At this very moment, neither Aoki nor Kita Ikuyo's mother had any idea of Kita's current state.
Facing the boy whose gaze met her own, Kita's mother momentarily fell silent.
But she quickly recovered.
"I'm sorry about that, Aoki-kun. It was my oversight," she said, taking a deep breath and offering a polite apology.
Then, without pausing, she continued:
"But I disagree with what you said earlier—that 'well-meaning intentions shouldn't be forced onto a child.'"
Just like Aoki had his own thoughts, Kita's mother stood firm in her beliefs.
Compared to an unrealistic dream of pursuing music, her daughter clearly had a better path ahead.
"Passion doesn't put food on the table. And besides, Kita's always been the kind of person who gives up after five minutes."
"Sure, music can be a dream for some people. But for Kita, it's not the right choice."
"You young people wouldn't understand—why choose something so fleeting, so uncertain, when there are far better, more stable paths ahead? Her grades used to be decent. Why throw it all away for something so unrealistic?"
Her voice paused briefly before continuing.
On the opposite side of the sofa, Aoki looked at Kita Ikuyo's mother.
Just like earlier, he didn't respond right away.
Oddly enough, even though he'd rehearsed this conversation countless times in his head, at this moment… he didn't quite know how to respond.
It wasn't that he had no counterargument.
It was just that, hearing her words stirred something complicated inside him.
"She gives up easily."
"She shouldn't choose this."
"Unrealistic. Fleeting."
Just a few short phrases, and they dismissed everything Kita Ikuyo had poured into the band until now.
Aoki couldn't agree with any of it.
Sure, Kessoku Band wasn't exactly famous—yet.
But after three months of working together, countless rehearsals, impromptu lives, formal competitions... he believed they had earned the right to be called a "professional band."
They'd won a championship in a PVC competition, had a video on Youtube break a million views, and now were collaborating with Yuusuke Niijima.
Even if you looked at it purely from a practical perspective—yes, even in the most cynical sense—just the income they'd earned from their releases was enough to call them professionals.
And yet—
All of it had just been brushed aside as "unrealistic" and "fleeting."
It was clear now: Kita's mother had never truly tried to understand her daughter's passion.
No—more accurately, she had never even considered it worth understanding.
She never asked what her daughter really wanted.
Never cared about her dreams.
Never recognized the effort or results she achieved through music.
Everything—every person, every situation—deserves to be seen from multiple perspectives.
Yes, Kita's mother might be strict.
But deep down, all she really wanted was a better future for her daughter.
Different people, different positions, different priorities.
From her perspective, she wasn't obligated to care about hobbies and interests.
And ignorance isn't always blameworthy.
Her words, in isolation, were not entirely unreasonable.
Aoki wanted to convince himself of all this.
But now, watching Kita's mother speak so seriously—this was the first time since walking through that door that he found himself unable to approach the situation rationally or objectively.
———————————————————————
Upstairs, on the second floor...
Listening to her mother's words drifting up from below, Kita Ikuyo felt a tightness in her chest.
Her mind suddenly echoed with the online chatter that had haunted her lately:
"Not fit to be the vocalist."
"Just playing pretend."
And now, her mother's words:
"A passing whim."
"Unrealistic. Fleeting."
Leaning against the stair railing, she felt like she could barely breathe.
She already knew her mother didn't support her.
She knew this all too well.
So she told herself—don't be sad. Just endure it.
She could hear the silence downstairs.
Aoki-senpai wasn't responding the way he had before.
Whether it was silent acceptance or quiet resignation—
'It's fine like this,' she thought. 'Thank you, Aoki-senpai, for standing up for me earlier. It's enough. I'll just work harder from now on. So... it's fine.'
She tried to convince herself, clinging to the resolve that she wouldn't run away anymore. That she'd shoulder all of this herself.
Until—
A voice from downstairs cut through the silence.
Aoki spoke again.
"I don't need to understand. I don't have to understand. And frankly—I refuse to understand!"
Back in the living room, his voice was louder than usual, his tone sharper than normal.
Looking across the table at Kita's mother, Aoki's eyes didn't waver.
As soon as he finished speaking, Aoki paused briefly just enough to catch a breath—then continued firmly, leaving no room for interruption.
"Whether it's forcing her to choose, or stopping her from ever touching a guitar again... without ever truly understanding what Kita's so-called 'hobby' even means to her, Auntie, you shouldn't be the one making decisions on her behalf."
"You've never once gone to a live performance she was in. You have no idea how she performs, or how much she brings to the band. You don't know her value."
