Reflected in a Lens

by superalicat

What would the troubles and stress of Kitauji's concert band look like to an outsider? More importantly, would they understand what it's like to be in a band? In this one-shot, our narrator, the president of the Photography Club, decides to take on a mission: photographing all of its members while staying connected to its constant drama. And there's plenty of it to go around!

Title: Reflected in a Lens

Characters: The Kitauji High School Concert Band

Words: 4560

A/N: Every character I mention by name (with the exception of the Photography Club) does actually exist in Hibike! Euphonium; most of their names were shown in Episode 4's section leader meeting or in Episode 5, where I got the story's cover photo of Shoko Hagiwara. Each of the "photos" in this story are the eyecatches (the cards shown during the commercial break) for each episode, including the Taki-sensei one, which is for the OVA. The final photo is the one shown at the very end of Episode 13, after the credits. If you pay attention, you'll notice I follow the order of the eyecatch for each episode, and, chronologically, the OVA does take place right before and during Episode 13. Hope you enjoy the story!

"The concert band, huh?"

Once the pride of our school, this particular group has fallen far among the ranks of Kitauji's clubs. I mean, they can't even begin to compare to our sports teams in terms of accomplishment, but based on all the rumors I've heard, they've become just as tough. Which is funny, because last year, they did approximately nothing, and none of their photos turned out to be any good.

"I guess I'll be taking them on this year."

The rest of the Photography Club gapes at me. Someone blurts out, "But, Prez, aren't there more important clubs you could be going to? Like Track or something?"

I stand up. "Oh, well, I'm sure someone else can handle them. Just because the track team won Regionals last year doesn't mean they're my top priority. And besides, I hear the band's new advisor is pretty good-looking."

One of the blue-ribboned second-years, who's in this new teacher's class, blushes deeply, in obvious agreement. The other members laugh and some of the girls call out that they're looking forward to those pictures. I hand out club assignments to everyone, reminding them that they have to get all photos in before summer break so that we can get down to editing them and compiling them into an album for the school festival. Leaving them to their own work, I set off for the music room.

They call me a gossip-monger, an information-gatherer, and some say that I'd be more suited to the role of Student Council President instead of the president of the Photography Club. But being behind a camera has its perks, and it's especially handy when your biggest project is to photograph every club in the school and you just happen to know the goings-on of them all. This year, as president, I get to choose whoever I want, and I've picked the concert band precisely so that I can gather information. The bit about their advisor being good-looking was true, but it wasn't my only reason for deciding upon this particular club.

In the hallway, I meet up with the band's photographer, Shoko Hagiwara, one of the clarinets and also my closest friend. She's technically a member of the Photography Club, but hasn't had the time this year to show up. Last year, when the band was basically falling apart at the seams, she hung out with us all the time, but things seem to have gotten really busy with the arrival of Taki-sensei, the new advisor. Now, she's who I hear most of the rumors about goings-on in the club from.

"Bad news," she mutters. "The vice president doesn't want a photo of her alone, or with just the president. I think her exact words were, 'me and the euphonium, or nothing at all.' That's real dedication to her instrument, right?"

"That's Tanaka-san for you. She's in my class, so I know all about it." I respond. I know all about that girl's eccentricity. Apparently she's a real prodigy when it comes to the euphonium, though, so I do what everyone else doubtless does; I just try to put up with her weirdness. And she just happens to be in charge of approving this project in the first place, along with Shoko.

She continues to speak in a subdued voice. I can hear the sounds of drums and people talking coming from the music room, so I can tell she's being considerate of those who are practicing. I guess they aren't in ensemble today. I was really hoping to take some of them all together, but oh well. "So what I think we should do is take photos of everyone in their individual sections. I've already made a schedule for each section to request a time when they're available. We'll be doing everything during sectional practice so we don't bother the others."

"Good idea! So, who've we got first?"

"Well, I pulled some strings, and I got my section to agree on being photographed first. We're pretty close by, so we should head over there now."

I'm a little taken aback when I see how many people are in this particular section. At least I know the section leader, Hirone Torizuka, who's willing to go along with pretty much anything because she's used to being photographed by Shoko. However, there's actually two different kinds of instruments in this group: clarinets and bass clarinets. I eventually decide to have them stand in a single row, after moving them about for a few minutes, and am about to take the picture when I think, Something's missing.

