Take Zero "TAKE 4 - Recording"

We were still in the hall. How much time had passed since Togawa went into the dressing room?

The stove fire crackled. It was snowing outside. Beyond the window, only a gray sky was visible.

Ritsu was standing by the window. With arms crossed, she wasn't talking to anyone.

Midori was sitting in a chair. Occasionally, she would rotate her shoulders.

Shinichi was near the stove. With his right hand on his hip, he was staring at the fire.

Rin was—quietly watching everyone.

And Komine was.

He was in front of the stairs to the control room. Always in the same place. He never left the side of the equipment.

After a while, Togawa returned.

"We have a problem."

Everyone's gaze turned toward him.

"First, an accident is unlikely. Given the height of the railing, it's not something one would accidentally fall over."

Togawa looked at his notebook.

"And suicide—judging by your testimonies, it seems Tsurumi-san was not that kind of person."

Ritsu looked up.

"She wasn't the type to commit suicide. That person was—the type to fight until the very end."

Togawa nodded.

"That leaves only one possibility."

Silence fell.

"I have organized your testimonies. When the power outage occurred, you were all in different locations. Orihara-san in Dressing Room 1, Minagawa-san in Dressing Room 2, Domoto-san in the restroom, Fujimori-san in the cafeteria, and Komine-san in the control room."

Togawa looked around at everyone.

"No one was with anyone else. In other words—"

"No one has an alibi."

Silence fell.

Ritsu lifted his chin. He was looking back at Togawa with his arms crossed. There was a challenging light in his eyes.

Midori looked away. She hunched her shoulders slightly, shrinking into her chair.

Shinichi kept looking out the window. His right hand was reaching toward his waist again.

Rin was—quietly watching Togawa. Her expression was unreadable. But her eyes seemed to be thinking about something.

And Komine.

He stood in front of the stairs to the control room, not looking at anyone's face.

Komine opened his mouth.

"…There is a recording."

Togawa turned around.

"I kept the recording running all night. It picked up not just the performance, but the sounds in the hall as well."

Komine's voice was quiet.

"The files have timestamps. We can tell what happened at what time, down to the minute. It might be of use to you."

Togawa's eyes lit up.

"May I hear it?"

"…Understood."

Komine began to climb the stairs in silence. Togawa followed him.

The control room was on the second floor of the church.

It seems it was originally a small room for the choir. Now it is filled with equipment. A mixer, monitors, a recorder. Sound-absorbing material is attached to the walls, but the old church structure cannot block everything completely. On windy days, the vibrations from the windows come through.

Looking down from the window, I could see the entire main hall. I can watch the performers' movements from here.

Komine turned on the equipment with practiced hands. Waveforms appeared on the monitor. A faint noise could be heard from the speakers.

'This is last night's recording.'

'All of it?'

'There are two main types of recordings.'

Komine pointed to the screen.

'One is the performance take. We recorded twice last night. The files are separated by take. Performance Take 1 stopped halfway through, but Take 2 went all the way to the end.'

'And the other?'

'Room recording. Even when they weren't playing, the hall microphones were running.'

'Is it necessary to record the room as well?'

'Keeping the room's resonance makes the seams more natural during editing. Also—'

Komine pointed to another track.

'I also set up a separate microphone in the control room to record the session.'

'What for?'

'Keeping a record of the engineer's decisions and comments is helpful when editing later. It's a habit from a long time ago.'

'Exactly what time did the recording cut off?'

'9:32 PM. It's recorded in the timecode.'

Togawa wrote it down in his notebook. He had been doing this job for over twenty years. He wasn't bad at following numbers. But he didn't understand music.

'What kind of piece is this?'

'Beethoven's String Quartet. Opus 131. The seven movements are played continuously without a break.'

'Without a break?'

'It's called attacca. You don't stop between movements. Once you start, you can't stop for about forty minutes.'

Togawa frowned.

'But you said it stopped at the third movement, even though it's not supposed to stop.'

'In Take 1, yes. Take 2 went all the way through.'

'Then, please let me hear Take 1.'

Komine operated the mouse. The waveform began to move.

Music began to play.

It started with a low note. A sound like something crawling. It was dark, heavy—but somehow, it was a sound that drew you in.

'It's a fugue.'

Komine said.

'Four voices sing the same theme in turn. Like a game of tag.'

Togawa nodded. He didn't know much about music. But he could somehow sense the feeling of four threads intertwining.

Before long, the tone of the music changed.

