Strawberry Orange Star Night

Conessione

Naranja stopped, bent down and put her hands on her knees, panting.The spring was cold and the night was as cold as water. He ran across five streets in one breath, the cold wind gushing into his lungs, and a faint smell of blood lingered deep in his throat.The knuckles of his hands were red, and there were still some bruises on the back of his hands, which were left by Fugo just now - Fugo clasped his fists and took out fingerprints, but he beat Fugo harder.

He sat down with his back against the brick wall, and looked up to see the dim night, full of stars.He looked from point of light to point of light, his oxygen-deprived brain bobbing like a jellyfish in the sea.Did you see it?Did you hear it?This song is dedicated to you...Mom...Mom.

mother!

Naranja stood up abruptly.He pulled the notebook out of his backpack and flipped through it quickly.The front is in a messy style, with small tadpoles like dogs chewing, and the handwriting becomes more regular as it goes to the back.No, even on the front, there are some handsome handwriting - that's Fuge's handwriting.He angrily tore apart the paper two or three times, and shredded it one by one.

I've obviously never... never been so happy, except the day I played the piano for the first time.As he tore it, he growled in a low voice.He didn't understand why Fugo would say such a stupid thing.Fugo!Fugo who brought him home, Fugo who led him to play the piano, and Fugo who taught him music theory.He had never seen such a venomous Fugo.Why do you say that?Why... why can't I tear it up!

Naranja let out a roar and threw the rest of the broken book to the ground.He stared at the book for a while, folded his legs and sat down, burying his head in his knees.

He lost his sense of time.

"Naranja! Oh my god... finally caught up to...!"

After an unknown amount of time, a breathless cry floated in the night wind.Naranja looked up following the sound, it was Mista.He was as hot as a steam engine, and with a relieved smile on his face, he fell down beside Naranga.

"You kid, you are not tall, but you run pretty fast." Mista took off his hood and fanned it. "Fortunately, your headband is eye-catching. I look at it from a distance. It's so bright that I can't lose it."

Naranja hummed, picked up the notebook on the ground and fanned Mista.The book was torn to pieces, and scraps of paper drifted down from time to time.

Mista re-tied the turban, looked at the pitiful notebook in Naranja's hand, and looked at the snowflake-like scraps of paper on the ground. "Why did you tear up the notebook like this? ... Wow! There is a strawberry drawn on it. This one is also on this one, and this one is also on it." Mista picked up a few pieces of paper, as if he had discovered a new world.

"Not at all!" Naranja was annoyed, and raised his hand to slap the paper away from Mista's hand.

"Okay, yes, no." Mista raised his hand to express his surrender. "Then let's at least close this place. It's not good to make such a mess."

Naranja nodded, so the two of them gathered up the scraps of paper together and threw them into the trash can one by one.Naranja picked up the wreckage of the book, thought for a while, and put it back in the bag.After it was over, Mista clapped his hands and took out his cell phone from his pocket.

"Who are you calling?" Naranja stared at Mista and asked alertly.

"Tell them I found you." Mista shrugged and was about to dial the number when Naranja snatched the phone.

"——Why are you such a petty thief! Don't make trouble!"

"Don't tell them. I don't want to go back now." Naranja had been on the street before, and he was not only good at fighting, but also a pickpocket.He put Mista's mobile phone into his pocket, Mista grabbed his arm, and the two wrestled.After a stalemate for a while, Mista let go of Naranja.

"Okay. Can I at least get in touch with Giorno? We have a performance tonight." Mista sighed and looked at Naranca indifferently. "I came to look for you in a hurry, but I didn't even have the instrument. I asked him to bring it for me. You won't let me release other people's pigeons, will you?"

Naranja inspected Mista for a while, and saw Mista's expression was troubled and sincere.So, Naranja returned the mobile phone to Mista, and pinched Mista's arm all the time when Mista was calling, to prevent him from saying anything he shouldn't say.

"...Yes, you help me bring the saxophone, can you recite it by yourself? Sure? Okay. That's it, we'll see you at TheHitMan later."

Mista hung up the phone, complained, and shook Naranja away.He put away his phone, rubbed his arms, put his arms around Naranja's shoulders, and swung Naranja around half a circle, and the two walked towards the other side of the road together.

