Learning To Fly - A Saki pseudo-route (Completed)

[Lelouch Vi Britannia]

I just love that this is still on-going (based on the post replies), looks like I have some catching up to do. To think that we're not far off from the tenth anniversary of this amazing VN and subsequent pseudo-routes is unreal, thank you KS.. just, thank you.

[Titus]

Time to end my record absence of 10 years and make a post! Especially on the one year anniversary since the last update

I hope you're doing well, and that you're happy and healthy!

What can I say that will truly convey how I feel about this story? I don't know the words but I'll try. From start to finish, this has been my favorite story. Rikabro's story will always have a place in my heart, but I was engrossed from the start about everything from your story. I even go back to read some chapters again, especially the cutesy parts. The way you developed everything is just so well done, it leaves me reading it over and over again. When Hisao, Saki, or anyone speaks, I feel as if it's living people speaking. The dialogue just seems so real, as if it were live conversation, but yet the story is more than that. It's truly beautiful and heartwarming how Hisao and Saki's friendship and then romance developed over time since they met, and I really felt happy for them every time. The romance scenes of their first kiss being in the band room (such a touching scene), and then you know what after swimming at the beach was a great symbolism to Saki's theme, what she loves to do due to her Ataxia.

Saki is such an open and friendly girl, that she has an advantage over other KS girls (save Emi) to how easy it is to talk to her without being a certain way or using a certain tone. It relaxes you in a way. She also behaves like actual women do in real life, and that helps make the story appear less like a story and more like a realistic event. The small talk is my favorite part, and you have made Hisao and Saki so cute together it's unbelievable. I like seeing them together just enjoying their time. I'm not one for romance stories, but KS and Learning to Fly? I make an exception.

EDIT: I caught up with the last 3 or 4 chapters (when I wrote this post, I wasn't finished). The development of the relationship between Hisao and Saki has been truly moving. Hisao and Saki becoming friends out of the blue, Saki's motives for befriending Hisao being in doubt and Hisao truly appreciating Saki for lifting him up out of depression and anger, DON'T READ the NEXT SPOILER until you read everything up to the chapter before this post Saki accepting her feelings for Hisao beyond just being a boyfriend to have fun with and maybe dump after Yamaku ... even after the wild ride, I'd say that this is the best way and most realistic that I could imagine a boy falling in love.

The events Hisao and Saki share are romance masterpieces.

When Hisao asked Saki during Tanabata about why she helped and befriended Hisao on that fateful day in Hisao's first week of school, knowing that she had absolutely no reason to help a stranger like him, I found her explanation hard to believe. Girls don't go out of their way like that. I expected a "Because you're cute, Hisao!" and done. EBJ, you did not disappoint with Hisao and Chisato's conversation in the cafeteria scene! You are an extraordinary writer. I've been reading this again with a new perspective, and everything Chisato said does make sense. I know that her selfish intentions are also in doubt and that she's not a villain, and Saki may have really been yearning for a new friend that she saw in Hisao, this all adds a human element that you so flawlessly show in every person in the story. What you built for their motives, love, hate, etc. truly shines and gives a new perspective in what I'm reading from the beginning (after finishing your last chapter).


Finally... I want to say that I really hope we get a good ending. That Saki lives due to some new treatment. Some miracle happens. Anything. I wish the KS devs thought twice about giving Saki such a horrible illness. I can't believe I'm about to say this, but I don't want her to die. I am afraid of the ending to Learning to Fly. I guess this story just has that effect on me.


You have your very own art to go along with it all, tell me how this doesn't deserve a spot in Katawa Shoujo Hall of Fame I'm seriously impressed at your effort and skill in creating this story, no wonder that so many people have read it, no wonder so many people have created an account to say something positive, no wonder we have people to this day still watching for new updates.

But what I also want to say is that I've read your other posts as well, and you've been through so many ups and downs that that is the real art being done here. You're an inspiration not to give up, and that really shined through Saki and Hisao. EDIT: I checked in with the KS reddit to see if anyone knew if you were still around, I was getting concerned after reading your posts, and I was relieved to hear that you were. We never met, but I'm glad you're still here EBJ. Really.

Take care EBJ, where ever you are!

[ShadowSais]

Basically I made this account to be able to comment that this fanfic seems to me a masterpiece, not only at the fandom level, I am talking about a genuine masterpiece.

Do you know if EBJ is still active? I'm concerned that being so close to the end of this project, I haven't updated in over a year. I am also a little concerned if Mr. EBJ's health is not charging him a bill.

By the way, I'm sorry if my English skills suck. Just a Hispanic KS fan who discovered this community recently.

[Blackmambauk]

Hi Shadow,

I can confirm that Euro is alive and active as I chat to them every now and then on Discord. He sent me over a new picture on New Years Day.

He's just busy trying to sort out the next chapter and getting through their personal life admist COVId. Can't say when they will update as only Euro has an idea, but they are active.

Thanks Shadow

Kind Regards

Mamba

[Sulik]

I've been reading this off and on for a few years, eventually decided to make an account to post in this very thread, though I never really ended up using it until now, looks like a couple years after I made it. Funny how time flies.

I felt the urge to post, finally. I just caught up as of a few minutes ago... and wow. It's maybe a little extensive in the characters department for the scope of the original VN, but short of that it could easily sit among the originals - and personally, it's among my favorite routes above most of the game ones, even. Here's to Jester's health, and the continuation of this route. Thank you.

[TheCzarNick]

Wow! I remember reading this a few years ago! I think I'm gonna give this a read again! And I see it still being updated, pumped to see how much has been done!

[Sad Ken]

I cannot articulate how much I've enjoyed reading this from start to current over the last week, so I'll just refer to your original post from over 8 years ago;

I was not expecting what happened. I'm sure you've heard it from other people who have experienced the same thing. Because I went into it with my guard down, the game hit me like a freight train.

I concur with the above, with one exception. Knowing how the source material pummelled me kept my guard very much up coming into this. Yet, I'm still sat here with the same empty feeling after reading a piece of free fan-fiction ten years later. I mean that in the best possible way.

Whatever may happen going forward - thank you for the wonderful story.

[Eurobeatjester]

Ahhh, self imposed hiatus/sabbatical.

I’ve had a very rough time in my life since the last time I updated. Covid continued to destroy me mentally (and almost physically, but I recovered), and my living situation deteriorated significantly. I had a scum landlord who didn’t do anything about a massive rat infestation in my house, I had a falling out with a very close friend, and I just…lost all motivation to write, draw, or be creative in general. I knew that there were only a few chapters left, and I didn’t want to be in a bad mood to write them…

…at least, that’s what I had convinced myself as the reason for not sitting down to write. It took a lot of therapy and medication this last year to get back on an even keel and I finally got to a point where I was stable.

I found a better living situation for the next few months, and getting out of that rat infested shithole did wonders for me, to the point I didn’t even realize how badly I had sunk into depression and self loathing. I was not in a good place mentally or physically, and after a painful instance in June, I turned near suicidal without realizing it.

I had a lot of friends IRL and online that have helped to pull me out of that hole. You know who you are, and I love you.

Finally, after all these years, is the recital. It’s split into two chapters because it ended up being over 25,000words long.

After this, only two or three chapters are left. I promise it won’t take nearly as long to get the ending out as it did these two. I won’t let this be another project in a long line of them that won’t get completed.

Thank you for all the love and support over the year. I hope you enjoy, and as always, comments and feedback are appreciated.

The title from this chapter comes from “In The Heat Of The Moment” by Noel Gallagher’s High Flying Birds.

Act 4: Liftoff

Scene 11: In The Heat Of The Moment

“Hey, Hisao!” Saki says as she crosses the threshold through the gate, where I’m waiting. Even though I have ten minutes to think about it, I’m no closer to an answer for what I’m going to say to her.

“Hey Saki! Welcome back,” I grin, taking a few steps towards her. As soon as I’m close enough, Saki steps in and hugs me tightly.

“I could really use a hug right now,” she mumbles, the fabric of my shirt muffling her.

“That bad?” I ask. I feel her sigh in response.

“It feels like it. They’ll be up here in a few hours.” She sighs deeply. “I’m sorry I’m late, I tried to get back here as fast as I could. I hope you weren’t waiting for me too long.”

“Ah, no, but we should probably walk and talk,” I reply, trying to appear nonchalant when I do. I think I nail it, which lets Saki know that something is amiss. She raises an eyebrow.

“Everything alright?” she asks cautiously, picking up on my body language.

I cough a bit. “Apparently Mrs. Sakamoto invited a guest to come up tonight.”

“A guest? Who?”

“Haruka Nanahara.”

It takes a second or two to fully register, but Saki’s face shows her bewilderment when she realizes what I said...and then the panic starts to set in.

“Wait, what? What is she doing here?”

“To be honest, it’s probably best if you ask her...”

“It has to be Chisato. She came to hear her play.”

“Yes, but no, but...look, she’s here to hear you play too.”

Her eyebrows furrow. “But...but that doesn’t make any sense.”

I take her hand and pivot towards the art wing. “Trust me. You’ll want to hear this from her.”

“O...okay,” she says, falling into step alongside me. Normally I would be going slower, but I’ve seen how fast Saki can move when she needs to.

It only takes a moment to reach the glass doors to the arts wing and go through them, Saki’s attention is divided between watching where she’s going and trying to figure out what exactly is going on. When I hold open the door to the music room for her, she hesitates slightly before stepping through.

“Hey, look who it is!” I hear, Takamura's voice booming out as he’s the first one to see her. “It’s been a minute. How ya been?”

Saki keeps enough presence of mind to step to the side to allow me into the room, but other than that, she looks like a deer caught in the headlights from all the attention laid on her from the three adults.

Three adults, yet no Chisato. I know she was here when I stepped outside with Takamu-

“Um, hello,” Saki stammers out, quickly regaining some composure. “Sensei. Mr. Takamura. Mrs. Nanahara,” she finishes, stumbling only slightly on the last name as she bows. “It’s good to meet you in person.”

“The same to you, Miss Enomoto,” Mrs. Nanahara says, the corner of her mouth pulling up into a smile. “You certainly seem surprised to see me.”

Saki nods, still unsure. “I am...Hisao mentioned - ahem, I was told that you were here, but when I heard that, I just thought you were here to listen to Chisato. Hisao said there was more to it than that?” Her eyes scan all four of us, looking for some confirmation.

The admissions director folds her arms. “I already explained to Miss Souma, so I’ll explain to you. Yes, I am here to listen to her, but I’m primarily here to listen to you, Miss Enomoto.”

Hearing this, Saki’s eyes widen. “Wh...what are you talking about?”

“Are you still interested in attending our school in Tokyo?” the director asks, blunt and to the point.

Her face brightens for a second as she responds without hesitation. “I, uh, y-yes! Yes, I am! But, uh, but I thought I missed the deadline,” she trails off, her enthusiasm giving way to a more guarded curiosity.

“You did, if you hadn’t already started the application process. But you had completed everything except the final submission and live audition.”

Saki pieces it together and sits down, hard. “But...how?”

“Let me tell you,” the older woman says.

Over the next few minutes, Mrs. Nanahara explains to Saki about the application process being stalled, starting with what happened at Christmas. As she relates the story, her teacher and Takamura give appropriate interjections about their parts in bringing about this possibility tonight.

