Chapter Text
Illustration by R_Cansuke_MS on Skeb.
— "From the top, please..."
Somewhere amidst the rolling plains of Phantom Meadow, six of us are assembled for rehearsal: the Prismriver trio, the drummer Raiko, my sister Yatsuhashi, and me.
By popular request, we musicians are preparing a joint live performance, which will showcase an elegant fusion of modern and traditional sounds.
♪ ♫ ♪
Naturally, one can assume that my dear sister and I are filling the ‘traditional’ role. I, Benben, play the satsuma-biwa, while Yatsuhashi plays the koto. More accurately, we do not merely play these tools. We are, ourselves, the spirits of the instruments. We bring to the stage our own vivid vision of classical Japan.
Raiko, being the spirit of a traditional taiko who now inhabits a modern drum body, boasts experience with both genres of music. She is our trusted role model, as always. It’s a pleasure to perform together with the person whose charismatic guidance gave us our start in this career.
The trio of poltergeists are Raiko’s bandmates. Yatsuhashi begrudges the fact that they’re able to collaborate with Raiko more often than us... Still, in my opinion, they are a good match. And now is our chance to demonstrate how good a match we all can be.
The keyboardist, Lyrica Prismriver, uses a technology which I don’t quite understand. I know only that her clever techniques can mix multiple sources of audio in a way that blends away dissonance, improving our harmonization greatly.
The trumpetist, Merlin Prismriver, has a soul full of more energy than I could possibly dream - even with all the magic energy that I tap from the outside world. As we all share the goal of a high-impact performance, Merlin never lets this fall short.
And the violinist, Lunasa, must be the most crucial cornerstone of our continuous progress. Ever responsible, her calm and serious demeanor keeps the group in focus at all times. She is the one who designed our practice schedule, and she ensures that we strictly abide it.
♪
Until, at this moment... Lunasa takes a formal stand at the center of our makeshift stage. She extends her right arm stiffly out to the side, calling a pause to the rehearsal.
“Everyone,” she announces in a somber tone, which evokes a low whisper even at its elevated volume, “we are out of time. The atmosphere is growing tense.”
“Huh? Why should we have to stop?” Yatsuhashi counters brashly, rounding both cheeks in her charmingly stubborn manner.
I think I understand the problem. Indeed, the tension in my strings has been building steadily over the course of the last set. I raise one hand in front of me, palm-up.
“Oh, my,” I observe. “Now that you mention it, it must be ready to rain.”
Smirkingly, Lyrica turns to nudge an elbow in Raiko's direction. “Should’ve figured the drumming would summon a storm.”
Raiko chuckles in return, passing a hand suavely through her fire-red hair. “That’s the proof that it was a powerful beat. We’ll consider this rehearsal a success.”
“No doubt, it was wonderful!” Merlin pumps her fists proudly in celebration. Her exceptionally bright demeanor paints a positive mood in spite of the situation. “We deserve a nice break. Come on, guys, let’s get back inside!”
Merlin grabs the hand of the nearest person, which just so happens to be Yatsuhashi. Without hesitation, she begins eagerly speeding through the air toward the site of the Prismriver Mansion.
“Hey, hold up!” my hot-blooded sister protests. “I can fly by myself!”
“I know you can, but we should always use the buddy system!”
“Hmph. We might be collaborating here, but we’re still rivals - not buddies...!”
The defiant twang of Yatsuhashi’s voice trails off as they disappear quickly into the horizon.
Meanwhile, the keyboardist propels her petite floating form into a light somersault, landing with a casual thump upon one of Raiko’s several electronic drum pads.
“You’re taking responsibility, right?” Lyrica asks, making herself comfortable with a grip along the rim. “So you can handle an extra passenger.”
“Ha, sure thing♪” Raiko responds with a confident wink. From her own larger seat atop of the main bass, she kicks one heel against its patterned head. Then she raises her drumstick to point straight forward. “Hang on extra tight!”
With this, her entire kit accelerates as a single piece, like a fueled rocket, enroute to the same destination.
I glance at Lunasa, supposing that the ‘buddy system’ has left the two of us as the final pair.
The eldest poltergeist is roughly my height, but leaner of frame. Her clothes are darkly colored and starkly pressed, nearly more suited for a funeral than for a music recital. Thin golden strings of hair fall upon the curve of her slender neck, subtly shimmering with the last rays of sun that will soon disappear behind the grey clouds.
Unsmiling, as is her trademark expression, she nods her head to me politely.
“This way, Miss Benben.”
Matching her courtesy, I cross my hands over my lap in a shallow bow.
“After you~ I’ll be in your care.”
Treading through patches of colorful flowers until they taper off at the meadow's boundaries, I feel the ticklish leaves of wild daffodils graze my bare ankle. The growing clouds overhead cast a subtle shadow on the soil below.
Despite being so abrupt in her insistence to leave, Lunasa walks at a rather slow pace. I don’t believe she is holding herself back for me, or for any reason. The slowness is typical for her.