"What is TheHitMan?" Naranja asked.

"It's a bar. It has the best jazz band in Naples," Mista replied, with a bright smile on his face. "I've always thought my abilities were good for playing jazz, you know?"

"Oh... also." Naranja instantly understood Mista's meaning. "Saxophone, right? You said before that you wanted Saxophone in the symphony orchestra."

"When the saxophone was invented, the symphony orchestra was already complete. Many musicians in the past didn't know whether this instrument could last for a long time. Therefore, there are not many pieces with saxophones."

After Mista finished speaking, she let out a short chuckle.He shook his head, hummed a famous jazz song, and sang softly like ripples.Naranga knew that this was Louis Armstrong's What A Wonderful World.Mista's voice is a little hoarse, somewhat similar to the original voice, equally comfortable and soft, but with a little more youthful sunshine and less vicissitudes.As the night gradually deepened, his voice brought the fragrance of birds and flowers to Naranja, and the beautiful world depicted in the song emerged before Naranja's eyes.

The bright blessed day, the dark sacred night...

And I think to myself…

What a wonderful world…

Naranja finally stopped being stern, and he also sang along with Mista.When singing to friends shaking hands and saying hello, the two hooked their shoulders together and laughed, their shadows dragged long and strangely shaped under the street lamps.

LaVieenRose, AKissToBuildADreamOn... They sang one after another, sprinkled warm chansons along the way.Accompanied by music, the journey is not far away.Soon, they saw the signboard of TheHitMan.

Looking closer, the low-rise building at the corner of the street has a retro atmosphere, and the brick walls are somewhat mottled, but it is full of charm.They pushed open the wooden door, and waves of sound rushed towards them.Roman white columns support the low ceiling, and groups of wooden tables and chairs surround the circular dance floor.There are not many guests, but the musicians are still addicted to the music - the dim and ambiguous lights are lazily sprinkled down, reflecting the glow of the instruments, and the music is flowing endlessly.

Naranca sat down at a table with Mista.He looked at the stands, there were a total of nine musicians on the stage.Piano, vibraphone, trumpet, trombone, saxophone, drums, double bass...

"Mista, what instrument is that? The man with some braids is playing it." There was an instrument he couldn't recognize, and he asked Mista quietly.

"Banjo," Mista said. "Look, his voice was almost overwhelmed by the drummer. He was furious, and the two of them were fighting."

Naranja followed Mista's instructions, and it did.

"How could this be? If this was our orchestra's rehearsal, Bugarati would have stopped it long ago."

"This is the biggest difference between jazz and classical orchestras." Mista grinned, and shook a finger. "What do you think of their performance?"

"It sounds good, but...it feels very different, very intense."

"Yes, jazz is such a fierce competition. It originated in a small hotel in New Orleans, USA, a mixed Tower of Babel... where people spoke five different languages ​​​​and could not communicate with each other at all. They can only communicate through jazz."

"Is this considered communication? It's like fighting."

"Fighting is also a form of communication. It's just a little sharper." Mista paused.There was an unspoken silence.Naranja looked away and looked at the turbulent performance on the stage.

After a while, Mista spoke again. "Through the ensemble, you can learn a lot. Even if you are watching the performance, we can see some things. Especially jazz, you must watch the live performance!" Mista became excited again, pointing to the stage.

"Look at that trombone player, that little Curly! The way he plays freely, it's as if he's declaring this piece his own. It's a rush to hear those syncopations!"

Naranja was fascinated.These jazz musicians are very talented. They put the emphasis of the music in various unexpected places, the melodies are weird, and the rhythms are interlaced. Listening to such unique music, people can't help but always shake.This is the so-called "swing" of jazz!Mista said.Every piece, every performance is different, every night is different.He was eager to try, his eyes flashed wildly, and his body beat time with the rhythm.

Nine musicians, everyone is improvising, everyone wants to be the protagonist of this band.Talented, they turn their intuition into melody, and then play out their own melody.The unconstrained impromptu adaptation adds vast possibilities to the music. They argue with each other but cooperate with each other tacitly. The music is full of conflicts, compromises, and incredible harmony and unity.