“It certainly is a bit unorthodox, but the recordings that Hana and Shogo submitted to me are enough to meet that part of the entrance requirement.” Mrs. Nanahara takes a moment to sit down across from Saki, folding her hands neatly in her lap before continuing. “However, I won’t be able to delay the process any longer after tonight. If your plans haven’t changed in the last few months, it should be a fairly easy decision to make. I understand this is a lot to take in, but I will need a decision, and soon.”

Saki is initially shocked, but as the discussion deepens I can see how anxious she is by how much she’s fidgeting. Her mind is racing right now, and despite her best efforts it shows. “If I say yes, how would that work? Would I come up to the school tomorrow after graduation to play, or next week-”

Mrs. Nanahara raises a hand, silencing Saki. “Miss Enomoto, as I stated earlier, I cannot delay the process any longer after tonight.”

The full impact of those words hit Saki, and I can see the dominos in her head fall in a line from one realization to the next. “The recital?” she squeaks.

The director nods.

The muscles in Saki’s neck work slightly, and it looks like her heart is about to burst out of her chest with how quickly her eyes are darting from one face to the other.

“I, uh…” she starts to say, the words catching in her throat. “C-can I have a few minutes to think about this?”

“Of course,” the director answers, getting to her feet and offering a hand down for Saki to take. “Speak with Miss Souma about how you would like to proceed. As your teacher has said to me, you should have a few hours to practice together before the recital starts. I suggest you use it. I’ll need an answer before then.”

Saki clasps the proffered hand to stand up and nods again, looking at the floor when Chisato’s name is mentioned.

“Where’d Chisato go, anyway?” I ask, my question directed more towards Takamura and Mrs. Sakamoto. “She was here a few minutes ago.”

“She ran back to the dorms to get her outfit,” Takamura explains.

“I thought she said she was going to wait to change.”

“I need to do that too. Right now,” Saki speaks up, a slight waver in her voice.

“There’s still plenty of time, isn’t there?” I ask, turning to her.

“I can change into it here later if we can go get the dress right now. Let’s hurry.” Without waiting for a response, she turns towards the adults. “I’ll be back soon. I, um, need some air.”

Mrs. Sakamoto nods. “As soon as you two get back, Takamura and I can spend some time working with you. We only have a few hours before the recital and the other students will be here to practice before then.”

The two of us are barely outside of the music room when Saki moves to sit down on a bench against the wall. There’s nobody else in the hallway at the moment, and it seemed to take all of her inner strength to hold it together.

“Holy shit,” she says, trembling both in body and thought. “I thought...I can’t...just…” she stammers, her eyes then settling on mine. “Did you know about this?”

I shake my head. “Not until a few minutes before you did. Your teacher said she was trying to set something up, but said nothing about something like this.”

She leans back heavily against the wall, gently tapping it twice with the back of her head. “I never thought that I had a chance after Christmas.”

“You never heard anything from the school again?”

“No,” she says, her voice crestfallen and more than a bit desperate. “After what happened that night with Chisato and Maeda, I just...I never followed up. We weren’t able to record the album, so there wasn’t any real point, you know? But now...argh!” she finishes, giving a growl of frustration.

I silently wait for her to continue. From the way I can see her mind working right now by the expression on her face, I know there’s nothing I can really say to her that will calm her down.

“What the hell could I have done?” she angrily retorts to a question unasked. “I wasn’t going to call up Chisato and ask her to record. I wasn’t going to call Tokyo directly because it wouldn’t have mattered. And then with sensei-”

She cuts herself off, lowering her head to where I can’t see her eyes.

“None of them reached out to you?” I ask, my voice soft.

When she speaks again, her voice cracks slightly.

“I…might have forgotten to return a few calls,” she says, the poor attempt at humor doing nothing to hide the shame in her voice. “I…I just didn’t think I deserved it, you know? It was good enough Chisato got in. And I was just at home anyway, with my family, just stuck there. I wasn’t in a good mindset, okay?” As soon as she hears herself say that, she scoffs silently and I see her mouth smirk. “Yeah, like it’s any better now…”

“Do you still feel that way?”

“Not as much. Being with you the last few days helps,” she says. She raises her face and dabs away the few tears there with the back of a hand. She sniffles a bit. “Tokyo, huh.”

I sit down on the bench next to her. “Hm?”

She continues, her voice soft. “If I do this, it could get me to Tokyo. It would get me out of Osaka. Away from my family, if they would let me go.”

“Do you think they would stop you? You told me they were supportive before Christmas. I’m sure your brother would be, at least.”

She sighs, whatever small amount of optimism that she had gained faltering. “I don’t know if they would or not. It wouldn’t matter. There’s no way I could have moved anywhere on my own without a fight about it, and back then when we talked about it, we were still thinking I was going to be living with Chisato. It was an easy sell because we both knew each other, we were friends, and we had both been to Yamaku. I told my father it would be a plus to live with someone who had gone through the same things I did because we could look out for each other.”

The two of us don’t speak for a few breaths, letting the silence linger.

Hearing her break this way makes me look at the last few days - and the last few months - in perspective. Saki definitely hasn’t been in a good mood, but I had no real idea how bad it was until seeing her the last few days and especially now. In her mind, she had already acknowledged the reality of what happened. For better or for worse, she’s doing what she’s always done - trying to accept it; not because there’s no alternative, but because there’s no point in doing otherwise.

We both know enough about how that feels.

Replacing hope with practicality is never an easy process. It has to be tended with a watchful eye, and can’t be rushed. It’s not a balance that someone can find easily, and anything can upset it. She was prepared for this to be her last real performance, but now it’s become something so much larger and overwhelming - so much so that she’s trying to talk her way out of it.

I clear my throat and take a deep breath. “If that reasoning hasn’t changed, then what about me instead?”

“You? You what?”

(continued...)

[Eurobeatjester]

Too late to change course now, I continue. “If your father was convinced that you and Chisato could live together, then why wouldn’t it work with me?”

Saki gives me a contemplative look out of the corner of her eye, taking a few seconds before her body twists to face me completely. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”

Now that I’ve said it out loud, the idea doesn’t sound nearly as ridiculous. “Why not? All three of us were kicking around the idea. The more I think about it, the more I think I want to move away from home. I don’t think I’d have even considered the idea if I hadn’t lived up here for the last year or so.”

“Well, if we’re going to be roommates, I’d like to think we also get along fairly well,” she says, giving a small smile that makes me feel relieved.

“I wonder what Chisato’s going to end up doing,” I ponder, then end up wincing when my brain catches up with my mouth.

Saki’s mood sours slightly as she gently taps the back of her head against the wall behind her again. “She’s had since Christmas to figure out how she was going to live in Tokyo without us. She’ll have already found a place on her own or will have roommates lined up.”

“I’m not so sure.”

She side-eyes me again. “What, did she say something to you?”

“She was curious what my plans were if I was thinking about Tokyo.”

Saki hesitates before speaking again. “I see. Would you ever take her up on it?”

Even I know how I shouldn’t answer that question. I shake my head. “Nah. Tokyo would be tempting, but if the only way to see you would be to rely on your brother, I wouldn’t move. Plus it would just seem...improper, you know?”

“She’ll be fine as long as she stays on top of her diabetes. It’s not like she needs to be near a hospital the way we would. She’s the most normal out of the three of us.” She sighs and leans back, stretching her arms above her head. “After we leave here tomorrow, it’s right back into a world where that’s what matters most.”

I look around me. It’s just a normal foyer, one I’ve been in many times. And yet every time I come in here, I see more hints that show how uniquely Yamaku it is. Once you spot one detail, the rest easily fall into place. The way you subtly realize that doorways are wider than normal, along with the hallways in proportion. The way some of the furniture is spaced slightly further apart than normal. The soft edges of the chairs and couches, and not a table with a sharp corner to be seen. It helps the room flow in such a way you don’t see until the puzzle is completed; a beautiful blending of form and function.

Just like all of Yamaku.

This little bubble is where all of us have been able to learn what it means to be ourselves. I would hope that most of us are better for having been here, but I have no doubt there are some people who can’t wait to leave it. No matter the feelings towards the school and the role it plays in its students’ lives, none of us are able to experience it for long. Whatever we take away from here is up to us, but we’ll never again experience a world that hopes to make us thrive this way.

Here, it’s paramount. Outside, it can merely be a sentiment further relegated to an afterthought.

“I’m going to miss this place,” I say, and mean it.

“Me too.”

I brush some imaginary dust off of my knee. “Well, it’s still a good thing that it could happen now, right? Takamura and your teacher are already helping Chisato find a place, and if they help us, we should be able to find something at least.”

“You would really move up there?” she asks, her voice more serious.

“Why not? Sure I would. I can go to prep school anywhere. I’d probably have more options in Tokyo, come to think about it.”

Saki gives a bit of a wistful smile, but she doesn’t look at me. Instead, she looks at the floor while she does it, fidgeting with her hands.

I frown a bit. “You’re, ah, not as excited about this as I thought you would be.”

Her hands and face suddenly become very animated, their rapid movements making it clear that she’s agitated. “I am excited, Hisao! I just...I really want to be able to do this, but...I’ve slacked off playing almost everything except the music for the recital and I’m rusty, so I don’t know…”

“Hey, have some confidence,” I say, putting a hand on her shoulder. Instead of calming down, she turns towards me with a look of frustration, and shame.

“I did have confidence before I got blindsided with the news I was going to be playing for the admissions director of, oh, the best musical school in the country. Yeah. Trust me. I’m rusty.”

The few seconds of silence that follow drag on until I clear my throat. “Alright, point taken. Instead of me just saying that you got this, would you listen if I could give you a reason that I know you can do it?”

She looks up at me, her eyes narrowing in equal parts curiosity and skepticism. “Go ahead.”

“If you play the songs you were planning on doing tonight without changing anything-”

“Did you hear anything I just said-”

“-your teacher’s confident that you’re good enough to get in with them, or else she wouldn’t have called Mrs. Nanahara up here like this, right?”

Saki cuts off her response, blinking as if this is the first time this thought has occurred to her.

I press on. “She’s been with you every step of the way. She knows how you play. She believes in you. She would never set you up to fail.”

She stares at the wall for a few seconds. “Maybe a few months ago, but...my playing’s gotten worse, Hisao. Sensei doesn’t know that. There’s no way to get around that.”

“Saki…”

“I know you’re still going off of what you heard at the studio, and I can still do that…barely. It takes everything out of me though, now. I just don’t have the same dexterity I did before. Gods, what if I try this and it’s not enough? I...I already failed once, Hisao. I don’t think I can put myself through that again if this doesn’t work…” she stammers on, her breathing becoming more rapid. She looks around us as if she’s looking for or is dreading something...almost as if she’s a scared bird trapped and looking for an escape.

“Hey, you okay?”

She takes a second or two to compose herself, but barely manages. “I don’t know. I’m trying to calm down, but I feel like I can’t breathe…” she says, having worked herself up considerably.

I put a hand on her shoulder. “Deep breaths. Let me know if it feels like someone’s stabbing a knife into your chest. At least, that’s what my doctors tell me to look out for.”

She gives me an astonished look for half a second - just long enough for me to wonder if my attempt at humor was a horrible mistake - before breaking into an inaudible laugh. She leans against me and puts her head on my shoulder, and I can feel some of the tension drain from her body when she does - and even more when I put my arm around her. Not all, not by a long shot...but enough. At least it seems to have staved off the building panic attack.

“Is that advice just for people with hearts like yours or in general?”

