Sonata No Kioku
01- Music in the middle of the wreckage

As the train progressed to the scene for about a fraction of a second, the smell of the sea crept in through the small cracks from the window.

Just on Sunday afternoon, there were no more passengers than me on this train. By summer, the beach will be more crowded than now. Although spring is still running, the beach is still crowded by schoolchildren like myself for example.

This Bergong 3 train roars through the bend slowly. The view is dark because of the tunnel under the bridge. As time went on, the view of the dark color vanished along with the increasingly sharp aroma of the sea. The network of car roofs as well as the old copper-patterned sea view darkened under the bright orange sky.

The train wobbled and stopped at a small station.

I took my backpack from the next seat and walked to the platform that was now open. Immediately I saw the gray mounds between the green mountains on my right.

I don't know when it happened and was there. But the mound that was once a valley, has now turned into a large landfill. Whether it was legal or illegal, I saw that there were already several damaged electronic transport trucks passing to the place. A moment from the interlude time passed, the place was suddenly silent. It was so quiet, like in the last 15 minutes it was the end of the world.

SD and SMP where I went to school used to be close to the beach. Then on that one day, I accidentally got lost and found this place The name of the signpost in the store I had met in a comic created by Onee-chan¹, I once found, although strange and impressed do not have a permanent desire, it is not a problem. After all, I don't want to bother debating the matter of the name of this store with anyone.

🎶

Putting aside the problem of the store earlier, my mother could be said to have a job that was stranger than the name of the store. Namely, critics of musical instruments and musical tones. –not mean to offend the music critics out there, but for me this job is fairly anti-mainstream and not common–Because of that, this, in my house a lot of stored sound system, CD, tape recorder, music partiur and various other foreign instruments that are still connected to music. Because of that job, 9 years ago my father left this house leaving us both, what about onee-chan? He died 2 years ago of cancer. I was 5 years old and I swore I would never work as a critic or any other profession related to music.

Putting aside my family issues first, we turn to these critic tools. Almost some of our home equipment is used for work, but my mother always carelessly keeps it everywhere. Almost every day there are things that he damaged. Whether it is a loudspeaker, CD player (DVD) or gramophone. Because of the large amount of equipment, no one ever bought me a toy as a child. So I struggled with that stuff, and made it a toy to unload.

I had it dismantled and damaged. But slowly I began to repair and reassemble it. Then, because it has become a habit from childhood now it is attached to my body, or a kind of hobby I call it.

Because my hobby is this, then once in two-three months I visit this strange store that is close to the beach. I went on a train from station to station to collect some useful components. While walking alone in this collection of junkyards, I felt as if I was the only human left on the face of the earth. And somehow that feeling made me happy.

However, at that time I was not the only one who visited the junkyard.

As I walked through the forest that leads to the valley, I saw a hill made of electronic junkyard like tv, refrigerator etc. These mounds can be seen from hundreds of meters away and can be seen in any weather. What surprised me was that I heard the violin.

At first I thought it was just a misheard or a musical sound from inside the store. However, as my feet stepped out of the forest and walked towards this mound right in front of my eyes, I realized that the sound of the violin was not just a misheard. The combination of high and low tones sounded like the waves of the sea that were sometimes calm and raging.... And then the piano sounds.

I don't know what song it's playing, but I've heard it. Like a concert violin in Europe there. But why should his voice be heard in a place like this?

Out of curiosity, I decided to climb up the trash mound. The melody of the friction blend between the strings and the violin bow² performs beautifully as in a CD player. At first I thought this music came from a radio that was still on, but the thought vanished a second later.

The depth of sound between violinists and pianists is not the same. It must be because of the sound of the violin being played live. I looked down at the pile of wreckage upon reaching the top and the sight that greeted me was so shocking that it made my breath restrained.

A violin that had been half-destroyed was struck by a table and refrigerator, reflecting the shimmer of worn brown color as if freshly dipped in water and exposed out like a pair of wings of a bird. Just not far from the violin, a strand of light purple hair swung along as the bow was swiped to the beat. It turns out it was a girl.

The girl stood in the middle of this mound of wreckage as she continued to swipe her violin. His gaze was fixed on the swing of his arm, his long eyebrows slightly pulled back. The beautiful shrill sound that he played was like the whirling waves at the end of spring that were splashed wave after wave that was trembling, from inside the little violin.

That stern face and pale snow-white skin was not something common in the world. So beautiful that I could not turn against her. His light purple hair shone like a jewel that melted under the twilight rays.

"I've seen it, but why.... I can't remember her name?" Mumbles.

His face was familiar and familiar. I've seen him somewhere and so has the song he's playing. But why can't you remember his name?

I turned my eyes for a moment to the surrounding area.

"There's nobody else here, it should be just the sound of the violin. But, why.... As if I heard the chant of another musical instrument (orchestra)??" Saying slowly.

Immediately I realized that the vibration of the violin below me was giving off vibrations and a little strange tone when the rhythm was low. Not only that, other junkyards such as bicycles, broken LCD screens, all resonated with each other with that violin vibration.

All the wreckage buried there, singing along.

Because of the resulting echo, it moved my memory of the orchestra represented by this junkyard. Maybe it was just a hallucination of my mind, but it felt so real.

Indirectly I seemed to know the song that had just been played earlier... But what is the title?? Why does music touch my heart?

🎶

The allegro³ line sounded soft pulsating but the longer it sounded like hasty footsteps going to the sea bed in front of twilight, then the section now goes into the adagio⁴ line. Colorful small bubbles of every tonal friction created from the sea floor somehow millions in number, now bursting to the surface and widespread. Then the roar of the orchestra again sounded from a distance and sounded in tandem– But the music suddenly stopped.

Cold sweat started pouring from my forehead. And stared down right at the direction the violin was. The girl who was playing the violin stopped and looked at me with an unfriendly look.

The disguised sound of the orchestra, the echo of the violin strings, even the sound of the wind swirling against the trees– Everything disappeared, making me think as if the apocalypse had arrived this very second.

".... How long have you been up there?"

I flinched for a moment. "Wine! The apocalypse is really coming!" I'm restless.

🌼つづく🌼

(Enjoy the next part😉)