This is fine, as I’m in no hurry. In fact, I’d like to take the chance to ask her a few questions if I can.
“So then... Even though we had to cut it short, are you satisfied with our rehearsal?”
“Yes. More or less.”
Her answer is curt, though its gentle timbre manages to entirely escape sounding rude.
“Since you are the string expert,” I continue, “any advice would be appreciated. Was my part all right?”
It's been a moderate while since my last performance before a large audience, so I hope I haven't fallen out of touch.
The string expert locks her gaze with me squarely as she delivers her reply. Her eyes are undercut with a grey lining that indicates a sleepless focus.
“It was beautiful. Very beautiful.”
While this would seem to be an opinion, she states it more like a fact.
“Oh. Really...?”
“It brings out your strengths. It’s important... to choose an instrument that brings out your strengths.”
“Well, strictly speaking, I didn’t choose my instrument.” I brush my fingertips upon the smooth form of mulberry wood balanced at my waist, tracing its metal chain to the cuff at my wrist.
“Of course...” she acknowledges slowly. “But the truth of the matter is the same. Some individuals are naturally suited for certain pursuits.”
“Is this how you feel about your violin?” I suggest.
“It is. I play the violin, because that is where my calling lies.”
The violin in question is currently hovering at her side. It looks well-polished and generally well-taken care of. Ghostly wisps emanate from the tips of the bow like thin threads, holding it aloft in midair.
“Otherwise, it would be a terrible tragedy... to pursue a trade that one can never perfect.”
I tilt my head curiously at this statement. “That’s a rather unusual view for an artist. Isn’t passion the most important factor?”
Dark scarlet flecks flicker in her golden pupils.
“Passion, and purpose,” she answers. “To me, they are one and the same.”
Such a heavy statement for a casual conversation. It’s very Lunasa-like.
“I suppose I might understand what you mean.”
What follows is a bout of silence, but the silence is not particularly awkward.
“...Here.” Lunasa is the next to speak again, as she gestures to the path in front of us.
“Is this where we turn?”
“Our mansion is just across this hill.”
I shift my frame to follow her lead.
However, I hesitate briefly upon noticing a large ditch in the fork in the road. Stagnant rain from a previous shower has pooled into a deep puddle, forming a barrier before my feet.
“Oh. Quite an inconvenient time to be barefoot, isn’t it?” I muse aloud to myself.
“A shame. Allow me to help.”
“Hm?”
Lunasa holds out her hands to me, translucent threads of spiritual energy dancing at her fingertips.
“I can carry you.”
...
I look her over, fairly taken aback at her bold offer. Her thin body seems very frail. But as poltergeists don’t rely on physical strength, it is no bluff that she would be able to lift me easily.
...How should I respond? Surely, she isn’t just teasing?
“I...”
The others among our ensemble have more playful relationships. But I don’t expect it from Lunasa, so I have been maintaining my formality.
“?” She awaits my response. Her eyes are clear and solemn, devoid of ulterior motive.
I settle upon the conclusion that her formal tone requires a formal answer, as usual. Why did I ever consider that she intended anything else?
“No, thank you. There is plenty of room to step around.”
“I see.” Were it not such a default, the frown on her face might be readable as disappointment. She folds her pale hands behind her back, and I watch her fingers intertwine, as she reorients herself toward our destination.
“...”
Ah... It’s that feeling again.
In truth, I am the one with the ulterior motive.
I feel the familiar sensation of a tug on my strings. Not the physical ones on my biwa, but the metaphorical ones on my heart.
***
Mukashi, mukashi...
No, it was not so very long ago. The years can be easily counted by the fingers on one’s hands.
“Hm-hm~ We are tsukumogami, the tools once played by selfish users!
Now, are you listening carefully? It’s time for the tools to rebel and play our own song...!”
During a rough and raging storm, which came to be known as the Reversal Incident... I was possessed by a strange power. So the memory is broken and vague.
Still, I can remember the song I played at that time. Alongside my newly-sworn sister of the rebellion, the harsh vibrations of my notes pierced the tempestuous night.
It just so happened that, while investigating the possessed behavior of her own instrument, the poltergeist violinist crossed my path in the midst of that storm. Unluckily for her, she was the perfect audience to provoke, one who I regarded as an enemy of tools. Feeling the cruel influence of the Miracle Mallet surge through me, I played with darkness in my heart.
And yet... she solemnly listened.
As the frigid rain flecked through her ghostly body, and the wind violently whipped her hair, she said:
“It’s beautiful...”
Lunasa accepted those notes, and gave me my first compliment.
I often wonder. Were those notes truly my own?
Nowadays, I specialize in more refined sounds. With diligent effort, I review the traditional techniques, and I strive to surpass the high standards of those noble humans who once played upon my strings.
Perplexingly, Lunasa gives me the same kind of feedback even now. So, even clouded by the power of the storm, I wonder whether there must be some underlying quality that has been present all along.