At the end of the song, Nalanga was sweating profusely, and clapped his hands.There were sporadic applause in the bar, and Mista blew a loud whistle.

The musicians were acquaintances with Mista, and they greeted Mista and began to pack their instruments.The piano player didn't need to clean up, he was the first to step off the stage. This man was tall and handsome, with blond hair combed back and tied into a small bun.

"Proxiet, Nalanja. Nalanja, Proxiet." Mista introduced each other, and Proxiet sat down beside Nalanja.

"Why did you bring a little boy here today? It looks younger than my Bessie. Underage?" At this time, the vibraphone player also stepped off the stage to join them, and Prosciut raised his hand to the musician. He raised his chin, indicating that he was Bessie.

"Wow, don't be like this. Compared with your Bessie, my Apache looks small." Mista replied dryly.Prosciutto lit a cigarette and gestured his middle finger.

"I'm sorry, big brother... You said I could play today, so I didn't go to see the door... That's why this little brat got in." Bessie's face was twisted into a ball, Proxiet snorted, and stretched out his hand Smoothed it out, and looked back at Naranja again.

"Don't underestimate me! I can play the piano better than you." Naranja choked on the smoke, coughing and protesting.

"Oh...it's amazing." Proxiet took a puff of cigarettes at Naranja and laughed teasingly.

Just as Naranja was about to reply, he was interrupted by a few curses from out of nowhere.

"—You bitch! Upstage me!"

"Who are you talking about? Four-eyed boy! It's obvious that you are always rushing forward to reincarnate!"

"What are you arguing about? My voice is gone!"

"Damn, are you still screaming?"

Several people looked at the stage in unison. It turned out that the musicians had put away their expensive instruments and began to settle their accounts after autumn.The saxophone and the trombone fought against each other, and the banjo also played the cymbals of the jazz drum. The two trumpet players were in harmony, and they folded their arms to watch the excitement.The battle is intensifying, and it seems to be out of control... The double bass stands up, covering several noisy musicians in the shadow.

"Stop making trouble, make people laugh. Put your things away." His voice was not loud, but there was an undeniable majesty, and all horses fell silent.Several people stepped off the stage one after another and sat at several tables around them.

"I'm Risut. The leader of The HitMan." The double bass player held out his hand to Naranga.Naranga shook his hand, looked at the huge double bass behind him - thinking that it would take five of them to add up to one him playing the violin.

"The performance is over? What a pity." It was Giorno's voice.Naranca turned around and saw Giorno coming with two piano bags on his back.Mista played it, and unloaded a gig bag from Giorno's shoulder.

"It's just over," Risut said.

"It's all because I carry two musical instruments on my back. They are too heavy and I can't walk fast. It's so far away."

"You said you can do it alone!" Mista defended loudly.

"Yes. But why can't you let me sell it badly? I originally planned to let them join me, saving us from running around every now and then. Besides, look, this bar is about to close down."

"Did you say it so loudly on purpose for us to hear?" Proxieter pressed the cigarette into the ashtray, and gave Giorno a cold look.

"Proxieter. You still owe me a favor. You should be the last one to talk back." Giorno said gently, and he and Mista came over together, huddling beside Naranca.

"What's going on?" Naranja asked curiously.Prosciut got up annoyed, and took Bessie to a table next to him.

"Once The Hit Man was finished, Buccarati said that Prosciut played a chord wrong." Mista rushed to say. "Proxiet was so angry that he drew his gun and was about to duel with Bugarati. In the end, for some reason, the gun went off, three times, and injured several innocent passers-by..."

"How can I play it wrong! That old antique Bugarati can only read from the scriptures, and doesn't know what is improvisation or creation at all!" Proxiet patted the table, and Bessie hugged Proxiet's waist.

"Don't speak ill of Bugarati!" Naranja tried to get up from the chair, but Mista held him down.

"In any case, thanks to Giorno's relationship, Prosciut was saved from prison." Risut said, and everyone fell silent. "For that, I am forever grateful to you. However, we will not be in your band."

He sighed, but his eyes sparkled.

