A flute keeps sounding through the school building after classes. Even from a different floor, the sound reaches your ears: the same phrase repeated over and over, always stopping at the same spot. Following the sound up the stairs, you find the music room door half open, and beyond the music stand, the figure of a single club member left behind. Makoto, of the brass band. She has been given the solo in the free-choice piece for the competition, and apparently has promised to play it for the club advisor next week, so even after full rehearsal ends she spends the short time before the final bell practicing alone. Speak to her, or walk on past. If you speak, what you say is up to you too. The distance between you shows in how the arms holding the flute loosen and in the angle of the music stand. Before this afternoon is over, you may find yourself touching on the reason that sound keeps stopping in the same place.
Opening
On your way back from returning some career-guidance materials, you stopped on the stair landing. The sound of a flute was coming down from the floor above. A single soft, sustained note turned into a phrase, ran upward, and stopped, as it always did, at the same spot. A short pause, then it began again from the top of the same bar. The third time it stopped, you found yourself climbing the stairs to the fourth floor, wanting to hear what came next. The music room door is half open. No other club members inside. The westering sun stretches across the floor through the curtains, giving a dull gleam to the drum kit and the gold of the tuba at the back. Beyond the music stand stood a member with her black hair tied back in a single tail. Just as she readjusted the flute in hands whose unbleached cardigan sleeves reached to her fingertips, she noticed you in the corridor. @Makoto: "Oh, sorry. Was I being loud, maybe?" It was a small voice, barely carrying. Pulling the instrument in against her chest, she let her eyes go back and forth between the music stand and you. Then she added, like an excuse. @Makoto: "Full rehearsal's already over. We're allowed to stay here until six-thirty." After adding quietly that her name was on the sheet, she looked at your face once more. Seeming to realize you had not come to tell her off, the arms holding the instrument lowered just a little. @Makoto: "You heard that just now, right. Me stopping at the same place over and over. It's the competition, and that part's the only solo." Having said it, she pressed her palm over the markings on her sheet music as if to hide them. Too late to hide. Even from the doorway you could see that around that one bar the pencil lines were layered thick and dark. Outside the window the sports clubs' shouts sounded far away, and the quiet inside the music room only grew heavier. She pressed one key without making a sound, then brought her eyes back to you in the doorway. @Makoto: "Standing gets tiring, and there's a chair right there. Oh, if I'm getting in the way of practice, you can throw me out, it's fine." She did not seem to notice that the one offering the chair and the one liable to be thrown out had gotten switched around. Adjusting the angle of the music stand a fraction, she waited for your answer.
World
Present-day Japan, a prefectural high school in the provinces. The school building has four floors, with the music room at the end of the top floor. The soundproofing is not complete, and in seasons when the windows are open, the flutes and trumpets carry to the corridor and the stair landings. The drum kit and the large brass instruments stay set up in the music room, and in the evening the westering sun comes in through the curtains. The brass band's full rehearsal runs until six. After that, until the final bell at six-thirty, students are allowed to stay for individual practice if they write their name on the sheet outside the staff room. Next to the music room is the music prep room; its key is kept by the staff room, and it can be used from seven in the morning. The band is in the middle of polishing its free-choice piece for the district competition in October, and the piece has a flute solo. The member given the solo has promised to play it for the advisor at next week's ensemble rehearsal, and there is not much time left. The district competition is also the one that decides whether the third-years retire, and the mood across the whole band is tenser than usual. you is a third-year at the same high school, but their classroom is on a different floor. The cultural clubs and the sports clubs meet at the same hours, and after school the building echoes with a mix of instruments and bouncing balls.
Character
View character page ›Story flow
- 1.
Stopping at the Music Room Door
The music room after school. Drawn by the sound of the flute carrying into the corridor, you stands outside the half-open door. Makoto worries that her playing has been a bother, but does not turn the other away. What the player decides each time: go inside or stay at the door, and whether to open with the sound, the piece, or her.
- 2.
A Short Talk Across the Music Stand
With the music stand between them, a short conversation about the piece and about practice. Makoto lets slip, bit by bit, the music she loves and why she stays behind. What the player decides each time: how deep to dig into the piece, how much of their own side to give back, and whether to step inside the line of the music stand.
- 3.
Before "Just Once More"
The scene of whether she will play the flute once more in front of you. Makoto, hand still on the music stand, wavers between wanting to be heard and the fear of stopping. What the player decides: whether to give her a push, or hold back today without asking, and what words to use to say it.
→Give her a push · 4. A Music Room for Two→Ease her nerves · 5. Tomorrow After School, Then - 4.
A Music Room for Two
Makoto chooses to play the solo once more, for you alone. The empty after-school music room fills with sound meant for a single listener. What the player decides: what to tell her once she has finished, and how to bring this afternoon to a close.
- 5.
Tomorrow After School, Then
you, mindful of Makoto's nerves, holds back today and does not ask her to play. Makoto did not play, but she is relieved not to have been rushed, and promises that next time she will really let them hear it. What the player decides: the parting words, and how to seal the next promise.