CPSG 25

Chapter 25

(Signs of Glory)
And then after school…

After they sang through the piece once, Reiko began to speak.
“I think you’ve all grasped the structure pretty well. But as it is now, it sounds like you’re fighting with the piano. So this time, try to sing while putting the feelings of the song into it…”

“What do you mean by ‘feelings of the song’?”
A boy from the class called out.

Reiko had been waiting for that question.

“Alright then, Ami will play the heart of the song Troika on the piano. Everyone, close your eyes and listen carefully. Ami, please…”

Instead of playing the usual accompaniment meant for choral practice, Aimi played freely—bringing out the imagery and emotion of Troika with dazzling technique and unrestrained expression.

After Aimi finished playing twice, sighs mixed with admiration—or perhaps awe—escaped from the class.

“Ami’s piano really hits you right in the heart… boom, boom… it makes my chest tighten!”
A girl said this.

The class began buzzing again.

“As Michiyo just said, this song shows the quiet scenery of a snowy plain. But within that stillness, the horses pulling the sleigh and the driver are breathing hard as they rush toward town. You can sometimes hear the crack of a whip, and the sleigh bells never stop ringing. The driver wants to reach town as soon as possible, but the deep snow won’t let him move fast. And on top of that, the sun is about to set—the darkness is closing in. Frustrated and anxious, he keeps urging the reins. The reason Aimi’s piano feels so painfully powerful is because it carries that struggle between the driver, the horses, and the snow…”

“So basically, we shouldn’t just sing lightly because the tempo is lively!”
Michiyo said again.

“Yes, exactly. Even within an upbeat rhythm, if you put the exhaustion and urgency into each phrase, the song will naturally gain weight. But if that weight crushes the whole mood, it loses its meaning. The theme is still bravery and lightness!”

“Uuugh, that sounds hard…”
A boy muttered from the back.

“It is. You all keep saying ‘Troika,’ but do you know what it actually is?”
The class didn’t respond.

“Oh come on… like I said earlier, it’s a type of carriage. A big one pulled by three horses side-by-side. In this song it’s a sleigh. In modern terms, it’s a car—a fancy one, maybe even a sports car. Think of it like saying: ‘My car has a million horsepower—it can blast through any road!’ Something like that. But on deep snowy roads, even that power gets buried and can’t run like usual. The driver gets impatient. ‘What do you mean you can’t move?! You’ve got a million horsepower!’ That kind of feeling…”

“That car’s not four-wheel drive?!”
A boy in the back joked.

“Idiot, even a 4WD gets stuck if the snow is deep enough!”
They teased back.

Reiko laughed and continued her explanation.

“Maybe the snow has caused a massive traffic jam and the sleigh can’t move forward at all. And maybe there’s a girl waiting for the driver in town. So his irritation mixes with excitement. That’s the feeling behind the song…”

As Reiko spoke, she pictured the scene and burst out laughing at her own explanation.

“Reiko, that’s hilarious!” Michiko said.
“I think I kinda get it now,” another boy said from the back.

Reiko nodded firmly.
“Alright then, let’s try singing once with that accompaniment!”

She signaled to Aimi and raised her baton.

As expected, the piano’s sound was powerful.
But carried by that sound, the chorus sang louder than the first time.

When they finished, the boy in the back muttered softly:
“I still don’t really get what it means to put feelings into singing, but Aimi’s piano… man, you can’t help feeling it in your chest!”

“Yes, that’s perfect. Aimi is always playing with her heart. So all you have to do is let the feelings you get from the piano come out in your voice!”

Reiko herself felt she was putting more energy into her conducting than usual.

“Somehow, this is getting fun!”
A boy said, and the class erupted in agreement.

That reaction showed they all felt the same.

“Alright—one more time!”
Reiko raised her baton again.

Once… twice… three times…
Each time they sang, the chorus aligned more closely with Aimi’s piano.
Their improvement was unmistakable.

For the first time, Reiko thought: Maybe… maybe winning isn’t just a dream.

But more than that, she felt happy—
because the classmates who usually avoided looking at Aimi, treating her acne-covered face with discomfort, were now united around her piano, sharing one heart.