Chapter 9
Chapter 9
Kento went on to senior high school. The curriculums branched off widely at this level, and each of the General, Athletic, and Performing Arts streams had unique class content.
Not all students in Performing Arts aspired to be celebrity personalities; many students aimed to get into music school after graduating.
The Athletics stream benefited from the school’s location in the suburbs, with two fields exclusively for the use of the department. Shonan Private School was full of talented students who had been scouted from all over the country to be on the track-and-field and baseball teams. The object was, of course, garnering N. University’s preferred admission spots.
N. University’s baseball team was part of the Eastern Metropolitan Varsity League, and N. University’s track team had also competed for the past few years in the Hakone Ekiden marathon.
Kento was interested in the track team that Orihara had been a part of, and so went to visit the grounds to watch them practice.
“So this is where he used to run, huh.” Kento sat perched atop a slightly raised dirt slope for spectators, watching the team members in shorts running around the track. He remembered that night, and those long and slender limbs which had wound around him, and gave himself a stern knock on the head for his naughty thoughts.
“Me and my dirty mind,” he muttered to himself in exasperation.
The coach began to notice Kento after he kept showing up several times to watch them practice. The coach was now in his fifties, but in his younger days he had also run the Hakone Ekiden marathon. Over the years, however, he had developed a considerable gut. His bearded face and hairy arms was reminiscent of a rambunctious bear.
At first he mistakenly thought Kento was watching because he wanted to join the track team. He extended an invitation, but when Kento showed him the support on his knee, he looked disappointed.
“It’s a shame. You’ve got the physique for it. And you look good. You’d be the perfect star on the track.”
When Kento told him that he was part of the Performing Arts department and that he was signed with a talent agency, the coach didn’t seem surprised.
“I could see that, with your looks,” he remarked. “You’re pretty much a star already.”
Kento and the coach got along well. One day, on a whim, Kento decided to ask him something.
“Do you still have members’ lists from past years?”
“Yeah, they’re in the club room,” the coach said.
“My friend used to be a member of this team. Can I have a look at it, for memories’ sake?” Kento asked.
Club rooms were located on the second floor of the equipment storage building behind the gym. The coach invited Kento to come with him.
The forty-square-metre room was occupied by a large desk, a few collapsible chairs, and two filing cabinets. Many trophies sat atop them. The coach hauled out thick binders with black covers that looked like accounting books.
“How many years ago are we looking at?”
“Um...”
When Kento told him, the coach flipped through the pages as he talked.
“I hadn’t joined yet that year. I guess that’d be about three generations ago. That’s a pretty old friend you’ve got,” he commented. When he found the page, Kento studied it intently.
“All newly-joined members should be in Japanese alphabetical order.”
Kento glanced up near the top of the page, and scanned the names in order.
“There he is!” There it was. Yuri Orihara. Kento felt choked up as he continued to stare at the name. “Doctor…”
He felt like he had gone back in time to meet a high-school Orihara. If only he had a time machine, he could go back to Orihara in those days and support him when he was hurt. Perhaps it would be hard to be lovers, but at least he would be able to support him as a friend of the same age.
He remembered the sadness etched in Orihara’s face, and felt a stinging in the back of his nose.
“Kid?” the coach asked uncertainly. Kento had been staring at the same spot on the page for so long that the man had gotten concerned.
“Oh, uh, it’s nothing. Thank you for everything!” Kento said brightly, bowing his head in thanks. “Would you mind if I visited again?”
“Not at all. Come anytime.”
Kento left the room and headed for the woods near the back gates. Here was where he had seen Orihara two days after receiving news of his knee condition. The coloured leaves had been falling then, but now they were replaced by vivid new greenery.
He felt like it had happened years ago, but it had only been two months since they parted ways. But I still feel so lonely. Even seeing his name makes me want to cry. I can’t be like this. I have to be stronger, Kento scolded himself.
Yes. Remember that line: “I want to give myself a word of praise.” They were the famous words of a marathon medalist. Until he could say those same words proudly, he had to keep trying. Or else, there was no way he could protect the person he loved.
Far away, he could see a club member diligently running around the track alone. The sight of the runner all alone reminded Kento of Orihara, who shut out those around him to keep the hurt inside himself. Kento watched him carefully.
The runner’s head was prone to drooping, but he had a powerful pace, and once in a while his spikes kicked up the dust around him. But Kento was too far away to hear his breathing or his footsteps.
Silence lay thick between them, it didn’t feel at all like they were living in the same moment. Kento was overcome with a mysterious sense that he was looking at Orihara as a high-schooler running around the track through a wall of time that divided them.