Lunasa doesn’t give compliments so flippantly. I’ve heard her nitpick her sisters’ performances quite strictly, despite them being very advanced. Perhaps, it’s particularly because they are so advanced.
Then, perhaps the reason she doesn’t criticize me is that I’m not as refined as I’d like to think.
“...Sigh.”
No, that isn’t right. How rude of me, to cast doubt on an honest person’s words. I let out my breath in self-disappointment.
“Miss Benben?”
Noticing my noise, as we are walking together, Lunasa pauses to check on me.
“Oh, I’m all right. It just slipped out involuntarily.”
“Bouts of melancholy are only natural,” she responds in understanding. Parting her thin lips, she then joins me with a natural sigh of her own. “Sigh.”
It’s unfortunate when these doubts come to surface in me, even as maturely as I attempt to present, and even after all I’ve done to try to become self-sufficient. One day, I hope to be as self-sufficient as Raiko, as self-sufficient as the Prismriver sisters.
Only then, I might be equipped to tackle these other indulgent feelings that have come over me.
We’ve all returned to shelter at the Prismriver mansion.
Yatsuhashi and Merlin arrived first, evidently to my sister’s dismay. Upon seeing me enter the doorway, she rushes to my side with relief, linking her arm tightly in mine. The pointed plectrums adorning her fingertips curl safely against my shoulder.
“There you are, Sis! That crazy trumpeter hasn’t stopped bothering me!”
Merlin floats jovially behind, ruffling the chestnut hair around Yatsuhashi’s headband. “Hahaha! She’s just kidding. We’ve been having a great time together!”
Raiko and Lyrica arrived second. The group has all been chatting in the foyer for a while now.
“Benben, Lunasa,” Raiko calls to us. “You must have taken a scenic route.”
“I would say,” Lunasa muses in reply, “that the grey sky has its own scenic charm.”
“No disagreements there.”
This drummer, too, is a known enthusiast of thunderstorms. But Raiko’s smile segues into a look of curiosity, as she places her hand demonstratively over her chest.
“I just thought your rhythm was strange. Your time was slow, and yet your beat is...”
“Hm?” Following her lead, I instinctively lift my hand into the same position.
I can feel it. The beat of my heart is stronger than usual. It figures that Raiko would notice something like that...
Lyrica raises an eyebrow suspiciously from behind, as if she can also hear the reverberations of this beating sound. Instead, however, she waves a flippant hand to change the subject.
“Well, too bad you missed the express ride on the rocket drum~” She stretches her limbs in satisfaction, leaving one fist resting on her hip. “It was pretty smooth... if a little hard on the backside.”
“We can’t have that, can we?” Raiko twirls her drumstick between her fingers, then gives it a tap against the poltergeist’s small chin. “Next time, you can take the cozier seat on my lap.”
“Oi, Raiko--” I can see the bridge of her nose flush as red as her vest. “Quit the teasing!”
Yatsuhashi lets out a groan, while instead I can’t help but giggle. I’m sure that Raiko is as willing to follow through on her offer as Lunasa was, but unlike Lunasa, she pointedly enjoys provoking this type of reaction. Raiko has mastered the art of flirting, and the keyboardist has long been her prime target.
Perhaps I should be taking notes from someone so experienced in romance, so that I don’t fold under my own flusterment.
“Come on now, when are we getting back to rehearsal?” my sister asks impatiently. I can tell that she would even be perfectly willing to venture back into the storm... where, of course, the two of us have played before.
“Not so fast,” says Raiko, redirecting to the full group. “I say we take the rest of the day off to relax and freestyle.”
“Oh.” The violinist frowns faintly. “I hoped to be more productive today, though relaxation is also important.”
“For musicians like us, even just hanging out together can be called practice.” Raiko’s tone is naturally convincing. “It helps us get in harmony, so it makes our shows better. Right?”
“That is true...” Lunasa cautiously agrees.
“This will be so much fun!” As to be expected, Merlin is quickly in accord. “There are still so many rooms of the mansion you all haven’t seen, if you want to take a tour.”
“However you want to spend the time, make sure you spend it well.” Raiko slyly winks at me, before turning with a swish of her pristine coat. ...Huh? How much can she tell from just a simple rhythm?
As the members begin to spread out, Yatsuhashi remains loosely clung to my right sleeve. Choppy brown bangs fall scattered across her forehead, and I affectionately smooth down her hair where the trumpetist had frazzled it.
Lunasa, standing at my opposite side, brings her hand to her chin in languid thought.
“I had scheduled this time specifically for practice... I wonder how best to spend it.”
Utterly dedicated to her craft, her meticulous mindset appears to be mired without it in focus. But I do happen to be aware that Lunasa has other hobbies. By chance, something comes to my mind, unrelated to our musical practice.
“Actually, Lunasa. Have you finished the reading for the next literary club meeting?”
