NO MATTER HOW MANY DAYS PASSED, it never returned. The feeling. The more I tried to force it out of me, the more I started losing it.

“Your song’s doing good, Koji!”

My producer had nothing but praise for me. That’s why it was hard to find a moment to tell him about what’s been troubling me.

“I’m glad it’s doing well.”

He spun around in his office chair, facing his desk again.

“Koji, what’s next? Another love song?”

In my current state, I knew I couldn’t request a song more to the liking of my qualities.

So I didn’t.

I agreed to making another love song that would be finished in a few months time. A song that ended up being even better than the last.

Even though it was a bummer that I was in a slump with my guitar, I was still having a great time during this point in my life.

I was getting ready to move in with my parents, I would be starting anew in a school in Tokyo—on the other side of the mountain.

Perhaps dad’s talents could drag me out of the slump I was in. Oh, how much I hoped that would be the case.

When my final box was put in the car, Hibino started bawling her eyes out.

“I’m gonna miss you so much, Koji!”

I smiled and said, “I’ll miss you, too.” I meant it, even though I went through some hardships during my time at the orphanage, I was glad all of that happened. It shaped me into the Koji everyone knows today. I couldn’t wait to start living with my newfound family, but I would never lie and say that I wouldn’t miss the orphanage—that of course included Hibino, too.

“Visit us sometime, you’re always welcome here!”

I took a final glance at the building and deeply inhaled. Everything that had happened inside that little house I called home rushed through my brain.

“Thank you, I will.”

Hibino spread her arms out and I gave her a final hug before getting into the car, driving off to Tokyo.

It was already late in the evening when we left, so it wasn’t all that weird that I slept through the trip. However, I didn’t think I would be asleep in less than five minutes.

“Wake up Koji, we’ve arrived.”

I slowly lifted my heavy eyelids, trying to figure out what’s going on. When I looked out of the car window, I saw mom coming out of the house.

“…We’re here already?”

“Not even five minutes into the ride and you were out like a light,” he said. “Let’s take those boxes into the house, alright?”

The house was located in a neighbourhood full of single family homes. It’s a lot calmer here than it was near the area of the venue where the Nationals took place.

I helped mom with bringing the boxes inside, dad carried everything upstairs to my room.

“That’s everything,” mom said. “Let’s go to your room!”

We walked up the stairs and unpacked all my stuff. Clothes got put in my new white wardrobe. I filled one of my closets with music related things, like my sheet music and CDs.

I also had some books I placed on bookshelves. I didn’t really care about how they were presented, but mom seemed to be having a great time with their placement.

“It’s finally done…” I said.

“Took less time than I thought it would.” She was carefully looking at every inch of the room, then said, “Your room lacks Koji.”

I looked at her and asked, “What does that mean?”

“You need some stuff on the walls to make this room more personal, don’t you think?”

I glanced at the walls and noticed that they were indeed pretty much lacking in personality.

“Should I hang up some posters or something?”

“Yup! That’s exactly it.”

“Alright, I’ll be sure to get a few someday.”

My days at the Kuruno house were peaceful. The dynamic between mom and dad was really funny as well. It somehow reminded me of how Hibino always toys with me, though that analogy is a little off. It’s more like dad lets it happen, knowing that mom finds it amusing. While I, on the other hand, try my best to fight back at any form of teasing, but fail horribly.

Still during spring break was another event; my fourteenth birthday.

Right after we ate cake, we sat down in the sofa to open my gift. When I unwrapped it, I was extremely happy on reflex, and failed to hide my change of expression afterwards.

“Hm? What’s wrong, Koji?”

I held the new guitar, a slightly larger size of the one I cherished so much, slightly away from my body and said, “I can’t accept this gift.”

Dadsat down next to me and put his hand on top of my head, “Koji, is there something going on with your music?”

“…I can’t play the guitar anymore.”

Mom looked shocked, but dad's expression didn’t change. He patted me on the back and said, “If you’re thinking about quitting, go ahead and quit,” he stared at the ceiling and smiled. “Storytime. I had a friend in middle school who once stopped music. He said he stopped forever. That he couldn’t play anymore, no matter how hard he tried. His name is Masamune Kusari.”

My eyes widened in surprise, he’s a well known singer who also plays the guitar in a band.

“So, Koji. Go ahead and quit. But don’t you dare throw anything music related away. If you’re destined for the guitar, you’ll come back to it. No matter how many times you lose it, you’ll always come back, and stronger, too.”

He placed his hand on the new guitar and continued, “This guitar is our gift to you. Soon you’ll start growing up in the flash of a second, then your little guitar won’t do any more. Keep this one, it’s okay if you don’t use it today, tomorrow, or even this year. But keep it, cause when the time is right, it’ll be right there for you to use.”

