a/n: president dingleberry can't stop me from writing my fics

and to the person who asked if there would be asukumi in this fic: no. i'm not a big fan of asukumi and there won't be any of it in this fic, i'm sorry.

"I can't believe five of the first-years actually left," Kumiko said. "What'd they expect?"

"I can recall someone who didn't know what she wanted at that age," Reina replied, hands behind her back. "They know what's expected of them, now. It's good that they've left. It's like Yuuko said, there's no room here for slackers." The sky had turned the most brilliant shade of purple, and Kumiko stared up at it, the stars just starting to come out.

"I'll be that there're more stars out in the country," she murmured.

"What does that have anything to do with it?"

"W-wait, I said that out loud?!" Reina lightheartedly elbowed her.

"Terrible, truly." It was such a tiny thing, something so utterly insignificant, but at that moment Kumiko thought that perhaps it meant more than all the stars she couldn't even see.

Another package arrived in the mail that night, already sitting on Kumiko's bed when she entered her room. It was wrapped in lavender paper, this time, and she tore it open quickly.

To the one receiving these packages-

School can be stressful, can't it? I know that better than anyone, hah. People are changing, life is dragging you by the ass, it's all so very unpleasant. You can't be in high school if you're not dead inside, that's how I see it. That's why I've sent you this, to relieve some of that stress.

Kumiko gulped.

I really do hope that it helps. I wish you the best of luck with all of your endeavors, young one.

~your caretaker

Kumiko tossed away the tissue paper with uneasiness in her gut.

She had never been more grateful to see a scented candle in her life.

"I bought five boxes of Band-Aids yesterday!" Midori bragged, showing off her already-bandaged fingers. "We came really close to winning last year, didn't we? So, if we all just work a bit harder than we did back then, we're bound to win! We have to deliver the music to the people, we have to make sure that the whole world hears Kitauji's sound at its very best."

"That's the spirit, Midori!" Hazuki cheered. "I didn't have much time to practice with Tubacabra yesterday, but I did some breathing exercises last night and I already feel great, like I can take on anything!"

"It's gonna be weird practicing in sectionals without Asuka-senpai," Kumiko murmured. "She was the one who always kept us in line."

"Yeah, yeah, but we just have to keep moving forward!" Hazuki smacked her hands down on her chest, looking straight ahead. "That's the only way we'll make it through!"

"That's a lovely speech, Katou-san, but I'm afraid that class is actually beginning now. Please sit down." The teacher lowered his glasses to glare directly at Hazuki, who lowered into her seat.

"What a party pooper," she muttered, crossing her arms. Kumiko couldn't help but chuckle.

Kumiko was on her way to practice, euphonium case in her arms, when she heard a melody drift from outside the drafty window. She set down the euph in the hallway for hardly half a second before picking it up again and lugging it up the stairs, following the music.

It's Reina, isn't it? The sound grew ever closer, and Kumiko knew just where she'd find the other girl. I guess it's gotten to a point where I just know what she sounds like. Kumiko reached the bridge, where Reina had already set herself up, sheet music pinned to a stand with a Tuba-kun paperweight.

"You'll be late," Reina said, without looking at her, without missing a beat. "Taki-sensei sent the trumpets out to practice individually, he said that it was some sort of way for us to strengthen ourselves instead of relying on the rest of our section. I don't know what the brass section is doing."

"Probably getting bossed around by Natsuki or something," Kumiko joked. "She's stricter than she looks."

"I can see that." Reina set down her trumpet, letting out a sigh. "It feels nostalgic, doesn't it? The beginnings of the year, everyone slowly finding their place again. Reinvention, rejuvenation. It's a time of new beginnings, that's what everyone says." Reina let out a soft laugh. "I'm starting to sound like an awful poet."

"W-well, yeah." Kumiko was reminded of her own, aggressive attempt at a fresh start that she'd thought would end as more of the same as soon as Hazuki and Midori had dragged her back into the band, but she'd never been happier about a failure. "It's true, y'know. Even if things don't go . . . like you'd expect, they're still happening. It's scary, but we're all changing."

"That's awfully insightful."

"It's my weird fairy godmother-person. They're making me think. I know that it's probably just some weird coincidence, or maybe it's just Mamiko sending me presents, I don't know, but there's a dumb little part of me that thinks maybe, uh, maybe they're really a guardian angel of sorts."

"You want to believe in magic," Reina said simply. Kumiko's hands had gone cold, and she couldn't help but wish that Reina would hold them.

"Yeah."

