Sayonara Piano Sonata Chapter 19

I was awoken by the blinding rays s.h.i.+ning in my eyes.

Despite wanting to wake up, my whole body was sore. From my neck to my spine, and my waist to my flank—every part was aching. I forcibly swallowed the moan that was about to slip out of my mouth.

I opened my eyes. The light of the morning sun shone in the car from the window on my right. As I endured the pain all over my body, I cringed and looked at the co-driver's seat—Mafuyu was still sleeping soundly as she faced me. Her long maroon hair had spread out messily on the tilted seat. She looked much better compared to yesterday.

I twisted my body around in the cramped driver's seat, stretched my shoulders, and turned my stiff neck. After finis.h.i.+ng some brief stretching exercises, I could finally move a little. I gently opened the door and headed outside.

The rain from last night had already stopped, and a thick layer of mist surrounded us. I thought the sunlight was quite intense when I first woke up, but in reality, the sky was barely turning white—it was still rather dark. I took my cell phone out of my pocket to confirm the time. It was only five in the morning.

Still, I didn't have any desire to go back to the car to sleep more.

I had slept last night without thinking too much about things, as I was too tired; but looking back, Mafuyu was sleeping right next to me, and the car was an enclosed s.p.a.ce as well—how could I possibly go back to sleep!

I then realized I had to check whether my ba.s.s could still be salvaged. I gently opened the backdoor, trying my best not to make a sound.

As I reached for my ba.s.s, I suddenly remembered I didn't bring any of my tools with me. I'm a real moron. I didn't notice for a while because I used to carry them by my side all the time. What to do? I won't be able to get the application form inside the ba.s.s—did it get wet?

As I was considering looking for a screwdriver in the rubbish heap, I suddenly noticed Mafuyu's guitar lying next to my ba.s.s. I had long thought it was a pretty impressive guitar, and had always wanted to touch it. If possible, I hoped to play it at least once.

Since Mafuyu was still sleeping soundly and breathing steadily, I succ.u.mbed to my desires pretty quickly. I tossed my ba.s.s aside and carried the guitar case out of the car. I tried to close the door as quietly as possible. The car was buried in such a way that it was slightly tilted towards the co-driver's seat, so it was rather difficult to close the door without making any sounds.

I climbed the slope and sat on the horizontally-lying was.h.i.+ng machine located higher up. The slightly-damp morning air felt really comfortable.

I opened the guitar case. What lay before my eyes was a Fender Stratocaster, with its beautiful grains and coat of transparent lacquer. This is an old guitar from the sixties, right? It probably cost somewhere around three million yen on the market? Br.i.m.m.i.n.g with antic.i.p.ation, I tried strumming the guitar with my trembling fingers. The rich tone that came out didn't sound like that of an electric guitar.

I sat myself properly on the was.h.i.+ng machine and began playing the melody using the three fingers technique, tapping the tempo of the song with my fingertips at the same time. At a place where I could hear the real cries of the birds, I began to softly sing the lyrics, as I became shrouded by the mist. The air of the early morning absorbed my entire singing voice. When I reached the second verse, I decided to raise the volume so my song could reach the birds that might be listening to me singing......

"...... What song is that?"

The voice of a person suddenly rang, causing me to nearly slide off the was.h.i.+ng machine in shock. Mafuyu was standing right beneath me, and she was looking in my direction while rubbing her droopy eyes.

"Urm, well......"

Mafuyu made her way through the junk and sat down right next to me. There wasn't much s.p.a.ce on the was.h.i.+ng machine, so I could clearly feel the warmth of Mafuyu.

"Sorry for playing it without your permission."

"It's fine. What's the name of that song?"

I felt embarra.s.sed all of a sudden, so I stared at my hand holding the neck of the guitar.

"It's a song called ."

"It's a good song."

I was shocked, and lifted my head to look at Mafuyu's face. Mafuyu was tilting her head and looking at me as though she was saying "What's wrong with you?" I quickly s.h.i.+fted my eyes back to the guitar.

