Smack! A loud noise echoed from my head, accompanied by a sharp pain shooting through the back of my skull. Unable to understand what had just happened, I forced my heavy head up and saw Madoka standing there.

"Are you okay? You were sleeping all day yesterday and today, and you were acting weird last week too. Are you really alright?"

Hearing "Are you okay? Are you okay?" over and over, I at least understood that she was worried about me. But my attention was focused more on the paper carton in her hand than her words.

"What, you want to drink this? That's fine, but I don't want to catch whatever you have, so you can have the rest."

"Thanks."

Sleeping in a heated classroom had left my throat parched. I hadn't grown at all since the incident in the music room yesterday, but neither my sleepiness nor the heating were things I could control with willpower. I sucked down the strawberry milk I got from Madoka through the straw, letting the cloying sweetness wake me up. Looking at the clock, it was just past noon, and there were only about five other students left in the classroom besides us.

Naturally, the next thing that came to mind was Sunohara-san.

Even at this late stage, I didn't know what I wanted to do and couldn't decide on an answer.

"You chugged someone else's strawberry milk and still have a totally gloomy look on your face. What actually happened? I can at least listen if you want to talk about it. Or is it something you can't tell me?"

"...It's not that I can't tell you."

It was just that I had no idea what to say or how to say it.

I met a ghost in the music room and was helping her pass on, but as we interacted, I got too emotionally attached, the thought of saying goodbye became too painful, and now I don't want her to pass on anymore.

If I explained it exactly like that, they'd just think I was completely crazy.

"...Does this have something to do with that music room ghost thing we were talking about the other day?"

"N-No, it's not!"

The denial slipped out before I could even think, and its speed surprised not only Madoka but myself as well.

Because right now, Madoka was trying to show at least some understanding towards the concept of a "ghost." If I had just nodded there, the conversation would have gone much smoother.

I had reflexively kicked that away.

I prioritized something else over a smooth conversation or accurate advice.

"I know you hate ghosts, but you don't have to deny it so desperately. You surprised me."

"Sorry. But, yeah. I'm bad with ghosts, so I'd rather... not talk about that kind of stuff right now."

I muttered this as if to convince myself.

Because I knew it was a lie.

I'm sure I just didn't want anyone else to know about the ghost in the music room—Sunohara Chifuyu. It was enough if I was the only one who knew about her. I simply wanted to keep this relationship all to myself.

That's why I denied it so desperately.

But the fact remained that I was still agonizing without an answer, and the desire to somehow consult my friend Madoka about it was also real. She was a typical, half-assed high school girl, but I still trusted that if I earnestly asked for her advice, she would respond appropriately.

"...This is about a novel I'm writing right now."

So I decided to obscure it and extract only the parts I could talk about.

Hearing the word "novel" come from me, Madoka's eyes widened. That reaction made me feel slightly embarrassed.

"What, you're writing novels again, Miyuki? No wonder you've looked so sleepy the past few days."

"Ah, yeah. Right. That's it."

There shouldn't have been any lies in that statement, yet I ended up stammering anyway. Realizing once again that I'm bad at lying, but knowing I couldn't back down now, I decided to just keep pushing forward.

"So... in this novel, there's a protagonist girl and her friend who is chasing a dream. The protagonist was supporting her friend's pursuit of that dream. Watching her friend chase that dream was wonderful, and the protagonist loved her friend for it. That was absolutely how it was supposed to be."

I stole a glance at Madoka's reaction.

She was listening to me with a serious expression, so I felt relieved enough to continue.

"But when it actually came time for the dream to be realized, the protagonist realizes something. If her friend makes her dream come true, she will go far away. They might never be able to see each other again. Once she realized that, supporting her became terrifying. Not only that, she found herself thinking that her friend didn't need to achieve her dream. That it'd be better if the dream just shattered. The protagonist was so scared of herself for thinking that. But having those feelings is an undeniable reality."

The gist of the story had changed slightly, but the core essence should remain the same. For an impromptu metaphor, I think it was pretty well done. I looked into Madoka's eyes and, gauging her reaction, spoke.

"...What do you think the protagonist should do?"