"I'm afraid that I don't know what to tell you." Reina leaned over on the railing, and Kumiko hurried to stand beside her, her mind flashing with images of Reina tipping over and falling to the ground. "The only magic I've ever concerned myself with is the kind people create by themselves. You can climb up a mountain and stare down at the starry buildings, but you can't expect miracles to fly from the walls and take care of everything for you." Kumiko saw her hands tighten on the railing, and without thinking, she put her own hand on top of Reina's. Reina looked to her for a moment, mouth open in an o shape for just a second before she closed it again, eyes flashing with surprise. "If fate is real, she's unbelievably cruel." Kumiko didn't ask what she meant by that. She didn't really want to know, in any case.

"Alright, day two." Natsuki shifted her position in her seat, earbuds dangling from her pocket. "Taki-sensei told the section leaders that we need to focus on breathing exercises - except for the trumpets, must be some kinda favoritism thing - so that's exactly what we're gonna do."

"Yeah!" Momo cheered from the corner. The school's third euphonium was still in transit, according to Yuuko, and so the first-year simply sat in on the practices and watched Natsuki with wide eyes.

"Okay, he gave me a list earlier today- oh, crap, where'd I put it?"

"Right here," Hazuki pointed out, nudging the crumpled paper on her desk towards Natsuki.

"Oh. Right."

"The vice president's a bit of a scatterbrain sometimes, isn't she?" Midori whispered.

"Y-yeah, I guess." Natsuki let out a discontented groan as she read out the long list in a jokingly monotone voice. "It's nice, though."

"Why?"

"She doesn't change."

"Geez, I feel like my lungs are gonna burst!" Hazuki groaned that evening, folding her hands behind her head. "I wouldn't have expected Natsuki-senpai to work us that hard!"

"She knows what's expected of her," Reina said, keeping her head high and her gaze averted. "That's all."

"Aw, what's with you, Kousaka-san?" Hazuki whined. Kumiko timidly ducked behind Midori, a feat made rather difficult by Midori's stature. "You were just as eager as the rest of us last year, at least when we got to know you, but now you're all prim and proper again!"

"Prim and . . . proper?" Reina echoed in confusion.

"You know . . . uptight. Like, I'm expecting you to say the word peasants." Kumiko wanted to sink into the pavement. "Did something happen?" Hazuki gasped. "Did something happen between you and-"

"Oh hey look the convenience store just started selling the new Tuba-kun keychains let's go see those and stop talking about Reina's love life, okay?" Kumiko said it all in one breath, more or less pushing her three friends in the direction of the store's parking lot. Reina mouthed a silent thank-you.

"You're right, Kumiko-chan!" Midori squeaked as she crouched to face the machine at eye level. "Oboe-kun, I've waited so long to see your face!"

"Oboe-kun?" Reina repeated.

"We'll be sure to nab one for you, too, Kousaka-san, so how about you and Kumiko talk for a little bit?" Hazuki said, inching closer to where Midori crouched. "Maybe even where we can't hear you!" Kumiko didn't need another less-than-subtle hint and backed away from the toy dispenser with Reina until the two of them were standing by the ivy-covered sides of the store.

"I've never seen anything beyond the storefront," Reina murmured. "I don't think I've ever even been inside the store."

"You're not missing much." Kumiko remained silent for a moment, stamping out a cigarette butt some careless twenty-something had probably left there an hour ago. "Y'know, Hazuki kinda has a point."

"About what?" Reina turned to her, the streetlights illuminating her face in strange ways.

"You're acting like you did when I first met you."

"Maybe I've just refocused on my ambitions." Reina tilted her head to look up at the sky.

"You expect me to believe that?"

"I don't." A sudden gust of wind blew through the parking lot, and Kumiko shivered. Reina took off her coat and handed it to her without a word. "I also don't expect you to understand."

"Of course I'm not going to understand if you keep being cryptic like that." Kumiko pulled the coat closer. It smelled of lavender and brass, as Reina always did.

"Hey! Kumiko! Kousaka-san!" Hazuki called from around the corner, waving two plastic capsules in her hands. "We got lucky this time!"

"M-maybe we could do something together this weekend, just the two of us. A sleepover, or something like that." Kumiko nervously twirled her fingers, looking anywhere but at Reina's face.

"I'd like that, actually." Kumiko's head shot up.

"Y-you would?"

"I'm sure my parents won't mind if I have a friend over." Kumiko (and Hazuki, she noticed out of the corner of her eye) flinched at the word friend, but she regained her composure quickly.

"Yeah, that sounds great! I'll bring over a movie or something, what about Saturday night?"