As he stood stock-still, suddenly a burst of cheering from the baseball field reached his ears on the warm breeze. Kento was brought back to the present. And then, on sure footing he headed for the dormitory. Although he could see Orihara close to him, he could not reach out to touch him ? just like those track runners practicing on the field. But that was only for the present time; some day in the future, he would tear down that wall dividing them with the sheer strength of his resolve.
Kento vowed that until that dream was fulfilled, he would never look back again.
The start of the new academic year brought new students into the dorms as well as into the classrooms. However, Kento and Tomoya still occupied the same room as before. Tomoya, of course, had gone into the same Performing Arts stream as Kento did.
An advantage of being in Performing Arts was being able to count work activities as credits towards the overall program. The only required classwork was a report. Tomoya used the system to his best advantage and poured his energies into his work.
Chronos remained active on the music scene after their first show during the winter holidays, releasing three consecutive singles. The band was kept busy, and even Kento did not see much of Tomoya anymore, despite being roommates with him.
But Kento was no longer in a panic over the future. Right now, his primary goal was not to debut or to dance, but to become independent.
Kento’s enrolment into the Performing Arts stream meant he was permitted to use the soundproofed practice rooms on school property. Kento got permission from Miyashita to take home the guitar that he had gotten from Orihara. He faithfully attended class, and used his spare time to practice singing and guitar, and to read books.
Kento was also given more elective courses this year. He decided to take a few courses on music composition and lyric-writing. Writing a song for Orihara that conveyed his feelings became an enjoyable activity.
Someday, he wanted to accompany this song with his guitar, and get it across to Orihara somehow ? yes, like John and Paul did.
It was still April, but Chronos and Tomoya were busy preparing for the nationwide tour kicking off during the summer holidays. Tomoya seemed to be at the agency on every day off. But whenever they did bump into each other, Tomoya still gave him tapes of their new songs and taught him new dance moves.
“Kento, make sure you keep practicing,” Tomoya always said.
Many of Chronos’ songs fell under the category of Eurobeats and electronic dance music ? energetic and energizing. One day, Tomoya presented him with a demo tape of Chronos’ new song. This was to be their fourth single. For once this weekend, Tomoya was free of engagements, so he and Kento decided to flop down on the bed and listen to the new song together.
“I wish I could dance to this song,” Kento said. Tomoya’s face lit up.
“I wish I could see you dance again,” he said.
Kento pulled out his guitar and played along with the song a little. He strummed his way along with the pick for a while, but gave up and took the strap off.
“I can’t play it. It would have to be a ballad or something.”
“Kento, since when can you play guitar?” Tomoya’s eyes were wide with surprise.
“I practiced because I had some time on my hands.”
“I heard you’re taking a composition course, too? That’s so cool.” Tomoya propped his chin on his hands and looked at Kento enviously.
Kento couldn’t help but burst out laughing at Tomoya repeating how jealous he was.
“What’re you talking about?” he responded. “You’re part of Chronos, the heartthrob band of the century. You’re way cooler.”
“No,” Tomoya protested. “You’re tall, and you’re still so nice to me even after you’ve gotten injured, and you’re challenging yourself with all these new things other than dance… you’re so mature.”
Kento smiled, happy to be called mature. Did that mean he had grown up a little?
“I didn’t do it on my own.” He decided to tell everything to Tomoya. “Our school doctor, Dr. Orihara, was the one who supported me all the way. Actually, he’s still behind my motivation right now.”
Even though they were apart, Orihara’s existence was still a driving force for Kento.
Once July rolled around and the term-end exams passed, Kento visited Miyashita Clinic for the first time in a long while. Miyashita began by examining his leg.
“Let’s take an X-ray,” he said. He immediately developed the photo and hung it on the light box beside the photo that Orihara had taken before.
“Kento, I think you can start getting back into your routine again. Your knee has gotten much better!”
“What, really?” Kento literally jumped up from the stool, where he had been sitting gravely moments before.
“Yes. But before you start dancing again, I suggest you start swimming first to gain back some muscle. Keep your support on. It’ll also help stretch your body,” Miyashita said as he examined Kento’s knee again. “Osgood-Schlatter disease puts stress on your bones when you bend and stretch. If you’re in the water, you’ll have buoyancy on your side. You should keep your support on so that you don’t bend your knee too much, too quickly.”
Kento was filled with disbelief at first, since he had heard before it would take a year for him to recover.
“Are you sure? Am I really better now?”
Miyashita clapped Kento on the shoulder. “You followed doctor’s orders and endured. It paid off.”