At that final question, Madoka frowned sourly.

It seemed she didn't like my question very much.

"I can at least tell you that asking me that is definitely a mistake."

"What do you mean a mistake? I just didn't know the right answer, so I wanted to use your opinion as a reference—"

Because Madoka's words were so harsh, I reflexively denied it.

But Madoka flatly cut off even those words.

"There is no right or wrong answer when it comes to choosing something. Some kind of emotion is just born from that choice. In the end, that means no matter what you choose, joy and sorrow are going to follow you around at the same time."

Flatly pointed out like that by Madoka, I felt the blood rush to my head.

"Wait, why do I have to be told—"

"If a friend is saying something naive, isn't it a friend's job to set them straight? Or would you have been satisfied if I just said, 'That's so tough, I totally get it'? Of course not. You came to me for advice using a blatantly obvious lie about 'a novel you're writing,' so I'm just answering you seriously. Besides, you're not even clever enough to pull off a lie in the first place."

Madoka rattled this off all at once, then repeatedly took rough breaths, to steady herself.

Then, scratching her head looking somewhat awkward and averting her gaze from me, she spoke her final words.

"It was about your novel, right? In that case, I only have one answer: 'Choose the path you won't regret.'"

Saying that, Madoka hurriedly left the classroom.

She crossed paths with Emiri at the door. Emiri looked suspiciously back and forth between me and Madoka's retreating back.

"Did something happen?"

"...I asked Madoka for advice and she snapped at me."

Since that was the only way I could put it, I answered in a slightly dismissive tone.

"Does that have something to do with why you've been acting strangely lately, Miyuki-san?"

"Well, rather than 'have something to do with it,' it's more like the cause itself..."

Partially because Madoka had just snapped at me, my reply became somewhat inarticulate.

Feeling like a child who had just been scolded, I felt small, or rather, I just shrank in embarrassment.

"I am also curious about what has been troubling you, Miyuki-san, so would you mind telling me, if it's alright?"

"...You won't get mad like Madoka did?"

"I don't think I will get emotional like that. But ultimately, that depends on you, Miyuki-san."

Since Madoka's advice alone had left me completely unsatisfied, I slowly and haltingly told Emiri the exact same metaphorical story I had told Madoka. I also added how Madoka had gotten angry.

"Hmm..."

Emiri hummed softly after listening to my whole story.

Then, placing her index finger against her soft lips, she adopted an expression akin to an affectionate mother.

"The model answer—the choice you should make—you already fully understand what it is, don't you, Miyuki-san?"

"That's—"

The answer I should choose.

That had always been clear.

Originally, there was only one path I should take.

The only reason hesitation arose was because of my own unnecessary ego.

"I think Madoka-san also realized that 'Miyuki-san is asking even though she already knows the answer,' which is exactly why she gave a response that could be taken as harsh. Because no matter what anyone says to you right now, it's pointless. Your answer is already decided, isn't it? But because you can't bear it alone, because you can't take that final step, to me it looks like you're just pretending to agonize over it."

Gently patting my head as if stroking it, Emiri said,

"You are too kind, Miyuki-san. I think it's okay to direct a little more of that kindness toward yourself."

"I'm not kind at all..."

If I were truly kind, I'd have nothing to do with this ego, and my scales wouldn't have wavered in the first place.

Perhaps sensing my inner thoughts, Emiri offered a gentle smile, unlike her usual self.

"I believe that simply being able to weigh your own feelings against someone else's on the scales is a form of kindness. Kindness isn't 'the result you chose,' but 'how much you can agonize for the sake of the other person.'"

Emiri stepped up beside me and gently patted my shoulder.

"Let me add one thing to Madoka-san's advice. If you can agonize this much for the sake of that person... then no matter which path you choose, I don't think the future will be a bad one."

Saying that and bidding me farewell, she got ready to leave and headed out of the classroom.

"Th-Thank you, Emiri."

I hurriedly called out my thanks to her back.

"Don't mention it. This too is the role of a friend. Please do your best, Miyuki-san."

Waving a lightly clenched fist, Emiri truly left the classroom this time.

