THE NATIONALS, a two-day long contest. The winner and runner-up from the Music Contests in every prefecture would be finding their way to the main contest taking place in a big venue in Tokyo.
           
The first day consisted of all ninety-six contestants playing a two minute long version of a song they had chosen. Then the judges would eliminate people until thirty-two contestants were left.
           
The second day was broadcasted on television. Both the judges and the audiences’ votes counted towards the final to select a winner.
           
It was Saturday, early in the morning, and I was on the train with my mother.
           
She picked me up at the orphanage, then we made our way to the station. Since the first time I met her, she’s been regularly visiting me. At first, I had trouble calling her mom or mother, but she strongly insisted that I did. And in the short time that had passed, she got it drilled into me.
           
This was the first time the two of us were on an outing together. I had already been out with my father to help Tanaka move, if that counts as an outing at least. This time, however, he couldn’t make it because of work, but I told him not to worry, since there’s still the finals on Sunday where he could watch me play.
           
On the train, my legs kept shaking up and down and every now and then I’d let out a sigh.
           
“Nervous?”
           
“Uh-huh.”
           
She chuckled and patted the top of my head, “It’ll be alright. Be a little more confident.”
           
I deeply inhaled, held my breath for a few seconds, then exhaled again. This did not calm me down in the slightest.
           
“I need to go to the toilet real quick.”
           
I handed her my guitar, stood up and walked through the train carriage. I walked past a man eating Sukiyaki, a Japanese hotpot. Both the sight of it and its scent made my stomach hurt.
           
Earlier in the morning I couldn’t eat a bite from Hibino’s breakfast. Even just thinking about food would be enough to make me feel this churning stomach. I always get like this when my nerves rise to the maximum levels.
           
I made it to the toilet.
           
When I walked out again, I kept in mind to close my eyes and stop breathing when nearing the man with the good food.
           
After taking a dozen steps with closed eyes, I opened them again. The slow rising of my eyelids made the sight after even more dramatic. Right in front of me stood someone whose train trip definitely held the same destination as mine.
           
“Koji?”
           
The person standing there, perhaps as nervous as I was, called out to me.
           
What does one say in a situation like this?
           
“It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”
           
She nodded repeatedly, “I’ve been practising a whole lot since the Shizuoka Contest!” Her eyes lacked anything but determination. “If you’ve been slacking, even a little, I’m sure I’ve caught up to you.”
           
When people say things like that, I can’t help but smile. This is the sort of rivalry I had longed for. Someone who’s right on my heels in terms of skill with no sign of slowing down. Someone who you could root for, all the while wanting to beat them and be better than them.
           
Even though we had only faced each other once before, Katou was who I would call my biggest rival. Sorry, Fujita, but you don’t even come close.
           
My following words, declaring the start of a contest before the real one began, were simple, “Bring it on!”
          
This entire conversation was held in the middle of the carriage between the seats. With everyone seated on those seats eyeing at us. When the clueless pair, being us, realised this, we quickly got awkward.
           
“Um, I’m going to the toilet.”
           
“Right… I’ll be heading back to my seat.”
           
I thought I wouldn’t see her again until we arrived at the station or the venue, even. But I was wrong.
           
When I headed back to my seat, I saw my mother sitting with not only my guitar, but also another.
           
“Two guitars?” I asked her.
           
“Yes, from a girl who passed by earlier,” she said.
           
She went on to explain that a girl with a guitar had walked past her, but suddenly panicked. When she asked her what’s wrong, she told her that she needed to use the toilet but didn’t know what to do with her guitar. That’s when mother offered to hold the girl’s guitar.
           
It doesn’t take a genius to connect those dots. When about a minute had passed, I saw her walking by again. Her being Katou of course.
           
“Thanks for holding on to the— Koji again?!”
           
“…Hello.”
           
Mother was giving me side glances, “Do you know her, Koji?”
           
“…I do.”
           