"I don't think I have any other plans, so that'll work nicely." Hazuki dropped the Oboe-kun charm into Reina's hands before she could say anything else.

"Consider it a gift!" she chirped. Reina nodded, fastening it to her bag.

"I will. Thank you, Katou-san." Hazuki scoffed.

"Aw, please, call me Hazuki!" Reina blinked.

"Alright . . . Hazuki."

"You have nice friends," Reina nonchalantly commented on the train later that evening.

"It's not like this is the first time you've met them, Reina. We've been hanging out together for nearly a year."

"True, but it still comes as a surprise, occasionally." Kumiko looked at the Oboe-kun keychain dangling from the bag. "I'm not sure what it is about this toy - I don't even play the oboe, they both know that - but it's a nice gesture. I can't say that I mind it." Reina shifted in her seat, kicking off her shoes. "You know, I didn't have a lot of friends when I was younger." She spoke in a detached voice, as if she was talking about someone else she knew once. It was a cold way of speaking, and it sent a shiver down Kumiko's spine. "I think they were all a bit afraid of me."

"What, really?" Kumiko tried to forget the time she was convinced Reina was leading her to the back of the school to kill her. "How could anyone be afraid of you?" Reina shrugged.

"Regardless, that was how it was, and I was perfectly content with that." Reina poked at Oboe-kun's round cheeks. "Now it's different, and I'm content with that, too."

"Right." The train stopped, and both girls stood up at the same time. "It's different now."

Kumiko fell asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow that night.

She dreamed that she was being pulled in two, shadows gripping her abdomen and trying to drag her down with them as she reached for a slender hand in the far, far distance, fingertips barely touching, but it was enough for her to keep reaching.

She woke up with tears poking at the corners of her eyes.

"Kumiko?" Reina waved a hand in Kumiko's face the following morning, seeming rather unfocused herself. "You've been spaced out all morning, is everything alright?" Kumiko waved her off with a limp hand.

"I just had a weird dream last night," she yawned. "Must be the stress . . . y'know, second year of high school, winning Nationals, all that."

"I didn't know you still cared." No matter what Reina actually said lately, she always seemed disinterested, and it made Kumiko feel unbelievably small.

"Of course I do!" Kumiko yelped. The sky was turning shades of pale pink and orange, but she didn't bother to look out the window. "I have people I care about, too. Yuuko had a point when she wanted Kaori-senpai to play the solo, even when you were better. We'll be the oldest people in the band soon, I'd like it if Natsuki had a chance to play before she leaves. I'd like it if pretty much everyone remembered who led the club to the Nationals in the first place."

"Taki-sensei?" Kumiko flinched.

"W-well, him too. I was thinking about Asuka-senpai, actually."

"Of course." Reina turned away with a sniff. Kumiko didn't know what else to say, leaning against the window. The train rides seemed to be filled with more and more silence as the days went on, and yet it had hardly been a week since school started. Oboe-kun still dangled from Reina's bag, its beady eyes staring up at the sky.

"So," Hazuki began, waggling her eyebrows. "I heard you're going to sleep over at Kousaka-san's house, is that right?" Kumiko wordlessly nodded.

"You've got to tell us the details!" Midori squeaked. "That's what friends are for, right?" Kumiko could feel her cheeks heating up, and she stared intently at her work to avoid the prying glances of her friends, hungry for any information they could get their hands on. The teacher stepped into the room, as he always did, and Kumiko sat up without another word.

Hazuki and Midori had stayed after class to 'go over math problems' - which Kumiko suspected was code for meddle - and so she found herself walking down the hallway alone.

"It was an impulse purchase - please, Taki-sensei, we'll just cancel some party or something." Kumiko froze, pressing herself against the wall.

"Yoshikawa-san, I understand your eagerness, but the club's budget is incredibly small as it is. I hadn't planned to mention it until absolutely necessary, but Kitauji isn't doing very well, financially speaking. We didn't account for any parties at all in the budget, it's all the bare minimum. Equipment and transportation for the competitions, that's all we can afford." Yuuko gritted her teeth, and Natsuki held onto her arm in a manner that might've been meant to be comforting.

"It's not her fault, Taki-sensei," Natsuki said. "I was the one who requested the third euph." Kumiko blinked.

That wasn't her. Yuuko was the one who-

"It doesn't matter who requested it or bought it." Taki's voice cut into Kumiko's thoughts, even and unfeeling. "You can either return it, or Nakagawa-san can pay the full price. I'm sorry, but I can't help you." Kumiko heard the teacher's footsteps clip-clop down the hall.

