They say students are the most curious and creative group in the world.
Even on a predetermined path, they always manage to find and forge their own way forward.
Here it is! See that pit in the wall? Step on it and you can climb right up.
Following Yata's guidance, you climb over the wall. The red paint beneath the feet is worn and faded, with exposed bricks at the edges, silently witnessing the passage of time.
For students running late, it's much easier to climb the wall than to use the main entrance and get caught by the Disciplinary Committee.
You jump down from the wall onto a slope overgrown with lush weeds and grass. Looking up, the classroom building is barely visible in the distance.
After seeing you land safely, Yata springs up from the other side, grabs the edge of the wall, and pushes herself over it. With a graceful leap, she lands smoothly beside you.
Well... I used to stake out this spot to catch students.
This was a hotspot. Never failed to catch someone here.
The former Disciplinary Committee member of Misono High shares her valuable experience, pointing to the low wall behind.
We just met Uncle Morita. He used to run a snack stall on the other side of that wall. His food was so good that students couldn't resist sneaking out from here during lunch break.
Although the school did not prohibit bringing outside food, it did forbid going out during the lunch break.
But Uncle Morita's snacks were just that good...
...Geez, nobody told me being on the Disciplinary Committee meant fighting against my own appetite.
Yata walks forward as she speaks, using her mechanical arms to push aside tree branches and clear a path.
A strange thought suddenly crosses your mind—it feels like you are the student sneaking over the wall while she, the former Disciplinary Committee member, is covering for you.
I talked it over with him and arranged for him to partner with the school shop. That way, he could move his business inside the campus.
Even though most students supported the idea, the teachers weren't keen on it—space on campus was already limited.
So, I rallied the students together and made a deal with the teachers—
If our track team could win the Round Island Marathon Championship while representing Misono High, the school would approve the students' request.
Of course. The competition was intense, but we managed to clinch the championship trophy by the skin of our teeth. After that, everyone could finally enjoy Uncle Morita's cooking.
Ahem! Well, everyone was happy in the end! That doesn't really count as abuse of power... right?
You sound just like one of the seniors back in school.
Thanks you, [player name].
...Cough.
[player name], staring at a Disciplinary Committee member counts as a violation of school rules too.
Of course! Well, I was actually the one who found this path first, and that pit outside was also my...
Ugh...
Yata stops and turns around, but avoids making eye contact.
Her eyes dart back and forth before she finally gives in with a resigned look that says "just ask".
I... wasn't always on the Disciplinary Committee. I used to be late for school sometimes, and I found all these shortcuts while trying to dodge the committee members.
Yata turns her face to the side, twirling a strand of her hair with her finger as she reminisces.
But those committee members kept finding reasons to deduct my points. Over time, I got so tired of it and thought, "If you can't beat 'em, join 'em." And... they actually let me join.
Since then, I had to act as a role model. Couldn't let those punks use my past against me.
They were short on muscle in the Disciplinary Committee at the time, so I guess I came at just the right moment.
It took some getting used to at first, but seeing the school's atmosphere improve little by little... I couldn't help but feel a bit proud.
And that's how it went. Not bad at all—catching troublemakers was a piece of cake for me.
Not really? My motives weren't that noble—I was just looking to kill some time and keep trouble off my back.
Though it became more than just killing time... The troubles just kept piling up one after another.
Of course! Why else do you think they assigned me to keep you company?
Chatting and walking, you leave the grove to find a massive wall. The shortcut lives up to its reputation—it really is the fastest route to the school building.
Yata takes the lead, making her way to the main entrance. She slowly pushes open the closed doors and steps into the shadows within.
The setting sun streams through the windows, revealing years of settled dust coating every surface, as if draping the entire space in a grey veil.
Before you lies a shallow entryway, flanked by neat rows of shoe lockers on both sides.
At the entrance, Yata stands with one hand on her hip and takes a deep breath. With a resigned shrug, she steps inside alongside you.
Yeah, but there's no point now—the corridors are filthy anyway.
Don't worry, you're under the protection of a former Disciplinary Committee member. I hereby grant you permission to walk right in.
She approaches one of the lockers and wipes away the dust, revealing her name—Yata—on the grimy nameplate beneath.
With a click, the locker door swings open, sending dust motes dancing in the streaming sunlight, sparkling like stars in the golden rays.
Empty. Just like it always was.
Some students would find love letters in their shoe lockers.
I was lucky enough to never receive such troublesome things.
Even if I had, I would've turned them down anyway. After all... it was all just puppy love.
What about you? Did you ever receive any love letters during your school days?
Well, well... No wonder they called you Babylonia's most popular catch.
Although, come to think of it... if it were me back then, I might have slipped one in too...
Ahem... I mean, like a challenge letter or something.
Hah, so you're just like me then.
If you're that hung up about it, we could do a little role-playing. Help you unlock that life achievement, you know?
All right, we shouldn't hang around here any longer.
What we're looking for should be on this floor. Follow me, I'll show you our biggest classroom.
Intricate patterns adorn the solid wooden door, while a gilded nameplate hangs beside it, its golden letters reading: "Music Club Room".
Yata pushes open the door, its hinges letting out a deep groan as the spacious interior comes into view.