“Pretty sure that applies in all situations.”

We both know there are important things to focus on, but for the moment, we allow ourselves to find comfort in familiarity. Neither of us is happy when the spell breaks.

“I wish we could talk about this later, after I had more time to think about it. Hell, I just wish I did have more time to think about it.”

“What’s on your mind?”

She doesn’t answer me right away, instead taking three breaths. It’s the same three breaths she takes whenever she’s steeling herself to discuss something as clinically as possible; each breath is slightly deeper than the last, resulting in a practiced neutrality.

“Hisao, I had my sights set on this school, but after the last few months, I’ve thought about why. I was so focused on it I really didn’t think about what would happen afterwards. You want to know the craziest thing? I didn’t know what I wanted to do if I did get in, and I didn’t realize that until after what happened at Christmas.”

“Didn’t you say it’s one of the best musical schools in Japan?”

Saki gives a tired sigh. “One of, if not the best, but...there’s nothing there I can really learn, Hisao. Do you understand that? Everyone else does, especially someone like Mrs. Nanahara.” She reaches up to tame that ever-straying lock of hair and tuck it behind her ear, her fingers unsteady. “Everyone knows it would just be seen as a charity chase anyway.”

“Don’t say that, you’ve put in just as much work as anyone else could, if not more-”

“I’m not an idiot, Hisao. Yeah, I put in a lot of work and I was - am - damned proud of it! But that’s the reality of it.” She holds her hands out in front of her, twisting them delicately around each other to drive the point home. “I’ll never be able to use my hands better than I can right now. Maybe I can pick up a few things that will let me keep playing for longer, but I know I’m never going to get a first chair position, or a seat in a real orchestra. I know that. I have at most another year, maybe two before I can’t play the way I play now. So why waste a position in the program on someone like me who won’t live long enough to do anything with it?”

“Do you really-”

“Please, just let me finish. I always knew my ataxia would be a factor in getting in.” She smiles resignedly. “It holds the door open for me, and I thought that would be enough. I wanted that school, Hisao.” She turns to look at me. “Not because of what I could learn, but proof of everything I had learned. It was an end goal. It’s not a stepping stone, like it is for Chisato.”

I look into her eyes. There’s no hint of regret or apology there; she truly believes this and has come to terms with it.

“I knew it would be a factor that helps if I twisted it that way, and I don’t give a shit if someone else thinks bad of me for having that attitude. Ataxia’s going to take fifty years of my life, Hisao. This is the least it can give me in exchange for that.”

Saki and I may never be able to meet in the middle on that regard. It’s not that I fault or blame either one of us; my time spent here at Yamaku has taught me otherwise. In my case, I still feel a sense of guilt the few times I’ve had to use my condition to my own ends. I’ve never imagined using it as leverage the way Saki has. She always has been and always will be completely unrepentant for that, and to hell with anyone who says or thinks otherwise.

I smile a bit when I look at it that way. I definitely think that I would be getting the raw end of the deal if the only thing I had to show for a terminal illness was a parking spot.

“So what’s holding you back, now that the chance is here?”

“If I play the way I’ve been playing the last few months, I don’t think it’s going to be enough. I could have been practicing more or further refining what I needed for an audition, not just the two or three songs to get through tonight.” She rubs her temples. ”I’ve been practicing more than that, but not seriously. I only have one shot at this, and when Chisato and I talked earlier about the recital, we agreed on what to play. Now though…”

We sit in silence for a few moments, my mind trying to think of what to say but coming up empty. I don’t know what to say to her. Chisato was right; there are viewpoints we just won’t be able to see completely, no matter what angle we try to look at them from. I don’t think I can properly fathom how much this must mean to her.

Every day since my heart attack, for the most part, has been a net improvement. There have been setbacks of course, but overall, things have gotten better. They’ve improved to the point where I can afford nebulous thoughts of a future. Getting a degree. Wondering what it would look like to have some muscle instead of the pseudo-swimmer’s body that I have now. Having a vague idea of what the phrase “settling down” is supposed to mean.

I don’t think a lot of people realize how important it is to daydream; to have the luxury of time to give order to your imaginations, and think about how you might make them something tangible. But what do you do when the foggy bank of an uncertain future yields way to the much colder and confined shoreline of a young death? I have no idea, and that’s one thing that hasn’t changed since that day over a year ago. I remember being cold and afraid on the ground as I passed out, but even once the realization hit me that I was alive, in the hospital, and for all intents and purposes safe, I still didn’t think about my mortality. It happened so quickly that it seemed anticlimactic afterwards.

You think you’ll know or have time to prepare for something happening to you, outside of a car accident or some other quirk of the universe. How quickly could it have been over? I could have just as easily never opened my eyes again after closing them, facedown in the snow.

You think about it afterwards when you’re sitting there, alone. Not so much the idea that you could die at any time, but that you almost did at a very specific time. You occasionally look at a calendar and do the mental math of how long you would have been dead on some undefined date. A few days. A few weeks, or months.

Even over a year.

It really does a good job of showing you how much you can take for granted, especially when that something is time.

Saki doesn’t have that. She’s the exact opposite. I improve and get stronger - she deteriorates and gets worse. If she can’t play well enough to convince Mrs. Nanahara, then she really does have nothing left to aim for.

“Do you want it?” I ask, breaking the stillness.

“What?” she replies, almost as if she didn’t hear me.

“Do you want it?” I repeat. “Do you still want it?”

She looks incredulous for a moment, as if she can’t believe I would ask her such a ridiculous question, and yet...I see her jaw working for a few seconds instead of giving me an automatic answer.

“Yes,” she finally says, her voice ripped apart with emotion. “Yes, I want this. More than anything I’ve ever wanted, Hisao.”

“Then go for it,” I immediately say. “We’ll work out the details about what happens afterwards later. Just focus on the next few hours.”

Saki nods, if a bit shakily. She seems to have calmed herself down a bit from her brief panic attack. “I don’t even know what Chisato thinks of this, or if she would go for it.”

I shrug. “You said it yourself, not much changes for her.”

“It’s not that simple and you know it.”

“Give her some credit. Hell, give yourself more credit.”

(continued...)

[Eurobeatjester]

“Give who credit for what, now?” I hear a familiar voice say, causing me to jump slightly. Turning towards the entrance of the foyer, I see Chisato has just stepped in. She quickly shuffles the hanging garment bag she has slung over her shoulder through the closing door before it can get caught.

Saki appears flustered, but only for a second. She takes a deep breath, closing her eyes and letting it out slowly. When she opens them again, they have a serious look to them.

“I, uh, just learned about the audition thing from Mrs. Nanahara.”

Chisato takes a few steps forward and stops, merely standing there next to the wall.

“Yeah, that’s a hell of a thing to drop on someone,” she says, her voice neutral.

“You had no idea either, did you?”

Chisato shakes her head. “Nope. But at least this explains why sensei wanted us to come in early.”

“Look, Chisato…” Saki starts, but is then cut off.

“We need to get to the stage to start practicing. It’s been a few months.”

Saki is taken aback, and then looks slightly deflated when she realizes there’s more than one way to interpret that sentence. “Okay.”

I help her to her feet, and she stands up as straight as she can manage. She grips her cane, and for half a second I can see the tendons on the back of her hand as she squeezes hard.

My head tilts towards hers. “Do you want me to get you anything?”

“N…yes. Yes,” she stutters, reaching into her pocket to fish out her dorm key. “Can you run and grab my dress? It’s laid out on the bed. Just put it in the dust cover, okay?”

Chisato turns her attention to me. “Might be a good chance to change too if you’re going to, Hisao.”

“You don’t mind?” I ask. “It would only take me a few minutes.”

“Go ahead,” Saki encourages. “If we’re busy by the time you get back, just hang the dress up in the side room.”

“Alright. I’ll be back in a bit.”

It takes me a few minutes to dress for the evening. I’ve gone with my trusty slacks and vest, throwing a light jacket over all of it to keep myself warm. The weather isn’t terribly cold and the temperatures are rising every day, but it’s still pretty chilly when the wind picks up. As soon as I step back outside, it happens like clockwork and I’m thankful for the extra protection.

The sun has already set in the west, the gradient of the sky working its way from a dull peach to a deep and dark blue where half a dozen stars twinkle. Scattered clouds visibly move across its face. To the west, the clouds are dark against the backlight of what sunlight is left. To the east, the clouds are lighter than the darkness around them.

Where they meet in the middle, there’s an area where the clouds are the exact same color as the sky, and they become indistinguishable from each other. I’ve always loved this time of the evening. For a few perfect moments in a few perfect places, everything seems to line up. It only lasts for a few minutes before the light fades beyond the horizon, and you’ll easily miss it unless you know when and where to look.

I feel like that’s a perfect metaphor for tonight and everything around it - the recital, Saki, graduation, moving, and everything else that subconsciously comes together to make up the experience. Everything has led to a choke point tonight, the skinny pinch in the middle of the hourglass where all the grains of sand have to cajole and position to inevitably pass.

After that sand falls, though? It scatters to the wind, never to coalesce again.

I only run into one person in the girl’s dorms on my way in, and she did nothing more than look up from the common room couch to acknowledge my presence as I passed by it. Some of the girls have learned my name over the last year from me visiting Saki so often, and everyone who doesn’t know my name at least knows me as “Saki’s boyfriend.” My body moves on memory, finding the hallway that leads to Saki’s room. I pass several open doors, my peripheral vision picking up on how empty they are. Seems like most everyone has already moved out.

Saki’s door opens easily, and her room is almost as bare as the ones around her. The only color in the room that stands out is the vibrant red of her dress, draped on the bed where she said it would be.

This was the dress she tried on at Plus Two, all those months ago and one of the first times we all hung out together. The shiny fabric is thin, with little weight to it. From the flowing bottom at the middle of the thighs up to the straps around the shoulder, the ebbs and lines weave naturally towards a single point, just above the left collarbone. The gloriously coiffed neckline meets the rest of the fabric there, and cascades downward in beautiful crimson waves to the waist. I only saw her wear it the one time in the store, but I remember how it took my breath away. It’s going to look great on her tonight.

I open her closet to find a few empty hangers there, along with an empty garment bag. I quickly take it down and move to lay it on the bed, and take great care to put the dress inside. Putting it over my shoulder, I take one last look at the room around me. It’s completely bare of Saki’s possessions except for one single box left in the corner. There aren’t even any sheets on the bed. Saki lived here for three years to my one, and somehow I have to do more work to pack than she does.

I look at my watch. I had planned to see if everyone wanted to go out to eat later after the recital, but given the wrench that’s been thrown into the works, I’m not sure if that’s happening or not. Better to try and grab something quickly now while I have the free time. Nothing large; just something to take the edge off until we figure out what exactly we’re doing tonight.

Half an hour later when I step back into the auditorium, I see that Chisato and Saki are already on the stage, accompanied by their teacher and Takamura. They turn towards me when they hear the door, but quickly go back to the intense discussion they seem to be having. There’s someone sitting in the otherwise empty seats a few rows back, and I quickly realize that it’s Mrs. Nanahara.

Making my way down the main aisle, I pick a chair a few rows back from the admissions director and take a seat. I barely sit down before I hear Saki and Chisato start to play. I quickly recognize it as the song they played at the festival, nearly a year ago.

Pachelbel.

I close my eyes as the sounds wash over me. The feeling is beautiful, although…it’s the same. The same as it was at the festival. Instead of taking solace in reliving that day, it unnerves me. Something is off, but what? Why does that seem so odd?