The music, which had been dark and sunken, suddenly became bright. The tempo increased, and the strings began to move as if they were bouncing.

'Second movement. D major.'

However, there was something suffocating about that 'brightness.' Togawa got the impression that they were being forced to run.

'The tempo is too fast.'

Komine muttered.

"Ritsu is getting too far ahead. Midori isn't keeping up."

Togawa looked at Komine.

"You can tell?"

"...I can."

Komine's eyes were fixed on the waveform. The seat where he himself had once played. The seat where someone else was sitting now.

His fingers unconsciously turned up the volume. The voice of the second violin became just a little louder. It was Midori's sound. The part Komine used to play.

Togawa noticed the gesture. But he said nothing.

They entered the third movement. It was short. It was music like a bridge. Just eleven measures. Like a deep breath, it continued on to what followed.

Near the end of the third movement.

The music stopped.

"Take 1 ends here."

Togawa looked up.

"What was the reason for the stop?"

"Ritsu held the last note too long. Midori couldn't match it."

"And then?"

"They had to redo it."

"What about Take 2?"

"They made it to the end. Do you want to listen?"

Togawa nodded.

Komine operated the mouse. The waveform moved.

The first through third movements were the same as before. But this time, it didn't stop.

The fourth movement. A major.

The air changed. The music began to sing. A relaxed breath. There was a sensation as if warm light had shone in.

"This movement is the heart of the work."

Komine's voice had softened just a little.

"It's as gentle as gauze applied to a wound."

The fifth movement. Presto.

The tempo suddenly increased. Sharp phrases intersected in rapid succession. It was music that sounded like it was laughing, yet was somehow nervous.

"This movement requires precision. If played sloppily, it sounds like cracked laughter."

The sixth movement. Adagio.

The music fell silent for a moment. It was music that seemed to take a deep breath before the next fall. Dark. Heavy. A run-up to the final movement.

And then, the seventh movement. Returning to C-sharp minor.

It had momentum, but it was not a song of victory. It was an ending that felt as if it had been destined to fall here from the very beginning.

The music ended.

"This is take 2."

Komine said.

Togawa looked at his notes.

"Around what time did the performance end?"

"Around 7:40."

The power outage was at 9:30. There is a gap of nearly two hours.

Yes. After the performance, we had a brief discussion, and everyone took showers or rested.

Could you let me hear the room recording from that time as well?

...Understood.

Komine opened a different file.

The room recording is over two hours long. Would you like to hear only the main points?

Please.

Komine operated the recording. The waveform moved rapidly.

First, this is dinner time. It seems the voices from the dining hall reached the hall, so it was recorded in fragments.

Someone's laughter could be heard. It was Ritsu's voice. But it cut off immediately.

Another voice was heard. It was Tsurumi.

If we connect it during editing, it will sound like it never stopped. No problem.

Komine's voice.

Just sounding like it isn't—

You are behind the scenes. You are not in a position to comment on the performance.

Silence fell. Only the sound of tableware continued.

Togawa nodded.

This is the argument at dinner that you all testified about, isn't it?

...Yes.

Komine pointed at the waveform.

At this point, I returned to the control room. After this, Mr. Tsurumi called me back.

Let me hear it.

Komine switched the track.

This is the recording from the control room.

Tsurumi's voice could be heard.

How long do you intend to keep doing this job?

Komine's voice.

...What do you mean by that?

I'm thinking of asking a different engineer for the next album. That was the plan fifteen years ago, too, wasn't it?

Footsteps faded away. The sound of Tsurumi walking toward the balcony.

What happened after this?

I returned to the control room. Mr. Tsurumi stayed on the balcony.

Komine advanced the waveform.

There is nothing particularly noteworthy after this.

Togawa nodded.

Then, please let me hear the moments just before the power outage.

Komine operated the equipment.

This is the recording from the control room. Just before the power outage.

The sound of a mouse clicking could be heard. The sound of operating equipment.

Komine's voice was recorded. ...Minus six. No problem.

This is my voice. I was checking the levels.

Komine switched tracks.

Next is the room recording. It's from the same time period.

Footsteps could be heard. The sound of someone climbing the stairs.

You can hear footsteps from the balcony side. It sounds like someone came up...

Komine looked at the waveform.

...I don't know. Not just from the footsteps.

Then, the recording cut off.

The power went out here.

Togawa nodded.

When the power went out, you were here. And someone else went up to the balcony.

...That's right.

You don't know whose footsteps those were.