There were still a few students scattered around the classroom, but no other close friends.

Overcome by an intense urge to wash my face, I headed for the restroom.

I splashed water on my face in the empty after-school restroom. It felt as though the piercingly cold winter water washed away not just the grime on my face, but all the unnecessary things clinging to my heart right along with it. Wiping my face with a handkerchief and facing the mirror, staring back at me was someone with an expression far from radiant.

—Is this the face I was making while talking to those two?

It was a face that made it impossible not to worry. Even so,

"My answer is already decided... huh."

Yeah, of course it is, I thought.

I didn't want to see Sunohara-san playing the piano with a sad face anymore.

I wanted to see her playing the piano happily, joyfully, like a girl dancing in love. Even if that ended up being the very last time, that sight would surely shine brighter than eternity itself.

That, surely, was my "path I won't regret."

To reprimand my tearful-looking self in the mirror, I slapped my cheeks as hard as I could.

A dry smack echoed, and my cheeks twitched from the pain.

Then, I forced myself to smile.

"I won't regret it."

My expression looked even stupider than before, but it was far better than looking like I was about to cry. Finally, letting out a forceful exhale, I marched energetically toward the music room where she waited.

Reaching for the doorknob of the music room, I realized my fingertips were trembling.

The intensity of my trembling seemed to reflect the level of my nervousness, and I couldn't help but let out a wry smile.

...Though telling myself 'don't be nervous' was probably impossible.

I placed both hands over the knob and let out a few deep breaths.

Exhaling every last bit of air from my lungs, I pushed the knob, and the heavy door opened soundlessly.

Inside the music room, as usual, was Sunohara-san in her white dress. She had her eyes closed, taking slow, deliberate breaths that almost seemed exaggerated. Just like someone else I knew just a moment ago.

The room was already warm, but the air immediately surrounding her was freezing cold, as if it had turned to ice.

I intentionally dragged the soles of my shoes against the floorboards as I walked, letting her know I was there.

Her eyelids lifted, and beyond them, dark, gloomy eyes locked onto me.

But as soon as she shook her head, that darkness dissipated, returning to her usual bright eyes.

"You're late. I thought... you might not come today."

"It's not even 2 PM yet. We have over five hours left of after-school time."

"Even so, waiting for someone who might not show up is exhausting. I was anxious, too."

Fatigue bled through her expression as she said this, making me feel genuinely apologetic.

"I'm... sorry about that."

"It's fine. You came. That means you're going to listen to my performance, right?"

"Yes. Please let me hear it. The absolute best performance the current you can give."

It came out sounding much more grandiose than I intended, and I felt embarrassed.

Maybe Sunohara-san felt the same, as we both smiled bashfully with similar expressions.

"Since it's a special occasion, I wanted to wear proper formal attire for the performance, but... for certain reasons, that was difficult. Still, I won't give a flimsy performance that relies on what I'm wearing, so rest assured."

"Now then." Saying this, Sunohara-san grabbed my hand and started walking.

It was like an escort from a prince, but it ended after just a few meters.

"Here. Front-row seats, prepared specially for you."

She seated me right in front of the piano—in the second row of desks. Obediently following her instructions, I took my seat, set down my bag, folded my jacket, and placed it on the seat behind me.

As for Sunohara-san, she stood by the piano, her expression stiff.

"...What are you going to play today?"

I thought she might make another sarcastic comment like, Even if I told you, would you understand?

But today she was surprisingly earnest, answering my question smoothly without any sarcasm.

"Beethoven, Piano Sonata No. 14, Third Movement—commonly known as the Moonlight Sonata."

"Moonlight Sonata... huh."

Naturally, I didn't have any experience seriously listening to it as a piece of music.

But I felt like I had heard the name a few times. It's often used as a motif in novels and manga, so I might have heard it somewhere before.

"One of his disciples supposedly reviewed this piece by saying, 'It sounds like the melancholic cry of a soul from far away in a nightscape.' Fufu. Isn't it a fitting song for a ghost to send to the living? I agonized over finding the perfect song to dedicate to you. Etch it into your heart. Well, if you ask me—at least when it comes to this third movement, it's nothing as cute as 'moonlight', though."