“Hmmm~” the suggestive look she was giving me only got worse the longer I stayed silent, “Why don’t you introduce me to this lovely lady,” she leaned her head on the palm of her hand. She was enjoying every bit of my embarrassment.
           
“…This is Katou. She won the Shizuoka contest where I was the runner-up,” I turned my head sideways, “Katou, this is my mother.”
           
“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” she said with a bow, right before sitting down next to me.
           
“Nice to meet you, too.”
           
“What a coincidence,” she was speaking with a vibrant smile, “To think I’d give your mother my guitar to hold on to.”
           
“How are you doing,” my mother jumped in suddenly, “Koji over here is one nervous wreck.”
           
“I’m doing fine,” she claimed, “Just a little nervous.”
           
She admitted to being a little nervous, though her legs were shaking up and down even worse than mine were earlier.
           
At this point in time, I was getting a little worried. The train to Tokyo took about an hour, but when Katou sat down next to me, we weren’t even fifteen minutes away from our starting point. Three more of those fifteen minutes before we would arrive at our destination. I didn’t know how I’d handle it.
           
“Oh, by the way. Which song will you be playing? Another original?”
           
“No, not this time. I’ll be playing One more time, One more chance.”
           
This song was written by Masayashi Yamazaki. Somewhere I could relate to the song. That’s why I was drawn to it and wanted to learn how to play it. After months of practice, I’m ready to show it off to the judges. Though, I knew that the song was rather popular and that the chances existed that someone else would be playing it, too. Inevitably, if it happens, I’ll be compared to them even more than I’d be compared to others, but all I can do is try as hard as I can. The other contestants aren’t my main focus.
           
“Interesting…” she closed her eyes, she must’ve been imagining how it would sound coming out of my hands. “I’ll be taking after your example back in Shizuoka,” once again she had that determined look in her eyes, “I’ll be playing an original. Look forward to it,” she smiled.
           
I was curious how many other people had it in them to bring an original song to a contest on national level. My admiration for her certainly increased after hearing that.
           
“I can’t wait to hear it,” mother said.
           
Then Katou’s stomach started growling.
           
“…” she looked at me, then she turned as red as my guitar, “Ha-haa, these seats make some weird noises,” she said while patting them with both her hands.
           
She tried playing it off like that, to which we didn’t say a word. Not until ten seconds later when her stomach growled again.
           
“Hahaha… these seats, huh…” Her forced laugh was anything but believable. “Maybe we should go sit somewhere else.”
           
“Katou… if you’re hungry, just eat,” I said.
           
“Easy for a guy to say,” she mumbled underneath her breath.
           
Mother nodded with her eyes closed, she seemed to be agreeing with Katou for some reason.
           
“Gosh, I’m so hungry,” she whisper-cried.
           
This is something that has kept me baffled throughout the years and still does now. Just how often can a girl say that she’s hungry before she’ll eat.
           
Well, in this case, it took about fifteen minutes until I offered my packed lunch to her.
           
“Are you sure? Like, completely sure?”
           
“Yes. I’m not hungry anyway.”
           
“Thanks for the food,” she cheered.
          
Seeing her eat didn’t quite make my stomach hurt like the man’s sukiyaki earlier. Not that I could take a bite. The thought alone would’ve made me throw up.
           
However, I did find myself staring at the little glutton gobbling up the food out of the bento box without my stomach aching. She looked kind of cute while eating, sort of like a hamster.
           
Though a hamster wouldn’t say, “…Stop staring, please.” And making me embarrassed in her stead.
           
“Here you go,” she said, while handing the box back to me, “I left half of it in there for you.”
           
“Thank you.”
           
About ten minutes of chit-chat passed by before she started glancing back and forth between my mother and the bento box.
           
“If you want what’s left, you can take that, too,” I said.
           
“Really? Are you sure?”
           
“It’s all yours.”
             
The rest of the ride flew by quicker than the first half.

              
Once at the venue, we parted ways with my mother and followed a man in a suit who brought us to a large room.
              