“Nakai, was it? Please, talk with me for a bit.”

I’m shaken out of my thoughts by the voice of tonight’s special guest. I glance around a bit to see that she did indeed address me, as nobody else has come into the auditorium. Instead of walking back towards the aisle to reach her row, I simply move down until I’m two seats behind her.

“How do they sound to you?” she asks me.

“It’s been a few months since I’ve heard them play together, but they sound pretty good to me. But uh, I don’t really understand music too much...”

She raises an eyebrow. “It sounds good but you cannot describe why it sounds good to you?”

“Something like that. Sometimes I wish I knew more about something just so I could describe my appreciation for it better.”

She barks out a laugh at this, a sound as genuine as it is sudden. Saki and Chisato glance in my direction when they hear the noise. They’re both probably a bit surprised seeing me having a conversation with the director, much less wondering what it could be about. Mrs. Nanahara notices this, and waves her hand towards them in a dismissive gesture. She’s probably trying to tell them to act like she isn’t even there. “Listen closely.”

I don’t think it has the intended effect. When they begin to play again, I can tell by the way they sound that they’re failing to do so. They manage to get through their first song together, but something definitely seems off. I close my eyes and frown, trying to pick up on it.

“Have you noticed it yet?” the director asks me, sensing the change in my demeanor.

“Noticed what?” I reply, opening my eyes again.

“Listen, and you’ll hear. Or more specifically, you won’t hear.”

They get through another practice song I’ve heard them play before, and it’s still there. It’s not something as overt as hitting a wrong note, being out of tune, or out of practice. Instead, it’s much more subtle.

This feels...anemic.

I feel bad for thinking it, but it doesn’t seem like there’s nearly as much passion in their playing as there was before Christmas. Saki just told me this is the most important thing to her in her life, so why does it sound like her heart isn’t in it? I’ve seen her upset in the studio before, from little instances like her eyebrow twitching all the way up to threatening to turn her violin into a pile of splinters, but never with this level of ambivalence.

“I wonder how long it’s going to take one of them to realize it,” she says idly.

“Realize what?”

“If they play at the same level during the recital, it isn’t going to be enough.”

She doesn’t say it in a disapproving way, but more of a matter of fact. It throws me for a loop and I find myself having to respond. “How can you say that so soon?” I ask, with as much incredulousness as my sense of respect allows. “The recital isn't for another two hours. They’ve made quicker turnarounds in the studio.”

“I believe you. I’ve heard the recordings they made this last year. If you want to know the truth, most recordings sound better than the live audition. Even so, this is a bit less complex than what I was expecting to hear.”

Everything clicks at once; the feeling is the same because the music is the same. I don’t just mean the song - the notes, tempo, all of it. They’re playing the same song they did at the festival the same way they played it there - not the more intricate version they had settled on and practiced for the studio. Is this what Saki meant when she said her and Chisato had discussed this earlier?

I clear my throat a bit. “If that’s the case, and I mean no disrespect, why aren’t the recordings enough then? Why go through all of this tension?”

“Why do you think we do live auditions as part of our application process? There are hundreds if not thousands of people with a second-hand electronic keyboard that can play music, and refine or replay it dozens of times. That’s sound engineering and something you would learn from Shogo. That’s not what we look for or what we teach. If you’re too nervous to perform in front of an audience, then you will never be part of a philharmonic or an orchestra.”

I remember what Saki had told me; getting into the school was her goal, and her affirmation.

“So, what happens if you have the drive to perform, but something physically stops slows you down to where you can’t? What then?”

Her expression softens. “I see where you’re going with this, and I’ve given her all of the extra consideration I can. The only real reason I’ve been able to do so is because I’ve simply left the file open after Christmas pending medical concerns and evaluations.”

“Her ataxia?” I ask. Bringing it up no longer makes me feel uncomfortable, but I still treat it as a delicate subject out of respect.

The older woman gives a slight nod. “I am aware of Miss Enomoto’s condition. She disclosed it in the admissions paperwork.” She turns her upper body to face me more directly. “It’s not uncommon for things to happen to musicians in their professional and personal lives that throw unexpected situations at them. They must learn to put aside everything else but the music when it’s time to perform. My being here is an unexpected situation. I can assure you that neither one of them has ever felt the pressure they’re feeling now. I told you that tonight was their audition. Me being in this chair right now is a part of it. Me talking to you is a part of it.”

“Me? But-”

“More specifically, their reactions to our conversation. I fully expect them to ask what we’re talking about right now. However much you want to say to them is on you.” There’s a sharpness there that makes me pause. I hadn’t planned on getting dragged into this this way, but I can admit when I’m outmaneuvered.

“You keep mentioning ‘they.’ Wasn’t Chisato already accepted?”

She nods. “She was, and I’m just as interested in hearing how she does tonight; she’s going to be a student of ours after all. It should be fairly insightful to see how she holds up, and more importantly, holds up her partner when there’s nothing in it for her. Nothing changes for her tonight regardless of the outcome, so whatever actions she takes tonight are her own.”

The two of them have stopped playing, speaking in low tones to each other, their teacher, and Takamura. Chisato seems outwardly perturbed while Saki’s trying too hard to not show frustration. I hear Takamura snap out methodically and slow with his fingers, along with words of encouragement.

“It’s a good thing that Mr. Takamura can also help them.”

She dips her chin again. “All the better. What I’ve heard so far is good, but the recordings were better than this. Considering the other students get here shortly, they had better find a way to overcome their issues. Their teacher will not be able to give them as much individual attention as they’re used to. This brief time is all the extra preparation they’ll get, I’m afraid.”

Saki and Chisato ready themselves and their instruments at Takamura’s cue, and start playing in time to the snapping of his fingers. It’s on the beat and methodical, but once again I can’t feel much passion in it. Saki misses a note followed by Chisato immediately afterwards. I see Saki’s cheeks flush a bit while Takamura says something to Chisato that I can’t make out. Then the teacher starts talking to both of them, seeming to calm them both down.

“Now that was interesting,” Mrs. Nanahara says, more to herself than to me. I look again and still see Saki is still a bit upset.

“Saki missing a note?”

She shakes her head. “Not just that, but Miss Souma missing the next note after her.”

“What was strange about it? It sounded like Saki threw her off.”

“No. Miss Souma wasn’t thrown off at all. Quite the opposite.”

(continued...)

[Eurobeatjester]

Before I can answer, there’s a banging from the back of the auditorium as the door is pushed open hard enough to hit the bump stop on the wall. I turn and see another student shuffling in as fast as he can, holding onto his cello case and trying to get it through the door before it closes. Before it can, two more band members make their way through, each with their hands full.

“Looks like everyone else is starting to show up now,” I say, taking another glance at my watch.

“Just so,” Mrs. Nanahara responds. “Perhaps Shogo will be able to work with them privately for a bit longer.”

Chisato is getting up from the piano bench right as Saki is reaching for her cane. I can tell by their body language that neither is terribly pleased.

“If you’ll please excuse me, I’d like to see how she’s doing.”

“I understand. By all means.”

I stand up and bow before moving towards the side of the auditorium. It’s just a quick half dozen stairs up onto the stage, and from there through the wings to the band room. There are a few more band members here as well, and I find Chisato and Saki sitting across from each other in the back. Takamura is with them, as is their teacher.

“Hisao! You’re here!” Saki says.

“Yep, and I brought the dress too. It’s hanging up in the first dressing room.”

Chisato speaks up with a bit of a smirk. “Couldn’t help but notice that you were getting kinda chummy with the director. Anything we should know about?”

The split second of hesitation I have is enough for both of them to jump to the conclusion. “She said that, ah, the two of you are playing well and that jitters are mostly natural…”

“Jitters?” Saki and Chisato reply simultaneously. It’s fascinating to see that Saki’s reaction is one of concern, while Chisato’s is almost incredulous.

“You’re going to do great,” their teacher says, trying to ease their minds. “I have to see how the other members are doing, but I’ll be back to check on you both.”

Takamura frowns a bit in concern. “I’m not sure how much more time we’re going to get on the piano.”

“But Chisato’s the only-” I blurt out.

“Can’t have two groups practicing on stage at the same time, Nakai.” he clarifies.

Saki’s eyes are burning with a desperate passion. “I can still practice in the side room. I can use one of the metronomes to get the tempo down. You know it won’t take me that long to do. There’s still a few hours.”

“Gonna be harder without the piano, won’t it? If only we had-”

Takamura stops his words mid-sentence, instead raising an eyebrow. “You know what? Give me a little bit. Where did Haruka say she was heading off to?”

“I’m uh, not sure,” I say. “She didn’t mention going anywhere else, so as far as I know she’s still in the auditorium.”

“Perfect. Get that metronome going. I’ll be back,” he assures us, before walking back towards the stage door and through it with clear intent. Chisato heads back to the band room, looking on the shelf to see where the metronome actually is. By the time she finds it and brings it back to where we sit secluded, Saki’s placed her violin case on the counter and opened the latches on its side. She quickly lifts the instrument out and positions it on her shoulder, and takes a deep breath.

“What do you want the metronome set at?” Chisato asks.

“Eighty.”

“You sure?”

“I’m sure. I spent the last few months with nothing to do but practice. I can do this tonight.”

Chisato nods, and cranks the dial on the front of the device. A pleasant ticking is heard as the needle swings back and forth. Saki hesitates a few seconds before she puts the bow to the strings, waiting for the right moment.

I suddenly have a memory from when I was younger, before I was even a teenager. During recess and occasionally for gym, a group of us would sometimes jump rope. Two people would stand across from each other with two ropes between them, then swayed them until gravity and inertia took over. There would be a steady rhythm beat onto the ground that would tell you the best chance to jump in, if you knew how to listen to it.

Saki jumps in, and she starts to play.

It’s not the duet she would play with Chisato, but instead a song of her own. I’ve heard her play it a few times, and I’m blown away by how…good it sounds. This time, it’s easy to hear the fire and determination in the way she confidently caresses each note out of the violin, the effort clear on her brow as it furrows in intense concentration.

Time seems to slow down, and I take a brief second to shift my attention to Chisato. She seems to be just as impressed as I am; maybe even more so since she’s a fellow musician.

Saki keeps up the pace through the entire piece, putting her all into it. She doesn’t falter once, and by the time she finishes, the beads of sweat on her forehead are nothing compared to the relieved grin she wears. “Told you I’ve been practicing!”

“I’ll be damned,” Chisato praises. “That was amazing.”

“Thank you,” Saki says, relieved. The tired happiness on her face speaks to the huge weight of uncertainty just lifted.

“Was that you, Saki?” I hear a gruff voice call out, turning my head to see Takamura walking in from the direction of the stage door. He’s carrying a few square pieces of plastic that the light glints off. It takes me a few more seconds to realize he’s holding two compact disc cases.

“Yeah, it was. I think I just needed a good warmup song. What do you have there?” she asks, curiosity piqued.

“Haruka had these with her,” he clarifies, putting them down on the counter next to the violin case for all of us to see. Both have Saki and Chisato’s names on them written in marker, and both are dated from the fall of last year with about a month’s gap between them. I recognize the label being the same type that Takamura uses for his studio. “I’m not exactly sure what version is on these, but…hey, is there a disc player around here?”

“Sensei keeps a stereo behind her desk that she uses.”