I tell this to Shoko, who shrugs and says, "Maybe we should be holding our instruments."

Genius idea. I ask Hirone and one of the bass clarinet players to get their instruments out and hold them while I take the photo. Still, as I take it, the group seems kind of…

"Wait, are there only girls in this section?"

They all look around in surprise as I lower my camera, and one of the third-years cries out, "Where did he go?"

Shoko tells me that there's one boy in the group, but he doesn't seem to be around. So we have to wait for a few minutes before a brown-haired guy wearing glasses comes back to the classroom. Everyone's decided to sit down, and when I get them back in a row, nobody's in the same spot as the previous picture.

"You guys look a little stiff," I inform them after I've taken a couple of pictures. "Maybe we should try some poses?"

So I get the first-years to make peace signs, and a third-year follows suit. Then the second-year in the group picks up a little model of Saturn and balances it directly on the palm of her hand. I think this is a great idea, and one of Shoko's friends takes out a little frog hand puppet and waves it at me. Shoko, because she's Shoko, poses with her favorite camera around her neck. Finally, I manage to get a great photo. Everyone disbands, sighing with relief, and I check my watch. I give a start as I realize what time it is.

It turns out we've been posing and taking photos for nearly an hour. I promise myself I won't take this long again, especially because they're going to be practicing even more from now on.

Thankfully, the next section that signed up for a photoshoot three days later is one of the smaller ones, so it won't cause me as much trouble. There's only three members in the bassoon section, and all we need to do is have the section leader, a girl in my class named Rana Kitamura, sit down while she holds her instrument, with Mikino Oka, the other bassoon player, next to her. The single second-year oboe player also gets to hold her instrument, but while standing. It's blissfully short and I get to chat with Rana-san and Mikino-san after we're done. It seems they've managed to impress their advisor and convince him to let them compete in SunFes after all, and, unlike last year, they're going to be practicing marching way in advance. I let them know I'll be rooting for them and head back to my own club room. What on earth their advisor is thinking, changing his mind on them all the time? It makes me even more glad I'm not a member of that club.

I take a break from the concert band for a little while to get in pictures of Student Council and also get through all my midterms. But when I do get back to take photos of the flute and piccolo section, everyone's buzzing with fresh gossip. After their success at SunFes, their advisor has pulled the rug out from under their feet again. This year, they're having auditions. It doesn't sound like a big deal to me, but it's serious for them. From what I hear, there aren't enough spots for every single member to go to the competition. Shoko, who comes with me to the flutes, is complaining bitterly. Apparently, a lot of the clarinets are in opposition to the auditions, because seniors don't get automatic preference anymore, and more than half the clarinets are third-years. However, nobody would dare to try to stand up to the advisor, so they're stuck with auditions.

This section is made up of all girls, and they're both friendly and willing to offer their opinions on this new development as I'm setting up. For visual purposes, I've moved the tallest of them all, who's a piccolo player, off to the side, while the section leader, Kotoko Himegami, is in the very center of the group of girls, proudly displaying her silver flute. Looking at how sociable all of them are around one another as they crowd in to take the photo makes me realize how bummed they'd be if one or two of them failed the audition and were left behind. It's up to them whether they pass. And, based on the state of the club last year, it's doubtful whether they have the determination to go on to Nationals. Then again, I went to SunFes myself, and they did remarkably well for a no-name school band. I suppose their advisor really is having some sort of effect on them.

A few days later, I am reminded of how incompetent I am when it comes to understanding music, because I propose having all of the saxophone players in the same group picture without realizing that there's also different kinds of saxophones. The club's soft-spoken president, Haruka-san, who I remember going to the same middle school with, has to divide the sax players into three groups: alto, tenor, and baritone, and they get increasingly smaller. I am pretty grateful for this, since the arrangement means I get to take a photo of the president, the only baritone player, by herself. Three of the five girls in the alto section, who are from my class and are joined at the hip, tell me about a time a couple days ago when Tanaka-san forced an underclassman in the bass section to dress up like a tuba mascot character. I laugh, trying to imagine it, wishing I'd gotten a picture of it.