Her head swivels toward me with modest interest. “I have. I’ve been anticipating your thoughts on it.”
“Then, since we’re free for some time... Why don’t we exchange notes now?”
“That sounds like a reasonable plan to me.”
“Ah, sounds boring.” Yatsuhashi releases my arm. “In that case, I think I’m gonna hang out with Raiko for a while. Come join us when you’re done with that, Sis!”
My sister dashes off, her stringed skirt swaying with a feisty jut of her hip.
I find myself alone with the violinist once again.
“Miss Benben,” she addresses me in her typically formal manner.
“You know. Just Benben is fine,” I’ve been meaning to suggest.
“Hmm?”
“Without the extra note, the line flows much better, yes?”
Her golden eyes blink slowly in consideration. “All right... Benben.”
Lunasa accepts my correction with surprising ease, making me wish that I had asked sooner. It truly does flow pleasantly from her lips.
“If you don’t mind, we should retire to the garden. Where we can study in quiet.”
***
Lunasa and I sit across from each other at a small round tea table in the mansion’s central courtyard, surrounded by sparsely flowering vines. Overhead is a glass enclosure which filters in light but which serves to keep out the storm. Thanks to the magic spell on this mansion, this glass will certainly not break.
Such a serene and slightly secluded atmosphere is - dare I entertain the thought? - somewhat romantic. The fanciful depths of my imagination might like to construe it into such a narrative. That said, it isn’t truly a private date. Our fellow club members, in a sense, are here with us in spirit.
I clutch a thickly bound book to my chest. A tome inscribed by several different hands, its many delicate leaves compound into a dense collection of thoughts. It is the shared journal of a small club - a haven for emotionally mature, creative-minded artists.
I flip to the first page, and I recognize the first bit of handwriting: laxly skewed, like a scribbled note to oneself, yet still generally readable.
The club’s founder... is a satori youkai, who writes fascinating novels. Her priority is to construct plots that are difficult to predict - because, being a mind-reader who often stumbles into spoilers, a surprising story is the kind she enjoys most. She uses her insight to craft compelling mysteries, which we often use as discussion material when not focused on the work of other celebrated authors like Lady Agatha Chris Q.
I flip the page again, to a paragraph penned in clean crimson ink - letters with frail stems and narrow spacing.
The second member... is a mountain goddess, who makes beautiful paintings. Whether the canvas is framed paper or a sprawling hillside, the vivid red tones she uses are exquisite. She is guided not only by aesthetics, but by the poetic ideals that the aesthetics represent. She is very particular about style and symbolism across all artistic mediums.
I flip again, to a page of perfect classical cursive. Leaning gently in italic, the fluid precision is calmly entrancing.
Of course, the third member... is a diligent poltergeist, who plays the most soothing music. Her melancholy notes touch the listener’s soul with no interference, almost as if she is playing upon the heartstrings directly. Even as she is so deeply attuned to emotions, her personality is very serious and by-the-book, which is ultimately the best of both worlds for literary analysis.
“Between the literary club and musical rehearsals,” I say, keeping my downcast eyes fixed on the journal, “we’re spending quite a bit time together lately.”
“Mm,” she responds, though I don’t look up to observe the intricacies of her expression.
Our founder finds it difficult to travel outside of her remote home, and that home is a difficult place for us to traverse in return - so we instead communicate long-distance through this journal. Lunasa and I, since we are often together in person for musical practice, sometimes take the opportunity to do our club assignments together as well.
I flip the journal’s page once more, to my own most recent entry. The calligraphy-inspired scrawl curves elegantly, light sweeping strokes weighed down by heavy serifs.
As a member... What are my own qualifications? When I perform narrative ballads, and when I write my reviews for the club, I’m often praised for my eloquence of language. I’ve been generously compared to the goddess Benzaiten, Buddhist deity of all things that flow like water.
But I am not Benzaiten. I am Benben, a single tsukumogami. If our club founder could see me in person, and read my mind, my insecurities may not be so easy to hide.
At least for now, this studious atmosphere is one I can thrive in, maintaining my confidence in my words alone.
Propping the book vertically against her palm, Lunasa begins to summarize the contents of our reading material.
“The novel is framed as a murder mystery. Yet I would suggest that the primary conflict... is an internal one. The focus is not the fear of physical harm, but the struggles embodied in the surrounding emotions.”
“Oh, yes~ Lady Q’s work is a masterpiece of emotional subtlety,” I agree. “Her choice to storytell in the first-person perspective adds much to the thrilling depth, no?”
Lunasa gives a nod. “The protagonist’s own narration relentlessly foreshadows a looming threat. And so we are reminded, the most harrowing obstacles come from within...”
Resting my hand upon the journal page, I seize a glimpse at my own notes of topics to discuss.
“Incidentally, the protagonist of the story... is the eldest sibling of her family. Something that we readers can all fondly relate to.”