“That’ll do,” he says, and disappears again. The three of us can only sit around dumbfounded as it takes less than a minute for him to bring in the boombox, power cord trailing behind him. “She had these with her, as I was saying. She was listening to them in the car on the way up.” Setting the stereo down, he finds an outlet for the plug before putting in the first disc.

I hear the sound of a metronome in the background, suddenly joined by a piano. I recognize Chisato’s playing, and what’s more, the song; the same Pachelbel that they were going to record together - this one with the intricacies I’m expecting and not the simpler flow of the festival performance.

“Damn, that one is at normal speed,” he says. “If I were in my studio I could fix this in a heartbeat but it doesn’t look like there’s a way to do it on this thing.” He pops out the first disc and replaces it with the second.

This time, it’s Saki playing. The same song, but not nearly as quickly - all of the additions are there, but they’re smoothed over by the lowered pace. This must be one of the recordings she did at a lowered tempo to be changed by Takamura and Noriko in post production.

Saki skips right past concern to flat-out panic when she hears her own playing. “She was listening to this? This version?”

“Looks like it. I mailed her more than that but it looks like those are the only two she had on her.”

“So she didn’t hear the two of us playing together?”

“I sent the mix to her with the others,” he drawls, sensing that something is off.

“Oh god damnit,” she says, burying her face in her hands. “Stupid. Stupid stupid stupid-”

Chisato moves to her friend’s side, much the way she did the night Saki twisted her ankle. This time, however, the concern is slightly tempered but no less genuine. “Saki, what’s wrong? That’s a good thing, isn’t it?”

“Every take we did, you had to go with that one? That one?”

Chisato starts to respond, but then bites her lip for a second. She must have figured out whatever it is that Saki’s trying to get at.

“Kayoko’s version. The last time we recorded it,” Saki says quietly. It’s not a question.

Her friend hesitates, but then confirms her suspicions. “Yes. It is.”

Saki turns to look at Chisato with an expression of hurt I haven’t seen since Christmas. “Why? Why was that the one you went with, Chisato?” she says, tearing up a bit.

“Because it was the one where you sounded the best. I-”

Takamura clears his throat, quickly taking over. “It was my idea, Saki. You were both prepared to record on Christmas, and we just hadn’t worked out the final details beforehand. I wanted to pick the best recording of you playing to accompany Chisato, and that was the best one we had.”

“I put a lot of work into this too, Saki,” her friend says, frowning. “I wanted to sound my best too, you know. I couldn’t have done that without you,” she finishes, the corners of her mouth pulling up into a small smile.

Saki pinches the bridge of her nose. “If I stayed in touch, I would have known about this. After Christmas, I just…I let it go because I didn’t think I deserved it.”

The words are equal parts explanation, apology, and confession. She truly did feel terrible and withdrawn because of what happened, to the point she wanted nothing to do with it outside of the recital tonight. The reason she’s been blindsided by tonight is the same reason that’s causing her distress; she closed herself off from all of it. Even if Chisato didn’t, Takamura and the band teacher tried to reach out and Saki pushed them away. If she hadn’t, then tonight might not have been such a shock, or at the very least she would have been better prepared for it.

“I don’t know the timing, Chisato,” Saki says, shaking her head. “What was the speedup on my violin? Ten? Fifteen?”

“Fifteen, or close enough if I remember correctly.” Takamura says. “Any more than that with the recordings we had gave us some compression issues. We were hoping to get another clean take or two, but this is what I had to work with. Here.” Swapping out the discs once again, the sounds of the piano are repeated.

When I think of what the director had said, it falls into place. Mrs. Nanahara had said she was expecting more complexity, and it’s literally because the version they were practicing was a less ambitious version of what she had heard. That’s why it sounded off, even if I couldn’t figure out why initially. It had sounded the same as it did during the festival all those months ago to me, but the two of them had been trying the subtle yet more technical changes that Kayoko had written into the song while in the studio. Those were the same versions that Saki had done her best to adjust her playing to, slowing down her inherent tempo for clarity and trusting Noriko and Takamura to blend the two of them together. They had done so, and Takamura sent it off. Chisato was accepted, and that was that.

The original plan was always to play the simpler version of the song at the recital. Chisato and Saki would either be accepted or they wouldn’t by that point, and with Saki’s condition deteriorating the way it was, well…no point in making things harder. Nobody, much less the two of them, could have had any idea about how circumstances would lead to tonight.

The piano swells, a playful dance without a partner. Saki’s eyes are closed, and the intensity on her face relaxes a bit as it continues. She’s no longer analyzing it, but actually listening.

“”It’s beautiful, Chisato,” Saki says, blinking rapidly to try and keep her eyes dry, ultimately giving up and touching the back of her sleeve to her face. “It really is. I’m sorry that we didn’t get to record it together for real.”

“I am too.”

“You didn’t have to slow down, you know. You could have played at a faster speed without me there to hold you back.”

“I already told you, I wanted to sound the best I could. And the only way I could do that was with you at your best. Do you really think I would have let you sound bad, even if it was just me auditioning?”

She thinks about it for a second then shakes her head, seemingly ashamed that it wasn’t her immediate reaction. “No. I don’t.” A heavy sigh seems to rattle her to her core, but her eyebrows knit together again. “So. She heard the mixed version, with you playing at that tempo?”

“Well, there wasn’t another version we did without your violin mixed in, so yeah.”

“That was the version she heard,” I say, my first words in a while.

Saki’s a bit surprised, not at what is said but who says it. “How do you know? Did she say anything to you?”

“She, ah…”

“Hisao, please,” she pleads. “Tell me the truth. If it’s bad I need to know how bad.”

I breathe in, and do as she asks. “She said she was expecting something more complex,” I say, slumping my shoulders because I know I can’t say it in a reassuring way. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know what she meant until just this moment. She meant it literally.”

She nods, taking a moment to visibly tense as she absorbs that bit of information. It’s a process I’ve seen many times; it’s the preferred way she acts whenever she’s thinking hard, her mind branching out before pruning her thoughts into something useful.

“Fifteen,” she finally says, turning towards Takamura. “You said fifteen, right?”

“I’m sorry?”

“The tempo was sped up by fifteen percent in the mix.”

“Near enough. We can set the metronome to match what’s playing to confirm the exact tempo.”

Saki closes her eyes again, listening to the soft sound of her friend playing. It’s lost almost nothing for having been playing on a set of speakers instead of in person.

“Chisato,” she says, her voice little more than a whisper. “I need your help.”

Chisato’s mouth sets in a firm line. “What do you mean?”

Saki steels herself, finally opening her eyes to look up into Chisato’s gaze. “I want to play the studio version. Kayoko’s version. Tonight.”

Silence follows.

“Are you sure that’s the best idea?” Takamura ventures after several moments. “If Chisato has to lower her speed-”

“I don’t want to play it the way I do on that disc. I want to play it the way she does. At ninety.”

Chisato keeps her eyes locked with Saki’s, her own face painted with a quickly shifting array of emotions.

“Saki…”

“Please, Chisato,” Saki says, something inside of her breaking loose. “Just listen. I’ve practiced. Let me try before you say no.”

Chisato stands up and takes a step back, still a little unsure of how to react. She finally settles on a curious yet guarded nod. Takamura quickly springs into action when he hears this, if for no other reason than to counter the tension in the room. He plays with the buttons on the front of the stereo, resetting the playback to the beginning of the track. Looking at Saki expectantly, he waits for her signal.

Saki raises her violin and tucks it under her chin, opening and closing her hand a few times before grabbing onto the bow. She closes her eyes, and takes a deep breath to prepare herself. “Go.”

The stereo crackles slightly before the piano once again opens mournfully. Saki’s face is set in determination while trying to keep her body relaxed, feeling out the rhythm.

Again she jumps, and again she starts to play. The first notes match up with the piano in a calm, collected way, easing into position with skill and practice. It’s when the song hits her first solo that there’s a change. Almost immediately, there’s a controlled freneticism to the way she draws the bow across the strings, her body swaying more than it usually does from the inertia and precision she’s trying to hold onto to play at Chisato’s pace.

I’ve never seen her focus this hard when playing. It’s almost as if her motions are guiding and directing the song just as much as creating it. A touch here, a pull there - but never without a plan or a next step to consider.

And she’s keeping up. Just barely, but she’s keeping up.

Her bangs begin to cling to her forehead with the effort, and her eyes are closed tight against any possible distractions. All there is at the moment is the piano, the violin, and her.

When the song finally ends, all of us sit there completely transfixed. Takamura gently turns off the stereo, and Saki shakily puts down her violin. She gives the small concession of squeezing and rubbing the hand that held it, slightly wincing. She says nothing, instead looking at Chisato with fearful expectation.

She did it. It took everything out of her for the few minutes the song lasted, but she did it.

Chisato is completely taken aback. She sat down about halfway through the performance, her eyes unfocused and wavering as she listened. A few heartbeats into the silence, she responds.

“How?” she asks, her voice fracturing along with the rest of her countenance. “You didn’t have to.”

“I practiced it a lot the last few months,” her friend answers. “After Christmas, I still tried to keep up.”

“Why? Tell me why. You didn’t have to. There was no audition, and we would never get to record it. I need to know.”

Saki opens and closes her mouth apprehensively a few times before she tears up. “I wanted to be able to play it the way she wrote it, just once. I wanted it to sound the way she meant for it to sound, without the computer. So I kept practicing.”

Chisato takes this in, taking the moment to pull out a small handkerchief to dab her eyes. When it doesn’t work, Saki starts to speak up again.

“Chisato. I know you’re angry at me. And I’m sorry.”

Chisato breathes deeply, unable to muster anything but pain. “I am. I am angry. But I don’t want to be, Saki.”

Saki swallows hard, but doesn’t shy away from Chisato’s stare.

Chisato lets out a sigh. Her shoulders slump, and the weariness in her voice is apparent. “I don’t want to be, she repeats, “but it’s hard, Saki. For now.” She rubs at her temples and closes her eyes. “When I think of Kayoko...sometimes I get angry. Sometimes I get sad. It comes and goes in waves. But,” she pauses, “I don’t blame you for what happened. I know in my head that it’s not your fault, but it’s been really hard for me to accept that I don’t. It hurts, Saki. It’s never not going to hurt. That feeling’s not going to go away overnight. I…I need you to be patient with me, okay?”

The roles are completely reversed. This time, Chisato is the scared one, fearful that her words won’t be accepted but needing to say them regardless.

“I will.”

The mood in the room changes with those two simple words, and the two of them move at the same time to hug each other, all thoughts of holding back from crying gone. It’s desperate yet genuine, both of them visibly straining from how tight they’re holding onto each other.

My own vision blurs as I find my cheeks wet. I never thought I would see them together again like this, but when I do I realize just how hard I was hoping.

It hasn’t been easy. It’s not going to be easy. But it’s not going to be impossible.

(continued...)

[Eurobeatjester]

“Okay,” Chisato says, her voice muffled by Saki’s hair as she continues to hold her friend. “Let’s do it. We couldn’t record it together, but we can play it together. The way she would have wanted it to sound.”

Saki’s hug becomes even tighter, and I hear her make a small noise of joy and relief.

“Heh,” Takamura comments, his smile warm. “Looks like the both of you had some surprises in your back pocket. Can I make a professional recommendation?”

The two separate, taking a minute to compose themselves. “Uh, yeah. Yes,” Saki replies.

