Takashi was troubled—so much so that his face was contorted with anguish.
The source of his trouble was money.
It had already been 10 years since he moved to Tokyo to pursue a career as a musician; his main band had broken up, and while he used to get frequent gigs as a session musician, he hadn’t had a single one in the past few years.
Just as he was scraping by on day-labor jobs, the notice to renew his apartment lease arrived.
Naturally, he didn’t have a lump sum of money, so he couldn’t even move out.
Borrow from a loan shark or sell an organ... The more I thought about it, the more I felt myself sinking into a rut.
As I clutched my head in despair, my eyes fell on my bass—yes, my beloved Music Man Stingray.
I finally bought this bass after working hard at a part-time job every day while in high school.
It’s been a partner that’s shared both the good times and the bad right up to the present. That’s it. I’ll sell the bass! …No, wait—this is a precious partner, no, it’s family…
But if things keep going like this, I’ll end up homeless…
After several days of fruitless internal struggle, the answer I finally arrived at was, “I’ll let go of the Bass for now…”
Although Takashi had made up his mind to sell the Bass for the time being, he didn’t know where to go. He had no money and couldn’t even afford to buy a magazine.
Despite having lived in Tokyo for a long time, he didn’t know many people.
Using his free time as his only companion, he wandered the streets, sitting down in parks when he got tired—just endlessly repeating this futile routine—when the voices of two musicians, presumably on their way home from band practice, caught his ear.
(Band Member 1) “I sold my Bass the other day.”
Huh, that conversation! Thinking this was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, I followed after the band members.
(Band Member 2) “Wait! You mean that Stingray I’ve been using all this time?”
What? Isn’t that the exact same Bass I have?!
(Band Member 1) “It was pretty worn out, but they actually paid a surprisingly high price for it.”
No way~~~!! Where is that place?! Just as the words were about to burst out of my throat...
(Band Member 2) “Where did you sell it?”
Just what I needed~~~~!! Perfect timing—so, where is this place, exactly...
(Band Member 1) “Chuko Gakkiya.”
I got a response with a word I’d never even heard before.
Chuko Gakkiya…… It’s exactly what it sounds like…… I imagine it’s probably a music store that deals in used instruments…… As expected, no matter how much I thought about it, I couldn’t get any further than that.
Watching the band member’s back as he walked away, I headed home that day with the keyword “Chuko Gakkiya” firmly in mind.
A few days passed with the keyword “Chuko Gakkiya” on my mind. With no leads, I realized that the only way to get information was, of course, the internet. But Takashi, being a traditionalist at heart, knew about computers but had practically never used one.
However, in this day and age, the internet is indispensable for gathering this much information—and to find out the meaning of “Chuuko Gakki-ya,” which he’d faintly heard from that band member, he had no choice but to rely on it.
He finally dragged himself over to use the computers at the ward office, where free internet access was available.
He’d always thought computers were such a hassle, but thanks to the kind assistance of the ward office staff, he discovered that conducting an internet search was actually quite simple.
So, I typed in “Chu-u-ko-ga-kki-ya,” and among the long list of results, the words “Used Musical Instrument Store” appeared—yep, that’s definitely it! Convinced on my own, I clicked on it.
Just as I was starting to feel like some kind of IT expert, an incredible number of instruments suddenly filled the screen. “I-is this what a used musical instrument shop looks like?” There was a diverse array of instruments, along with a wealth of columns and other content. The site’s search function was easy to understand, and I found the directions in no time.
Well, the path was clear. With the printed map in hand, Takashi smirked to himself.
Relying on the map, he carried his Stingray to the used music store, arriving in just 30 seconds from Shin-Okubo Station on the Yamanote Line.
It was so quick and easy that he stopped in his tracks right in front of the store.
When it actually comes time to step into a music store, you get surprisingly nervous.
Savoring the memory of that feeling from his younger days, he stepped inside.
Even though I’d found some information online, I was completely overwhelmed by the sheer number of instruments. Feeling discouraged right off the bat, I couldn’t bring myself to speak to a salesperson and ended up just standing there as a bystander.
No, that’s not right! I had a specific purpose, and I knew exactly what to say: “Excuse me, I’d like to sell an instrument.” Just one simple sentence.
Why can’t I say it?!
As I wandered around, wrestling with these thoughts, I was caught off guard and turned around.
“Welcome!”
That’s how the store clerk addressed me.
“If you’d like, we’d be happy to take your instrument in for appraisal,” she said, smiling gently.
All right, this is my chance!
“A—an instrument! You’re not going to buy it, are you?”…… Ugh~~~, why does my regional accent slip out right here~~~~..
As I stammered, the clerk gently said“Thank you very much! It’ll take us a little while to appraise it, so please feel free to look around the store while you wait!”
They took the instrument off my hands.
Blushing, I wandered around the store. After about 15 minutes had passed, I heard the clerk call out, “Customer with the Stingray for sale, we’re very sorry to have kept you waiting.” With my heart racing with both hope and anxiety, I walked over.
“We’re very sorry for the wait. The buyback price is ○○ ten thousand yen”… What the heck~~!! Not only did I manage to renew my lease, but I even got to do all sorts of things—including some naughty stuff~~!!
I agreed to sell the instrument on the spot and left the used music store in high spirits.
Once I’d managed to renew my apartment lease and a sense of calm had returned to my life, I was spending my days off as usual—do nothing but wallow in idleness.
Suddenly, my gaze fell on a corner of the room…
The Stingray that should have been there was already gone.
I know this, yet I keep repeating the same behavior over and over.
I close my eyes to try to stop this futile behavior, and as I drift into a light sleep, I have a dream.
“There I am, in front of a packed house, holding my Stingray and filling the room with its overwhelming bass sound. Suddenly, the crowd starts to murmur and point at me… I look down in a flash… and the Stingray I was holding is gone!”
I jolt awake, cold sweat running down my body.
No, this can’t be! I found myself running frantically toward a used instrument shop.
I arrived at the used instrument shop and scanned the Bass section. The Stingray—my Stingray—was there. Just as I instinctively reached for it,
“Would you like to try it out? Please feel free to take a seat and give it a go,”
the clerk said to me.
“Oh, thank you so much for selling me the Stingray the other day. Please take your time looking around.”
The clerk gave me a gentle smile.
Unable to fully hide my awkwardness at having been recognized as the person who sold the Stingray I was holding, I started playing the Bass as if to shake off the feeling.
Huh... this is really easy to play. Wait, the sound should be muffled here, but it’s been fixed... Calming down and taking a closer look, I noticed the body had been polished quite nicely, too.
That’s right... this Stingray isn’t mine...
Unable to hide my sense of loss, I walked out of the store in a daze, hearing the cheerful voice of a clerk behind me saying, “Thank you very much. We look forward to seeing you again.”
The fact that my Stingray—which was hardly what you’d call beautiful—had been polished to a shine, thoroughly tuned, and was now on display so splendidly in the shop window.
And the shop clerk who, even knowing I was the one who had sold that Stingray, didn’t make a single unpleasant face and let me try it out.
As I reflected on it all, my mood began to brighten.
A few years have passed since then. I’ve landed a steady job and things have settled down. Although I’m still not rich, I’ve managed to build a life where I don’t have to worry about putting food on the table. One day, I got a message from an old bandmate.
“It’s not like we’re aiming to go pro like we used to, but how about we start a band together again?”
It was an unexpected suggestion.
“I know this might sound weird coming from me, but I sold my guitar. I want to buy a new one—do you know of any good places?”
Takashi: “Oh, I know one!!” (laughs).