I don't know.

A silence followed.

Togawa looked out the window. It was snowing.

Mr. Komine, do recording engineers also do editing?

Yes. In classical music, we sometimes edit. We have them play many times and connect the best parts. So that you can't tell where the seams are.

Komine's voice was matter-of-fact.

Togawa took notes.

You're a recording professional, aren't you? You can edit anything.

Komine didn't answer.

I heard footsteps coming down the stairs.

Togawa and Komine returned to the hall.

I looked at their faces. Togawa seemed to be deep in thought. Komine—as always, his expression was unreadable.

Togawa looked around at us.

I've listened to the recording.

Everyone's gaze turned toward Togawa.

Just before the power outage, Komine was in the control room. His voice is on the recording.

Ritsu looked up.

So, that means Komine is—

He is no longer a suspect. For now, at least.

Komine said nothing. He was looking out the window.

I looked at Komine's profile.

Something happened. But he won't say it now. He can't.

Togawa walked around the hall, looking at his notes.

Shinichi was by himself near the stove. He was staring at the fire.

May I have a moment?

Shinichi looked up.

...What do you want to ask?

“To continue our previous conversation.”

Togawa stood beside him.

“Mr. Fujimori, you joined fifteen years ago. Mr. Minagawa joined around the same time. That means—the cello has changed too, hasn't it?”

Shinichi’s face stiffened for a moment.

Shinichi kept his gaze on the fire, his right hand resting on his hip.

“...Yeah. He quit, too.”

“He quit?”

“Right after Komine was kicked out.”

Togawa waited.

“Unlike me, he stood his ground.”

Shinichi’s voice was bitter.

“He said, ‘If this is how you’re going to keep the quartet going, I’m out.’ He told that to both Ritsu and Tsurumi before he left.”

“And you?”

“I...”

Shinichi cut his words short.

“I couldn’t say anything. I couldn’t stop him, yet I stayed. I kept playing.”

The fire in the stove crackled.

“On the day of the final rehearsal...”

Shinichi had a distant look in his eyes.

“He looked at Ritsu and said, ‘Is this your way of doing things?’ He packed away his cello in silence and just walked out.”

"Didn't you stop him?"

"I tried to. But--"

Shinichi shook his head.

"He looked at me and asked, 'What are you going to do?' I--I couldn't answer anything."

Togawa listened in silence.

"He was waiting. For me to say something. But I--I just sat there, holding my instrument, silent."

"And then?"

"He laughed. It was a bitter laugh. He just said, 'I see,' and that was it."

Shinichi's voice was trembling.

"For fifteen years, that 'I see' has been stuck in my ears."

He did not look up.

Togawa said nothing.

After a while, he lightly touched Shinichi's shoulder and walked away.

Evening was approaching.

Outside the window, it was still snowing. The gray sky was gradually growing darker.

Togawa was organizing everyone's testimonies. He kept looking over his notes again and again.

Ritsu remained standing by the window. Occasionally, she would place a hand on her left jaw.

Midori was shifting her legs in her chair. She rotated her shoulders. She seemed restless.

Shinichi was by the stove. He kept his right hand on his waist, staring into the fire.

Rin was--sitting quietly. Her fingers were clasped on her lap.

And Komine was.

Standing at the bottom of the stairs to the control room. He wasn't talking to anyone, just looking out the window.

'Let's call it a day for now.'

Togawa said.

'Please let me hear your story again tomorrow. I want to confirm some minor details.'

No one answered.

Togawa turned on his heel and walked toward the waiting room.

We were the only ones left.

The snow was still falling.

Ritsu moved away from the window. Without making eye contact with anyone, he walked toward the waiting room. There was a heaviness in his back, as if he were carrying something.

Midori stood up. She followed Ritsu, rotating her shoulders. But she didn't say anything.

Shinichi didn't move from in front of the stove. He was staring at the fire. His right hand was still resting on his waist.

Rin stood up quietly. She looked at Shinichi, but walked toward the dining room without saying a word.

And Komine was.

Looking up at the stairs to the control room. He was thinking about something. Something—.

I looked out the window.

Something is wrong. But I don't know what it is.

Komine was cleared as a suspect. He said the recording was the evidence.

But—.

Is that recording really 'evidence'?

I looked at Komine's profile.

He is hiding something. That is how it looked to me.

But is that something only I am feeling? Or—.

I couldn't say it. I didn't say it.

The snow was still falling.

[Continues to TAKE 5]