“Play it with just a bit of a slowdown from what you just did. May I suggest about ten or even five percent?”

“But why?”

He puts a hand on her shoulder. “You’re able to play it, and it’s incredible. But it pushes you right to the limit, doesn’t it?”

“It does,” she says, but immediately tries to defend herself. “But I can do it.”

“I know you can, but hear me out. Mrs. Nanahara is expecting to hear a more complex version of what she heard earlier, correct? Don’t forget. This is still your audition, after all. Playing your friend’s version of the song will already be a big boost. Leave yourself a safety margin, and you’ll sound better. Trust me on this.”

She considers this for a minute before turning to Chisato. “Are you-”

“Tell me what tempo you want to play it at, Saki. Seventy, eighty, ninety, it doesn’t matter. I can play it at any speed that makes you most comfortable.”

Saki nods again. “Okay. Okay,” she repeats, calming herself down. It makes sense in her mind.

Takamura reaches over and grabs the metronome. “Come on, let’s go.”

“Huh?” Chisato asks, confused. “Where are we going?”

“I’m going to kick anyone who’s practicing off the stage. You’re going to take their place.”

It doesn’t quite work out that way, but close enough. It takes about ten minutes before the students currently rehearsing are finished, giving the space to Chisato and Saki. In that time, I’ve managed to sit down again in the auditorium, although the admissions director is nowhere to be seen.

I quickly push her out of my mind as Chisato and Saki take their places at and near the piano, respectively. Takamura sets the metronome on top of it, fiddling with the dial on the front of it again. I can’t really hear what he says to the two of them because of the background chatter of the rest of the music club around me, but I see them listening intently to whatever he’s saying. Whatever words of encouragement he gives seem to hit home as the girls give him a firm nod, and he returns with a thumbs up before stepping back.

The metronome swings back and forth, nearly silent from where I’m sitting. Saki adjusts slightly on the stool, then raises her violin to its readied position and dips her head towards Chisato. Her friend waits a few seconds, closing her eyes to listen to the ticking and fall under its trance. When she begins to play, I’m instantly awed by even the brief period where she starts the piece by herself. It sounded good on the stereo, but this is something else altogether. Even the studio, for all its equipment and design, simply cannot give the piano enough space to truly command a room the way it does the auditorium.

Chisato is making use of every bit of it, and it’s not just from playing the changed song. There’s a drive there in the way she stabs at the keys that she didn’t have before.

Then Saki joins in, and I don’t think my jaw comes off the floor for the next five minutes.

She’s completely focused as she plays, but she’s not as tense as she was in the back room a few moments ago. Bolstered by the success from earlier and the slightly slower speed, her movements are precise, yet full of an energy that shows she’s giving it her all.

Back and forth, the two instruments weave melodies that dance around and through each other, each swell met perfectly by an opposing dip, each stepping forward and back in focus.

Both become more confident after the first verse, and settle into a groove that carries through the rest of the song. By the time it ends, the chatter in the room has completely died down as almost everyone has their attention focused on the stage.

“Excellent!” a woman’s voice says loudly, the first to break the spell and the silence. It’s none other than their teacher, Mrs. Sakamoto. Even being seated several rows back, I can see Saki flush slightly as she smiles, even more relieved than she was during her first playthrough…but after she sets the violin down next to the metronome, I see her massaging her hands and wincing again. I would have completely missed it if I hadn’t seen it earlier.

“Inada! Yusuke! Imai!” the teacher continues, all business. “It’s your turn!”

Three students near the front row stand up, each holding an instrument of their own. They make their way to the stairs, stepping up onto the stage right at the same time Chisato and Saki clear it with Takamura’s help. I stand up myself, intending to follow them when I see the admissions director standing against the wall at the back of the auditorium. We make eye contact, and she motions for me to come talk to her.

I change my course to head that direction, realizing I can loop back around to the band room instead of having to disturb the new students practicing on the stage. When I get close enough to her, I can see she has a can in her hands.

“Ah, Mrs. Nanahara,” I say, keeping my voice low and respectful. “I didn’t know you were still here.”

“I stepped out to get a coffee from one of the vending machines,” she answers. “I stepped back in right about the time Miss Enomoto started playing her part.”

I don’t bring up anything that happened in the side room before, about the discussion over the two versions of the song. She should have already guessed what was happening when Takamura approached her for the discs.

“I don’t know what you told them, and I don’t know how you said it. But whatever you did, it seemed to have worked,” she says.

I hesitate for a few seconds. “You’re right. I did mention what you had said to them.” I take a deep breath and push forward. “Is there anything else I should tell them?”

The corners of her mouth give the ghost of a smile. “Tell them to play with confidence, and leave it at that.”

I nod, knowing that I won’t be getting anything further from the way she says it. “I will. Thank you.”

“I’m going to stay here. It’s quite interesting to hear everyone else play.”

“Please excuse me, then.”

I head out the back door this time instead of taking the stairs next to the stage, trying to open and close it as quietly as possible so as not to disturb anyone inside. I’m surprised when I start to make my way back to the band room and run into a familiar face.

“Noriko!”

She turns around and sees me, stopping and waving. When I catch up to her, she gives me a brief hug.

“Hey Hisao. How’s the practice going in there?”

“Pretty well, actually. I thought I wasn’t going to see you until the recital.”

“I finished up everything I needed to do today a little early,” she says, looking up at the darkening sky. “Although I guess it’s not the day anymore, is it?”

“For a little bit longer, anyway. Is your dad coming up?”

She shakes her head. “No, I’m here by myself tonight. I’ll take the bus back afterwards. What about you? Did you get a chance to listen to the two of them? How do they sound?”

“Fantastic. It was a little rough at first, but I think they’ll be okay. That’s what the director thinks, at any rate.”

“Director? Who?”

“Ah, right, let me explain.”

I spend the next few minutes telling Noriko a condensed version of the last few hours; Mrs. Nanahara showing up, the recital becoming an audition, and so on. When I get to the part about Takamura going to her to grab the discs, Noriko groans with guilt.

“Mr. Takamura and I mixed it with an emphasis on Chisato’s piano, but we did spend a lot of time tweaking Saki’s recording to get it to work as best as we could. Chisato played that piece at least a dozen times that day. We went with the one that sounded best. I wish I would have known-”

“Hey, none of us knew. This was a surprise to everyone but their teacher, and even then she wasn’t sure it would happen.”

“So, what are they doing about it?”

“They’re going for it.”

“They are?” she asks, her eyes widening.

“Yeah. She played against the recording Chisato submitted. She managed to keep up with it, but it was really hard for her. They’re slowing down a bit, but they’re going with the version they were going to record.”

During this conversation, the two of us have managed to start walking again, through the foyer and back towards the band room. We reach the door and I open it for her; the surprised sounds I hear on the other side make me smile.

“Noriko! You made it!” Chisato says. She hugs Noriko, who then hugs Saki in turn. Noriko then notices Takamura, and bows slightly.

“The audience is going to start showing up soon,” Takamura says, continuing a conversation the three of them were having before Noriko and I showed up. “Is there anything else you want to do?”

“I don’t think there’s anything we can do,” Saki counters. “I would try playing our song one more time, but the stereo can’t slow it down and we’re not going to have any more time to practice on stage. I guess all we can do is wait…”

“If that’s the case, then I’m going to change and swing by the cafeteria,” Chisato says, standing up. “Unlike you, I haven’t eaten today and I’m hungry.”

“Want some company?” Noriko pipes up. “I ate earlier, but it wasn’t much.”

“Sounds good to me! What about you, Saki?”

“Hisao brought my dress. I’m going to change into it to get ready.”

“Then we’ll see you in a bit, then?”

Saki nods.

“I’m going to go find and sit with Haruka, then. Gotta get the good seats before everyone starts showing up,” Takamura grins, knowing full well that there’s already seats that have been reserved for them. “Good luck tonight. You got this.”

After a few more seconds while the other three shuffle around and out the door, Saki and I find ourselves alone.

“You sounded incredible,” I tell her.

She smiles lightly. “Thanks. I didn’t think it would work the way it did, but with Mr. Takamura and Chisato helping me, I think I can do this.”

“Mrs. Nanahara heard you two. I spoke to her on the way here.”

“Um…what did she say?” Saki asks, her nervousness on display.

“Her exact words were to play with confidence.”

“Play with confidence. Right.” She takes a deep breath then lets it out slowly. “I can do that.”

“You seemed to be doing better once the song slowed down a bit.”

She nods. “It was good advice. I can play it at full speed, but…”

I frown in concern. “It hurts you, doesn’t it?”

Her eyes widen and meet mine. “What makes you say that?”

“I saw the way you were massaging your hands.”

She looks away. “I was just stretching them a bit.”

“That’s not what the look on your face was saying.”

She pauses for a few seconds, then gives in. “You’re right. I’ve practiced so much, but it does hurt. I have to grip the violin and bow so tightly to do it and then keep my fingers moving. My hands hurt and I have to try and keep them from cramping up.”

“You shouldn’t have to push yourself so hard that you hurt yourself, Saki.”

“It’s not a question of pushing myself. It’s the reality that I won’t be able to push myself like that. Not for much longer, anyway. A year ago I would have been able to play this without any pain, but now…”

Saki sighs and bites her bottom lip, looking down at her hands. She opens and closes them a few times before looking at me again, a pained resignation on her face. “Give me your hands,” she finally says. “Let me show you.”

I comply with her request, holding my hands out for her. She crosses her own and takes mine, as if she’s shaking them. Her eyebrows knit and she squeezes down, the pressure increasing slightly. After two or three seconds, I can feel her trembling with effort, but her grip barely tightens further.

She lets go, and again she winces when she rubs her hands together again. “That’s my grip strength now, Hisao. It’s dropped further in the last few months. At the rate it’s going…” she says, looking away from me, “I have maybe three or four months until I can’t play something like this. Another two or three years before I can’t play at all. I’m…losing more than I’m learning, now. The only reason I can keep up with this song at full speed is muscle memory, but it’s getting hard to hold the way I want to. This is the most complex piece I’ll ever be able to play.”

(continued...)

[Eurobeatjester]

“I thought you said that there were things that they might be able to teach you in Tokyo.”

“Maybe I’ll learn to play longer and put it off another year or so, but I’m not sure I’d want to.”

“Why? What makes you say that?” I ask her, alarmed.

“Your heart keeps getting stronger. My grip gets weaker. Not just my grip, but my balance, being able to walk…I can still keep up but it’s hard, Hisao. I don’t know how much longer I can keep it up. It’s just so damn hard. So that’s why I want to do this tonight. Because I’ll never get another shot like this.” She pauses. “I don’t just mean the audition, Hisao. I was serious when I talked about Kayoko. Tonight is the only night that it can happen. The only time anyone outside the few of us can ever hear it the way it was written…even if it is just a little slower,” she finishes, giving a wistful grin.

“You said that the two of you were talking and getting on well. Why didn’t you bring it up in the last few days? Why only bring it up now? I’m not judging; I’m simply curious.”

“I didn’t know how or when to bring it up with her. We patched some things up, and both of us wanted to patch out more. I thought she would be angry with me if I wanted to play Kayoko’s version.” She pulls a tissue out of the nearby box and dabs her eyes. “I spent the time since Christmas scared to just pick up the phone and try to talk to her.” She shakes her head a bit. “Tonight is just…”

“Crazy?”