“This role affects her motivations greatly.” Broaching this subject, Lunasa’s voice is tinged with an emotional subtlety of its own. “The responsibility of protecting those close to her from danger...”
“And her strong bond with her family is what carries her to resolve the mystery in the end, to pull through such a traumatic event.”
“That was a very cathartic conclusion.”
I can be sure that our other club members felt the same.
“The wisdom of an elder sister is nothing to be trifled with. A wisdom that comes with age...” I let the cliché roll cleanly from my tongue, but I wonder how this applies to me, as an ‘elder sister’ who has yet very few years of experience being one.
Lunasa sets the book back flatly on the tabletop, and raises her head. “I’m... not sure of that. At least, that is not my experience.”
“Hm?”
“In our family, we three siblings... all entered this world at the same time. In years, I am not objectively elder.”
“Right.” This is an unusual nuance, yet it is not as rare as it would seem. “That’s also the case with Yatsuhashi and myself.”
“Rather, I accepted the mantle of the eldest.”
“And why did you do that?”
“Because a family needs an eldest, of course.”
“...Of course.” Far more concise than I would have put it, it was the same simple reason for me.
“I am here to be a reliable elder sister, and so that is what I must be. I feel that the protagonist here shares this clear drive.”
It is no wonder that Lunasa’s eyes seem to tear up while discussing the heroine’s struggles, although they are only fictional. I can easily say that, of any sister figure I know, the character reminded me most of Lunasa herself. Such qualities, in a heroine, I find deeply admirable.
“It’s curious...” Lunasa comments. “I recently gave an interview, to the village scribe, about my personal life. What a coincidence, to read such a story with these feelings so fresh in my mind.”
How interesting. I wonder whether Lady Q reads the scribe’s records for inspiration.
Leaning in, I fold my arms neatly upon the tea table.
“Among all of our readings so far, I think this novel may be a favorite of mine.”
“Mine as well,” says Lunasa. “In fact, I may be inspired to compose something in tribute...”
She glances briefly upward, to the left of her chair. Even besides the literary club members who are here in spirit, there is another third party at this meeting.
Her phantom violin hangs in the air, as it has been all this time, silently spectating our discussion.
“I would love to hear that. I can imagine the violin being a poignant soundtrack for this story.”
“It is. I played quite often during my course of reading.”
“Mm... I can imagine that too.”
Intrusively, I feel the smallest twinge of a reaction in my gut.
This violin is a constant companion to her, through both boisterous performances and quiet hobbies. I know it’s silly to entertain this thought, at such a moment...
But I can’t help but feel somewhat jealous of that violin, which gets to be by her side all day.
—“Whoa--! Hey, Sis! Come here, come here!”
All of a sudden, Merlin’s excited voice pierces through from a neighboring room.
“Ah. I hope there’s no trouble...” Lunasa’s brow instinctively furrows with concern.
“Her voice doesn’t sound too troubled to me,” I note. “Then again, it rarely does.”
The responsible eldest sister takes a stand from her chair regardless.
“I’ll check. Benben, will you please watch my instrument for me for just a moment?”
“Oh.” Her serendipitous request catches me by surprise. “Yes, I’ll do that.”
With a well-mannered bow at the waist, Lunasa leaves the room. And my eyes wander toward the violin.
Hm... Maybe this is my chance. We can have a short, friendly talk, tool to tool.
“Hello there.”
The violin’s glossy antique surface shines in the light that refracts from the crystal ceiling.
“Forgive my forwardness, but I hoped to ask you a question. ...What is it like, being the instrument of the famed Lunasa Prismriver?”
“...”
“No, that’s not what I mean to ask. What is it like, being so close to Lunasa, the person?”
“......”
The tool stays still, and it doesn’t respond to me. Its only movement is gently bobbing up and down as it rests suspended on the air.
That’s right... This instrument is a phantom. Its parted soul can’t communicate with words. But I can at least feel the energy radiating from it, solemn and calm. Indeed, it almost feels like an extension of Lunasa herself.
I reach one hand to stroke the neck, which twinkles as streaks of light bend between my fingertips and its ethereal form.
“Hm-hm. You’re a lucky one, you know?”
I soon hear the soft click of the glass door. Lunasa has returned to the garden, and my gaze shifts to her direction.
Her lips wear their usual frown, but she seems to deliver good news.
“Merlin found an old heirloom while giving the others a tour of mansion. There is no accident or danger.” She then ensures to ask, “Is everything all right here, as well?”
“Yes. We two were just getting to know each other a bit better.”
Curiously, Lunasa beholds the situation, as my hand is laid upon the surface of her instrument. Upon processing my meaning, her eyes widen slightly. “Benben, can you... communicate with this violin...?”
“Ah, no.” I feel a bit guilty for speaking so flippantly. “I was just admiring it, really.”
Lunasa shakes her head. “I shouldn’t have assumed. But that is something I’ve always wanted to do, if it were possible.”
Hmm. A player who wishes to communicate with her tool...