There we waited for a good while until everyone was present. I was so nervous at the time, that I didn’t say a word while waiting and simply stared at my shoes the entire time.
              
When everyone arrived, another man in a suit spoke to us with his microphone.
              
“Welcome everyone. Today is a special day for all of you. the National Junior Music Contest. But… it wouldn’t be a contest if there were no winners and losers. Just know one thing. Everyone who made it to this point should be proud of themselves. Even if you don’t make it to day two, we’ll still be here next year. Same time, same place. Never give up! You guys have potential—all of you.”
              
I’m pretty sure his speech was meant as a consolation. Not that he was wrong, though. Being the winner or runner-up in your own prefecture already is quite the feat. But of course we want to go beyond that. Otherwise we wouldn’t be here, fighting for a place on Sunday’s television broadcast.
              
“Alright, let’s dive into the details. Everyone is assigned a number, this will be the order you’re appearing in front of the judges. When number one is playing, both number two and three make their way backstage. Number one is done and returns here, number four makes his way backstage. Is that clear?”
              
“Yes,” it echoed through the room.
              
“Great. This part of the contest will be filmed by the film crew, some clips of it will be briefly played during the live broadcasting of the finals tomorrow.”
              
Hearing this boosted my nerves through the roof. I think there wasn’t a single part of my body that wasn’t trembling.
              
“Anyway, there will be a short break when half of you are done. Then we’ll just resume as we were going. Finally, after all of you brilliant virtuosos in the making have played, we will announce who made the cut for tomorrow. Good luck everyone.”
              
I was nervous, so was Katou and everyone in close proximity to us. When a nervous person is put in a room with nothing but other nervous people, it will only get worse.
              
While I was trying to distract myself from these feelings, a few people were walking around, giving contestants their corresponding numbers.
              
When one of them reached me she asked, “Name?”
              
“Koji,” I said. Out of habit, I said nothing other than my first name, “Uh, Kuruno Koji,” but then quickly remembered that I entered this contest as just ‘Koji’, “Um, maybe it’s just Koji,” I said.
              
“Here you go,” she handed me my number without wasting much time.
              
It was number forty-seven. I would be the second to last person playing before the break.
              
“What’s your number,” Katou asked.
              
“Forty-seven. Yours?”
              
She looked me in the eyes, all fire and determination were lost, “Ninety-six. I’m last.”
              
The second worst place to be in. The worst would go to first place. Everyone will be attentively listening to your performance since you’re the first one of the day. The judges won’t have an idea yet on how strict they have to handle you since they can’t compare you with anyone.
              
Being the last one is the second worst, for similar and different reasons. Like with being first, everyone will be attentively listening since you’re the last one of the day. When you’re done, the day will be done. But being last also means that everyone will be playing before you. Your nerves will be building up until the very end when it’s finally your turn.
              
“…It’ll be alright,” I said, with little to no sound of reassurance in my voice.
              
“I hope so…” She sat down on the ground with her back against the wall.
              
Her stomach growled again.
              
“It’s still a long while until the break… Do you think you’ll be fine?”
              
She buried her face in her legs, curling her body up, “…Jeez.”
              
Every contestant had about two minutes of time to play their song. On top of that, I think it took roughly half a minute for the next contestant to get ready. After a little less than two hours, it was my turn to wait backstage.
              
“Good luck,” Katou said with her hands clenched into fists. “I’ll be waiting in the audience.”
              
“Thanks.”
              
The person who was currently playing, played the accordion. She looked very energetic while doing so.
              
The other person back-stage, quite a bit older looking than I did, was a violinist. He held a sharp and serious gaze on his face. When I closed the door behind me, he turned his head.
              
“Guitar, huh. What song?”
              
“One more time, One more chance,” I said. “What about—”
              
Suddenly the judges and the audience applauded.
              
“I’m next. See you.”
              
He walked onto the stage, shoved the chair in the middle away and placed his chin down on his violin. He dramatically stretched his arm up high before rapidly bringing it down again, striking his bow on his instrument’s strings.
              
