Next Door - Monologue 2

[shivalries]

Season: Winter, 2 Years Ago

CW: death mention, war/guns mention (used metaphorically)

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[Leo's Room]

Leo: (Ahh, I remember it when I look at the score—not even my songs are perfect. There are always places I could add or change things.)

(Even if there weren't, there are still parts that conflict with the singer's feelings.)

(Like... here, this one guy would look confused. Here, that guy would ask me to change it. And here, yet another guy would have a hard time reaching the notes.)

(And here, and here, and here...)

(But even then, they all called me a genius composer in the end, choosing my songs over others for their renown.)

(The fans who heard my music would happily agree, too. The music that I'd just whipped up inside my head turned into "the right answer".)

(That's why folks slowly stopped complaining about them. Nobody wanted to be wrong and lose their share.)

(Rather than expressing things themselves, people began to understand that they could be more successful using my form of expression... and they developed a taste for it.)

(They started to exclusively use the songs that I handed out to them. I mean, I get it. They'd make more money that way.)

(But is success all you really need? If you earn more than others and come out on top, does that make you right?)

(Is that the one-and-only, absolute form of justice, and everything else that doesn't lead to victory or is deemed wrong is just worthless trash?)

(No way that can be right. That's no different from a pack of animals, where the strongest has offspring and that's all that ever happens.)

(We are human. And because we're human, we should be able to do something more noble.)

(And yet, I was the one who closed off that noble future. I handed keys out everywhere, opened up the weapon storage to the public, and let everyone use the weapons I'd created.)

(The DreamFes system that the student council developed began to encourage that. And then, a war began...)

(Guns were spread everywhere—and they were so easy to use that even little girls and the elderly could handle them with a little training.)

("Guns", meaning... my songs.)

(If all they have is a sword, even the greatest, mightiest heroes would easily be shot full of bullet holes and reduced to corpses—no matter how much of a nobody they were up against.)

(All the sweat and tears they put into perfecting their bladework would be rendered meaningless in an instant.)

(Just like that, with only a little squeeze of the trigger... everyone died so easily.)

(No one could tell who was stronger than who anymore.)

(Everyone turned into nameless, faceless soldiers, swaggering around and shooting off bullets at will, stealing from those who'd worked to build up wealth.)

(And eventually, they couldn't tell the difference between anyone anymore, turning into beasts that only knew how to steal. This way, everyone would have an equal chance to earn money and succeed...)

(If this is what you call revolution, Tenshi, then maybe it really was. I had a hand in it myself—I gave out weapons that anyone could easily and conveniently use.)

(All because people were happy when I did. I was like a dumb little kid.)

(That sparked a war... but I don't think it was totally wrong, either. If Yumenosaki had been left alone, everyone would've rotted away and perished without achieving anything.)

(That's how much our school and the idol industry lying beyond it had stagnated, both sluggishly trudging toward their own destruction.)

(If it was all going to crumble and collapse eventually, then you'd take any option, even if it wasn't the best. I admire you both for making the decision to act—Tenshi, Keito.)

(But I'm through.)

(There were countless possibilities hidden within the huge amounts of musical scores on which I busily scribbled out my songs, absorbed in composing.)

(And yet with my own selfish will, I wrote all over them to appease myself—I dyed the remnants of so many people's dreams in my own color.)

(Each and every person has things they've built up since the very moment they let out their first cry at birth.)

(They've lived their own tales, but I blacked them all out and replaced them with my own context.)

(I'd go, "This song's perfect for you!" and just push my creations onto people, even though my songs aren't literally them...)

(I made countless lives, countless stories, into "Leo Tsukinaga's works".)

(And it was only until I wore myself out into this sorry state that I finally realized what kind of horrible, idiotic things I've done.)

(It's true that the world acknowledges my talent. Everyone calls me a genius.)

(Rather than a creation that some talentless nobody struggled and chiseled away at their life to make, some random thing I cooked up on the fly always ended up generating much more profit.)

(But who gives a crap? Is earning money all that matters? Do you have to be better and stronger to be right? Is everything else just useless garbage?)

(That can't be right, it can't... Even the clumsy, shabby little works those guys made could've made someone smile.)

(They could've been someone's favorite songs.)

(But I crushed those works and erased them. I didn't mean to at first, but after the war began, I did it knowingly.)

(For Sena, who aimed to be the best; for the glory of Knights, the very symbol of our youth...)

(For victory, for money, for righteousness. I crushed everyone's creations.)

(Those idols could have brought a smile to someone, somewhere in the world... and I killed them.)

(......)

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