“...”
Before I took human shape, while I existed as an ordinary instrument, I had no eyes to see what was happening or who was using me. I could only feel the spirit of the user. And I could not respond back in the user’s language.
In this case, although there is no response, and there can never be a response... isn’t it still likely that the spirit is being felt?
“What would you say?”
“Pardon?”
“If you could communicate. What would you like to say to your instrument?”
The violinist returns quietly to her seat at the study table, smoothing down her pencil skirt. It doesn’t seem that she will simply make something up on the spot. She must have thought about this deeply before.
If I had to guess, perhaps it would be a wholehearted Thank you for your service.
“I would say: Thank you, for saving me.”
“...Oh.” This is quite a more dramatic choice of words than I expected. “Saving you?”
Lunasa’s heavy eyelids fall shut in recollection, becoming as one with the grey circles beneath. Her voice emerges in a tone that is as silken as it is somber.
“This violin... kept me tethered to a purpose, after losing a previous one.”
“Ah.”
“In the past, our family lost someone very close to us. The person who first granted us the role of sister.”
From faded portraits on the mansion walls, I was vaguely aware that the Prismrivers had a complicated history... but it isn’t something that gets discussed often. Without expecting further details, I’m humbled to have such a vulnerable sentiment shared with me.
“I’m very sorry... for such a loss.”
“Merlin and Lyrica kept that role present in me. But that alone would not have been enough.”
Lunasa’s explanation flows on. She raises one hand to catch a ray of prismatic light which streams in through the roof and onto the table. The joints of her thin fingers bend limply. Under the light, her fingers look so fragile, they seem as if they might fray at the tips.
“Above all else, we are poltergeists. Our purpose, to that end, is to produce noise... to express a soul through noise.”
“For poltergeists,” I gather, “as for instruments, the noise you make is your reason for being...”
“Yet after that loss, I felt completely speechless. It filled me with emotion that I could not otherwise express.”
Hanging closely to her words here, I believe I’m beginning to understand a level of her motivations that I had yet to realize.
“And this is why... you turned to music?”
“For me, there was no other option. If I did not have a suitable instrument through which to channel my emotions, I would have nothing.”
...So this is what she means when she speaks of fulfilling her purpose, one that she absolutely must perfect. Her sound, her feelings, and her sense of duty all coalesce.
“I owe a great deal to this instrument, as well as to my sisters. A clearer way to say this, is that our instruments are like part of the family.”
“I see. That’s a wonderful sentiment.”
“Unfortunately, I will never know whether my violin would feel the same way...”
As she trails off, Lunasa casts her darkly-lashed eyes aside, suggesting a hint of remorse for lowering the mood.
Despite her somber tone, I don’t believe her intent is to depress. In moderation, the essence of ‘melancholy’ is closer to calm nostalgia than it is to despair. This is the mood she makes me feel, and for her to trust me with these emotions sets me quite at ease.
Offering some levity, I bring my ear close to the bridge of the violin, nodding as if listening to its inaudible whisper. “Mm... Yes, I’m certain it does.”
For a moment, Lunasa’s lips fall ajar, looking almost willing to rebelieve in my powers of communication. After a short pause of held breath, she exhales lightly with acceptance.
“Thank you, Benben. Thank you for listening.”
Thank you, she says. Maybe the violin is not the lucky one after all.
While we both may feel her spirit, only I am able to hear these words with my own ears.
Amidst the reflective atmosphere that follows a serious conversation, I become distracted in thought.
Lunasa’s story is incredible. More than any other I’ve met, she is truly a player who appreciates her tool. I have no doubt that any tool would agree.
Her enduring melancholy toward her past manifests in her musical performances as well as in her demeanor. The emotion is negative, and yet... it is so beautiful. Through her own ability and the aid of her tool, she holds the power to convey that emotion to others.
I relate to this perspective strongly as a musician. I, too, seek to find the quality of sound that defines my very being - and to properly convey it.
At the same time, I find myself relating to the other side as well.
An instrument is the vessel through which the user’s passionate spirit flows. As an instrument myself, I no longer belong to a user, yet I wonder... what it would be like to be played now, in this state of consciousness. How would it feel, for the hands of a skilled player to pass over my strings...?
Unconsciously, I begin to fiddle with the flower ornament in my hair.
The soft petals twist gently between my fingers... until one blossom falls from the bunch, fluttering to the surface of the table, directly in front of my book.
“Oh, excuse me.”
Before I can reach for it, Lunasa does so herself, and picks it up with a delicate grasp. Calm eyes fixated upon it, she doesn’t return it to me right away.
And she poses a question, shifting the subject without shifting her low tone.
“May I ask, what type of flower is this?”
“Hm? Lunasa, you’re interested in things like flowers?”
Considering that this garden retreat seems to be a favored venue of hers, I suppose it should come as no surprise.
“Quietly elegant, but not merely decorative... they seem to communicate sentiments beyond words.”
