I Just Want a Single Ending [232]
After a brief pause, Saku forced himself to look away from the window, sensing he couldn't let the awkward silence continue.
If Kita Ikuyo's struggle were anything like what Tomori or Shiina had gone through—more of a mental block—then he might have some way to help her.
But this was clearly just a matter of practice, which left him at a bit of a loss.
He wasn't exactly skilled in guitar or vocals, meaning he couldn't even begin to offer advice on the subject.
Even if he started learning now, there was no shortcut he could take without some sort of "study card" to speed things up.
As disappointing as it was, using this as an excuse to earn some points with her just wasn't an option.
But given their relationship, he figured there'd be plenty more chances down the road.
"No worries, Saku-senpai! It's not like I was hoping you'd teach me or anything."
Kita glanced across the table, seeming unbothered.
In fact, when she'd confided in him about her recent solo karaoke sessions, a small part of her had hoped he might offer to help.
Not that there was any deeper meaning behind it—certainly not a desire to spend more time with him or anything like that.
It was just that having someone teach her would likely speed up her progress a bit.
She'd thought about asking someone before committing to practicing alone, but every option felt wrong in some way.
After all, she was practicing to avoid slowing down the band, so wouldn't it be backwards to ask one of the band members for extra help?
None of her other friends really had any vocal or guitar skills either, and asking Chihaya would only add to her load as the band's main vocalist.
So in the end, she'd gone it alone, and while she'd certainly considered having Saku help her, she'd never seriously planned on asking.
"Got it."
Seeing no need to drag this out, Saku nodded, wondering what else to talk about when Kita suddenly brought up, "By the way, Saku-senpai, you haven't forgotten about our date to the couples' restaurant, right?"
"Of course not."
Saku paused, then admitted it openly.
There was no way he'd forget something that important.
"Good! Next Saturday's the reservation date," Kita reminded him.
"You've been keeping track of it, huh?"
He sipped his coffee, trying to look nonchalant.
He'd definitely remembered the reservation from a month ago, but hadn't dwelled on it much.
They weren't an actual couple, after all, so there wasn't much difference between dining there and at any other restaurant.
Still, why bring it up a week in advance?
Even if it was just to fill a conversation gap, it seemed almost like she was trying to make sure he wouldn't forget.
"I've been looking forward to it for ages."
Kita smiled as she pulled out her phone.
"I keep seeing videos and photos of people going there pop up, and it's been making me so jealous."
"Plus, with all this extra practice, I haven't been able to hang out with friends or take any photos."
"Right…"
Maybe I was overthinking it, Saku thought.
Kita really did seem to just be venting about her practice frustrations.
So he went along with it, saying, "Honestly, taking breaks now and then isn't a crime. You've been giving it your all lately."
"Just think of it as giving yourself a short holiday—you deserve to go out and relax with friends."
"I was waiting for you to say that, Saku-senpai!"
Kita beamed at him, clearly pleased with his answer.
"Oh, so you just wanted an excuse to take a break?"
It hit Saku immediately.
"Weren't you the one who was so set on practicing nonstop, all to avoid dragging the band down? And now you want a break already?"
Kita glanced down at her phone, slightly embarrassed.
"But, if someone else says I've worked hard enough and deserve a little rest, I can relax with a clear conscience."
Saku chuckled. "Most people are like that. Few have the will to keep up a new pursuit for long—just look at how many people give up on art or music a few days in."
"Guess that means I'm like most people," Kita emphasized, "except I'm just taking one day off. It's not like I'm giving up."
"No way, you're way ahead of most. Most people wouldn't put off their favorite things to focus on a goal like this," he encouraged.
"Favorite things?"
Kita tilted her head, confused.
He nodded at her phone. "Like going out with friends, or posting on Instagram and Twitter. Those are things you enjoy, right?"
"…Alright, I'll take back what I said earlier."
After a brief pause, Kita spoke with a touch of awkwardness.
"Take it back?"
Saku blinked, a little lost.
"Yeah. About not giving up on practice."
Kita set her phone down and looked at her coffee, seemingly engrossed.
Saku asked gently, "What's wrong? Why'd you change your mind all of a sudden?"
"I don't have that kind of willpower."
She glanced at him briefly, then quickly looked away.
"I can't actually keep giving up what I like."
"Do you mean spending time with friends?"
Saku began to understand where this was going.
"Exactly. I can say no to invitations once or twice, but it's not like I can turn my friends down forever," Kita sighed. "After a while, I'd just give in."
He tried to reassure her. "That's totally fine; everyone needs a break sometimes."
"But my willpower isn't strong enough for that." Kita knew herself well. "If I go out a few times, I'll probably just start slacking off, lose my drive, and slowly stop practicing."