The moment she enters, she hurries to the instrument storage lockers. Her mechanical arms spring into action, picking the lock with practiced efficiency—clearly not her first time doing this.
Following her into the classroom, your attention is drawn to a piano nearby. Running a finger across its surface, the thick layer of dust tells of the years gone by.
Echoes of music and songs from the past seem to float through the air. This place was meant to be a sanctuary of peaceful melodies.
Clank, clank—the overlapping sounds of metal striking metal shatter the perfect silence. It is coming from Yata as she rummages through the storage locker.
Her mechanical arms reach back to collect the metal brackets she's found, while Yata herself continues searching other places.
The gaps between cabinets, inside the ventilation ducts, behind the large instruments...
After years of finding lost properties as a Disciplinary Committee member, I've learned that anything is possible.
You know those old movies where hitmen would hide their disassembled guns in guitar cases? Cliché, sure, but practical...
—See? There's one hidden right behind this radiator.
As twilight fades from the horizon, your busy search yields nothing but a few unremarkable brackets.
Hmm... The most important item isn't here, but finding these is better than nothing.
Because... this was originally the track and field club's room.
But the music club took it from us later, arguing that since we rarely had indoor activities, it made more sense for them to use such a spacious classroom instead.
We couldn't argue with their logic, but everyone in the club was still pretty upset about it. We kept butting heads with the music club for quite a while.
In the end, the school sided with the music club's argument, and our clubs had to swap rooms.
But we had our ways of getting back at them. See, this classroom is still pretty close to the field—whenever they started practicing, we'd all gather on the track and chant our slogans, determined to drown out their music.
Yata points out the window, where the entire field spreads out before you in full view.
Yata works with meticulous care, her mechanical arms returning each displaced instrument to its proper place. The disheveled shelves quickly return to their original state, leaving the room as if it had never been disturbed.
With the classroom restored and her mechanical arms retracted, she walks to the piano and leans against it.
Because we made peace with each other.
One time, some of their club members were getting bullied outside. One of our members saw what was happening, rushed in without hesitation, and chased the bullies away.
After that incident, we took the opportunity to have a heart-to-heart. We managed to work through our differences, and after both sides owned up to their mistakes, we stopped butting heads with each other.
We thought that would be the end of it, but to our surprise, the music club wanted to return the favor—they even came to the sports meet specifically to cheer us on from the stands.
And that's how it went—one thing led to another, and before we knew it, we were all getting along like old friends, bygones being bygones.
When we ran out of space in our room, we'd store the extra stuff here. That's why I'm saying what we're looking for might be in this room.
A whirlwind of emotions melts into her calm narration as she gazes around the room, as if looking back through time at those vivid memories.
As she tells her story, you can almost hear the track team members shouting their slogans at the top of their lungs, while the music club members, faces flushed with concentration, try to find their melody amidst the outside commotion.
Fortunately, like most coming-of-age stories, these two distinct rhythms eventually blended into a harmonious melody.
Yeah, and the music club president even taught me how to play the piano. Would you like to hear me play a piece?
Just so you know, in all these years, I've never played for anyone else. You're the first.
I can't play anything too complex. I only know some basic music theory and can barely read sheet music, so...
Yata takes a seat at the piano, opens the lid, and tentatively presses a white key.
Ding—
Yata takes a deep breath, gazes at the school anthem sheet music hanging on the wall, and slowly presses the keys. The melody begins to echo through the classroom.
The hesitant, halting notes gradually flow into a melodious tune.
Yata's fingers dance across the keys, exploring and playing out memories from years ago.
With her back facing you, she focuses on the piano's right-hand keys. Her friends must have once sat on the empty seat beside her.
Be it the track team or the music club, all these experiences from her past have melted into her very soul.
Her slender shadow, stretched long by the setting sun, reaches just one step away from where you stand.
You gently take a seat beside Yata, raise your hand, and press the keys.
The school anthem's melody is simple. Your duet gradually fills every corner of the spacious classroom.
As Yata continues to play, her gaze casually drifts toward you.
Just as your eyes are about to meet, Yata turns back to the piano, her fingers striking one last high note to conclude the duet.
As the notes linger in the air, you also withdraw your hands. The two of you sit in silence, letting the gentle breeze drift through the window and the evening light wash over you.
Yata turns to face you, gazing at you in silence, your reflection mirrored in her amber eyes.
You...
You certainly have a knack for surprising people.
You step forward into the evening light, but your better judgment keeps you at a respectful distance behind Yata, listening.
The school anthem's melody is simple. Yata's playing gradually fills every corner of the spacious classroom.
She weaves all her emotions into the melody, as if embarking on a spiritual marathon.
Lost in complete concentration, she seems to be unearthing long-buried memories through her music.
In the next moment, the melody takes an unexpected turn as her mechanical arms press down on the keys, the tempo racing wildly under six hands.
As if... she is carving a new yet chaotic path through her past memories.
Suddenly, the performance comes to an abrupt halt amid its frenzied melody.
Yata's fingers hover over the keys as she turns her head to look at you.
...Playing the piano is still too complicated for me.
But I'm grateful you stayed to listen to my performance until the end.
Phew... That was refreshing.
[player name].
While the sun is still setting, would you like to hear more stories from my past?