Contrary to her stiff expression, she was talking quite smoothly.

She might have been acting overly talkative on purpose to distract from her nervousness.

"I'm looking forward to it."

Perhaps because my reply to her speech was too brief, she looked a bit awkward.

My answer was short because I was also nervous, but it seemed she didn't have the mental leeway to realize that. We looked at each other's faces, our skin burning with anticipation and tension.

"...Well, there's no need for a long, drawn-out speech. I'll let the piano do the rest of the talking."

Sunohara-san bowed her head to me, then raised it, scanning the music room as if gazing out at a phantom audience.

Her expression carried the grimness of someone facing death; her gaze was sharp enough to slice through the air.

I felt like the bench was slightly higher than usual, and she was sitting further back from the keys. Her gaze had already stopped reflecting me, focusing instead on the piano, the keys—and whatever lay beyond them.

––It was somehow terrifying.

This was the first time I'd thought of her as terrifying since we first met. Back then, I felt fear because I thought she was a ghost attacking me, but today, the atmosphere surrounding her was so intense it made my skin tremble in fear.

One beat, two beats... a silence brimming with her tension fell, and then a wave of sound swallowed it whole.

It began.

Sunohara-san's final performance.

What started as ripples spreading across a lake surface gradually swallowed every shred of emotion, transforming into a massive wave. My feelings were shaken, toyed with, and nearly overflowing by the sound.

Her fingers darted across the keys so fast my eyes couldn't keep up.

Whether her technique was superior or inferior didn't matter. I just wanted to immerse myself in that wave of sound, be captivated by the world she was creating, and drown in it until I forgot to breathe. So I closed my eyes. I just wanted to surrender to the sound as it vibrated against my eardrums, my skin, my heart.

The notes were as fine as raindrops, slipping through the cracks of my thoughts to pour directly into my heart.

This downpour of sound shook the lake's surface, constantly rippling with intense passion while somehow maintaining a serene atmosphere.

––Just as I thought, Sunohara-san loves the piano.

Even though she said she hated her own playing more than anything in the world.

Her performance was the most pure-hearted, straightforward, and overflowing with love I had ever heard.

This piece is filled with sorrow, yet it is unmistakably an expression of love toward someone or something. Perhaps it was her way of showing her resolve—to continue her unrequited love for the piano, for music, even if it was a romance that would never be rewarded. And I was simply being made to listen to it.

––If it were me, I could turn around and answer her feelings.

But if she had reached out her hand to me instead, would I have truly been drawn to her? Would I have yearned for her as deeply as I do right in this moment? The answer is surely no.

I'm glad.

I could truly think that from the bottom of my heart.

I'm glad I met her.

I'm glad I got to hear her play.

And more than anything, to her, who yearns so deeply for the piano, I––

––The ripples that had been spreading across the lake surface... the very last wave trembled thin and long, sinking deep into me.

Striking the final key, Sunohara-san stood up and bowed to me.

Her figure blurred like mist through the tears welling in my eyes, looking as if she might vanish at any second. Panicking, I hurriedly stood up and tightly grasped her hand so she wouldn't disappear anywhere.

"...How was it? I suppose I don't even need to ask."

I didn't even know why I was crying right now. But every single emotion inside me had been painted over by her performance, and it was spilling out as tears. I felt sad, frustrated, unbearably miserable; my heart was a mess, and I couldn't even breathe properly. But I didn't feel the flames of jealousy I had felt from her performances before.

Because she was simply speaking of her love for the piano.

Because it was a pure, innocent, pure-white feeling that couldn't be distorted by something like jealousy. That must be exactly why there is sorrow and regret. Straightforward feelings always inevitably breed a corresponding amount of pain.

Those feelings resonated with the feelings inside me, shaking my heart violently.

I never want to let go of this hand again. I thought that, strongly, so strongly.

"You don't have to squeeze so tightly, I'm not going anywhere."

As if reassuring a toddler, Sunohara-san gripped my hand tightly in return.

