Lack of confidence is the greatest enemy of any musician.
Self-doubt, self-denial, self-criticism—those negative emotions are the true "noise" that dulls and distorts one's music.
There was nothing wrong with Touma Kazusa's piano playing itself.
She had simply fallen into a whirlpool of self-doubt and forgotten how to love the sound of her own music.
So if she could learn to love her sound again—then everything else would fall into place.
That was Hara Kei's final goal.
And now, it seemed that goal had finally been achieved.
The piece came to an end.
Touma Kazusa smiled.
It was the first time Hara Kei and Yukinoshita Yukino had ever seen her smile.
It was like the clouds parting after a storm, sunlight spilling over her face. The cold, distant mask she always wore finally melted away.
Kazusa's usual expressionless beauty was stunning, but Hara Kei couldn't help but think—her smile was even more beautiful.
"Playing the piano really is fun after all," she said softly.
Her fingers brushed across the keyboard, her touch as gentle as if she were stroking a bird's feathers.
"Hara Kei, Yukinoshita-san… do you have some time after this?"
A faint blush colored her pale cheeks. She seemed embarrassed, but her tone was determined.
"I want to play a few more pieces for you."
"Yukinoshita, you said before that you'd watched those competition videos where I didn't win, right?" Kazusa spoke a little awkwardly, her voice hesitant. "People said, 'Touma Kazusa played the best,' but… I think now, I can play even better."
"This isn't some kind of excuse or self-justification. It's just…" Kazusa fidgeted for a long moment before managing to say it: "I want to overwrite those memories you have of me. I want you to listen to these songs and think—not 'what a shame that she didn't win,' but 'Touma Kazusa's music is beautiful.'"
She was clumsy in how she tried to express her feelings, trying to convey her emotions to her fans—but her awkward sincerity wasn't wasted.
"Touma-san."
Yukinoshita gently took Kazusa's hand and squeezed it, as if to pass her genuine feelings through touch alone.
"I want you to remember one thing."
She leaned forward until their foreheads touched, and whispered softly into Kazusa's ear—
"Hara Kei and I… we're both your fans."
"What kind of fans would ever turn down something this wonderful?"
At the corner of the street near the club building, a pink-haired girl sat quietly, knees pulled up to her chest.
She was listening intently to the sounds drifting out from the small practice room.
"That one was Liszt's La Campanella. Before that, Schubert's Sonata No. 21... Oh, and this intro—it's Chopin's Polonaise, right?"
Naturally, it was Fujiwara Chika.
She no longer played piano herself, but she had endured the kind of brutal piano training that could only be described as cruel, and was once praised as a "piano prodigy."
Because of that, she could easily identify every piece being played in that tiny classroom.
Yes—besides Kazusa, Hara Kei, and Yukinoshita, there was one more audience member to this small, private performance.
"It sounds wonderful. Looks like everything went well," she murmured, leaning forward slightly, her soft pink hair spilling over her shoulders.
"I'm glad for you, Hara Kei."
"What are you glad about?"
A sudden voice beside her made Chika jump.
"Huh?! Hiratsuka-sensei?! Why are you—"
She looked up and saw Hiratsuka Shizuka, her homeroom teacher, standing there.
Chika opened her mouth to say something, but Hiratsuka just smiled and pressed a finger to her lips.
"Shh."
She gestured toward the classroom, as if telling Chika not to disturb them, then casually sat down beside her.
Unlike Chika's neat, ladylike posture, Hiratsuka-sensei sat cross-legged, exuding a relaxed, boyish charm—yet there was an undeniable grace to her nonchalance.
Now, there were two secret listeners to the music inside.
"Beautiful, isn't it?" Hiratsuka said during a pause between pieces. Her tone wasn't questioning—it was proud, almost boastful. Just three simple words, yet they carried unmistakable pride.
Chika nodded. She was no amateur; she could tell just how good it was.
"But… Touma Kazusa's from Class D, right? And Hiratsuka-sensei, you only teach Classes A and B, don't you?"
"So what? As long as they're students of Saint Eden Academy, they're all my students," Hiratsuka whispered, eyes narrowing with mock authority.
"Yes, yes, you're the teacher—you're always right," Chika replied with a small laugh. She didn't dislike that kind of confidence; in fact, it was what she admired most about Hiratsuka-sensei. It was that same sense of responsibility that had earned her the position of homeroom teacher at such a young age.
"Feeling envious?" Hiratsuka asked suddenly. "I remember you used to play piano too, right? If, back then—"
"There's no 'if,'" Chika interrupted gently.
"Touma Kazusa still loves the piano. She just… lost her direction for a while. But me…"
She wrapped her arms around her knees again, her gaze fixed on the classroom door.
"My love for the piano burned out long ago."
"I see." Hiratsuka sighed quietly and said nothing more.
Chika silently thanked her for that unspoken kindness.
The two of them said nothing further, simply listening together in comfortable silence.
Only the soft, flowing sound of piano music filled the air.
The weekend ended, and the most hated day of the week arrived again—Monday.
For students and office workers alike, Monday marked the return to exhaustion and responsibility.
That was why urban legends like "Monday's Blessing" were born.
They said that if you were tired enough, on your way to work or school, you might encounter a beautiful high school girl.
With… notably ample proportions.
Hara Kei wasn't sure if that rumor had been born from the delusions of overworked salarymen, or if it was just a sweet lie fabricated by corporations to motivate their workers.
Either way, he figured he'd never be able to verify it himself.
After all, he was mentally resilient enough not to be swayed by such things.
As usual, he walked to school with his headphones on.
The summer flowers were in full bloom. Pink petals fluttered from the branches, falling at roughly five centimeters per second.
Just as he was admiring the view, someone suddenly yanked one of his earphones out.
He turned, irritation flashing across his face—only to be met not by pink hair, but by the sleek black strands of a long-haired beauty.
"Eh? So this is the kind of music you usually listen to, Hara Kei?"
Without hesitation, she slipped the earbud into her own ear—so smoothly, so naturally, as if it were the most casual thing in the world.
For the record, her chest was definitely not small.
Unfortunately, though, this didn't count as a fateful encounter.
So the urban legend still didn't hold up.
In the ACG world, there's a long-standing distinction between "cat-type" and "dog-type" heroines.
Yukinoshita Yukino was the textbook "cat-type."
But Touma Kazusa? She was the author-certified "dog-type."
No—more precisely, the loyal dog-type heroine.