My eyes light up at her excellent description. “Yes, indeed. Hanakotoba, they call it~”
This happens to be another niche that I can speak confidently about. Its appeal is closely related to that of literary symbolism.
“Hana...kotoba?” she repeats enquiringly.
“I’m quite well-versed in the language of flowers. Almost as much as in the language of instruments.”
“Is that so...?”
“This one, for example, is a white jasmine,” I oblige to explain. “In the language of flowers, it symbolizes feminine beauty... and the purity of new beginnings.”
“I see.” Lunasa nods decisively, gazing at the flower. “How fitting... for someone like you.”
“I-- Oh.”
She must be thinking of my spiritual rebirth, as a tsukumogami, to be the fitting connection. A pure new beginning. But the second implication makes me have to hide a smile behind the palm of my hand.
Not noticing my reaction, she draws the blossom close to her own face, shutting her eyes and inhaling deeply through her nose.
“This scent,” Lunasa notes, “is very soothing.”
“Jasmine is well known for its calming effects. Just like your music, yes?”
“Yes, it is similar. It’s no wonder I feel at ease in your presence.”
“You do?” Her simple honesty is poetic. “...Likewise.”
Slowly, she stands from her chair and circles around the table, stopping behind my own seat. Gently, very gently, she reaffixes the flower to its ornament.
“...”
This is when a stroke of boldness suddenly overcomes me.
Before she can remove her hand, I reach to catch it in my own.
I feel... slender fingers, practiced in precision. Her palm is cold and smooth, like a stone from the bank of a riverbed. Gently, very gently, I hold that cold palm to rest against my warm cheek.
She lets me do so for several seconds.
However, soon realizing that I’m making no effort to let go, her hand begins to tremble with uncertainty.
“Benben...”
“What is it? Did you change your mind about feeling comfortable with me?”
Those teasing words slip out of me, as I let her hand slip through my fingers.
“No. I just...” Clearing her throat, she pulls away and stiffly lowers her head. “I apologize for the distraction. We should continue with the study.”
...Oh, my. Did I really do that...?
What a bold move. Surely Raiko would be proud.
***
On the day of the Reversal Incident, the power of the storm granted me an unparalleled confidence.
As the incident drew to a close, that power felt as if it were slipping out of my grasp. Without any strength to call my own, I thought I might return to being a lifeless tool.
This is when we met Raiko - a much more experienced tsukumogami, a brave leader.
When Raiko approached us, and taught us her secrets, and changed our lives... I felt an overwhelming tenderness, and gratitude.
My heart ached for her to stay close. Being so new to the world of emotions, it took me a while to understand my own feelings.
In the end, more than anything, my wish... was for her to become our third sister, one who would continue to guide me.
But she went her own way, pursuing her own vision. Even so, I still see her as our sister in spirit.
She left such an impact on me, I decided that I want to uphold a similar model for my younger sister.
Thus, I continue playing my role as the competent elder. Or so I try.
Now that my study session with Lunasa has ended, I’ve met with my sister and Raiko.
We are in the Prismriver mansion’s grand living room, gathered around an old fireplace.
We wooden tools have no great affinity for fire, but neither do we prefer the ghostly chill that permeates most of this haunted estate. Fortunately then, this unlit hearth glows subtly with only the memory of fire. We sit comfortably in the atmosphere of this memory.
“Yatsuhashi, your bridges are unaligned. Let me help you re-tune.”
“Sure, Sis.”
Conscientiously I adjust the carved pieces on her skirt. She would slap away the hand of anyone else who tried to touch them, but I’m pleased that she trusts me.
When I’ve finished, she gives it a brief look, then gives a satisfied nod.
“Nice work today. You both sounded great during the set earlier,” Raiko tells us.
“Especially you, Yatsuhashi.” I seize the opportunity to turn the compliment on my sister. “I couldn’t be more proud~”
Truly, Yatsuhashi’s technique has improved greatly since our amateur debut. The precious time we’ve spent practicing together has been worthwhile. I hope that must mean my influence is working.
“You too!” she insists. “Your playing is classy as usual, but your attack is also super intense.”
This is somewhat surprising praise. When I perform, I feel the music intensely, but I’m not always aware of how intensely it may be received.
Just as my studiousness has encouraged Yatsuhashi to refine her focus, in turn, perhaps her spontaneous nature has also encouraged me to do things less by rote. My safe, linear notes flourish into far more lively pieces with her accompaniment.
Although I am the elder, is it all right for that influence to go both ways?
“By the way,” says Raiko, “I won’t be able to make the next rehearsal.”
“Aww.” Yatsuhashi purses her lips in a pout. “Raiko is as busy as ever.”
“Just for the day, I promised Choujuu Gigaku a guest drummer. Tell the rest of the band for me, all right?”
I can’t imagine how she does it. Raiko extends herself so far... but her collaborations with others are never favors to them. She is always making the most of her life and doing exactly what she wants to do, playing everywhere she wants to play.
