Angels in the Architecture
Part 2: Molto Ritmico
Chapter 9: Second Audition
Not surprisingly, audition number two finished with even more insanity than the first one.
Every year on this specific day, Hashimoto felt like an overworked single-parent of 116 teenagers- more than usual, that was. He dealt with screaming second years and comforted sobbing third years who didn't make the A-band cut. But aside from his roles as teacher and counselor, he had even more tasks to complete in the day ahead; because for this audition, it was not enough simply line everyone up by numerical score. Drawing up rotational seating charts for both his A and B groups required a working grasp of each student's quirks as musicians. To aid him, Hashimoto had scribbled dozens of pages of notes about his 116 students' strengths and weaknesses.
The exceptions to this system were the bassoons, tubas, and euphoniums, since those sections had only two players each and would therefore not be switching seats between pieces.
Within those sections, results for the ones with well-established hierarchies yielded little surprises- except in the euphoniums, where Ice Cream Oumae had soundly beaten Nakagawa for the ticket to Nationals. Hashimoto smiled as he started typing Oumae's name into the A-band spreadsheet. He'd seen how bold and yet caring the awkward freshman could be, and that valuable combo of fierceness and sensitivity would no doubt carry over into her playing style.
Nakagawa, meanwhile, had apparently conducted herself with enormously gracious sportsmanship in light of being defeated by a first-year. Hashimoto heard through the grapevine that Nakagawa had treated Oumae to a milkshake on the day after results were posted. When friendlier people like Nakagawa and Oumae became upperclassmen, euphonium recruitment might grow to be more successful than it was now under Tanaka's harsher leadership. He made a note to add it to his annual list of student strengths, which he normally kept on the back of a group photo.
Tanaka, who unsurprisingly came out on top as principal euphonium, was one of Hashimoto's long-time favorites- but not because she was friendly with him. Quite the opposite. Hashimoto was no idiot; he knew just how deeply Tanaka disliked him because of some of his policies. But the fact that the girl had such strong opinions and values was what earned her his respect.
After Hashimoto finished aligning the sections that were easily put into order, he moved on to tackle the trumpets... whom were not nearly as stable of a pack.
Firstly, Kousaka Reina's score had plummeted from her initial 98/100 to a considerably lower 84/100. She sounded so different on her performance that Hashimoto was surprised it was actually Kousaka playing, and it meant she could no longer remain principal despite scraping her way into the A-band. At first Hashimoto had wondered if it was a bizarre case of nerves, but soon he picked up on rumors that the girl had purposely played badly on the audition in order to score lower.
Apparently it was so that she would lose her principal chair... as atonement for the damage she caused on SunFes.
In a way, it was his fault. Hashimoto sighed. He'd been so busy preparing for and mopping up the paperwork after this audition that he hadn't gotten a chance to properly speak to Reina about her absence at SunFes yet. The girl's inability to find closure- which Hashimoto could have nipped in the bud if he were an older, wiser teacher- was probably what triggered her rash decision to relinquish principal.
Although it was perhaps too late at this point, he felt he was still responsible, and wanted to see what he could do. And, for other reasons, he needed to find out what exactly happened in the first place.
The next day after rehearsal, Hashimoto called Reina into his office.
"Kousaka-san," he said, gesturing for the short girl to take a seat. "Firstly, congrats on making the A-band. But can you please tell me about what happened on Saturday?"
Kousaka sat down and stared at her clasped hands. Her face was flushed red.
"I'm sorry," she mumbled, bowing her head. "I had a family emergency."
Hashimoto wasn't surprised. "Something with your stepfather?" he asked.
Kousaka was silent, her face expressionless.
Hashimoto sighed as he rubbed the scruff on his chin out of habit. Perhaps it was better to try a different approach. He didn't doubt that Kousaka was telling the truth, but just in case- in case there was something more trivial behind her absence- he needed to make sure the severity of her actions was communicated properly.
"Kousaka-san," he said, "I can't help you if you don't talk to me. Ordinarily this is grounds for dismissal from the band. You won't be cut from the ensemble today, but I need to know what happened."
For some reason, Kousaka glanced at the door behind Hashimoto before she answered.
"He... he wouldn't let me go," she murmured.
"Your stepfather?" said Hashimoto, just to make things clear for the transcript he would record later.
Kousaka nodded, and gave a quiet "Hai."
"Taki Noboru-san, am I correct?"
Another nod.
Then Kousaka shifted in her seat... and Hashimoto noticed with an internal wince that she wore several fresh bandages on her knees beneath her thigh-high socks, and the way she carried her left arm did not seem quite normal. Goddamnit; he'd been an idiot to try the slightly tougher approach with this kid.
"Kousaka-san," he spoke more gently, "would it help if... if I spoke to your stepfather?"
Kousaka's head darted up, and the look of horror that Hashimoto saw in her wide purple eyes would haunt him as a teacher for the rest of his life. No child- no one- should be that terrified of their parent.
Kousaka answered in a small voice:
"Don't."
"Why not?" said Hashimoto. "Maybe I could help. If your stepdad understood your importance in the band, he might let you go to all performances in the future."
"Don't," Kousaka repeated. "You'd... you might say something wrong."
"Would it be unsafe for you if I did?"
"No. I'm fine."
Hashimoto's heart broke a little at how Reina answered this particular question so quickly and automatically. But at the same time, he needed to understand exactly what she meant by 'say something wrong.'
He shifted in his rolling chair before asking, "Are you worried I might say something that could create consequences for you?"
Kousaka shook her head.
"No," she said. "It's just... it could be bad. For you, Sensei."
Hashimoto frowned, taken aback. "What? For me?"
Then Kousaka glanced again at the door behind him. He turned to follow her line of sight, and realized she had been watching the clock on the wall.
"I'm sorry, but can I go?" said Kousaka quietly. "I can't be late."
Hashimoto nodded. He understood all too well the horrors of tardiness in an abusive family situation, and didn't want to endanger the girl any further. But as Kousaka bowed and stood up to leave, Hashimoto slid open his drawer and took out his cookie tin. There was one more thing left to do.
"Wait a sec, kid," he said, picking out a treble-clef shaped lemon cookie. He handed it to Reina, who bowed slightly and accepted it with both hands.
"Thank you," she mumbled. "I'm sorry for being a nuisance."
"Just try to stay safe," said Hashimoto, eyeing the bandages on Kousaka's knee. "Don't let any trebles get you down, alright?"
Kousaka smiled slightly at the dumb pun before thanking him and heading home.
When she left his office, Hashimoto pulled out a sheet of paper and began jotting down their conversation. He wished the folder on Kousaka Reina he brought out from his filing cabinet into were not as thick as it already was. Writing carefully, he recorded their conversation today, word for word.
Then he paused and furrowed his eyebrows at when he got to the part about 'saying something wrong.'
What did his student mean by that? What could he possibly say that would be so damaging? And, most unsettlingly, why did she imply that a simple conversation with the mysterious Taki Noboru could be dangerous for himself?
Hashimoto wondered what exactly was going on in Kousaka's dysfunctional home that would cause her to say things like this. But he was only her teacher. There was only so many actions he could take, and barging into Reina's house was not one of them.
Hashimoto was unaware that far away from his office, sitting on her bed with her schoolbag and euphonium on the floor, was someone who could.
After a week of daily practice in the mirror, Oumae Kumiko had finally learned to control her invisibility. And the first destination she intended to visit in the darkness of midnight was Kousaka Reina's home.