Because her hands were small, she inevitably ended up wrapping both of hers around mine to envelop it. It was somehow endearing, and I regained a tiny bit of composure. Though my head was still a total mess.

"It's not like I'm going to instantly vanish this very second. I can at least choose the moment I pass on myself."

"...Is that how passing on works?"

In manga and movies, passing on is something that comes inevitably the moment your regrets are cleared. So I was worried sick that her body would slowly start turning transparent.

"Who knows. I don't know about other ghosts. But, at least for me... it seems that way."

It's okay. Whispering that once more, she pulled away from me and began tidying up the piano.

Wiping away my endlessly overflowing tears with the back of my hand, I kept watching her. I was terrified that if I looked away for even a second, she might vanish like mist in that instant.

And when Sunohara-san returned, I grabbed her hand again.

"...Were you always such a crybaby?"

Sunohara-san smiled wryly, making no attempt to hide her exasperation.

"At first you were screaming 'Kyaa! Ghosts are scary!', and now look at you, crying because you're reluctant to part with a ghost. Good grief, where exactly did we take a wrong turn?"

"Aren't you sad to part with me, Sunohara-san?"

"I never... said that," she replied, pouting her lips.

It seemed she, too, in her own way, was reluctant to say goodbye to me.

"I'm just a little surprised because you were much more prone to emotional attachment than I imagined. But there are surely many bad ghosts in this world, too. You shouldn't let your guard down so easily, okay?"

Well, the same goes for humans, though, Sunohara-san added with another wry smile.

However, I didn't miss the slight hint of displeasure mixed into it.

"...Does that mean I shouldn't let my guard down around ghosts other than you? Is that jealousy, perhaps?"

"Jealousy...? I'm just worrying about your well-being."

I was aware we were having a bizarre conversation, but I just stared into Sunohara-san's eyes for the time being.

Looking uncomfortable, she averted her gaze from me and shook her head with an 'oh boy' kind of vibe.

"No, fine. You just want me to admit it, right? Fine, I admit it. If you were helping some other ghost pass on, I definitely wouldn't find it amusing. But isn't it the same for you? If I was being helped to pass on by someone else, wouldn't that make you feel awful?"

Just imagining that scenario sent a crushing pain through the depths of my chest.

"...It does make me feel awful."

I didn't know the reason, but I hated the idea of her getting this close to any human other than me. Human and ghost—the one helping to pass on, and the one passing on—I wanted this relationship to be something special just for us.

"So you can't go around telling other ghosts you'll 'help them pass on,' got it?"

"Understood. I won't get close to any ghosts other than you, Sunohara-san."

"It's a promise."

"It's a promise."

Saying that to each other, we laughed.

We were well aware that we were exchanging a very, very strange promise.

"...What kind of promise are we even making?"

We kept laughing until every bit of 'laughter' inside us was completely exhausted.

"Well, if it hadn't been you who showed up, I probably wouldn't have ever passed on, though."

Those words shook my heart more than anything else she had said.

A week ago, and right now in this moment, I was so glad I came here, from the very bottom of my heart.

"If it hadn't been you, Sunohara-san, I wouldn't have tried this hard, either."

The moment I said that, the tears I had managed to stop started overflowing again. Because I was the one who had made her pass on. In the very next moment, she might cease to exist.

Even though I don't have time to be crying.

Even though I know that, the tears won't stop.

I just kept moving my mouth to keep the conversation going.

"...Was the performance fun?"

"Yes. Ironically enough, it was incredibly fun. How long has it been since I had this much fun playing? No, maybe it's not a matter of 'since when'—maybe this was my very first time experiencing it. That's how... special today's performance became for me."

Sunohara-san stood on her tiptoes, reached up to my face, and wiped away the tears wetting my cheeks.

Fingers that were small, soft, and warm as always.

She stroked my cheek over and over, offering a wry smile.

"A girl appeared who told me she liked the thing I hate most in this world. There's no way playing for that girl wouldn't be fun. After all, you poured so much of your heart into listening to my music."

"You finally faced music again and were able to find it fun, and now it just ends—"

"This isn't the end."

Both of her hands cupped my cheeks, and she stared intently at me.