“All right,” I answer with a nod, “we’ll do that.”
Re-crossing her legs, and with a rap of her familiar stick against her opposite palm, the drummer smiles at me.
“So, Benben. Had a good time at your study session?”
“Oh...” Feeling targeted by her question, my face grows warmer. Instinctively, I turn my chin down and away from the illusionary fire. “Yes, I did.”
This is quite an understatement. Be still, my beating heart, or she’ll certainly be able to hear it again.
“Hm-hm. You admire Lunasa a lot, don’t you?”
Ah...! So typical of percussion. Raiko is terribly blunt.
“Y- Yes, of course. I admire Lunasa’s competence as a musician, and as an elder sister. I’d like to be so responsible.”
When I put it into these words, I realize this is very similar how I came to admire Raiko. ...I used to think that my feelings for Raiko were romantic as well.
Might I waver here again? It’s not as if I intend to pursue my feelings with Lunasa regardless, but that would be a mortifying misunderstanding...
“Come on, you’re already the best sister there is,” Yatsuhashi decides hastily. “No need to take notes from her!”
“Well, I’m happy to hear that from you~” I give her an affectionate squeeze from the side.
Letting her cheek fall snugly on my shoulder, my sister peers up at me with bright almond eyes.
“You know, you really should’ve stuck with us for the whole break.”
Raiko adds, “Right, you didn’t get to see the house tour.”
“A tour...? How did that go?”
“Merlin found an old music box in an abandoned room!” Sitting back up straight, Yatsuhashi raises one plectrum-pointed fingernail to her chin to reimagine the scene. “To be honest, it was really pretty, the way the glass reflected the light. The sound was pretty, too - though I could hardly hear over her yelling about it. That weirdo gets so excited about everything!”
Yatsuhashi’s own voice grows rather excited as she speaks about it. Although there is some tension between her and the poltergeists, she and Merlin are both quite similarly vibrant and outspoken.
“Come to think of it, that instrument looked like it could be even older than us,” she continues. “I wonder why it hasn’t turned into a tsukumogami?”
“I get the sense its spirit is... somewhere else,” comes the answer from Raiko. “It’s hard to explain, but there are a lot of odd quirks about the poltergeists’ mansion. Things work differently here.”
“You think? It’s not gonna mess us up to be hanging out here too often, is it?”
“Not a chance, Yatsuhashi.” With flexed arms, the bold drummer grips both of her sticks in a perfect vertical frame to emphasize her surety. “We’re all powered by the outside world’s magic. Between that strong source of passion and our own, we have nothing to worry about.”
“I do feel strong. Stronger every day, really.” Carefreely, Yatsuhashi kicks her slim legs against the side of the antiquated couch. “Maybe that means humans are getting back into classical instruments on the outside?”
“Hmm. A lot of people are enjoying retro music using new technology... The surge could also be from musicians who use digital samples of instruments like us.”
“You mean there are a whole bunch of Lyricas out there too!? Noooo, one is enough to deal with!”
“Ahahaha♪”
Raiko breaks into her charismatic laugh. This soon leads Yatsuhashi’s exaggerated indignance to transition into sweet laughter as well. The smiles on both of their faces glisten brilliantly.
Watching them, I’m filled once more with that sense of warmth and tenderness, as I felt after the resolution of that incident. It’s truly a miracle that we three can be here, speaking like this.
Perhaps inspired by a certain person’s sentimentality, I don’t want to take this for granted.
“Raiko. May I say something?”
“Mm-hmm?”
I’ve chosen my words carefully.
“Thank you. For saving us, back then.”
“Ah...” She rests her chin on one fist, flaunting a casual pose. “Aha. Of course, Benben.”
“I mean it, sincerely.”
“I know. And you don’t owe me anything,” she asserts. “Except to keep on showing me what kinds of amazing music you can make♪”
“Yes~” I tell her. “That’s a promise.”
“Don’t forget that other promise we owe each other, too,” Yatsuhashi chimes in with a grin. “Overturning the hierarchy, and building a paradise for tools!”
That’s right... a paradise for tools.
A complete gekokujo is quite a lofty ambition for someone like me, who has yet hardly mastered herself.
Yatsuhashi is taking this goal quite seriously, by making rivals out of the Prismrivers. Despite us technically being tools, and them being players, she refuses to subordinate.
Raiko is pursuing this ideal in many of her own ways. Confidently inviting herself to join that band was another approach. She stands as their equal, granting herself a stage for others to see her skill.
She is so much their equal... that in her relationship with the keyboardist, for example, it’s impossible to tell which is the player or the tool.
This state of equality is the essence of “paradise.” It is not a physical place, but a manner of existence.
Before becoming able to change all of society, one must change personally. And so, I need to start small.
To reverse the hierarchy of tool and player, just for myself... Maybe that’s what makes the elder poltergeist so temptingly teaseable to me, as well.