Next up is a picture of the three tenor sax players, with a third-year named Aoi-san holding her sax for the camera. In my opinion, it looks remarkably like the alto sax, so I have no idea why these three should be separated from the other five in the alto sax group. Aoi-san, a former classmate of mine from our first year at Kitauji, is nice, a lot like Haruka-san, and she leaves to go to cram school after I've only taken one picture. I'm impressed, as I'm not planning to study for entrance exams until the Photography Club has finished its big project. She'll probably end up leaving the club, though, if she's that serious. It's already happened with a couple of Photography Club members, and we're barely doing anything. Even I know that it takes a lot of work to keep playing in any sort of band, especially one with a lot of members in it. I know that this is the issue weighing on Haruka-san's mind as well. As soon as I finish with her photo, the smile on her face is quickly replaced by a worried look, and she goes off to talk to Tanaka-san in a neighboring classroom.

The week after that, we're taking pictures of the trumpet section, but I notice that Shoko's feeling pretty down. I stop in the middle of setting up to go and ask her what's going on.

"Aoi-san quit," she tells me glumly.

"The sax player? Why?" I personally saw it coming, since she was leaving the club for cram school every day, but, at the same time, I'm worried for my friend.

Shoko explains, "She wanted to focus on studying for her entrance exams instead of playing in the band. And now she's got me thinking…is this really what I want to do? Should I be spending so much time in the band if I'm not even going to do it next year?"

Oh, no. It's been like this for a while. Shoko sometimes gets torn between her love of the clarinet and her love of photography. "But you're really dedicated when it comes to playing. And everyone wants to go to Nationals now, so don't you want to be with them?"

"I…I guess. I don't know. There are so many times when I feel like I'm an outsider. Since I'm in the Photography Club and everything, I'm kind of separate from the others. Maybe I should just quit while I'm ahead. They don't need me here."

"Hey, that's not true. You're the official club photographer, aren't you? Where would they be without that? They'd win and nobody would believe them because they wouldn't have photographic proof, that's where."

She lets out a wry laugh. "Still, I just don't know if it's worth it sometimes. I mean, I'm going to college next year. I'm going to have to work hard for it on top of everything I'm doing for the band."

I ask, "Do you even know what you want to do in college?" Me, I'm planning to go into graphic design, and always have been, but Shoko's been a lot more uncertain that I have.

Shoko shakes her head sadly. "I'm just so confused right now. And I'm worried about the audition, too. Do you think I should even try for it?"

"Definitely. You definitely should. Come on, Shoko, you've been in the band since your first year. Your advisor's really making you guys work this year, and it's paying off. You completely dominated SunFes, so why shouldn't you guys make it to Nationals, too?"

She looks as though she's about to say something, but she keeps quiet. I remember when she joined the club back in our first year, along with Haruka-san and Aoi-san and a bunch of other people from our grade. She was so enthusiastic about making music with everyone, about getting good results in competitions, about having a new goal to work towards, but it wasn't what she expected at all. These past two years have proved it. That's why I'm here now. At the first whisper of a rumor about someone wanting to reform the club, I'd made up my mind to check it out and see if it was actually happening, if someone had come along to grant Shoko's dream from back then. And now, after only being around the band for a little while, I can tell that they're back on the right track. That this is the place Shoko belongs. Aoi-san made up her mind to leave, but for Shoko, it's going to be a lot harder. I tell her all of this now, realizing that all the trumpet players are watching us from a distance, but she still stays silent.

Finally, after pestering her to say something, she cries out, loudly, "I just need some time to think, okay?" and stalks off, with both the trumpet players and I watching her go.

I feel as though Shoko's depression has started to affect some of the trumpet players as I arrange them in a row and start photographing them. The two on the far right aren't even smiling at all, and one of them, a first-year girl with long black hair, walks away from the group without even saying a word to the others. Has she always been this isolated from the others, or is this somehow due to the gloomy atmosphere?

With that, we're halfway done. Unfortunately, I realize something as the month of June begins.