At the very first second I recognised the song. I never thought I would be hearing it out of a violin.
              
The song that Fuyuko used to practise a ton on the piano; Moonlight Sonata, third movement. It’s one of the few songs I had given up on trying to master after practising for weeks. It’s incredibly difficult to play on a guitar. The same goes for the violin.
              
His serious gaze from earlier didn’t fade. His focus and dedication could be felt through the expression on his face alone.
              
I couldn’t believe what I was seeing.
              
There are people who’re this good at the Nationals?
              
My nervousness from before got worse once more.
              
The next person opened the door and walked in, to which I turned my head. It was a fellow guitarist.
              
I was too nervous to say anything, and simply waited for the violinist to be done with his performance.
              
My heart was throbbing in my throat. The audience applauded to number forty-six’s performance. It was now my turn to play.
              
I walked onto the stage. With every other step, my vision got a little blurry, restoring itself, only to get blurry again. It wasn’t particularly hot before, but suddenly I felt as if I was melting. A drop of sweat slid its way down my forehead and while I turned my head to the judges, it landed in my right eye via my eyelash, making it sting. I closed the eye, making it look like a clumsy wink at the judges.
              
One of them crossed his arms and watched me closely walk across the stage.
              
“Number forty-seven, Koji. Correct?”
              
I nodded, “C…Correct.”
              
“Please state your song and start playing.”
              
“One more time, One more chance…”
              
I sat down, closed my eyes and tightly held on to my guitar. Doing this made me forget all about the cameras, all about the audience and all about the judges, too.
              
My thumb gently glided over the strings from the top down, while I used my other fingers to strum the strings from underneath.
              
I sang the words in my head, whilst still keeping my eyes shut. When I did so, only a single person filled the darkness behind the back of my eyelids.
              
I didn’t feel nervous anymore, I felt rather calm even.
              
Wishing but a single thing; that she would be listening right now. If I believed with all my heart that these feelings would come across, then the sound of these notes would be mine and mine alone. No other contestant playing the same song could replicate this.
              
When the short version of the song came to an end, I stood up and bowed in response to the applause.
              
While returning back-stage, I couldn’t help but think how silly all of this was. A single conversation during lunch break back in elementary school is what made all of this possible.
              
And now, here I am. In Big Tokyo with a guitar in my small hands, I thought to myself while looking at the palms of my hands.
              
Once again, I found myself wondering how the others were doing, wondering if they would be watching me on the TV tomorrow.
              
Not long after I finished, it was time for the break. I went to the entrance hall of the venue. I stood there for a minute before I saw both mother and Katou approaching.
              
“Koji!” Katou yelled out. “Where did you find the time to get even better?”
              
Mother chuckled, “You were so good out there!”
              
“…Thank you.” As confident as I was with my guitar, I still couldn’t handle compliments well.
              
“Watching you play gave me that little push I needed, now I feel—” She got interrupted by the often recurring sound of her stomach growling.
              
“Hungry?” I asked.
              
She held her head down, “…Let’s go eat lunch.”
              
We went to a convenience store to get some pre-packed lunches. One for each of us, and one extra just in case. It’s really anyone’s guess who ate that one… On top of the double-lunch, she went back for a snack after that.
              
Even though she was the biggest eater I had ever seen, her body didn’t show it one bit. I guess there are people like that, who eat for two but don’t gain any weight.
              
The break lasted only forty-five minutes. After we ate lunch we made our ways back to the venue.
              
This time, instead of going to the large room again, I sat down in the audience. Patiently waiting for the person who would be playing last.
              
While watching the other performances, I grew more confident in both my and Katou’s chances of making it through to the next round.
              
Not that anyone was significantly worse than us. It’s only that no one was on the violinist’s level, I feared his level of skill more than any other contestant.
              
Time flew by rather quickly, since my nerves of playing were gone, but they started increasing again the closer we got to the last performance. My rival would be playing, and after that, we would know who made it to the next round.
              
