Angels in the Architecture

Part 2: Molto Ritmico

Chapter 2: Hot Sauce

Sunlight streamed in through a large window next to Hashimoto Masahiro, who sat at a booth and squinted at the weekend brunch menu in front of him. The bright noon light made the text hard to read. Elbows resting on the table, the band director adjusted his blue-rimmed glasses and thoughtfully rubbed the slight scruff on his chin.

The decision before him was indeed a difficult one. Pancakes, or waffles?

Hashimoto paused his contemplation when he heard a familiar woman's voice sounding through the bustle of the cafe, coming from the front entrance. Ah, that would be Niiyama Satomi-chan.

"Hello, I'm meeting someone," he heard Niiyama say to a waitress. "Did you see a brown-haired hobo come in with hipster glasses who hasn't shaved in a week? Wearing a disgusting pink shirt with yellow and green triangles on it?"

Hashimoto rolled his eyes and made a face. Before Niiyama could insult him further, he stood up from his booth and waved until he got her attention.

As she approached, Hashimoto said, "Why are you always doing this to me, Nyanyama-chama?"

"Doing what?" said Niiyama, taking a seat.

"Embarrassing me in public," said Hashimoto, pretending to sulk.

"I don't do any of that," said Niiyama with a straight face. She set her bag to the side and placed a folder on the table. "You do that yourself when you get dressed every morning. I just narrate."

"It's called 'having a unique style,'" said Hashimoto defensively, while a waitress came and handed Niiyama a menu. Niiyama thanked her and flipped open the menu, raising an eyebrow at him.

"Whatever you say, Chopsticks-kun." (*)

They ordered coffee, and Hashimoto managed to convince Niiyama to order pancakes so that he could get waffles.

"That way we can share them," he said. "It's a good deal for both of us."

Niiyama smiled and rolled her eyes, but agreed.

Once the waitress finished taking their orders and left, Hashimoto turned to Niiyama and folded his arms on the table.

"Congratulations on gold at prefecturals this year," he offered, diving into the focus of today's annual brunch. "Highest rating so far in your five years of teaching. You're doing a good job with your kids."

It was true; Niiyama was the best thing in ten years to happen to Kita middle school's band program. Before she became the band's director, Kita was in shambles. They never scored higher than bronze at prefecturals for almost ten years before Niiyama's arrival. But under her ongoing tutelage, the students were starting to shape up into a real contenders for Kansai.

"Thanks," said Niiyama, inclining her head. "Wouldn't have happened without your tips and hints over the years."

Hashimoto waved it off as he sipped his coffee.

"Nah," he said. "If my tips were that good, Kitauji should have qualified for Nationals this year."

Niiyama grimaced lightly as she said, "Well... it was only once. You've taken them to nationals for almost every year before this, right? Except your first year teaching."

Hashimoto put down his mug and ran a hand through his hair.

"We had a weak trumpet and trombone year," he said, sighing. "It happens. Sometimes you get a section with no third-years at all, and you just have to deal with it."

Niiyama nodded understandingly. "What about your flutes?"

"Flutes were fine as usual," said Hashimoto, "just not enough to make up for the brass. Clarinets were a disaster, but it's been that way at Kitauji since the dawn of time. They don't matter anyway as long as our repertoire hides them under the flutes and trumpets."

For Kitauji, having a weak trumpet section was a rare phenomenon. The high school band was famous within the All-Japan Band Association for always showing up with impressive brass and flute sections. These two sections were Kitauji's most reliable bread and butter, while good percussion and reeds were just the icing on the cake. But when Hashimoto had to deal with a trumpet deficiency like this, it made matters more difficult in competitions. At those events, Kitauji faced old-timer judges coming in with long-established high expectations for their brass.

"It's pretty rare for your brass players to fail onstage," said Niiyama. "I don't think this will turn into a trend or anything. You just had a weak year."

"It wasn't all of the brass," Hashimoto corrected, "just trumpets and trombones. And I can see this becoming a downhill trend if we don't get some incoming talent ."

Niiyama smiled at his lamenting and reached for her folder. She flipped it open, tabbing through papers inside, and Hashimoto took that as his cue to pull out his own notepad and pen.

Meanwhile while the waitresses brought their pancakes and waffles, both topped with whipped cream and strawberries.

Niiyama grinned as they prepared to eat.

"Trust me," she said. "You'll love what I have for you this year."

Hashimoto smirked back, and the two of them said their thanks before digging into brunch.