"What sort of song is it?"

I had no intention of spouting nonsense this time round.

"...... How much do you know about The Beatles?"

"Not too much," Mafuyu shook her head.

"I see...... alright." I thought for a while. How should I go about telling her this story? "The members of The Beatles were on extremely bad terms with each other when they were recording this song, and were almost at the point of breaking up. And thus, it seemed like the songs in the alb.u.m were all pieced together only after the members were done recording their voices individually."

And yet, that alb.u.m is still a cla.s.sic. Just as Mafuyu had said, regardless of how the critics go about with their baseless accusations, musicians can still come up with their finest works under the worst circ.u.mstances.

"It's said that Paul McCartney had recorded almost everything by himself; John Lennon was busy doing the sound collage for ."

While John Lennon was working on the song of revolution—that he was unable to convey to anyone—Paul McCartney had quietly finished the song dedicated to the blackbirds.

"...... So all this song needs is a guitar to play."

"Mmm, even though it is simple enough that even you can play it, the accompaniment is still very nice to listen to."

I was p.i.s.sed for a moment, and a wicked idea came to my mind. I decided to try provoking her.

"But you can't do it. You can't play this if your right ring finger is immobile, as the song requires the use of the three fingers technique. Serves you right! If you feel bitter about that, then go to America to get your hand treated before you scramble back here!"

Mafuyu looked at me unhappily. She then s.n.a.t.c.hed the guitar and began playing —with only the thumb and index finger of her right hand.

She should've skipped some of the notes, right? But still, all I could hear was a playing that could not have been more perfect. Moreover, this should be the first time she has heard the song, no?

After she was done with the first verse, Mafuyu pouted and placed the guitar back on my knees.

"...... Can you not do things that'll make untalented people feel inferior?"

"If it's just something of this level, anyone can play it if they practice hard enough."

My a.s.s!

Mafuyu got off the was.h.i.+ng machine and went to the car. She opened the door to grab my ba.s.s, then returned back next to me...... She placed the ba.s.s on her knees and quickly tuned the instrument, before playing the G notes with a tempo that urged me to follow.

I immediately began playing from the beginning, coordinating myself to the sound of her ba.s.s. Slow down the tempo and follow through with my singing until the end......

The blackbird began to learn how to fly with its torn and tattered wings, as though it had been waiting for this exact moment for all its life, the moment for it to take flight.

"This sounds just like a normal ba.s.s if it's not connected to the amplifiers...... How intriguing......"

Mafuyu mumbled to herself when we were done with the entire song.

"But there will still be some changes to the tone if we plug it into the amplifiers, so I'll still have to adjust it. Moreover, the body of the ba.s.s is filled with scars and pits from the b.u.mps it received."

Mafuyu looked at me rather uneasily.

"You should...... be able to restore it, right?"

I nodded my head and began to play the prelude of yet again. Even if our wings are torn and tattered, we just have to wait for the right time for us to take flight.

"Is this...... a song that was written to give someone strength?"

Mafuyu suddenly asked that. I hesitated for a moment before answering her.

"It's said that the song was written for the liberation of black women, and I think Paul McCartney himself said something like that before. However, I don't quite like to think of it as that."

"Why?"

"Because that's just too awkward! Why do we have to think so much about it? Just treating it as a song about a blackbird will do."

"So there really is such a type of bird?"

"Mmm. Its binomial name is t.u.r.dus merula. It's a small bird full of black feathers, and only its beak is yellow. I've heard that its cries are exceptionally clear and bright. I've seen it in photos before, but there are probably none in j.a.pan." [TLNote: Nao actually called it by the j.a.panese name as クロウタドリ. But it doesn't sound quite right to say blackbird again, so I've just placed its binomial name there.]

Just then, Mafuyu smiled slightly. That was the first time I had seen her real smile.
 

And that means, despite me coming up with excuses like wanting to go to the toilet or wanting to buy a drink—I tried coming up with all sorts of reason to escape—I still couldn't flee Miss Maki's interrogation.