I smiled, a little teary eyed, “Thank you. I’ll be sure to treasure it.”

Spring break was over. I turned into a third year middle schooler.

School wasn’t too far from home, so I walked to school. I could imagine myself going by bike later on, but I don’t like to get sweaty in the heat nor do I like to cycle in the rain. The cold and a bike don’t go too well either. The same goes for snow. So, realistically, I would only be using the bike on days with perfect weather, but who would say the ideal weather in the morning won’t turn into a dreadful rainstorm in the afternoon.

Basically, I walked to school and I knew I would most likely do so for the rest of the year.

When I arrived, I stood still in front of the school gates and stared at the main building a little further behind. I saw cherry blossom petals being carried by the breeze pass through my view. It looked like a scene straight out of a movie.

When I realised that I was being a little too overdramatic about all of this, I walked through the entrance.

Not far away was a bulletin board with large sheets of paper where classes and their students were written on.

I scanned through them and quickly found my name under class 3-B.

I easily found my way to the classroom, it was rather empty—since I arrived really early. I glanced at the blackboard and saw that there was nothing written on it.

An old man was seated at the teacher’s desk, presumably our homeroom teacher. I asked him, “Are there assigned seats or may I take place wherever?”

He seemed a little drowsy before I opened my mouth. He lifted one of his eyelids up to look at me.

“Sit wherever.” He stood up from his chair and wrote ‘Sit wherever’ in big letters on the blackboard.

I was glad I woke up so early, because I now had pretty much every seat to choose from. I decided to go with the seat all the way in the back next to the window. Until the rest arrived, I was staring at the plants placed next to the windows.

After every seat in our class slowly got occupied, it was time to kill time before the opening ceremony. The familiar introductions that take place on the first day of school. This time I won’t be the guitar. I’ve grown a lot socially since that day, I realised.

The next thing I realised was how little structure the teacher had in his manners of handling class related things. No assigned seats and no real order of introductions.

“Alright, you over there,” he pointed at the person seated on my right. “Go ahead and introduce yourself.”

The guy sitting next to me enthusiastically jumped up, “Everyone. I’m brand spanking new in this school. So, ladies, go ahead and drool—for a guy this handsome and cool,” he was doing bizarre poses throughout all of this.

“First name is Hiroto, last name Morita, but you sweetheart,” he winked at a random girl, “You can call me piece-of-art. Eye candy paired with brains so smart. Ah, I’m so delicious. Lyrically ambitious—”

“Please, stop,” the teacher seemed anything but interested in whatever Morita was about to say next.

“Aw man. You ruined my whole flow, da-yow.”

“Sit down and be quiet,” the teacher calmly said. “You,” he pointed at me, “you’re next.”

I stood up and felt the gazes of everyone shifting in meaning. The ‘Do I know him?’ kind of gazes. Everything became pretty clear to them when I said, “Hello everyone, this is my first year here as well. I’m Kuruno Koji. Nice to meet you,” I bowed.

Morita next to me jumped up out of his chair again, “You’re the Kuruno Koji?”

I slowly sat down again and said, “…Yeah.”

Then he held one hand on his heart, the other one slightly in front of him and passionately started singing, “I may be in love, maybe in love.”

If I could, I would’ve eradicated myself from the room. Reduced myself to atoms. Replaced my existence with one of the plants next to the windows. But of course I couldn’t do any of that. I had to endure the embarrassment.

My new classmates on the other hand seemed amused by Morita’s ridiculousness.

Then the girl sitting in front of me asked, “Is that true? Are you really him?”

I nodded, “…I’m him, yeah.”

Morita sat down again and shook his head, “I can’t believe it. I chose this school on a whim, who would’ve thought I’d meet you here. This is like a chance encounter! We’re going to combine our powers together and break the music industry in half! Whad’ya think of that?”

“Yeah, no. Count me out.”

The class laughed at my instant rejection.

“Aw man, I know. I’m not cool enough yet, da-yow.”

I couldn’t tell him, or the class either, that him not being cool enough wasn’t the problem.

Even quicker than the guitar, Kuruno Koji spread through this school. It was kind of nice, feeling like I was a celebrity in an unfamiliar place… for a while at least.

On my very first day I got dragged into the music club.

“This is our club’s president,” the guy from my class pointed at someone from another class. “He also plays the guitar.”

“Nice to meet you,” I politely said. However, I had no plans of joining the club, and wanted to make that clear as quickly as possible, “Sorry, I’m not planning to join the music club, I was kind of just dragged over here.”

“This isn’t about joining, Kuruno.”

This might’ve been the first time I was ever referred to as just “Kuruno”

The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

“Please follow me.”