"You didn't have to do that," Yuuko muttered. "Playing the hero doesn't suit someone like you."

"What, did ya think I would just rat you out and get ya kicked out of your position as president?"

"Yes." Natsuki stuffed her hands in her pockets, staring down at the ground.

"You don't have a whole lot of faith in me, then."

"I can take care of myself," Yuuko sniffed. She didn't answer Natsuki's question.

"I don't doubt that, but it'd suck to bear this whole thing on your own. Y'know, what with Asu- erm, the third-years leaving, all the new kids finding their places. It's not a great time to be a leader."

"Of course it's not. I didn't even want this job, but it's the only way I can keep Kaori-senpai's memory alive and-"

"Christ, Prez, it's not like she's dead. I'm sure you'll see her around again someday. If she's really the only reason you're doing this, then I think there're some more people suited better to this position."

"Oh, you want to tell me about hard work, miss lazy euph?" Natsuki stiffened.

"We have to get to practice," she muttered. "You can thank me later."

Kumiko walked a few paces behind the two of them wordlessly, refusing to notice how their hands were intertwined like the last lovers on a sinking boat.

"When do you think Taki-sensei's gonna let us practice in an ensemble?" Hazuki wondered, not asking anyone in particular. Kumiko shrugged.

"He'll know when we're ready, I guess. What'd he say we had to learn, Natsuki?" Natsuki looked up when her name was mentioned, and Kumiko could see the bags under her eyes.

"Oh, I think it was . . . uh . . . Eclipse. Yeah, it was that."

"Erm, Nakagawa-senpai?" Momo timidly whispered.

"Yeah?"

"We still don't have the sheet music for it." Natsuki paled.

"Oh." Hazuki and Midori watched curiously as Natsuki hurried out of the room. Kumiko could see the way her cheek twitched, the way her eyebrows knitted, and she had never wanted to give the older girl a hug more than she did in that moment.

"What was that about?" Hazuki wondered as soon as Natsuki had left the room.

"I'm sure that she's just nervous like the rest of us," Riko trilled, smoothing out her skirt placidly. "You're lucky, Katou-chan, you still have about a year before you have to worry about these things! It's quite liberating, really, once you've gotten used to it, at least that's what Asuka always told me, but she's not here anymore, so the seniority lies to myself, Gotou, and our dear vice president!" Gotou put a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"Nakagawa is more prone to these sorts of fears than the rest of us," Gotou explained. "This isn't a burden she was prepared to bear." Midori sat up in her seat.

"Yeah, but-"

"I got them." Natsuki shoved open the door, stacks of paper in her arms. "I got the music, we can start practicing now."

"Hey, Reina?" The breaks during practice were usually hardly more than ten minutes long, and most simply opted to stay in their classrooms during sectionals, but Kumiko found Reina in the hallway regardless.

"Yes?"

"Do you think we'll ever lead the band someday?"

"What brought this on?" Reina leaned against the window, looking as if she'd fall down through the sky if she just leaned a bit too much. Kumiko shrugged.

"I dunno." She looked up at the ceiling lights, just starting to flicker. "I don't usually think this far ahead, but . . . y'know, sometimes you just can't help thinking about that stuff."

"I think that the most qualified person will lead the band, next year."

"Right." Kumiko didn't speak for a moment. "I guess it's just all this talk about college and Nationals and the future, it's making me think about stuff I don't want to think about."

"I get that." Reina leaned back further. "It doesn't do you any good to dwell on those things, though."

"What, 'the past and the future don't matter, all that matters is the now?'" Kumiko stood on tiptoes as she imitated some television character she'd forgotten the name of, some mimicry of pretentiousness.

"You could say that." Reina folded her hands behind her back. "Really, it's just stupid to think about it at all. You can't do anything about any of it. Neither can I. We're powerless, both of us." Reina pushed herself off the window until she was just a few inches from Kumiko's face. Her voice was still cold, still distant. "All you can do is change the tiny things and hope they amount to something better."

"Okay." Kumiko stepped back cautiously, as if Reina would break through the glass and fall if she walked away too quickly. "I have to, uh, head back to practice now, but I'll see you on the walk home."

"I'll see you then."

The sky was rather beautiful that night, Kumiko thought.

"You've been spacey all day, Kumiko!" Midori squeaked. "What's wrong?"

"It's, uh, n-nothing," she mumbled.

"I know that it's not nothing!" Hazuki snapped sharply, pointing to Kumiko as if she were a guilty defendant on death row. "Something's been bothering you ever since school started. I can sense these things, you know."