Sunohara-san always wore a wry smile that looked like she had given up on something.

But right now, her expression was as bright and radiant as the spring sun, making my heart skip a beat. Her face was so close that if I moved even an inch, our skin would touch.

"After all, you listened to my music and cried for me, didn't you, Miyuki? I think that means... it's a beginning. Because music that moves someone's heart continues to live on inside them. So the music I played will continue to live inside you, Miyuki, and it will continue to influence you."

Her words seeped naturally into my heart, just like her music from earlier.

Perhaps that was already proof that her music was influencing me.

"Yeah."

There were so many things I wanted to say.

But my throat, thick with sobs, wouldn't allow me to do anything more than give brief affirmations. So I nodded to her over and over, yeah. To convey something more than words.

"Could you close your eyes?"

"My eyes—"

––What is she seeking by making me close my eyes?

A bad premonition raced through my mind, and I desperately shook my head from side to side. As I threw a tantrum like a child, repeating No, no, Sunohara-san directed a smile dripping with kindness at me to reassure me.

"It's okay."

The fingertips that had been stroking my cheek slowly moved closer to my eyes, gently closing my eyelids.

"Even if I disappear, I'll always be watching over you, Miyuki."

Right, then left; hands were placed over my closed eyelids, and their warmth brought peace to my heart.

I wanted to open my eyes.

But at the same time, I was terrified to open them.

Because the one who told me to close them was none other than her.

Now that it had come to this, all I could do was accept the situation. In the darkness, her hand smoothly wrapped around mine. She lightly lifted my hand, and all my consciousness focused there.

"With these beautiful fingers, you should just weave the things you can do—a different world from mine," she whispered, and a soft sensation touched the ring finger of my left hand.

Next, something pressed against the back of my hand, a burst of lukewarm sensation.

"I'm dying to know how that story of yours ends, after all. The text I read is all I have, but even so, I loved the words you wrote more than anything. After all, it was precisely because I read your novel that I found the resolve to pass on."

The warmth that had enveloped my hand pulled away, and the air instantly stole the residual heat.

"Thank you. You, Miyuki, were my—Giulietta Guicciardi."

With those final words, silence fell over the music room.

Is she still there?

Or has she already vanished?

I felt like if I opened my eyes, she would be there with that usual teasing smile of hers—but I knew that was just my own convenient delusion, and even so—as long as I didn't open my eyes, everything remained unconfirmed; even if the chances were infinitely close to zero, it wasn't an absolute impossibility.

Thinking such foolish thoughts, I kept crying until I was exhausted from weeping.

...I never knew crying could be so exhausting.

I hadn't cried this hard since I was a child, so I was terribly bewildered.

Since I had dissolved all the sadness inside me into water and let it all out, my body should have felt lighter. But the reality was the exact opposite; it felt like lead had been poured into the place where my tears and sadness were supposed to be. My body was that heavy, my head was throbbing, and I didn't have the energy to cry anymore.

Due to such realistic, physical reasons, I had no choice but to stop crying and face reality.

One last time, I pictured her figure in my mind.

She hasn't disappeared; she's still standing in front of me, holding her breath, watching me. And when I open my eyes, she'll welcome me with a mischievous smile and embrace me just like that.

That must be it.

So, slowly, I opened my eyes.

In the spacious music room, I was all alone.

Sunohara-san's figure had vanished without a trace.

A single tear, beautiful as a pearl, remained on my hand. The moment I moved my hand, it slipped off smoothly, falling onto the carpet of the music room, forming a small stain that disappeared in the blink of an eye. Whose tear that was, I, having cried myself dry, could no longer tell.

The pain from the bite that day had already faded from my finger.

The warmth I had felt just moments ago had melted into the classroom air.

Already, even the memory of whether she had truly existed there was becoming hazy.

I had thought I wouldn't cry anymore, but the tears I had stopped broke the dam once again.

The ghost who would catch my endlessly overflowing tears with a wry smile would never appear again.

Even so, I shouted in my heart.

I'm glad I met her.

I'm glad I got to hear her play.

And more than anything, I—I am so glad I was able to fall in love with her.