Kita middle school was traditionally one of Kitauji's main feeder schools. Therefore, Hashimoto and Niiyama always met once a year to discuss which Kita band students would potentially be coming to play under Hashimoto's baton. That way Niiyama had an idea of how to prepare her students, and Hashimoto got a picture of what his top players would look like in three years.

Hashimoto listened and took copious notes while Niiyama began introducing her graduating band students. As they ate, she listed the students' strengths and weaknesses, both as musicians and students, and also gave pointers about potential conflicts between particular students. Based on Niiyama's descriptions, Hashimoto figured that he was getting an influx of talented first-years in his clarinet section and in all his brass sections, effectively repairing the damage he saw this year. The only downside was that the incoming flutes were generally just average players, although Niiyama added that might go unnoticed because the graduating piccolo player could cover them in competition.

By the end of their meal, Hashimoto realized with awe that Kitauji could be well-equipped to win gold at nationals by the time these middle school students were third-years.

"You're the best, Satomi-chama," he said, dabbing at whipped cream on his chin with a napkin as the young band director flipped to a different page in her folder. "This is fantastic. Have you met with the elementary directors yet about next year's recruiting?"

"All scheduled for next week," said Niiyama. "I'm not done yet, though. There's one more student I haven't gone over."

Hashimoto nodded slowly and clicked his pen. There had to be a reason Niiyama was saving this for last.

"Her name is Kousaka Reina," Niiyama began, readying the last page in her folder. "Trumpet player, but not just any trumpet player. This is the kind of talent you see once in a lifetime, I kid you not."

Hashimoto started twirling his pen between his fingers. Niiyama was a young teacher, and could be easily impressed, so he took statements like this with a grain of salt.

"What level are we talking?"

Niiyama glanced at her folder, and looked him in the eye.

"She played the entirety of Queen of the Night for me. All of it. Without error."

Hashimoto's eyes widened in shock. The pen in his hand stopped twirling. A middle school student, playing an aria of that difficulty... it was unbelievable.

"And that was one year ago," Niiyama added. "Trust me, she's gotten even better. She could likely beat everyone in your ensemble as a first-year."

"Christ," said Hashimoto, and dropped back against his seat with a grin. "Just what we need. God bless Kousaka Reina."

Then he noticed Niiyama grimacing slightly.

"Bless her indeed," she said. "I saved her name for last so you'd remember to do this, but really, Masahiro-kun: I need you to keep an eye on her."

Frowning, Hashimoto asked, "What's wrong?"

Niiyama sighed.

"I have suspicions that Kousaka-san is being abused at home. "

Hashimoto started to take notes.

"She currently lives with an adoptive single father," continued Niiyama, folding her hands. "I've only just started to see physical signs, but I don't have enough evidence to legally do anything."

All teachers were trained in observing for signs of parental abuse, and required to renew their certifications annually. As Niiyama described what she saw, Hashimoto agreed that it didn't sound good, based on what he knew. He also understood that as a band director, he was in the best position to help Kousaka Reina compared to other teachers. Most teachers only saw their students two or three times a week, for one year. Meanwhile, club advisers saw their students every day for all three years of school. Kousaka-san would be under Hashimoto's care once she joined band at Kitauji.

"I'll do my best," he said, inclining his head. "Thank you for your efforts."

Niiyama bowed back. "You too," she said. "Take good care of her. Maybe with Kousaka Reina, you'll finally get to chug that hot sauce."

Hashimoto groaned, remembering his annual promise to his students. "You know," he said, "the last time I did that was five years ago. And I swear my bowels are still hurting."

Niiyama giggled. "The clip is still on Youtube."

"I still don't know why I continue to offer," he said. "T he chances of my kids winning gold is now way too high, and I'm too old now to keep pouring hot sauce down my throat."

"Oh please," said Niiyama. "You're 30."

"Maybe I'll change it to getting pied or something."

"But the hot sauce makes the return bus trip more interesting!"

"Not for the kids sitting near the onboard toilet."

Niiyama laughed at that, and closed her folder. "Well," she said, "I hope your band can earn your suffering again soon."

Hashimoto smiled. "Me too."

On this, he was sincere.


Author's Notes: (*) Chopsticks-kun: Hashimoto's nickname is Hashi, which means "chopsticks" in Japanese. I feel like in-universe, his nickname would be "Hashi" because he's a percussionist... and probably drums with chopsticks...