“Becky, the American Bad Girl, Vol. 3 — The Stairway to Heaven, a Wild Night, and My Resolve”

Note: This story is the sequel to Vol. 1, “Becky, the American Bad Girl,” and Vol. 2, “The Forbidden Third Goal.”

In this third chapter, I’ll tell you what happened after that first hit of marijuana—
from the moment the needle dropped on the record, through a night that felt like a dream, or maybe something beyond a dream—
and then about the small but serious resolve that quietly took shape in me on the ride home, while the afterglow was still hanging in the air.

A night of getting drunk on music, swaying in smoke, and being shaken by someone’s words slowly—but unmistakably—changed who I was.

And now I realize: it wasn’t just “some crazy experience in America.”
It was also a record of my very first, small choice about how I wanted to exist in this world.

I was sitting in the passenger seat of the car Sei was driving when I first saw her, standing on the side of the road with her thumb out.

Becky—the blonde American girl who looked just a little bit bad.

We picked her up while she was hitchhiking and drove her back to her apartment.

On the way, sitting up front with me, Becky and I would occasionally catch each other’s eyes and trade light jokes.

In the back seat, Ken was clearly fascinated, watching us with a grin but not saying anything.

When Sei pulled into the apartment complex to drop her off, Becky suddenly turned around and said:

“You guys can chill for a bit, right?”

With that one line, everything was decided.

We looked at each other and nodded.

🎵 Becky’s Room and the “Magic of Sound”

Becky’s place was a typical student apartment.

We climbed an old staircase and stepped through the door. A faint, smoky scent drifted by—something between cigarettes and perfume.
Jimi Hendrix and Pink Floyd posters covered the walls, and piles of records were stacked everywhere.

“This is what I call music. You ready?”

She said it with a grin as she gently set Led Zeppelin’s Stairway to Heaven on the turntable.

The needle touched the vinyl.

After a brief crackle of static, a quiet arpeggio began to fill the room.

Sei came in with us and sank into the sofa.

It was just the four of us in the room:
me, Ken, Sei, and Becky.

Becky dimmed the main lights and switched to only indirect lighting.
The room was suddenly wrapped in a soft glow, as if sound, air, and color had all melted into one.

“This is insane…” Ken muttered.

I let my body sink into the sofa cushions, and the sheer realism of the sound sent a tremor through my whole body.

🌿 Green Smoke and a Stairway to Somewhere Else

After a while, Becky pulled a glass pipe and a lighter from the drawer of the low table.

“Want to try something special?”

Ken’s eyes lit up and he answered “YES!” without a second of hesitation.

He took the pipe from Becky, held the flame to it, and drew in deep.

“…Bwah—! Damn, this is…!”

He coughed hard, then burst out laughing.

Next, Becky held the pipe out toward me.

For just a moment, I hesitated.

But the air in that room—the music, the lights, and Becky’s eyes—all seemed to say, It’s okay.

I slowly put the pipe to my lips and lit it.

My throat burned. Then a spreading heat began to fill my lungs.

As I watched the smoke rise toward the ceiling, my vision began to shift.

The guitar melody seemed to slice through the air and pour straight into my body.

When I closed my eyes, I saw a staircase.

A straight, stone staircase stretching on and on, endlessly.

Was it a stairway to heaven—or just a hallucination?

Either way, surrendering myself to that vision felt unbelievably good.

“I swear I’ve got six fingers on my hand right now…” Ken said, dead serious.

“It’s your imagination,” Tsuboi said quietly.

Of course, he had been there with us from the beginning, sharing the same air.

By then, his expression also looked like he’d already crossed over to “the other side.”

🗣️ Tsuboi-senpai’s Confession

It was around the time Stairway to Heaven was reaching its climax.

As the soaring guitar solo roared from the speakers, Tsuboi suddenly spoke.

“…You know, I’m actually impotent.”

Time, which had been floating along like air up to that point, stopped.

Ken’s eyes went wide.

I held my breath.

“Even going to ‘Turkey’ didn’t help.”
(‘Turkey’ was our slang back then for a certain kind of brothel—what people now call a soapland.)
“I just end up massaging the girl’s shoulders and that’s it… But, you know, I keep thinking maybe if she were blonde, it might be different.”

It didn’t sound like a joke.

If anything, it felt like a very quiet scream thrown at us from the other side of the smoke.

I had no idea how to respond.

Still, I felt like I had to say something.

“I see… I hope things work out with Becky, then.”

I didn’t mean it from the heart.

But it still seemed better than denying him.

“Yeah… maybe I’ll ask her out bowling or something,” Tsuboi said, staring off into the distance.

🔇 What Remained After the Music Stopped

The song ended, and only the soft sound of the record spinning in the empty groove remained.

Becky stood up quietly and put on a brighter rock record.

Pizza arrived, cola fizzed and popped, and we sprawled on the sofa, laughing together.

It felt strangely like we’d all been family from the very beginning.

Even so, somewhere in the back of my mind, that staircase was still there.

🌙 Night Wind Named “Resolve”

On the way back, we all piled into the car with Sei at the wheel.

Ken crashed out in the back seat, dead asleep.

In the front, beside me, Tsuboi sat in silence for a long time. Then, out of nowhere, he said:

“…I think I might seriously be in love with Becky.”

I hesitated for a moment, then decided to be honest.

“I might be… too.”

“That so. You too, huh. We’re in trouble then.”

We both let out a wry laugh.

Outside the window, the lake shimmered quietly in the moonlight.

I still didn’t know what lay at the top of that staircase.

But that night, I definitely swore something in my heart:

—I’m going to make Becky my girlfriend.

That feeling, born in the middle of smoke and screaming guitar, didn’t fade at all, even after I sobered up.

To be continued.