I was so happy I could make music.

  Mom, Dad... thank you.

  I entered the Newcomer Music Competition—the same electric organ contest I’d been doing since I was little—but this time, I tried something different. I joined the composition category.

  And somehow, on my very first try, I made it to the final round.

  I was the youngest contestant—just a fifth grader. The competition took entries from kids, students, even working adults, and the final round judged all the pieces together, without saying who wrote what.

  They hadn’t had a junior make it this far in over twelve years.

  “That's amazing, Haruka. You’ve worked so hard.”

  “Yeah! I really wanted to make something special this time, so I gave it everything I had!”

  When I said I wanted to learn music, my parents—both music lovers—took me to all kinds of concerts. Afterwards, we’d eat dinner at a restaurant and talk about what we heard.

  We saw orchestras, jazz trios, even rock bands.

  Dad would get way too excited—like, actually dancing-in-his-seat excited—and I’d laugh and sway along with him.

  Jazz was tricky, but sometimes I’d think, “Wow… that’s so cool.”

  But musicals were my favorite.

  The story, the music, the singing, the dancing—it all melted together like magic.

  Mom always cried during the emotional scenes. I think I almost did, too.

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  All those feelings I had during those times…

  I poured them into my song:

  “Otogibanashi: A Musical Fairy Tale.”

  Mom and Dad helped me come up with the title.

  We wanted it to be full of all the music and memories I’d carried with me.

  And that’s why I love this piece so much.

  As the final concert got closer, I felt more and more excited.

  Mom looked a little worried, but me? I just wanted people to hear my music.

  Sure, winning would be nice. But what I really wanted…

  was to play my song on that big stage in Tokyo, in front of everyone.

  To stand there and say, “This is mine.”

  The concert was two weeks away.

  I was practicing when—

  “Ow—my head, it really hurts—what is this?!”

  The pain was so sudden and sharp that I collapsed to the floor.

  “Mom! My head hurts!”

  “Oh no, maybe it’s a cold. Let’s go see the pediatrician.”

  The pain faded after a while, and I figured it was just from practicing too hard.

  “Weird... I probably just overdid it. I’ll be fine after a nap.”

  Lately, I’d been feeling really sleepy all the time. Maybe I was just exhausted.

  The next day, I stayed home from school and went to the clinic.

  The doctor tilted his head a little, thinking.

  “There’s no fever, no cough... and colds aren’t going around right now.

  Since it’s a headache, I’d like to be safe and check her brain.

  Let me write a referral.”

  He sent me to a big university hospital in Yokohama.

  “This is really bad timing,” Mom said. “Only ten days until the finals.”

  “It’s okay. We’ll just do the tests today and come back later.

  I want to practice again soon. I want to get better.”

  The sharp pains kept happening, but not as badly.

  Two days later, we went back for the tests.

  They said they’d need to do the scans while I was asleep, so they gave me some medicine.

  I felt myself growing drowsy...

  And when I opened my eyes again, a lot of time had passed.

  Wait... didn’t I just fall asleep?

  I was in pajamas, lying in a hospital bed.

  When did I get changed?

  “Haruka, you’re awake,” Mom said, leaning over with a worried smile.

  Dad was there, too.

  “Dad, you came?”

  “Yeah,” he said quietly, then fell silent.

  “Mom, did the tests go okay?”

  “They want to run a few more. You’re going to stay in the hospital for a little while.”

  “Oh… I see. Do you think I’ll still make it to the finals?”

  “Well…” she said, and didn’t finish.

  Then Dad spoke.

  “Haruka… it’s actually been two weeks since the day of your test.

  Something happened during the scans—you got really sick.

  They had to keep you asleep with medicine.

  It looks like your illness is a little more complicated than we thought, so they need to keep looking into it.”

  Two weeks…?

  “I was so worried about you,” Dad added. “But I’m really happy you woke up.”

  Mom nodded, wiping her eyes.

  “It’s too bad about the competition this time, but let’s try again next year, okay?”

  “Yeah. I want people to hear my song. I want to get better.”

  “I really wanted to see that stage…”

  “But I’ll play the electone again. And next time, they’ll hear my music.”

  But after that…

  There was never another chance for anyone to hear Haruka’s song.

  There were no more entries. No more performances.

  I stayed in the children’s ward, for a long, long time.