“It’s Katou!” mother said while repeatedly bumping me with her elbow.
              
The way she walked onto the stage made it look as if she wasn’t nervous at all. Perhaps she really wasn’t, though that’s harder to believe than her being good at hiding it.
              
“You’re the last one today, number ninety-six.”
              
“Katou Emiko. I will be playing an original song. It’s called ‘Silent Mayhem’.”
              
She bowed, sat down on the chair and tapped a calm rhythm with her feet.
              
She pushed a string down with her thumb, letting the lingering sound echo through the room. Then played another in similar fashion.
              
Suddenly the tempo increased. The melody she was playing made me feel as if I was watching a fairy tale unfold on stage, right in front of my eyes.
              
Through the trees in the forest was a clearing where she sat down on a fallen-down tree trunk. The sunlight beaming through the leaves hanging from the crowns of the trees.
              
This peacefulness was the ‘Silent’ part of her song. Such peacefulness that foretells terror.
              
The slightly increased, light-hearted tempo got crushed by low notes. As if the sunlight in the forest clearing got blocked by dark grey thunder-clouds.
              
Mayhem.
              
I’m not sure which symbolism gave her the idea to make a song like this. My childish interpretation was probably incorrect, but I couldn’t help but see her in that sunlight, disturbed by warring clouds. The fairy tale melody disturbed by the sound of thunder.
              
The severer my gaze, the more I started seeing it. Hints of it perhaps. Fractions. Maybe it was my imagination, my mind’s deceit. But I don’t think I could fake it. That display right there, a glimpse of the angel.
              
Her performance ended. We stood up to applaud.
              
Even before it was announced I could tell that we would be facing off in the finals the following day.
              
“That was really, really good. Both of you got something special in those little hands of yours.”
              
I smiled, “I’ll be going back to the other contestants. See you in a bit.”
              
“Good luck out there!”
              
I walked down the stairs. I wasn’t the only contestant leaving the audience, the violinist himself was walking right behind me.
              
“Number forty-seven,” he said.
              
I turned around, “Yeah?”
              
“Nothing. Just saying your name.”
              
What a weirdo, I thought.
              
“Think you’ll go through?” he asked right before we were out the door.
              
“I do,” I admitted with no hesitation, “You’ve got no doubts either, right?”
              
With that intense gaze of his, he smugly smiled and said, “Of course.”
              
We entered the big room again right when Katou came back from the stage.
              
“Saw that, Koji?”
              
“I did,” I said. “You’ve improved a whole lot in such little time.”
              
“Think so? That makes the two of us,” she smiled.
              
One of the men in suits returned with his microphone and gathered everyone.
              
“The judges will discuss things now. It will probably take thirty minutes at most. I just want to add one thing; all of you were fantastic! I was standing on the side of the stage the entire time, none of you should feel ashamed of not making the cut later on. There’s a reason why the judges need this much time to decide—it’s because all of you are amazing.”
              
He kept on going like that for a while. I truly hoped he meant word for word what he was saying.
              
He finally ended his speech with, “The last thing I want to say to you all… is thank you. Thank you for coming here today and giving it your all out there on stage. When you guys become superstars, don’t forget about me. I’ll be the first in line for your signatures. Good luck with the further round.”
              
Everyone clapped. His words, at least on my part, were successful. I didn’t forget about him.
              
“Want to go somewhere?” Katou asked me.
              
“Nowhere in particular, do you?”
              
She sat down with her back against the wall again like earlier this morning, “No, I was sorta hoping you didn’t want to go anywhere either. My nerves are eating me whole, you know…”
              
“Your nerves take after you then,” I joked.
              
The tense mood felt like a good place for a light hearted joke.
              
“Hey, what do you mean by that?” she laughed.
              
We sat down, waiting for time to pass. In stressful situations like those, however, it really is best to do something to distract yourself from the feeling of every passing second.
              
The first ten minutes alone felt like an hour. We needed to go through two more of those.
              
“Katou…”
              
“Hm? What’s up?”
              