"Sir is dying... We will do everything in our power to keep her."

Giorno nodded and said nothing more.He took out the violin, and Mista also understood, took out the saxophone, and the two walked to the stage together.

Naranja had never seen Mista play the saxophone.He had heard them play Brahms' chamber music together, and the tacit understanding and skill were beyond doubt.However, this is the first time that the violin is paired with the saxophone.

——The saxophone with a rich and smooth tone like chocolate blew, and the air suddenly thickened.Mista played lightly and lazily, with his eyes closed, the inadvertent portamento and vibrato made the phrases cohesive, and the sultry sweet fragrance was everywhere.

"Oh~ it's this one~" the saxophone beside him licked his tongue and snorted playfully. "Separate and close, tired and crooked."

"They don't seem to be divided." The curly-haired trombonist pushed his glasses and whispered.

Before Naranga could ask a question, he was caught by the music.A quick lower bow, and the violin cuts in magnificently.He had never heard Giorno play like that.Le Yin, who was always elegant and dignified at first, now wears gorgeous evening costumes, and the passionate decoration sounds explode like fireworks.Even the body movements of Giorno's performance are different, the golden light of the brass instrument beside him reflects on him, fainting the afterglow of the sunset.

The timbres of the two instruments are very prominent. These two instruments with different styles and temperaments can match so harmoniously.They alternately played the main melody of the track, and the succession was seamless. When the other party's timbre temporarily stood out, they retreated to the background to set off, and quickly switched roles, completing the weakened phrases of the other party one after another.Mista threw a free and sexy impromptu solo, and Giorno also played a wonderful cadenza after that.The two swayed with the rhythm of the music, their eyes met, and they smiled, as if this was not just a performance, but a round dance of the soul.

Naranja's eyes widened, his face was hot.He pressed the back of his hand to his face to cool down.It was this feeling again, and he was so confused that it was beyond his ability to express.Just like listening to Trishul playing Mozart before, he felt something else in the music, and this unknown emotion made his heart swell.He put all the things he couldn't think of clearly to the back of his mind, as if he didn't play with Fugo very much recently... But now, the evocative music faintly creeps into his ears, making him have to think about it.

"It's so coquettish! It's amazing!" The musicians around him uttered blatant praises, which brought Nalanja back to reality from the chaotic myth.The two had put away their instruments and returned to the stage, looking radiant with enthusiasm, as if the chocolate-like music had sweetly melted around them.

"Wow! Naranja, why is your face so red?" Mista put down the instrument and squeezed Naranja.Naranja shook his head and shook him off.

"It's getting late, let's go." Giorno blinked, stretched out his hand, and signaled to Naranja.Naranja shook her head again.

"I don't want to go back..." he whispered, he moved a little behind the chair, shrunk into a ball, and his whole body appeared even smaller.

Giorno and Mista heard it, looked at each other for a second, and then looked at Naranga together. Several musicians from TheHitMan also came up gossipingly. The long-haired saxophone player accidentally stepped on the curly-haired trombonist, and the two started yelling and cursing again.

"Risut." Giorno shouted to the black leader amidst the noise, "Our child doesn't want to go home. Can we put it with you temporarily?"

One on each side, the head of the group lifted the saxophonist and trombonist away.He looked at Naranca, then at Giorno.He nodded.

track time

I imagine the music of the assassination group is like Mil Davis!Their way of getting along and team style has such a dark, intense and inexplicably harmonious feeling, just like jazz, which is very different from the regular and unified classical music guard team.

Also [Jazz is dead]... this feeling of bewilderment... (shut up

Mista said that his ability is the most suitable for assassination, and I changed it to jazz...it is also very suitable, and it is also a brass wind instrument!Guess together!

44 sing, Whatawonderfulworld

Rongmi’s ensemble is G-easy and Halsey’s him&I. I’ve seen the coquettish ensemble of violin and saxophone on Youtube before, and station B carries it here

Monkey West and Chicken Wing are separated and combined, but Rongmi is not (.) There are so many clues in one or two sentences in each chapter, and finally this chapter makes me happy

Then there is a little easter egg, the stalk of the big brother shooting is a tribute to Sidney Bechet!