“Not the word I’d use, but same ballpark. But still…heh. Even if I get accepted, I already know that there’s going to be a point where I have to talk with the admissions director, and they’re going to let me go. Maybe it will even be Mrs. Nanahara who gives me the bad news. Don’t you think that might be funny?”

She’s trying to brush it off with black humor. It doesn’t work nearly as well when your own insecurities are the focus.

“I guess it could be.”

Saki doesn’t say anything else for a moment, looking at herself in the mirror. “This is it, Hisao,” she says, her voice muted in both volume and passion. “I’m never going to get the chance to do something like this again. I might never be on a fancy stage or in a large orchestra.” She turns back to me. “But I can do this one thing, tonight.”

I give her a hug. “I’ll be right near the front with my folks cheering you on.”

“Are they here yet?”

“”No, I’m pretty sure they would call me when they get here. Unless they somehow memorized the layout of the entire school the only time they came up.”

“Good. Can I borrow you for a bit?”

“What do you need?”

“Help me get into my dress.”

“Ah, okay.”

“I’ve been slowly replacing my bras when they wear out. Instead of getting ones that clasp in the back like normal, the new ones have the hook in front. Makes it easier for me when I don’t have a certain someone around to help,” she finishes with a knowing wink.

She’s not wrong. One of the quickest skills I learned was how to undo her bra. By feel. In the dark. With one hand. Either hand. This time is no different.

“Is there another one in your bag you want me to get you?” I ask her as she pulls her shirt over her head, followed by her bra.

“Nope!” she says, fiddling with the button on the front of her shorts. It quickly releases, and she slides them down and off her legs. She’s left standing in just her panties, a hand resting on the counter top for balance. “There are cups built into the dress, which is why I love the way it fits so much. That way the back can plunge down and I don’t have to wear a bra with it.”

“So wait, women’s clothing can also have a bra built into it? Sheesh. How do you manage to keep track of all that stuff?”

“Instinct, if you want to make sure everything fits where it’s supposed to.”

“Huh, I had no idea. We should probably get you into that dress then.”

“Why? It’s nothing you haven’t seen before.”

“Oh, I’m not objecting at all,” I reply. “Just worried about someone else coming into this room with the same idea of changing.”

“Well, whoever does is going to have a really good memory,” she laughs, hopping up to sit on the edge of the counter.

“You know, Takamura might be the one who opens that door.”

“Then why are you just standing there? Help me put this thing on!”

I take the dress off of the hanger, alternating confused looks between it and Saki. How exactly does she put this thing on? Does she step into it, or-

“Unzip the back and treat it like a gym shirt, Hisao. It has to go over my head.”

With directions this time, I’m able to gather up the fabric and slide it down her raised arms. She makes sure the shoulder strap is on the side it should be, then pokes her head out. Hopping off the counter, she shimmies, tugs, and shifts the dress into position. She turns her back to me and looks at herself in the mirror, smiling at me over her shoulder.

“If you could zip me after I get my hair out of the way, that would be great.”

“On it.”

The zipper closes with minimal effort, and when I’m done, the fabric that goes around the shoulder lies flat in place. She’s gathered her hair away from the nape of her neck, leaving it bare. I feel an impulse that I don’t want to fight.

“You look beautiful,” I whisper, wrapping my arms around her from behind. I kiss the exposed skin there, making her flinch in pleasant surprise.

“Ah!” she starts, then slaps me playfully on the shoulder. When I laugh she brings that hand back up, brushing her fingers along my cheek and smiling at me. The kiss that follows is a gentle one.

“Thank you. I’m really glad I bought this thing. Can you grab my bag for me? My hairspray is in there and I could still use some help.”

A few seconds later, can in hand, I stand behind her and start to sweep across her hair. “Like this?”

“Perfect. Don’t get crazy with it.”

Despite her reassurances, she takes the can to do the final pass with it. Not too heavy. Enough to give her hair some more body, but not enough to be stiff.

“One last thing,” she says, reaching into her bag one last time. She pulls out a beautiful hairclip with an ornate poppy, a deep red splash of color with a few golden accents. It catches the light in the room and sparkles along the petals.

This is the first time I’ve ever seen it. “Where’d you get that thing? That looks amazing.”

“I got it a few weeks ago, back at home. My brother and I went shopping, and I knew it would go perfectly with the dress!” Saki excitedly but assuredly opens the clip, positioning it experimentally right next to her left temple. She finally settles on a spot and sets it in place, puffing the hair out around it again.

“What do you think?” she asks me, turning around to where I can get a good look at her.

<<Art by JMC>>

“It’s perfect.”

She smiles and laughs. “I knew it!”

“I should have dressed fancier,” I say with appreciation. She steps forward to hug me tightly, and I instinctively do the same.

“Can we stay like this, just a minute or two? We’re never going to be able to again.”

“Okay,” I say, tightening my arms around her. She’s right in so many ways I can’t argue against.

The outside world fades away as we take comfort in each other, a familiarity that we ache for when we’re not together. She tilts her face up to look at me and pulls me into another kiss. Our lips linger there for a moment, but when we pull away, we don’t get far before they meet again.

She knows and accepts that this is it. All eyes are going to be on her tonight, and she knows it’s most likely going to be the last time it happens. She’s losing the ability to play on her way to losing her legs, her arms, and eventually her lungs. Even if tonight goes well, nothing changes that, or her convictions on how to deal with it.

“Thank you for staying,” she whispers, as if reading my thoughts. “I’m sorry that I’ve made it hard sometimes.”

“I’ve told you before that you’re worth the effort.”

“Oh, so there is an actual line in the sand, is there?” she teases.

“If you don’t have standards, how will you judge someone else’s?”

“I don’t know if I would phrase it like that, but you have a point.” Her voice drops lower. “I mean it. Thank you.”

I open my mouth to respond when there’s a knock at the door. The two of us haven’t even begun to untangle ourselves when it opens after two raps.

“Hope I’m not interrupting anything!” Noriko says, poking her head in.

“I do!” Chisato says, right behind her.

“Hey, you two,” I greet, but then raise my eyebrows when I see Chisato and the outfit she’s wearing. A black pair of slacks with faint white pinstriping is matched by a sharply cut vest of the same material. There’s a crisp white dress shirt under it, complete with the tie she was so adamant on getting.

“How do I look?” Chisato asks, flipping a white fedora onto her head. “I feel like Michael Jackson.”

“You look like him too,” Saki laughs. “Can you moonwalk?”

“I’m not that talented.”

“I haven’t seen you in that dress since you bought it,” Noriko muses, giving Saki an approving look. “It looks great on you.”

“Thank you! Can I get your help with one thing?” Saki replies.

“What is it?”

“Can you help me with my makeup? I don’t want to put too much on, but just enough.”

“No problem! Where is it?”

“Bottom of my bag,” she clarifies, then turns to me. “Sorry Hisao, but I don’t think you can help me with this one.”

I’m about to answer when my phone buzzes in my pocket. I pull it out to check the display and recognize my father’s phone number.

“I leave it in your capable hands. It looks like my parents are here.”

“Tell them I’d love to see them again after the recital!” Saki says excitedly.

“I will. I have to go meet them outside. I guess the next time I see the two of you will be on stage, huh?”

Chisato laughs. “Sure is.”

“Good luck to you both. I can’t wait to hear it.”

Noriko’s retrieved a compact case, and the last thing I see before her heading out the door is her directing Saki. “Okay, sit here where the light is stronger…”

<< Previous Chapter :: Next Chapter >>

[Eurobeatjester]

Second part of the recital!

The title of this chapter comes from a poem called "I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings" by Maya Angelou, which I've posted below.

This in turn inspired a song by Lindsey Sterling named "Song Of The Caged Bird." This song was what made me want to start writing Learning To Fly in the first place.

Enjoy!

I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings

A free bird leaps
on the back of the wind
and floats downstream
till the current ends
and dips his wing
in the orange sun rays
and dares to claim the sky.

But a bird that stalks
down his narrow cage
can seldom see through
his bars of rage
his wings are clipped and
his feet are tied
so he opens his throat to sing.

The caged bird sings
with a fearful trill
of things unknown
but longed for still
and his tune is heard
on the distant hill
for the caged bird
sings of freedom.

The free bird thinks of another breeze
and the trade winds soft through the sighing trees
and the fat worms waiting on a dawn bright lawn
and he names the sky his own.

But a caged bird stands on the grave of dreams
his shadow shouts on a nightmare scream
his wings are clipped and his feet are tied
so he opens his throat to sing.

The caged bird sings
with a fearful trill
of things unknown
but longed for still
and his tune is heard
on the distant hill
for the caged bird
sings of freedom.

-Maya Angelou

Act 4: Liftoff
Scene 12: Why The Caged Bird Sings

It takes half an hour before the recital starts properly. I met my parents near the front gate and walked them around for a bit, showing off some different parts of the school. This has been my home for the last year so it’s relatively routine, but the two of them are still impressed by what they see.

When we finally made it to the auditorium, I was able to lead them down to their seats near the front. A lot of the seats there have small pieces of paper on them, giving the names of families that they’re reserved for. A few generic seats simply say ‘reserved’, probably being held on to just in case there were some unexpected guests that night. I’m proven right when I see Mrs. Nanahara and Takamura sit down in them, quietly conversing among themselves.

The only other person near the front I take notice of is Mitsuru. He was already seated two rows back from the stage when we arrived. I see him having a terse conversation with an older couple who could only be his parents.

“Hey, Hisao!” I hear behind me. I turn and see Noriko in the aisle, leaning into our row. “Got room for one more?”

There’s only three chairs for my parents and myself, but the ones to either side are empty and up for grabs. “Sure. Ah, let me introduce you. Mom, Dad, this is Noriko Mimura.”

“Pleased to meet you,” she says, bowing deeply.

My mother smiles. “Our son has mentioned you a few times.”

“Oh he has, has he?”

“Don’t worry,” my father pipes up. “Only the good parts.”

“Would you like to sit with us?” my mother asks.

“Very much, thank you!” she exclaims, a little more excited than I expected her to be. When she takes the unoccupied seat next to me, her voice drops to a conspiratorially low tone. “They told me what they were planning to do tonight. I’m really excited to hear how they sound together!”

“Weren’t you mixing the final copy?’

She pouts. “It’s not the same thing and you know it. I was really looking forward to Christmas too, you know. I wanted to work on that recording.”

“I’m sorry,” I say, a completely Pavlovian response. I know nothing that night had anything to do with me and I have nothing to apologize for, but it’s still a very hard habit to break.

“Don’t be,” she answers, a response just as programmed but genuine all the same. “I might decide to get more serious about this sound design stuff after we graduate tomorrow. It was a lot of fun.”

“Takamura seems like he’s a good teacher.”

I turn around to glance around the auditorium, its audience having grown considerably in the last few minutes as people find their way in. In fact, among the latest group walking in…

“Check out who’s here,” I tell Noriko. “It’s them.” She turns her head to where my eyes are gesturing, frowning slightly when she sees who it is.

Just as imposing as he was the first time I saw him, Mr. Enomoto walks with purpose towards the front rows. Tonight he’s wearing a grey suit that, against all odds, seems to be standing out instead of fading into the drab of the background.

A woman is just behind him, wearing a long navy blue skirt with a matching sweater. Her hair is a rich sandy blonde, curling in on itself to just past her jawline. She carries herself with a grace that matches her husband’s intensity. I’ve never met Saki’s mother before, but there’s absolutely no mistaking her for anyone else. Her outfit is a little more relaxed than his, drawing attention to the expensive looking leather clutch she has with her.