"Half of them are going to be in their summer uniforms," I groan, hitting myself on the forehead. I'd completely forgotten about changing uniforms until just now, when I see Shoko wearing hers. She overhears me and comes over to my desk.

She says, "It's not that big a deal." These days, she's been completely tranquil. She hasn't quit yet, which is a relief.

"But it is! I have to get all these photos done before summer break, and that's in a month and a half. Even though I'm the president, I still have to get my photos submitted by then. I can't wait until we change our uniforms again."

"So take the pictures with them in their summer uniforms. I'm sure it'll be fine. Nobody will think it's weird."

Shoko placates me until the bell rings and class starts. Our roles are drastically reversed, which is weird, but she seems to have calmed down from her outburst after Aoi-san quit. Instead of dwelling too much on that, I end up spending a significant part of the school day debating whether or not it'll ruin everything, and eventually decide I've got to see this through to the end, just like Shoko does. I'll be taking photos of the trombone section today, uniforms be damned.

The trombones are like the clarinets, because they seem pretty stiff at first, but there's only six of them. Hideri Noguchi, their section leader, eventually decides not to hold the trombone, and lets the other third-year in the group do it. It makes me wonder if they're dating. After all, they are pretty close. In order to make the group seem cheerier, I get the shorter of the first-year girls to hold a stuffed animal. The other one makes a peace sign.

It's definitely not as bad as the all-girls horn section's picture. They're in kind of a rush when I go over a few days later to take the photo, because auditions are happening today. Since they're so stressed, all of the upperclassmen look a little grouchy, and the two first-years are the only ones who actually end up smiling. However, it's too late to take another one, because they're all turning back to go over their sheet music one last time. The auditions have everyone in a rush, it seems.

I've only got two sections to go, and not too much time, either. Plus, I still need a photo of their advisor and a group photo as well. About a week after auditions, the bass section is scheduled for their picture. There's a lot of discord in the club, something to do with two talented trumpet players and only one solo part. I bet the dark-haired first-year girl who didn't smile is a part of this. That's taking up most of my time in terms of information-gathering. Aside from that, there's not much to report. Shoko passed her audition, so we're both celebrating, which means that I'm cutting her some slack and taking the rest of these pictures on my own.

Before she goes to practice today, she tells me that Tanaka-san, who's also the bass section leader, has divided everyone up by their instruments for their pictures. I can't exactly argue with her, so I start off with the three euphonium players. As I recall, one of them failed the audition. It makes me wonder how resentful, if at all, she is of her fellow club members. Yet, when I set them up so that Tanaka-san stands in the middle, proudly holding her silver euphonium, they all seem to be getting along well. It's the same with the three tuba players; the first-year who failed her audition is smiling the brightest, striking a pose while standing on one leg between the two who actually passed their auditions. Of course, she stumbles and falls over into the other girl, a second-year, as soon as I've finished, and is still apologizing while I take my final photo of the single contrabass player. I didn't even know what a contrabass was before today, and I'm impressed that such a small girl can actually hold on to that big of an instrument. I'm the only one who knows that, the entire time I was photographing her, she was looking off into the distance, smiling at the antics of the first-year tuba player.

Shoko meets me in the hallway once I've finished. "Want to go grab something to eat?" she asks.

"I'm in!"

On the way to the closest fast-food place, she lets me in on what's been going on with the conflict over the trumpet solo. It seems they're going to be doing a second audition just for those two trumpet players, which I think is a little over the top. Other than that, the group is about to start practicing at a big auditorium so that they can get the feel of what it's like to really compete at the main venue. She definitely sounds a little nervous, but I know that since she passed the audition, she'll do fine. There's still a ways to go before the actual competition.

"So, anything else to report?" I ask, scrolling through the photos on my camera and smiling at the goofy candid shots of the bass section.

"I forgot to tell you, but you know the ten girls who failed the audition?"

"Oh yeah, what about them?"

"Apparently, they've teamed up. They're called Team Monaca and they're practicing entirely on their own. Rumor has it they're even working on a project of some sort for the members going to the competition, but it's a complete secret."

Well, it's piqued my interest. "Can I photograph them? That would be so great: 'the team within the club' would make an awesome caption."