"It's . . . stress? I'm just not used to this workload, that's all."

"I'm stressed too," Midori retorted.

"We're just keeping up our positive attitudes, unlike you and Kousaka-san," Hazuki added. Reina looked up when her name was mentioned for hardly a second before she looked back down at the weeds sprouting from the sidewalk.

"I t-told you, I'm fine." A chilly gust of wind blew through the courtyard, and Kumiko hugged herself. "Really."

"It won't do you two any good to bother her with these questions," Reina said stiffly. "You should be focusing on your own issues."

"But we're her friends, Kousaka-san!" Hazuki whined. "Especially now that she's trusted us with such an important secret, we can't just be blind to these things!"

"We were blind to a lot of things, Hazuki-chan," Midori whispered. Kumiko suddenly wished that the sidewalk's weeds would spring up and pull her down with them so that she could stop being a part of this conversation.

"In any case, the work in the following weeks won't be easy in the slightest. You should know that, or else you might as well drop out." Reina walked ahead a few paces as she spoke. Kumiko couldn't see her face.

"What's with you lately?" Hazuki called after her as she walked further and further away. "I was just starting to like you, you know!" Midori put a comforting arm on Hazuki's shoulder, and she held it graciously. "I don't get it!" Reina turned briefly, and the light of a passing car cast her in a strange glow.

"What don't you get?" Hazuki froze, grip on the straps of her rainbow backpack tightening.

"Why . . . why you and Kumiko . . . nevermind." Kumiko ran ahead as Hazuki stood rooted to the sidewalk, but she heard a whisper of "I just want to support everyone" carried through the wind.

"Hazuki's got a point, y'know." The train rattled along the tracks as Kumiko held her knees to her chest. "I guess we've both been kinda distant lately."

"I haven't been doing anything differently. You're the one who's changing."

"Everyone keeps saying that, but I'm not. I'm just going through the motions, dragging myself along, and if I'm distant, then maybe that's just how I've always been."

"That's what I've been trying to tell you for the past year."

"I've just n-never thought of myself like that. It's weird. Things're all going so fast, it's too much for me to not shut myself off from it." Kumiko curled further into herself.

"You're contradicting yourself."

"I thought I was done with things changing when I started going to Kitauji. I had my fresh start, and that was it." She looked up at the flickering lights on the ceiling that had become oddly familiar. "It's all just weird."

"Right." Kumiko could hear the tiredness in Reina's voice, and she changed the subject the best she could.

"So, uh, should I still head to your house on Saturday?"

"If you're still up for it."

"I am."

"We'll do it, then." The sky looked beautiful outside, but all Kumiko could do was look at the girl beside her.

Kumiko scrolled aimlessly through old text messages that night, wrapped in a blanket that felt too hot when she wrapped herself in it and too cold when she pulled it away.

6/29/15

Reina: The competition is tomorrow.

Reina: Do you think that you're ready?

Kumiko: yeah

Kumiko: i do

Kumiko: could we meet tomorrow morning?

Kumiko: on the train i mean

Kumiko: to get to school

Reina: I don't see any reason not to.

Reina: We'll get gold, I know we will.

And we did, Kumiko thought, shutting off her phone. And she did it all for Taki-sensei. Memories of the grave of a woman she'd never met, a roaring waterfall, Reina's violet eyes glinting with resolve, all flashed through her mind like snapshots, and she grabbed the sides of her head to block them out.

"God, what kind of idiot was I?" she groaned out loud, smacking her face into a pillow. "It's all been for him, hasn't it? Of course she was upset during the auditions! It wasn't her ambition or her stubbornness or anything, it was just him! Stupid Taki-sensei, stupid straight girl crushes, stupid-"

"Kumiko?" Kumiko froze when her mother opened her bedroom door, looking rather concerned. "One of your, erm, friends is here. I told her that it's late at night, that she needed to get home, but she said it was important. I couldn't send a teenage girl out into the street in the middle of the night, anyway." Natsuki - or at least someone who looked like Natsuki's silhouette, the lights were still off - strutted into Kumiko's room without another word, plopping down on the carpet.

"Hey," she said, as if she hadn't barged into the Oumae family apartment at a time when she probably should've been asleep.

"What're you doing here?" Kumiko groggily mumbled. "It's the middle of the night."

"My folks are out of town and Yuu- uh, Yoshikawa cancelled last minute, so I need a place to crash for the night."

"And you didn't think to warn me first?" Kumiko had lost her filter sometime around eleven, and she covered her mouth with her hand as soon as she realized how rude she sounded. Natsuki shrugged.

