The sense of accomplishment from their SunFes success is short-lived, as Kitauji still has a long ladder to climb, being a school that has never scored higher than bronze, nor gotten out of prefectural stage of competition. Taki is taking the band’s desire to get to the nationals dead seriously, and he wants to field the best band he can, and that means auditions.
Auditions mean a first year can make it into the band if they’re better than a senior, but Hazuki doesn’t have any illusions about making the cut, as she’s still learning her way around Tubacabra. But Asuka won’t hear of her quitting before she tries, as it could cause problems in later years if super-talented first year tubaists join the band.
As soon as Hazuki accidentally pulls out a piece of her tuba and panics, I was reminded of the first time I broke down my trumpet for maintenance. Like any complex instrument, musical or otherwise, it’s as important to know how it comes together and how it should work as it is to know how to play it well. The scene of the disassembled tuba also brings back happy memory for Kumiko: cleaning her (likely hand-me-down) euph as her sister cleans her trombone.
I like how Kumiko and Reina have quietly settled into a nice friendship, though the two still seem a little embarrassed communicating so closely with one another. Or is that just the look of happiness on their faces? Clearly Kumiko was wrong about Reina holding a grudge; if anything, it seems as though all along Reina was looking for the right opportunity to reconnect with her former bandmate. Kumiko’s “payback” retort even inspires Reina to belt out a tune right there in the schoolyard, even as her senpai—now a rival in the auditions—plays up on the roof.
Hazuki is a tough and determined one, so she decides to take her tuba home in a soft case and practice as much as possible. But she bristles at a beginner piece Asuka suggests she play, upset that it’s so slow and easy and that she still struggles with it. Determination and sticktoitiveness will only last so long when faced with a seemingly insurmountable task. She needs inspiration and motivation. Asuka thinks putting Kumiko in a “Tuba-kun” mascot suit will do the trick, but it only ends up charming Sapphire.
As she practices alone in the hall, we catch a glimpse of a potential motivator for Hazuki: Shuuichi. Judging from the way she looks at Kumiko’s childhood friend, I’m willing to bet she wants more than anything to play at his level and be noticed by him for it.
Then it dawns on her friends and bandmates: just as they overlooked the fact they never taught Hazuki how to properly clean her tuba earlier, she’s also never played in ensemble. She’s only been playing phrases by herself. Kumiko knows from experience—as all non-prodigal musicians do—that not sounding good, and knowing it, can wear one down and sap motivation.
So Kumiko and Sapphire meet Hazuki in their classroom and play the simply beginner piece that initially frustrated her. It turns out to be “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star,” which I didn’t catch when she just played her part, but that’s the point: the tuba is a team player; it only truly shines when it’s carrying an ensemble, even an ensemble of only three. You can see Hazuki’s face glow with inspiration and glee as she experiences this for the first time. She sees the light, literally (due to the sunset) and figuratively.
She takes the tuba home that evening, but with a renewed sense of optimism and faith she can do this. Disaster almost strikes when she alights from the train and the great mass of the tuba almost sends her crashing to the ground, but she’s caught at the last second—by Shuuichi, who manages to rescue her without dropping his elaborate corn dog.
It’s kismet, I tellsya! It’s also a potential love triangle in the making, if I’m right about Kumiko not really hating Shuu. Regardless, Hazuki x Shuu would make a ridiculously cute couple.
As for Kumiko, she takes her euph home too, “influenced” by Hazuki to wring out every bit she can before auditions, even if, after seven years, she’s all but assured a spot in the band. Aoi sees her and almost bitterly mutters to herself how lucky she is, even if Kumiko would probably argue that point.
But I tend to agree with Aoi, and not just because she has a boyfriend-in-waiting (if Hazuki doesn’t steal him!) Kumiko has arrived at Kitauji at the right time, when things are getting serious and reaching the nationals isn’t a fairy tale. Aoi and a lot of the other upperclassmen have been mired in mediocrity up to that point; their best high school days behind them. Kumiko is lucky, and young, and talented.
But like almost anyone young and transitioning to adulthood, she needs to be told that, and she needs to believe it.
P.S. I’ve somehow resisted pulling my trumpet out from its case under my bed…until this week. After the episode I tooted out some scales. I’m sure my neighbors are ecstatic! A couple days of practice (not too much, don’t want to split my lips) and I’ll probably be able to do “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star.”