"Honestly, I've already started leaning that way. I keep wondering if I should just follow Gotoh-san's pace and learn gradually. It's not like any of the seniors are pushing me."
"I've been fighting these thoughts for weeks now, and it's getting really hard to stay in control."
"I just want to go out, take some pictures, and have fun."
"I get it."
Saku nodded thoughtfully.
To him, this was a classic, youthful struggle.
Compared to Tomori or Shiina, it was practically refreshing.
Most people had worries like these, after all.
In fact, it would be weirder for someone like Kita Ikuyo to suddenly hole up for practice without any social distractions.
"So, what do you think I should do?" she asked, genuinely seeking his advice.
"Well, before I answer, let me ask you something."
Saku hesitated, thinking over his words carefully.
"If you could find a way to keep practicing and still hang out with friends, would you still think about quitting?"
"For example, you'd go out with friends in the afternoon, and then practice when you got back home."
"Then I don't think I'd have any issues." Kita thought about it seriously for a moment before answering. "It's because I want to go out with friends and keep up with social media that I've been thinking about quitting."
"Then it's not a question of willpower," Saku replied confidently. "It's simply that you don't have a way to balance both."
"People with iron wills might be able to ignore everything else, but that's not really fair to ask of everyone."
Kita nodded, slowly taking in what he was saying.
"Let's set aside the 'willpower' question for now," Saku suggested, not wanting to dwell too long on this point.
"Could you explain a bit more about why your house isn't suitable for practicing guitar or singing? If it's a noise issue, maybe soundproofing could work."
"…It's not about the noise." Kita hesitated before answering. "It's more that my family doesn't exactly approve of me being in a band."
"Well, that complicates things."
Saku sighed, knowing he was powerless here.
There was no way he could just convince her parents to accept her band aspirations.
"I can still practice singing at home if I sit in a box, though…" she mumbled, her cheeks flushing a bit.
"Just like Bocchi-chan, huh?" he teased instinctively.
Gotoh Hitori's social anxiety had her hiding in boxes when out in public, whereas here Kita, the social butterfly, was hiding in boxes at home.
The irony wasn't lost on him.
"It's… not ideal, but it works."
Kita shifted uncomfortably, clearly embarrassed to have shared this.
"Okay, so guitar is the main obstacle here?" Saku asked.
"Yeah."
Kita nodded in agreement.
"From what I know, the sound of an electric guitar is pretty quiet without an amp. Wouldn't that work?" Saku asked, already familiar with this concept.
"Nope, not really." She sighed. "Even if I keep the volume low, my mom would still walk in and catch me, and there's nowhere to hide the guitar."
"What about locking the door? That way, you wouldn't have to worry about her walking in on you."
"That still wouldn't solve the problem of hiding the guitar." Kita gestured to her guitar case. "It's too big; there's no place in my room where I could hide it."
"Got it. Practicing guitar at home just isn't an option, then." Saku admitted defeat. "Sorry, I really don't have any idea how to let you balance practice with spending time with your friends."
"You don't have to apologize, Saku-senpai." Kita shook her head and brought the conversation back around. "After all, the question I asked wasn't about that—it was about what I should do now."
[Don't Give Up Either]
[Give Up Practice]
[Give Up Going Out]
[No Answer]
The choices from his system popped up, each option flashing in his mind as he analyzed them one by one, finally stopping at the last.
He'd already ruled out "Don't Give Up Either," knowing they'd gone over that thoroughly.
Forcing her to convince her family was also outside his authority, not to mention inappropriate.
If he offered an answer now, she'd likely follow his suggestion, for better or worse.
Finally, after a long silence, he asked, "So your family doesn't support you being in a band—do you know why they feel that way?"
"Probably stereotypes about band culture… and maybe they worry it'll hurt my grades," Kita explained briefly. "Mom wants me to get into a good college and become a civil servant."
"Those stereotypes are hard to argue against."
Even as someone in band management, he still occasionally had his own biases about the music world.
"And your grades didn't slip on the last test, did they? What is there to worry about?"
"Well, they did drop, just not as much as they could have, thanks to the study sessions we had." Kita admitted, looking guilty.
"Alright, one last question." Saku's expression grew thoughtful. "If you could show your parents that your studies won't suffer because of the band, would they reconsider?"
"I don't know… but they might."
Kita was unable to give a definite answer.
"Then there's still a chance." A plan was beginning to form in Saku's mind.
Kita perked up, intrigued. "What's the plan?"
"Convince your parents," Saku replied, sounding determined, "though I can't say for sure if it'll work."
"Really? How?"
Kita's curiosity turned into enthusiasm as she leaned forward, eager to know.
"Let's just call this a rough outline for now."
Saku didn't want to make decisions on her behalf.
"In the end, it's up to you whether we actually try it."