"Even putting all of that aside…"
"You've never noticed the calluses on her fingertips from practicing guitar day and night. Or how she's strained her voice to the point of hoarseness while rehearsing her vocals. You've never once paid attention to any of that."
"Yet from your high pedestal, you dismiss it all—calling it unrealistic, calling it a pipe dream… With all due respect, can you really say you're doing this for Kita's sake?"
Three whole minutes passed in silence before Aoki gave his response.
Even if they stood on different sides, there were some things that simply shouldn't be denied so easily.
Sure, setting aside the potential future returns Kessoku Band might bring, the truth was, at this stage, they were still unstable.
They were just getting started.
But not everything in life can be judged solely on how stable it is.
The word 'dream' has always been painful to hear, and yet, so many still chase after it.
The result isn't what matters most—it's the journey that counts.
Maybe none of this would convince Kita's mother.
Maybe it was like playing music to a brick wall. But Aoki still felt he had to say it.
Across the table, Kita's mother remained silent.
She understood what he was saying.
But just as Aoki had suspected—perhaps because she did understand, that was exactly why she was holding so firmly to her position.
The room fell quiet again for a few seconds.
Then, before she could respond, Aoki spoke once more.
Dreams, effort, the future—they're all big, distant, and hard to grasp.
When ideals clash, one side has to take a step back to move forward.
But not by making Kita bear more weight—it had to come from him.
In truth, from the very beginning, Aoki had already made up his mind.
"…I'm sorry, Auntie. I was too harsh just now."
He offered a quiet apology, then continued after a short pause.
"I understand you have your own concerns. I know you genuinely want what's best for Kita."
"But sometimes, maybe dreams and reality don't have to be in conflict."
"I'm ranked first in my year at Shuchiin Private High, and I've always been at the top of my class. I know how to study, and I know how to teach.
I'm not saying this to brag just stating facts. Because I've been self-studying for years, I can guarantee the quality of my tutoring will match or even exceed that of any private prep school class you've enrolled her in."
"So how about this—as a compromise, give Kita a chance."
"I'll tutor her personally, and I promise her scores will improve significantly by the next exam. In return, could you ease up a little… and let her continue pursuing music? Just a bit?"
He didn't know how much of it truly reached her heart—but from the beginning until the very end, one thing was clear: Kita's mother was clearly wavering now.
'Give her a chance…'
The next exam was scheduled for the first week after summer break.
Even if this boy's tutoring didn't amount to much, the most they'd be risking… was just one month.
One month.
Her daughter clearly didn't want to give up the guitar.
That much was obvious.
And she had noticed how tired Ikuyo had been lately.
If this boy could take a step back for her daughter's sake, then maybe—just maybe—she could do the same.
She looked at the boy in front of her.
Quietly, she hesitated for a long while.
Finally, after five minutes had passed—
"…I understand," she said.
Her tone carried a trace of compromise, mixed with a quiet sense of relief.
"I'll withdraw her from the prep school. You take her to chase her dream—but make sure she keeps up with her studies too. Is that acceptable?"
"…"
Aoki let out a deep breath of relief, a small smile appearing on his face.
"Absolutely," he replied at last.
———————————————————————
It had been a roundabout, bumpy path, but in the end, the result was all that mattered.
With his goal achieved, Aoki didn't plan on overstaying his welcome.
Standing up decisively, he turned to Kita's mother and spoke politely:
"Thank you for your time today, Auntie. I've taken up too much already, so I'll be heading out now. Next time, I'll make sure to bring a proper gift and visit formally."
"Wait, Aoki-kun," she called out just as he turned.
She looked at him, hesitated again, then asked, "Did… did Ikuyo know you were going to talk to me about all this?"
Aoki blinked, then quickly realized what she meant.
A faint expression of exasperation crossed his face.
"Ah, about that… no, Auntie. She doesn't know."
"She didn't want to burden anyone. She's incredibly stubborn, you see. Said she didn't want to keep running away and insisted on carrying everything by herself…"
"She's already been through a lot. Please, just let her rest a little. So—if possible could I ask you not to mention any of this to her?"
"…"
"…I understand," Kita's mother said with a quiet nod.
. . .
The start of autumn brought a gentle chill to the air, quite unlike the sweltering heat of just a short while ago.
When had the weather changed so suddenly?
Kita Ikuyo took a deep breath. Her nose stung a little.
She suddenly remembered everything Aoki-senpai had said.
How he'd seen her efforts.
How he didn't want her to suffer.
How he said she was stubborn, yet also going through so much...
He never once brought up her background.
He was always so kind to others.
He never wanted to see his friends in pain.
At the stairwell, Kita Ikuyo's thoughts were in complete disarray.
Her vision blurred just slightly.