"I did. Someone didn't check their texts." Kumiko looked down at her phone - glaringly bright against the dark of the room - and saw a string of texts that had been ignored in favor of her digital trip down memory lane.

"Oh. Sorry."

"It's not your fault. Everyone's a bit of a scatterbrain right now, myself included. I would've gone to Nozomi's, but she had Mizore over and I didn't want to be a third wheel, and it's not like I can exactly ask Momo if I, a senior, could stay at her house, when I've had a grand total of two conversations with her. It'd be weird." Kumiko nodded sagely.

"She's a good kid, though."

"Why're ya calling her kid? It's the same age gap that there is between you and me, you don't see me calling you kid." Kumiko flopped down onto the end of her bed as she clutched a pillow to her chest, now facing Natsuki with only about a foot between the two of them.

"I don't know."

"Afraid she'll take your spot in the competitions?" Natsuki teased. Kumiko whacked her with the pillow.

"You're not still mad about that, are you?" It was strange, the way Kumiko would always switch from joking to serious with such ease whenever she found herself talking to the older girl.

"I was never mad. You were better. I'm gonna play with everything I have this year and win Nationals right alongside you and Katou and Kousaka and the prez and everyone else. I didn't make it onto the A-team last year, but I will this time. I just hope you'll all be beside me when that happens." Kumiko smiled, suddenly feeling a spreading warmth in her veins, as if she'd just collapsed onto a hotel bed after hours of traveling, as if she'd found a strange sort of home.

"We'll shake on it," she said, extending a hand. "To Nationals." Natsuki took her hand.

"To Nationals." Kumiko sniffled, wiping away a stray tear with her free hand.

"Hey, don't cry- okay, okay, it's alright. The second year's stressful for everyone, don't worry about it. I'm here." Kumiko didn't say anything more that night as she rolled out a sleeping bag for Natsuki on the floor, but she felt just a little better the next morning when the older girl left at the crack of dawn with a crooked grin.

Kumiko wondered if it had all been a dream when she woke up again, scrambling to get ready for the school day. All she knew for sure was that she felt a powerful warmth in her chest, in her blood, a fierce feeling of determination that wasn't quite as unfamiliar as she'd have expected.

Kumiko didn't meet Reina at the train station that morning, instead hurrying ahead before the sun had fully risen. It was lonelier than she'd remembered, riding the train alone, but she tried not to think about it too hard.

We're going to Nationals again, she thought, tapping out a quick apology to Reina on her phone. We're going to win gold.

She was the first student to arrive on campus, running to Taki's office as she tried to remember which room it was. The teacher lifted his head when Kumiko opened the door, waving calmly.

"Ah, Oumae-san," he said, setting down his headphones. Kumiko could see a video of last year's winners playing on the computer. "I wouldn't have expected you here so early. You usually head here with Kousaka-san, don't you?"

"I'm waiting for her to get here," she answered truthfully. "I was, uh, j-just wondering if I could have the key to the instrument storage."

"Of course. I'll just find it, give me a moment . . ." Taki rummaged through scattered sheets of paper and assorted knickknacks until he produced the key and handed it to Kumiko. She briefly felt his hand against hers as she took it, and she wondered just what it had been that had sent Reina into that near-frenzy when she'd touched his hand like that months ago. It felt calloused and slightly sweaty, with none of the electric touch that Kumiko had always associated with love. "Oumae-san?"

"Eh?"

"You can leave now. Good luck." Taki turned back to his work, and Kumiko hurried out the door to the instrument storage. Her euphonium rested just where she'd left it, and she hefted the heavy leather case from its shelf.

"It's just you and me for now, eh?" she murmured to the instrument as she walked outside. The sky was clear, a crisp wind ruffling her uniform, and she thought that perhaps this was what peace felt like. Kumiko sat down on her usual chair, resting the euphonium on her lap. "I guess we should start."

Reina approached the chair about a half hour later.

"I wasn't sure if you'd been kidnapped and forced to text that against your will," she said in what was probably her version of a joking tone. "Why'd you come so early?"

"I talked to someone and realized some things, I guess."

"Ah." Reina folded her arms. "You've been practicing this year's piece, I'd assume."

"Y-yeah. It's kinda weird, though."

"What is?"

"He's really not easing us into it. I mean, we're a week into class and we're already learning the piece we'll be playing at the competition. The competition that isn't for another two months."

"We lost a lot of our best this year. We can't afford to slack off." Reina squinted against the harsh sunlight, still standing outside of the comfortable shade. "You're probably thinking of Asuka-senpai, but there were others too. The trumpet section feels incredibly empty without its old leader."

