ve got work at that time,” I said.

She hummed, clearly unconvinced.

“You always say that,” Minori replied. “But you still find time for things when you really want to.”

“That’s different,” I said. “Work isn’t exactly optional.”

“I know,” she said, holding up her hands. “I’m not forcing you.”

A brief pause.

“I just thought you might want to see what she’s like on stage.”

I didn’t answer right away.

The truth was… I did wonder.

But what was I supposed to do about it?

I couldn’t just skip work on a whim. That kind of choice wasn’t something I was allowed to make anymore.

Minori studied my face for a moment, then sighed.

“You’re impossible sometimes,” she said.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

She shook her head. “I’m just saying… she doesn’t perform that often.”

That got my attention, even if I didn’t show it.

I asked my coworker to cover for me and told them I’d be coming in late today.

It was the first time I’d done something like that. Normally, I wouldn’t even consider it. Work always came first. It had to.

But this time, I felt… different.

Not reckless. Just tired of always choosing the safe option. I couldn’t fully explain why I wanted to see her perform so badly. Maybe it wasn’t even about her specifically. Maybe it was about seeing someone actually live the life I didn’t even get a chance to pursue.

Either way, the decision was already made.

By the time I finished sorting things out with work, Minori was already waiting near the campus gates, leaning against the railing and scrolling through her phone.

“You actually did it,” she said when she saw me. “I thought you’d chicken out.”

“I didn’t chicken out,” I replied. “I just… made an exception.”

She grinned. “That’s basically the same thing.”

We walked together, the evening air cool and quiet. She chatted casually about classes, about some argument she’d had with a professor, about nothing important at all. I was grateful for that. It kept my thoughts from spiraling.

“So,” she said after a moment, glancing at me. “Nervous?”

“A little,” I admitted. “Not for the reasons you’re thinking though.”

“Oh really?” she said, a smirk tugging at her lips. “Well, if you say so.”

The café came into view a few minutes later. Warm lights glowed through the windows, and faint music slipped out every time the door opened.

Minori nudged me lightly. “Don’t stare too hard, that’s not good behaviour.” she said teasing me.

“I know,” I said, playing along.

We stepped inside together.

The café was smaller than I expected.

Warm lights hung from the ceiling, casting a soft glow over mismatched tables and chairs. It felt intimate in a way that made me aware of my own presence, like I didn’t quite belong here. People talked quietly, cups clinked against saucers, and somewhere behind the counter a machine hissed as coffee was being made.

Minori walked a step ahead of me, clearly at ease. I followed, hands in my pockets, taking everything in.

“You okay?” she asked, glancing back.

“Yeah,” I replied after a moment. “Just not used to places like this.”

She smiled like she knew exactly what I meant.

We found a small table near the side. Not too close to the front, not too far either. A safe distance. I sat down and let out a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding.

I wasn’t nervous.

At least, not in the way people usually meant.

It was more like standing in front of something I’d avoided for a long time. Music wasn’t just background noise here. It mattered. People were here because they wanted to listen, because they cared.

And somehow, that made my chest feel tight.

“This is her, right?” I asked quietly.

Minori nodded. “Yeah. She performs here sometimes.”

I looked toward the small stage. An acoustic guitar rested against a stool, a microphone waiting in the center like it had all the patience in the world.

For the first time in a long while, I wondered what it would’ve been like if I’d let myself stand there instead of always watching from the side.

I didn’t know why I’d come.

Maybe it wasn’t about her at all.

Maybe I just wanted to see what it looked like… when someone actually chose their dream.

Kana took the stage without fuss. Just her, her guitar, and the microphone.

She started playing, and the café went quiet. Not loud, not showy, just music that demanded attention.

I’d listened to these songs countless times, but hearing them live was different. It wasn’t perfect. It wasn’t polished. It was just… real.

I caught myself leaning forward without meaning to, listening to every word, every chord. Minori nudged me lightly. “See?” she whispered.

I didn’t answer. I couldn’t.

She played a few songs, some I knew, some I didn’t. By the last one, my chest felt tight in a way I hadn’t expected. Not excitement, not awe… just… wanting to be part of something like that.

When she finished, people clapped. Warm and polite applause. She smiled, a little shy, and stepped off the stage.

I stayed seated for a moment, letting it sink in.

“She’s… something, huh?” Minori said.

“Yeah,” I said quietly. “Yeah, she is.”

Somehow, it wasn’t just the songs. It was her. The way she carried herself, even from the stage. I wanted to know more… about her, not just the music.

END CHAPTER-4