The music club used me to lure potential members in… They organised a ‘Kuruno Koji signing event’ and had quite the line of people waiting for me to sign stuff.

It was an overwhelming moment, certainly, though it was very special all the same. Knowing that this many people actually cared about me and my music.

Since winning the Nationals, I’ve featured in a couple of songs, both as guitarist and singer. On top of that, I have my two love songs that my fans love more than I do.

When I got home later that day, I tried playing the guitar again. I thought that perhaps the overwhelming support from the people in my school might’ve woken up something in me that had been asleep for a while.

But alas, nothing changed.

Yet somehow, I didn’t really care. I was happy living in my new home. Living together with my parents made me feel that family connection all the more. School started out pretty good, too. There wasn’t anything wrong with just living on like this.

When the word spread around that I had an autograph signing event at school, my producer suggested I did one on a larger scale to boost my connection to my fans. When I got asked something like that, there’s no way I could tell him about my slump, so once again, I didn’t.

I did insist on doing a joint meet and greet with other artists, since I wouldn’t be able to handle the nerves all alone.

Two weeks later I was seated on one of three tables put together. Mine on the left, from my perspective, and the two other tables were occupied by a trending male singer and the most popular female guitarist, LuNA.

It was a hot day in spring, the sweltering weather—for this time of the year—is exactly how I would picture a long queue for autographs.

We were seated there for about three hours. It was a blast seeing so many people go out of their way to meet me. Though that also made it even harder to bring the bad news.

“Koji!” the last person in line cheerfully called my name. I already recognised the voice before I raised my head. “It’s been a while, how have you been?”

I smiled and said, “I’m doing great. How about you, Katou?”

“As good as ever,” she laughed.

“Did you come all the way to Tokyo just to see me?” I asked her, staying calm to hide just how much her sudden appearance surprised me.

She got a little flustered and said, “Well, I wasn’t sure about going to LuNA’s signing event, but when I saw you would be there as well, I couldn’t just stay at home. So…”

“Thank you for coming. Where should I sign?”

She took the guitar case off her back, and took her guitar out of it, “Right here, please,” she pointed at the bottom right of the front of her guitar.

“…Are you sure?”

She gleefully smiled, “Uh-huh, go ahead. Make it about this big,” she gestured a rather large the size with her hands.

When I was done with the autograph, I asked her, “Are you getting LuNA’s next?”

She grabbed something out of the little bag on the outside of her guitar case, it was a CD, “Look! She signed the case.”

The other two had some people left in line, but mine was done. I didn’t get nearly as many people during the span of three hours as they did, but I was still glad to see once again that there’s really people out there who like my music.

“Say, Katou.”

“Hm?”

I stood up and grabbed my stuff, “I’m pretty much done here, since you came all the way from Shizuoka, is there anything you want to do?”

“You came all the way from Shizuoka, too, right?”

That’s when I realised I didn’t tell her a thing. On the flip side, that meant we had something to talk about.

“It’s a long story,” I said.

I explained to her that I lived in an orphanage in Shizuoka but got adopted by the Kuruno family.

“That’s why you were just Koji and not Kuruno Koji in the Shizuoka contest…”

While we were walking in a park, I further explained how I moved in after my second year in middle school was over and that I now live in Tokyo.

“Oh, it’s gonna be though on you in the Tokyo qualifiers, good luck,” she said.

“I won’t be participating this time,” I said. “But if you want, I’ll come cheer you on in Shizuoka.” It was only fair to return the favour after she came all the way here.

“I guess you’ve got a busy schedule, huh…” she sat down on one of the park benches. “Well, I’d be glad if you cheered me on, only if it works with all the deadlines and stuff, you know.”

I sat down as well, “Don’t worry about me. I’ll definitely come cheer you on.”

“Tee-hee, thanks!”

We talked some more, I carefully tried to evade music as a topic. From the conversation I learned that she’s as old as I am, born in the end of spring. Another thing, that she might follow her sister’s footsteps and study abroad in college, since her sister is having the best experience of her life apparently.

When it started turning late she said, “I’ll better go home now before my parents get worried.”

“I’ll walk you to the station.”

She seemed flustered once again, “Thanks, Koji.”

We walked to the station together. Before passing the ticket gate she said, “Koji! I’ll show you in Shizuoka just how good I’ve gotten. Soon we’ll be on the same level again,” she smiled with those familiar determined eyes. “See you soon, rival.”

We waved each other goodbye.

I lacked the courage to tell her my troubles. But it was already too late to muster up the courage.

I didn’t say anything, her train would soon arrive. It was already too late.

She left.

The next day of school, Morita randomly pulled my sleeve during third period, “Psst, Kuruno Koji. Can you listen to this for me?”

He held out a tape recorder. I took it out of his hands and asked him what to do.

