Uneasy daily life

"Looking at your toes,

Suddenly I felt like I needed to talk.

The words were in my heart.

A silence then fermented.

An undercurrent quietly spreads, seeping into the skin and penetrating the flesh, gathering into a single drop at the tip of the heart, swaying and falling, creating ripples.

"Too many desires and hopes are mine."

I was the only one not included.

Squat down, hug yourself, lower your head, and curl up.

That's acceptable.

The undercurrent washes away the rocks and soil, and dripping water wears away the stubborn stone. The melody pulls the song higher and higher, the lamplight and shadows become brighter and brighter, the lake remains as peaceful as a mirror year after year, but the dam has already begun to seep out streams of clear water from its cracks, and then the dam will break and collapse.

Ding Ding Ding Ding——!

The strings swept out a layer of lingering resonance, only to be layered upon layer, like one surging wave after another, roaring and pouring out.

The singer's face was tense, and his voice was suppressed.

You said it's like transforming from a cocoon into a butterfly!

The right rope will tie the soul into a knot.

Squeeze out the blood that should be there.

You said it's like transforming from a cocoon into a butterfly!

The curtain, like a cocoon, obscures the stars and moon.

What you can't see must be an illusion.

Like the raging torrents rushing left and right in the canyon, crashing and surging against the rock walls on both sides, with the power accumulated over a long period of time, they crash out with a loud and loud sound, creating waves tens of meters high, causing rain to fall from the sky and torrents to roll on the ground.

Bright lights converged, illuminating the powerful singing on the stage.

There is a beautiful butterfly!

Vibrant and elegant, with stunning colors!

Chasing the wind and draped in rosy clouds, soaring over mountains and seas!

I am not that beautiful butterfly—

I am a cold, withered pupa, utterly empty!

Thump—!

A heavy note following the rapid rhythm, like a sledgehammer striking, broke apart in a chaotic manner.

The roaring torrents surged through winding canyons, rushing into the irregularly shaped rocks, determined to carve out a path no river had ever traversed before.

Some are trickling streams winding and weeping through the crevices of rocks, searching for a way out; some are waterfalls cascading down from giant rocks; some are waves that exert all their strength to crash headlong into the cliffs, refusing to turn back and shattering into pieces, splashing and spraying along the banks as white foam.

The singing shifted from fervor to fragmentation, like a bunch of flowers gathered together, their myriad colors hanging on a single rope.

I said, "It's about transforming from a cocoon into a moth!"

Aspirations and longings weave together perseverance.

Waiting for it to blossom and bear fruit.

I said it transforms from a cocoon into a moth!

Foolish and superficial songs sung in the darkness.

I don't show favoritism or praise to anyone.

The rushing river is like a thousand troops charging on the battlefield. With each turn, collision, battle, and fall, it can only moisten a single grain of sand on the earth.

From raging floods to mountain torrents, from mountain torrents to a ripple, it's like the last general leading his defeated troops, raising his weapons, playing a farewell song, and continuing this endless charge...

There was an ugly moth.

Grayish-white and indistinct, born shallow!

Even with its wings burned out, it still reaches for the candlelight!

I am not that ugly moth.

I am a scalding, dead cocoon, silently withering away.

No matter how soaring the song may be, it will eventually fall, slowly returning to a gentle and lyrical tone.

Yukino Yukino played quietly, the gradually thinning lamplight draping over her.

There have been highs and lows, moments of confusion and questioning. This undulating melody will eventually plunge into a deep, sorrowful valley, like a torrent that has been accidentally poured out of a lake, running and roaring, finally leaving itself on the cliffs, rocks, sand and mud, spreading out on such a vast and complex land.

I am not a butterfly bound by my mother's demands or the pursuit of success in life, nor am I expected to emerge from my cocoon—how can a butterfly emerge from a cocoon? Cocoons are all woven by others; it's just that a 'me recognized by everyone' will leap out of this wreckage. I am merely one of those things that are removed, solidified into a withered pupa, an empty shell.

I am not a moth that spins its last bloody silk, spins its own cocoon, breaks free of its cocoon, and flutters its wings in the night—not all cocoons can survive and transform into moths, especially domesticated silkworms. After the silkworm spins its silk and forms a cocoon, it is thrown into boiling water and scalded to death, waiting to be stripped of its silk.

If I hadn't been afraid of being disciplined by my mother with force, after yelling that night, I probably would have just spent my days in the dorm. Now it's pretty much the same; I've picked up some indifferent music and am just passing the time.

Even if you smash that seemingly solid but actually fragile cocoon, you'll still be aimless, unable to find or support yourself.

If you can't meet other people's expectations, can't find yourself, and even if you crash down the high walls that you take for granted, you'll just be sitting on the ruins looking up at the sky.

This is clearly something that jerk should be responsible for, isn't it?

Do you think he's responsible? Not only does he laugh and joke around, but he also writes lyrics like this to mock you.

Come and see, everyone! There's a dried-up, withered pupa here, a heavy, dead cocoon. It can't become a butterfly or a moth.

This song is called "Metamorphosis," it's just "metamorphosis," nothing more than "metamorphosis."

Sigh, this is just his true nature as a scoundrel.

Yukino Yukino snapped out of her daze as the low, melodious tune at her fingertips was about to come to an end.

"Wow—look at that boring person, just like you, actually singing along step by step."

Amidst the quiet silence of the stage, a murmur of pointing fingers suddenly rang out.

Mai Sakurajima: ?