She shakes her head. "They're not going to go for it. I've already asked. All of them are at school every day, practicing their piece nonstop. Plus, I don't think they'd like being considered as a separate part of the band. They're not, really, and it would kind of be like rubbing salt in their wounds if you portray them as though they are."

"Shoko…you really care." I hadn't actually realized it up until now, but even though she's been the one passing me all this information, she's telling me and caring about what's going to happen to all of them. I hate to admit it, but she's a better information-gatherer than I am, because she's the one actively participating in the club and keeping tabs on it. And that means that, especially lately, she's been much more of a concert band member than a part of the Photography Club. "You're not an outsider at all. If you were, you'd be like me, not minding Team Monaca's feelings at all. And you managed to get this whole project together because of the connections you have to all the other section leaders. I mean, I was just planning to barge in there and start snapping away, but you organized everything. You made all of it happen. I'm really proud of you."

Her face has changed expressions so many times while I've been talking: confusion, astonishment, and, finally, contentment. A smile slowly extends across her face as I finish talking. "I really love being in the band, don't I?"

"Yeah, you really do." I smile encouragingly over at her. Somewhere on my camera is a picture I took of the flute section, right after we'd finished the group photo. Before anyone could notice, I took a quick shot of Shoko chatting with some of the other third-years, taking her flute out of its case and laughing at a joke someone had just told. I'd forgotten about it for a while, but that single image was proof of how much she enjoyed being a part of our high school's concert band. And not even her love of photography was going to distract her for that.

"Hey." She's been saying my name for a while, but I haven't been listening. "I think…I'm going to aim for a music college. I want to keep playing the flute even after high school. You think that's a good goal?"

"Definitely." I high-five her and grin. "As such, Shoko Hagiwara, you are relieved from your duties as a Photography Club member. You can quit our club for real now, and you don't have to help me out with the pictures of the band anymore. I know you've still got a lot of practicing to do before the competition."

Surprise flits across her face, but is quickly replaced by a beam as wide as my own. "Thanks. I'll definitely win the competition for you and for everyone else in the club, just to prove I can make something for myself outside of photography."

"Bring it on."

One hot summer's day, just as I finish editing the final photos from the percussion section, which I'd barely managed to squeeze in before summer break started, I get a frantic phone call from Shoko.

"Shoko! Hey, how did the competition g-"

"Can you come over here as soon as you can? We can do the group picture today! I have to be in it, so I can't take it myself, but if you could…"

A grin is stretched across my face. She sounds out of breath but totally happy. They must have won. "Of course! Anything for the concert band going on to the Kansai Competition."

And as soon as I get there, I can tell they're celebrating as Shoko tries to get them in a group. A group of first years huddles together, talking excitedly and hugging every now and then. I can still see tears in the purple eyes of the one with the dark ponytail, who is clinging to a taller brunette with a matching ponytail. The few guys in the group are standing with the advisor, who is looking very nice in a fancy dress shirt, and chatting loudly.

"Okay, guys," I call. "If you can get yourselves organized…"

Cue laughter from the clarinets, all of whom recall our hectic first day. Now it's the end. This is the last photo of the club I'll be taking and, honestly, the whole experience has been quite something. With the help of Shoko, they all manage to form rows. Before she steps away to be with them, she slips a single Polaroid photo into my hand. I glance down, surprised, and see their advisor in a tuxedo, conducting the band.

"I got someone to take it for me during the competition," she beams. "That's the only one you needed, right?"

I hug her. "Yes, it is. Thanks so much!"

"Not planning to keep a copy for yourself, are you?" A joking grin is on her face.

"Maybe…" We both laugh. "Congrats on getting gold, Shoko. Now go join them. They're members of your concert band, after all, so you need to be with them."

The same smile she gives me is still there when I'm prepare to take the picture. She's in the front row, along with the president, who holds their trophy, and with the girls from the bassoon section, who have their certificate.

"Ready, everyone?"

Shoko flashes me a peace sign, along with several of the other girls. That brunette first-year I saw earlier does, too. I recall that she's in the bass section, along with Tanaka-san. The one and only boy from the clarinet section jumps into the air just as I press the shutter button.

"Say cheese!"

It's perfect.