"Well, yeah, but now we have the new students. They're good, too."

"Do they know that we really are aiming for Nationals?"

"I think Taki-sensei scared enough of them off that it's just the strong ones left," Kumiko chuckled. "He's pretty scary when he wants to be, which is all the time."

"They had better be," Reina said grimly. "I'm not going to give up on this, and I'm not going to let anyone drag me down, either."

"You're always so determined, Reina." Kumiko looked up at the clouds floating by. "Don't you ever take breaks?"

"I'm taking one tomorrow night," Reina responded, almost instantly.

"Right, right, about that, should I just . . . take the train over to your place? I dunno if I've ever been there before, so I guess I'll need to . . . y'know . . . know where it is." Reina flushed pink, as if she hadn't considered that until now.

"Hold out your hand," she said, digging a pen from her pocket. Kumiko did so, keeping her other arm tucked around her euphonium. The pen tickled as it drew words across her skin, neat black ink in delicate strokes. Reina looked down and held Kumiko's arm to keep it steady, looking down at her eyes. Kumiko couldn't help but feel like a scribe receiving a message from her queen, the great palace walls rising around them, her hand turning electric. Reina clicked the cap back onto the pen, and Kumiko was snapped back to reality.

"T-thanks," she stuttered.

"Don't mention it." Reina stood beside her, taking her trumpet from its case. "We should try a duet. To see how much we know of the piece, I mean. I'm sure that he'll have us practice in an ensemble soon." Kumiko nodded as Reina lifted the gleaming trumpet to her lips and flipped to the first page of the song. "One, two, three." Kumiko closed her eyes and tried to think back to the mountain, the ease of their duet back then, but it felt simply out of tune today, distant and cold despite the clearness of Reina's notes. Thoughts swirled in her brain, suffocating as hot summer air, and soon she broke away from the euphonium and gasped for breath.

"I can't," she panted. Reina paused, lowering the trumpet in confusion.

"Why not?"

"I don't know, it just feels wrong and I can't figure out how to fix it." A few other students started to enter the school, some of them younger and some of them older, and none of them cast a glance towards the two girls standing in the shade. "I probably should've practiced more during break."

"Nobody's expecting us to get back into the swing of things immediately."

"You are," Kumiko pointed out. "So are Hazuki and Midori."

"I don't see the problem. It just means that you have to practice more to get to the point you were at when last year ended, it can't be that hard."

How was I so carefree half an hour ago? "It's not that."

"What is it, then?"

"I don't know! I don't know what it is, b-but-"

"Oh, Kousaka-san, euphonium girl! I wasn't expecting to see you two here, mind if I join you?" Nozomi turned the corner with her flute held gingerly in her left hand as Mizore held her right. Reina bristled.

"Go ahead," Kumiko said, setting aside her bag to make room for the two third-years. "I forgot to say this earlier, but welcome back to the band, Nozomi-senpai." Nozomi flopped down on her back, resting on the soft grass.

"Thanks," she murmured. "I've missed it." Mizore rested beside her, brushing a lock of hair from her face.

"I've missed you," Mizore whispered. Kumiko couldn't help but feel as if she was interrupting something.

"I'm glad that we're all aiming for the Nationals this year," Reina said, seemingly oblivious to the incredibly blatant flirting happening hardly a foot away from her. "We'll win gold if we keep this up."

"Mm-hmm," Nozomi hummed. "You weren't even here for the old teacher. Taki-sensei's a damn blessing, let me tell you that. They were all so lazy, those third-years. I hated them." Nozomi clutched a fistful of grass in her hand. "You two never had to deal with that. It's a lot easier to have ambitions now, wanting to really go to Nationals and all that. I couldn't believe it when I heard that Kitauji had won the Kyoto competition. I couldn't even believe my ears, watching you all up there. You were amazing, all of you, and I knew as soon as I saw it that I had to come back. Asuka-senpai made it a bit harder to do that, though, didn't she?" Nozomi laughed at her own comment.

"It would've disrupted the band," Reina retorted. Mizore flinched.

"I can't believe we spent so long pretending nothing had happened," she murmured. "I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault, it's not your fault!" Nozomi insisted. "It was mine, but it's all behind us now!" The two third-years began to look up at the sky, the clouds beginning to disperse. "This is our last chance to play together with all we've got, Mizore. Let's not waste it on the past, alright?" Mizore nodded slowly, pressing her palm against Nozomi's and smiling cautiously, as if the world would fall away if she acted too forward.

