Hirakawa Tetsufumi walked out of the reception room alone.
Beyond the door stretched a luxurious corridor. At the far end, tucked into a corner, he found Tsutsui Shiori crouching quietly.
"Sensei?"
Hearing his footsteps, the girl looked up. Her eyes were still red.
"Yeah, it's me."
He walked over and crouched down as well, bringing himself level with her.
"Why did you come out, Sensei?"
"Because things are about to be finished."
"Finished?"
"The final step is something you have to do yourself."
"Me?" Shiori asked, surprised.
"Yes." Hirakawa nodded, smiling faintly. "All you need to do now is go back into that room… and tell your mother what you truly want."
She didn't speak, but doubt was clearly written in her eyes.
That was only natural.
She had already said it before, yet her mother hadn't listened at all.
"Tsutsui."
Hirakawa spoke gently.
"Please trust me."
Then he added:
"We made a promise, remember?"
That single sentence seemed to give her strength.
The hesitation in her eyes slowly faded. She nodded.
"Okay."
"Go on. Say what you want to say."
She stood up.
After giving him one last look, she turned and walked toward the reception room.
Hirakawa watched her go.
Only after she disappeared inside did he lean quietly against the wall beside him.
Yeah.
This was the end.
As long as she spoke her true feelings, her mother would agree.
As for why—
Because just now, inside that room, the instruction he gave was:
"Please respect your daughter as a person and truly listen to her wishes. At least for today."
Why that instruction?
Because if this were only about music, he could have simply said:
"Please allow her to remain in the wind ensemble."
But he didn't.
Because he had no right to.
No authority.
As a teacher, he clearly understood where his boundaries lay.
He couldn't impose his own beliefs on her mother by force.
If he did that
Wouldn't that just be another form of control?
Just because you believe something is right doesn't mean you can force others to follow it.
He was only her teacher.
Nothing more.
So instead
When the bridge of communication between mother and daughter had collapsed,
he chose to rebuild it.
That was, in his view, the best solution.
About ten minutes later
Still leaning against the wall in a daze, Hirakawa heard the door open.
He turned.
Shiori walked out.
"Tsutsui… how did it go?"
She said nothing.
She simply stood before him, her red eyes quietly fixed on him.
Like a small, obedient rabbit.
"It worked, right?"
The "rabbit" nodded.
"Mm."
"Good."
Hirakawa couldn't help but smile.
His efforts hadn't been in vain.
He had protected his student's freedom of choice.
"Then when you're in your second year… you'll be able to stay in the wind ensemble."
"You can keep doing what you love… keep working toward what you care about."
"That's something worth being happy about, right?"
"The national competition next year—do your best."
"So… come on. Try to look a little happier, okay?"
Even after all that—
she still didn't speak.
"You know, staying silent like this is making things awkward even for me," he said awkwardly.
Still no response.
Now even Hirakawa didn't know what to say.
The two of them simply stared at each other.
Silence spread through the corridor.
Outside, night had fully fallen.
The lights overhead seemed even brighter.
Then
Shiori suddenly bowed deeply.
The sudden movement startled him.
"H-Hey, Tsutsui, no need for that. Really, just get up."
"I only did what I should've done. And in the end… you were the one who convinced your mother, right?"
"So there's no need to thank me. If anything, you should thank yourself."
"So… don't—"
"Eh… don't cry."
After she straightened up
he saw it clearly.
Two streaks of tears ran down her face.
"Tsutsui?"
"This is… kind of troubling for me."
"I didn't bring a handkerchief."
He fumbled around awkwardly
but found nothing.
In the end, he glanced at his sleeve…
hesitated
and held it out.
"Here."
That clumsy gesture finally made her laugh.
"Pfft."
She laughed through her tears, like she'd just seen something absurd.
"Sensei, this is my house… how could we not have tissues?"
"Ah… right. Sorry. Didn't think of that."
He awkwardly pulled his sleeve back.
After all
he had absolutely zero experience dealing with a crying girl.
The only memory he had was from kindergarten—
something about playing house…
The girl insisted he call her "dear."
As an adult inside, he absolutely couldn't say something like that.
So she cried.
In the end, he gave in and said it anyway.
A very questionable memory.
But by the time that random memory finished playing in his head
Shiori had already stopped crying.
Then
she bowed again, seriously.
"Sensei… thank you."
"Alright."
Well
even if most of the credit belonged to the "system,"
he had put in effort.
He could accept it.
He nodded.
Then drifted off again.
So next time a girl cries
if he just replays weird memories in his head
will that somehow help?
No, that makes no sense at all.
"Sensei?"
Shiori blinked at him, trying to get his attention.
"Ah—nothing."
"You zoned out again, didn't you?"
"No, I didn't."
"You totally did."
"Absolutely not."
"Fine."
"I should get going," he suddenly said.
"I'll walk you out."
"Thanks."
Shiori led the way.
Hirakawa followed quietly behind.
Her house really was huge—
without her, he'd definitely get lost.
Looking at her back
her steps were noticeably lighter.
Almost cheerful.
A child who had long been controlled…
had finally gained…
a brief moment of freedom.
Yes.
Just brief.
No matter how much he tried to distract himself—
he couldn't ignore that fact.
There was no escaping it.
In that instruction earlier, there had been one key phrase:
"At least for today."
Why add that?
Because her mother's will wouldn't change so easily.
A simple threat like that
would never truly alter her.
Getting her to listen to her daughter even once…
was already difficult enough.
After this
aside from the band matter,
everything else would likely return to normal.
The problem still remained.
The cage her mother built…
stood firm.
Shiori would continue living under that control—
treated as a possession,
her identity as an individual denied.
And Hirakawa
was powerless to change that.
Because in the end
he was just a teacher.
All he could do…
was fulfill his duty as one:
Solve the problem in front of him—
that Shiori wanted to stay in the band.
That was all.
As he stepped out of the Tsutsui residence
the girl bowed to him once more.
"Sensei… thank you."
That gratitude
felt heavy.