Yukinoshita Yono: #!

Thump—!

A single strum of the zither was like tearing silk.

Chapter Sixty-Seven: Are you coming to my house?

"A very unique song, not rock at all, but very distinctive and very pleasant to listen to... better than the previous covers."

Yamada Ryo, with his arms crossed and chin in hand, offered his insightful commentary.

"It sounds nice, but the atmosphere is a bit somber," Ichiji Nijika remarked. "But it's amazing that she was able to calm down the atmosphere that had been built up earlier."

Kita nodded repeatedly: "That's right! We should also work hard and be as amazing as Haruno-nee!"

As the music gradually faded into silence, the three shared their opinions, then looked at Goto Ichiri, who was still staring blankly with a silly grin on his face.

"Hmm—what's Pochi-chan thinking about again?"

Ichi Nijika pinched her chin, her face full of curiosity.

"Hey...hehe...this is rock and roll..."

Goto Ichiri was still lost in thought, muttering to herself, "Yeah, yeah, that's what real rock is all about—singing dark, failed songs like this... This song is perfect for a good-for-nothing like me, it's just perfect..."

Go for it—make friends today and become a cheerful girl!

...It will definitely work tomorrow.

If I dress up a bit, someone will definitely talk to me!

Sure enough, no one would pay attention to the girl who now smells musty.

Waaah, that won't work at all.

Ah, how much this song is like mine! Sure enough, losers should rock and roll.

Faint sounds came from beyond the heavens.

【Huh? Is Yang Nai considered a failure?】

[Stylishly dressed, very beautiful, and very friendly—is this considered a failure? It's just a performance on stage.]

Oh yeah... this isn't rock and roll at all!

boom!

Goto Ichiri felt as if she had been shot; she staggered backward, her back hitting the wall, and slowly slid down.

"Rock and roll... is for losers. Rock and roll for successful people isn't rock and roll at all... Ugh... I was arrogant and presumptuous, assuming others were like me... Private Marseille... Private Marseille..."

The three looked at each other in bewilderment, when suddenly they heard a voice coming from the front row of the stage.

"Wow—look at that boring person, just like you, actually singing along step by step."

The audience in the performance hall subconsciously turned their gazes towards each other, and what started as one person looking at another turned into everyone looking together.

Sakurajima Mai was a little confused, turning her head to look at the white figure, her mind a bit muddled... Was she making a veiled attack?

Thump—!

The sound of the strings tearing through the silk broke the slightly stagnant atmosphere.

Yukinoshita swayed her body, bowed her head and played with all her might, bringing up the fallen coda again.

Thunder rumbles in the clear sky, suddenly like the booming of war drums; dark clouds form a curtain, obscuring the sun and moon. At first, the sound is subtle and dense, a cacophony like jade beads rolling on a plate, or raindrops washing over banana leaves, a gentle patter like a marching formation. Then, the divine roar resounds, illuminating ten thousand miles in an instant; the wind god commands, banners flutter and wave, a vast expanse of sea suspended in the sky, a hazy, indistinct darkness covering the earth.

Clang, clang, clang—!

Thunder roared, and the Milky Way cleansed the world.

The water, which had vanished from the earth, struggled to flow again from rocks, cliffs, and sand, roaring as it continued its torrent, gathering in a mighty torrent. Torrential rain poured down from the sky, its surging power inexhaustible; fierce winds raged on the ground, and the cheers of its surging companions echoed endlessly. It swept across plains, over cliffs, and over rugged terrain, finally crashing into the embrace of the sea…

A trickle of water flows towards countless mountains, stumbling and slow, but it will eventually merge into the vast ocean.

The powerful echoes gradually faded, sweeping away the previous sorrowful silence.

The lights snapped on perfectly, softly illuminating the stage and every face around it.

The audience belatedly applauded enthusiastically, emitting bursts of admiration, amazement, and cheers.

"call……"

Yukinoshita raised her head, exhaled softly, and sweat clung to her forehead, causing some strands of hair to stick to her forehead.

She straightened her gaze and shouted to the audience, "You bastards—! Still bored?!"

"They added scenes without permission, giving the lighting technician extra work, and didn't even pay overtime. It was a poor addition, completely shattering the original beauty of 'mono no aware' (the pathos of things). It was too positive and uplifting, lacking any rock spirit. I don't really approve of it."

The white figure shook its head and pointed.

Yukino Yukinoshita pouted.

The surrounding onlookers were already looking at him with enthusiasm, as if to say, "Be careful on the way, lest you suddenly stick your head into a sack and fall and get bruised and battered."

"If I had to give a critique, the biggest act of rebellion was betraying my past self... Very rebellious, very rock and roll!"

Bai Ying raised his right fist, flicked his middle finger with a "pop," and said seriously, "I've heard that's the highest praise for playing rock and roll. I think it's really cool!"

"is it?"

Yukinoshita smiled brightly and gave Yukinoshita the middle finger in return: "Then I think you're very rock and roll too!"

"No, no, no, you're more rock and roll."

Bai Ying replied modestly, raising her middle fingers with both hands.

"Then I'll show you something even more rock and roll."

Yukino took the guitar off her shoulder and jumped off the stage with a bright smile, causing the surrounding audience to instinctively make way for her.

She was clearly not going to perform a stage diving act. The way she held the guitar in her hand was like holding a sword. Her eyes were narrowed into a crescent moon, and the corners of her mouth were raised in a gentle arc, giving people a subtle feeling of chills.