“Just press play, it’s an original rap,” he said.

I clicked on the play button and listened.

“Uh, uh, uh. Yo, yo, yo.”

“…What is this?” I asked him, both of us still whispering.

He stared in my eyes, his confidence; overflowing, “I call it ‘One hour rap—no beat’ it’s a masterpiece.”

“I’m a rapper (in the making) I’m a rapper (I ain’t faking).”

“Exactly what about this is a masterpiece?”

“Just listen, it gets good right here.”

“Yo, uh, yo, uh, yo, uh. This is freestyle rap you’re listening to, uh.

No beat needed, no beat will do, uh. Let’s switch it up. I’m out here cooking this flow, call me master chef, da-yow. ”

“I think I fail to see what you’re seeing in this. Or hearing? Anyway, I don’t think it’s any good… at all.”

“Aw man. I’ll come up with better material, just wait, Kuruno Koji!” Suddenly he stood up on his chair, “One day, Kuruno Koji, we will share the stage! Appear in news papers—on the first page! The audience will cheer, we’ll be the biggest hype, the biggest rage! The best artists of the modern age!”

The teacher threw the piece of chalk he was holding towards Morita, “Be quiet!” Head shot, Morita downed.

“Are you alright?” I asked him, still whispering though that wasn’t necessary anymore since everyone was already looking at us.

From a pose like a weak animal playing dead, he suddenly turned into a living Morita again, “So, Kuruno Koji, just wait on me!” He held out his fist.

When I looked at him, his eyes were still burning with confidence. I couldn’t help but smile and bump his fist. Even though I couldn’t tell him that not a word he said could ever come true if I quit the guitar.

Yet, somehow, I got a little fired-up after hearing him burst out his spirit. This is kind of how I felt when Katou said,

“If you’ve been slacking, even a little, I’m sure I’ve caught up to you.”

That made me think about her again. Soon I would have to tell her that which she of all people will be hurt by most. I’ve already come to terms with it, I hope she’ll understand.

A lot of things happened in the first months of school. People started treating me more as a fellow classmate rather than a celebrity—although “people” doesn’t include Morita of course. Nothing else had significantly changed other than my talks with my producer, which quickly became public knowledge. When I visited him in the studio again, we had a long talk and reached a mutual agreement… to terminate my contract. I wouldn’t be making music anymore. Not as a feature, be it singer or guitarist and neither would I be making songs of my own.

Naturally, that meant I wouldn’t be participating in the Tokyo qualifiers. I did go to the Shizuoka qualifiers to cheer Katou on as promised.

As a contender in the final eight at the nationals, and the winner of last years contest here in Shizuoka, it wasn’t a big surprise that she stood head and shoulders above everyone else.

After the contest was over, I waited outside to congratulate her on her victory.

When she came walking out of the building, I said, “You were great out there.”

She had a troubled expression on her face and had a hard time remaining eye contact. Her lips trembled before she slightly opened her mouth, to only tightly clench her lips together again right after.

“Is something wrong…?”

Her face went from angry to let down, then a forced smile to turn troubled once again, “…Of course something is wrong, Koji.”

She turned away, her right shoulder facing me. She lifted her arm up and landed a soft blow on my chest, “Why did you stop?”

I could act like a thick-headed donkey, but I knew exactly what she was talking about. I decided to be completely honest, since I didn’t have any reason to lie anyway.

“I can’t play anymore. My best pieces were the melancholic ones. But you see, the happier I am in my life, the worse I play on the guitar.”

“Then what about your love songs? They were just fine, right? I loved them a lot, you know. I thought… you were really cool out there. I couldn’t wait to catch up to you,” she didn’t turn her eyes away this time. “So why don’t you keep going with songs like that?”

“I can play happy melodies just fine… but that’s not what I want to do.”

She averted her eyes again.

I continued, “If I can’t play the notes that I want to feel the most, then I don’t want to play any notes at all.”

She turned her body again, facing me, eye to eye. Once again she landed a soft blow to my chest, “We are rivals, aren’t we? We were going to compete, weren’t we?”

I nodded, “I’m sorry.”

“We could’ve made songs together, couldn’t we?”

“Yeah… I’m sorry.”

This time she used her head instead of her fists to land a light hit on my chest.

“Then why did you stop?” she whispered.

“I’m sorry.”

“Say, Koji. When you made those love songs, who were you thinking of?”

I didn’t say anything for a while. At my silence she straightened up her body and walked away.

“I’m sorry.”

Whilst walking away she said, “You’re my number one rival, that will never change,” then she turned towards me again. “But I won’t forgive you if you don’t take music seriously. Farewell.”

“Happy birthday, Katou.”

She didn’t say anything.

She left.