“I don’t really want to go anywhere either, but can we do something, though? It feels as if time has stopped moving.”
              
She raised her head, staring at the ceiling, “Good point. What should we do?”
              
I copied her, my eyes fixated on the ceiling, “No clue.”
              
“We could thumb wrestle,” she suggested.
              
I couldn’t help but laugh at her childish suggestion.
              
“What? Don’t wanna?”
              
I held out my hand, “I’ll beat you in this, too.”
              
“What do you mean ‘too’?”
              
She firmly clasped her hand in mine and we started playing our little game of thumb wrestling. It’s not really anything to brag about, but I’m rather good at it. So, naturally, I beat her.
              
She pouted after the first round, “Let’s play something else.”
              
“Something else to add to the list?”
              
She fell for my bait and asked, “What list?”
              
“My list of things I’m better at than you.”
              
She balled her hand in a fist and softly punched my shoulder.
              
“Let’s play ‘two truths, one lie’,” the violinist said.
              
“Woah! When did you get here?”
              
“I’ve been sitting next to you the entire time,” he told me.
              
I must’ve been too nervous to realise.
              
“Alright, let’s play that,” I said. “You can start if you want.”
              
“Sure. I once failed a math test so terribly that I ended up eating it to avoid showing it to my parents.”
              
“I hope that’s the lie,” Katou said, wide eyed. I nodded heavily in agreement.
              
“Next… Ah, one time I needed to use the bathroom at school, but I don’t do too well with using the toilet with strangers around… so I rang the fire alarm to have some peace and quiet in the bathroom.”
              
“That… that has to be the lie, right?” I said, with my mouth as wide opened as my eyes.
              
“Last one…” he continued as if all he was saying was perfectly ordinary. “When I was on duty for feeding our class’s pet fish in elementary school, I forgot to feed him all week. So, on Friday I fed it a week’s worth of fish food which he ate in a single go. We found it dead on Monday.”
              
Both Katou and I were left speechless. I hoped they were all lies.
              
“Is the second one the lie?” I asked.
              
“I think it’s the second one, too,” Katou said.
              
He closed his eyes and said, “Ah. Sorry, I forgot to tell a lie.”
              
“Those were all true?!”
              
My impression of the violinist changed entirely after that single interaction. The man, who I thought was the most brilliant musician present in the room, turned out to be brilliant in no other regard.
              
We gave up on playing games to kill time and waited for time to pass.
              
When half an hour had finally passed, the man with the microphone was back.
              
“Everyone. On this sheet of paper I’m holding are the names and numbers of thirty-two contestants written. They’re put in a randomised order, so fret not if a number higher than yours has been called. Oh, and you will be called in pairs of four. If you’re called, please make your way to the stage. This part will also be part of the television broadcast, I’ll be doing the official announcement soon. Good luck everyone, just know that you’ve all made me proud.”
              
The film crew came walking through the door. One of the camera’s was pointed towards the announcer.
              
“Good evening, Japan. Are you ready for the National Junior Music Contest’s final round to begin? We over here in the capital Tokyo are as ready as ready can get! Every prefecture across the country sent two of their best juniors our way to compete here for a spot on the roster of the final thirty-two.”
              
A camera filming from above went over the little crowd in the large room.
              
“It’s time to reveal who made the cut for the finals. The first four people who’ll be battling it out… Give it up for Tokyo’s prefecture winner, Kashimoto!”
              
The person next to me stood up. The Tokyo prefecture, the hardest one to win, was won by no one other than the violinist.
              
“Fukuoka runner-up, Takagi! Ehime runner-up Ito! And Shizuoka winner, Katou!”
              
The two people sitting next to me were both standing now. I looked at Katou and felt the delight of her smile spreading over to my face like a contagious disease.
              
“You did it!”
              
For a moment she couldn’t quite find the words, then she said, “I’ll see you on stage.”
              
The next four people were called to the stage. Then the next four followed. Then the next. The next. The next.
              
Until, finally, it was time for the final four.