No, Kento inwardly shook his head. This was thanks to Orihara. If Orihara hadn’t found the disease in the first place ?if he hadn’t encouraged him, then everything would have turned out differently.
“Thank you, Doctor,” Kento said clearly, looking Miyashita straight in the eye.
Over the summer, Kento went to the pool regularly to recover his muscular strength. During his exercise ban, Kento had trained with a chest expander to condition his upper body. His abdominal breathing practice had also expanded his thorax, which enabled him to improve rapidly in swimming.
Just once, he sent out a postcard addressed to the medical office of the hospital that Orihara worked at.
He wrote a single line, just mentioning how he had recovered enough to start exercising again. After some indecision, he decided to attach lyrics from a Beatles song. He had actually wanted to attach a poem he had written himself, but he wasn’t confident enough for that yet.
He debated about which lyrics to use, and ended up choosing “All My Loving.”
While I’m away
I’ll write home every day
And I’ll send all my loving to you
Kento felt that these lyrics mostly accurately described what he felt in his heart.
The studio was usually for practice but was nonetheless well-equipped enough to do demo tape recordings. In a corner was a glass-panelled mixing room.
Kento went inside to find that Managing Director Mori, Manager Shimoda, and a number of staff were already present inside the mixing booth. Kento froze up at seeing so many senior company executives. Manager Shimoda came over to him and passed him a few sheets of notation.
“Do you think you can sing a bit for us?”
It was Chronos’ song, one that Kento had practiced quite thoroughly. He put on a pair of headphones and sang along to the music that streamed through them. Mori watched him steadily from inside the booth.
Once Kento finished singing, Shimoda spoke to him from the microphone in the booth.
“Can you listen to this?” he asked. Kento put his headphones on again and heard a slow instrumental song. It was a song he’d never heard before. He listened intently, tapping a beat with his foot.
“What do you think?” Mori asked.
“It’s good. The chord progressions remind me of ‘Michelle’ by The Beatles,” Kento answered. Mori looked astonished.
“These are the lyrics,” Shimoda said as he came in and passed him notations. Kento opened the sheet music up and let his eyes sweep over them.
“This…” He was at a loss for words.
You said so once
With time
I would forget about you
The songs I sang with you, the scenes we saw together
The guitar your hands ran over
Everything reminds me of you
They remind me of you every time
My love will last
I know it will, all through my life
Longing for you with all my lovin’
I’ll gather the fragments of the times we spent together
And put it all in a sandglass
If I turn it over in my heart
I know it’ll turn back to the times we spent together
Turn it over
Over and over
Over and over again
“I wrote these words…”
Mori spoke to him over the microphone. “I heard from Tomoya that you were writing lyrics. When I told him I wanted to take a look, he sneaked them out for me.”
Kento felt his cheeks flush. “Tomoya,” he growled. “I never asked him to!” But gnashing his teeth over it now wasn’t going to do any good.
“So? Don’t you think it goes well with this music?” Mori’s soft voice flowed through to him. “Chronos has been releasing only upbeat dance music until now. We were thinking of adding a ballad in their first album, and we thought this was perfect. We can promote the fact that Chronos’ newest member wrote the lyrics himself. It would be a newsworthy material.”
Kento almost missed the meaning of what Mori said.
“Wait, Mr. Mori, what did you just say?”
“I said Chronos’ newest member. I’m talking about you.”
Kento’s mouth hung open as he stared at Mori inside the booth. “Wait, so was that an audition just now?”
Before he knew it, the other three members of Chornos had come in through the open studio door and were standing behind Kento.
“Welcome to the group,” said Oka, the leader, gripping Kento’s hand.
“Nice to have you,” Nishimura said brusquely, turning to the wall.
Tomoya stood on his toes and whispered into Kento’s ear. “You were supposed to be a member from the beginning. Your knee injury just delayed things a little bit. I overheard,” he added.
“That’s why…” That’s why he had given Kento their new song and told him he should learn it. He was truly thankful for that. Unfortunately, Tomoya’s effort at discretion backfired.
“I heard that. That’s off the record,” Mori said, laughing as he made an “X” sign with his index fingers. The sound-collecting microphone at Kento’s mouth had apparently caught everything.
“Whatever the case, I think this ballad is good,” Nishimura said shortly again. “You’ve got talent.” He gave Kento a thump on the back. It appeared to be Nishimura’s way of acknowledging him as a member.
Kento snapped up, his back straight as a board. “I have a lot to learn, but I hope you’ll treat me kindly,” he said, and bent his body at exactly ninety-degrees in a formal bow. After split-second pause, a burst of laughter erupted both in the recording booth and outside of it.