"I'm looking forward to that," she whispered. Nozomi stood up.

"Anyway, I'd better be getting to class - my room's pretty much on the other end of campus - but I'm glad we four were able to have this chat! I'll see you at practice!" She quickly grabbed her bag and her flute, squeezing Mizore's hand one more time before disappearing around the corner.

"I should go too," Mizore added, and soon Kumiko and Reina were left alone together once more.

"They didn't even practice," Reina muttered. "They just talked."

"A lot of people aren't even here this early in the morning, Reina. They're probably just making up for lost time."

"Perhaps." Reina flipped back to the first page of the sheet music. "I think we have time for one more round."

Their music, distant and yet perfect in its pitch, rang across the campus.

Kumiko regretted waking up so early sometime around second period, when she found herself beginning to doze off as Hazuki dangled a keychain in front of her face.

"Ku-mi-ko," she chastised, poking her in the shoulder. "You're gonna fail if you keep this up, we're only in the second week!"

"She's working hard, Hazuki-chan!" Midori squeaked. "Just . . . in her own way." Kumiko had doodled a gold trophy in the corner of her notes, decorated with penciled-in sparkles. Hazuki glanced at it for a moment before turning back to her work.

How am I going to talk to Natsuki? Should I just pretend that last night didn't happen? How? Do I tell her that she's renewed my passion or something? It's true that that's what happened, but does she need to know? Does she-

"Kumiko, you're gonna-" Kumiko was promptly greeted by a door to the face. "-walk into the door," Hazuki finished. "I'll check in with Taki-sensei and tell him we're on our way to sectionals, I want to know if we'll be playing in an ensemble anytime soon."

"Okay," Kumiko muttered, rubbing her head where she'd smacked into the door. Hazuki tiptoed into the near-empty room as if she was interrupting something, though the only other person there was Taki.

"You're not the only one who wants to give it their all in the competition this year," Midori whispered, leaning on the doorway and looking up at Kumiko. "She wants to do this. It's amazing, really."

"What?"

"We've both been playing music for years." Midori rubbed the Tuba-kun charm on Kumiko's bag with a soft smile. "We've both grown to love it after a long time. She's only been into it for a year, but she knows just what she wants." Hazuki eagerly bounced on her feet as Taki said something indecipherable to her, a bright grin on her face. "It's the way music was meant to be used, to make people happy."

"You're really wise when you want to be, Midori." Kumiko patted Eupho-kun on its little head.

"Of course! I have to, otherwise we'd just be left without weird philosophies, and who'd want that?" Kumiko was about to respond when Hazuki bounded back to the entrance.

"Taki-sensei said that we might get to play in the ensemble on Monday!" she cheered. "C'mon, now, we can't waste another minute!" Kumiko couldn't even register what she'd said before she was dragged down the hallway with Hazuki's warm, slightly sweaty hand pulling her along.

The trio was greeted by Momo sitting alone in the classroom when they arrived.

"Have you three seen Nakagawa-senpai?" she asked instantly.

"A 'hello' wouldn't hurt," Hazuki muttered. Midori elbowed her.

"N-no, I haven't seen her," Kumiko admitted. "She might be-"

"Hey, everyone, I'm here!" Natsuki kicked open the door with the sheet music precariously balanced on top of her euphonium case. Gotou and Riko followed, both holding stands. "Sorry for the delay, the teacher kept us after class for college counseling."

"Um, N-Nakagawa-senpai, I don't mean to be rude, b-but when do you think my euphonium will get here?" Momo nervously adjusted her glasses as she spoke, looking more at the ground than at Natsuki. "I'm more than willing to wait, of course, but-"

"Don't worry about it." Natsuki clapped a hand on Momo's shoulder, and Kumiko could've sworn she saw the younger girl turn every shade of red there was. "It'll be here soon. I can give ya private lessons once it's here, to make up for the delay."

"Really?"

"Really."

"Oh, Natsuki, it's so lovely to see you getting along with the underclassmen!" Riko chirped. "Now, we should get to practicing. We have to be in top form for ensemble on Monday." Natsuki straightened her back.

"Yeah, of course. Okay, kiddos, from the top."

"I'll see you tomorrow, then?" Kumiko asked when the road broke off in the direction of Reina's house. Reina nodded.

"You can text me when you're on your way."

"I will."

"I'd best be going, then." Reina walked off, her dark hair flowing in the breeze, and Kumiko looked down at the neat writing on her hand.

Tomorrow.

a/n: the song that they're playing is "Eclipse" by arnold rosner