Finally, Saki’s brother makes up the rear. He’s a little more observant of his surroundings than his parents, and manages to pick out where I am among the crowd. We give each other a small wave of acknowledgement, and he moves to sit with the rest of his family. They’re a few rows ahead of us.

“Hopefully the lights are strong enough that she won’t see them,” Noriko says.

I frown. “Not unless they get a lot brighter.”

The two of us both hear and make small conversation, even bringing my parents into it.

“My son was telling me you helped them record what they’re going to play tonight?” my mother asks, shifting forward and turning her head towards Noriko seated on the other side of me. Noriko mirrors my mother’s pose, nods enthusiastically, and it’s off to the races as she starts to describe the process in detail. As for me, I lean back as far as I can to get out of their way. My dad and I lock eyes over the curve of my mother’s back and he gives a knowing chuckle.

The two of them only get to talk for about thirty seconds or so. A solitary figure comes out of the wing, making confident strides in front of the chairs and raised platform. There’s a palpable ripple as the background chatter dies down to little more than a stray whisper.

Hana Sakamoto steps behind the podium, gently tapping the microphone with a conductor’s wand to confirm it’s on. Even the whispers are silent when the sound carries throughout the room.

“Thank you everyone,” she starts. Just from those three words and the way she says them, she’s as proud of her students now as she was back at the festival - maybe even more so having seen them grow so much since then.

The teacher continues. “Thank you for joining us this evening. My name is Hana Sakamoto, and I have the privilege of being the head of Yamaku’s music department for eight years now. I know that some of you have traveled quite far and out of your way to be here tonight, with our graduating class walking the aisle tomorrow. Every student you will see and hear on this stage tonight has worked extremely hard to make this the best performance they’ve ever given.” There’s a polite round of applause. “We have a few faculty members in the room as well. Could you stand up if you’re part of Yamaku staff?”

A dozen people pop up, some of which I still can’t name.

“These are some of the men and women responsible for making a place like Yamaku possible. The amount of care and dedication they have to our student body goes above and beyond.”

Hands start to clap again, the faculty bowing two or three times before sitting down.

“Tonight we want to play for you, as individuals and as a greater whole. We would like to start with the first years.” As soon as she says this, a group of younger students with their instruments - maybe about half the entire music club - emerge from curtains on the left side of the stage. They slowly start to cajole into position on the raised platforms as Mrs. Sakamoto goes on. “The music club is one of the most dedicated on campus. We encourage our first years to get a feel for their instrument and music in general. Some have never played an instrument before coming here. Some may have never had the opportunity. With that said, please enjoy the following.”

The older woman walks to the center of the stage and turns around to find her students already in position. She raises the wand and slashes the air with it to start the song.

It’s actually pretty good, given that it’s a group of first years. I still feel the muscles in my neck contract a bit whenever a missed note makes me cringe. A quick glance at Noriko shows that she’s listening just as intently. Having learned from Takamura and aiding him over the last year, she would have a unique perspective on it. I feel a bit guilty knowing that I may be judging something that I have no talent in myself, but I equally know that I’ve been spoiled by getting used to hearing Saki and Chisato play together.

The group as a whole plays three songs together, followed by a handful of duets and solitary performances. Each is met with polite applause as it finishes, and grateful smiles by those on stage in turn.

“I’m glad we came tonight,” my mom says. “It looks like everyone is having fun and enjoying themselves.”

A quick glance around the auditorium shows a mixture of stoic neutrality or open smiles. I don’t see any scowls or looks of impatience born from being here as an obligation, so that’s a nice thing in its own right.

Then again, I can’t fully see the faces of Saki’s family.

The process repeats itself with the second years, their songs having a bit more variance and complexity than the ones before them. I look to see Noriko tapping her feet during one of the more upbeat numbers, before she catches me at it and stops with a slightly embarrassed laugh.

“They sound good, don’t they?” I say, leaning over in her direction.

“They do! Inada especially. If he keeps playing the way he does, he’s a shoe-in to get into university in another year.”

“Maybe Takamura would want to record him, too.”

“I’m sure Mrs. Sakamoto would push for that, if that’s what he wanted to do.”

Finally, it’s time for the last group of students - the third years. They file on as the others make their way offstage, each grabbing an instrument they had already set in place or making sure to carefully maneuver the ones they’ve brought with them. Saki and Chisato both appear at the same time, with the former’s dress immediately drawing attention with how vibrant it is. She purposefully walks with the help of her cane to a chair near the piano, sitting down and pulling her violin case out from under it. Chisato looks at the audience in front of her as she sits at the piano, acknowledging them with a tipping of her hat and a smile. I hear several chuckles from the crowd at that.

The two of them aren’t the only ones dressed up - two other groups of three students each are wearing matching outfits to each other. They were also vying for time earlier on the stage to practice along with Chisato and Saki, and each have their own songs to play together the same way the girls do.

The songs the whole group play together at their sensei’s instruction is a lilting tune, easy on the ears and carries a light melody that could make anyone smile. It’s not the same one they played at the festival, but it’s similar in the way it feels. The second song they play together is more forceful, the music being driven with an increased intensity that demands more attention to experience it fully. There are a few standout sections in the middle of it, one of which is a few bars by Chisato paired with another student playing a trumpet.

I keep a close eye on Saki during the performance. She seems to be dialed in, completely focused on what she’s doing. I sigh in relief, but still can’t let go of all of my apprehension; her own song is coming up soon, not to mention the one with Chisato to cap off…well, everything.

When the third years finish their collective playing, everyone starts to shuffle off the stage…except for Saki. It seems she’s going to be the first out of the individuals and smaller groups to play. Chisato also remains seated at the piano.

“Our last songs of the evening are going to be performed by a few of our third year students. Two of those students will be taking the stage now to play some pieces that they have worked very hard on over the last few months. It is my honor to present to you Saki Enomoto on violin, and Chisato Souma on piano.”

“Did you know they were going first?” I ask Noriko, my voice hushed but concerned.

(continued...)

[Eurobeatjester]

“Yeah,” she answers. “It’s because of Saki. This way she doesn’t need to get up and move so much just to come back on a few minutes later.”

I wince. That does make sense, but I’m not sure how well that would calm Saki’s nerves. Would she rather go first while she has the confidence to match, or hold off until the end to hype herself up as much as possible?

Either way, we’re all about to find out.

Saki’s not the first one to go, however. That privilege goes to Chisato. She readjusts herself at the piano, cracks her knuckles, and plays a scale to warm up further. Confident in her own abilities, I see her slightly nod her head as she counts down from four, striking the keys when she reaches zero and immediately working her magic.

Almost instantly, everyone in the auditorium is paying attention. It’s by far the best solo of the night, but that’s not to say it’s because the others were bad; this is just on another level entirely. Chisato’s fingers weave a complex melody; I’ve heard her play it and practice it before both at the studio and earlier tonight, but the way in which she plays brings a passion and a drive I’ve never heard from her before. About twenty seconds in, her eyes close as her hands furiously dance across the keys, completely in sync with the instrument as it comes to life under her movements. Other students have played it tonight, but none have made it bend to their will the way she does; she’s damned good, and what’s more, she knows it.

I feel a strange mix of emotions at this. If this is the way she played on the audition tape, it’s well and deserved that she was accepted. On the other hand, I suddenly have an appreciation for one of Saki’s fears; that she was holding her friend back. I push it out of my mind however, enraptured by Chisato’s skill.

The song slows down to the same tempo in which it began, giving both the player and the listeners a chance to calm down as the music begins to subside. The piano brings us all down gently, leaving everyone with the feeling of the last few moments etched upon our memories. Nobody is going to be forgetting that performance any time soon; the applause afterwards is far more than perfunctory. When I glance towards Mitsuru, I see a broad smile on his face - and a deep sadness in his eyes.

During Chisato’s solo, Saki simply remained on the stool next to the piano and tried to stay as small and still as possible, not doing anything that would draw attention away from her friend. I see her take in a deep breath as the clapping dies down, and I can tell that for all her talk, she’s still nervous. Her violin rests in her lap, her hands folded over it.

Mrs. Sakamoto times her return to the podium perfectly. “Once again, this was Chisato Souma. It’s been my honor to be able to teach such a prodigy for the last three years. In fact, once she leaves here, she’s going to Tokyo to learn at and play for one of the most prestigious music schools in the country.”

She turns towards her student, and speaks directly to her with a warm smile, brushing aside everything else that might be for the audience. “I mean that. It’s been an absolute joy to see how much you’ve grown. I cannot wait to see what you do next. Work hard, and there’s going to be no limit to how high you’ll be able to go.”

This causes the applause to start anew. Chisato turns and unabashedly smiles at the crowd, her cheeks flushed. I can see her eyes start to shine with tears as she desperately tries to hold her composure. It’s a battle she loses. She gives a small happy sob before she covers her mouth with her hand, tilting her head down to hide her eyes with the brim of her hat.

Noriko puts her hand on the back of mine and gives it a gentle squeeze. I cover it with my other and return the gesture, both of us sharing in how happy we are for our friend.

Let her feel whatever she wants to feel right now. She’s more than earned it.

“Next we have Saki Enomoto. She has also been a very prominent member of the music club. She’s worked very hard on what she’s about to share with you all.”

Saki, meanwhile, is definitely nervous. She picks up her violin and closes her eyes, taking in another breath to calm herself. When Mrs. Sakamoto turns her head towards her, Saki responds with a brief nod. To my slight surprise, she then looks at Chisato. The dark haired girl reaches for the metronome sitting on top of the piano, flipping it on. The ticking is very quiet to those of us in the audience; you probably wouldn’t even hear it unless you were looking for it.

Saki raises her violin to her chin, moves the bow into position, and starts to play.

I’ve heard this song several times before; in either of our rooms when she practices, in the studio, and again moments ago in the back room. It causes my breath to hitch in my throat every time I do. I’m overwhelmed by a desire to close my eyes to listen more carefully, to experience it more fully by cutting down my senses, but I dare not take my gaze off her.

Her confidence and skill builds, and while her muscles remain taught, I can tell it’s from sheer concentration instead of merely nervousness. She allows herself to be lost in the moment, steering each note as it playfully dances with the others. The song switches from technical excitement to drawn out mourning, a perfect reflection of what must be going through her head at the moment.

There are at least a hundred people in the auditorium, and every single one of them is listening to a private performance unaware of anything or anyone else around them. She plays to all of them, and yet none of them; she’d have the same intensity that she would if there wasn’t another living soul to hear her playing.

She was right. This is going to be the largest show she ever plays, the one that will mean the most to her, and she’s not holding anything back. I’m awed and humbled by hearing it. All of who she is - fears and hope, uncertainties and convictions, doubts and truths - she wills into being.

I steal a quick glance around; Chisato is returning the favor of remaining as still as possible, Saki’s family is listening politely, and my mother is probably going to have to relocate her jaw. She’s never heard my girlfriend play like this before.

“She sounds amazing, doesn’t she?” I whisper out of the side of my mouth to Noriko.

“She does,” I hear back. “I can’t believe she’s able to play it at this speed, if I’m being honest.”

“It’s what she settled on. She wants to do the same thing with their next song.”

“The one they’re playing together?” Noriko asks, just a small hint of alarm seeping into her voice. They told me they were doing the harder version, but not at the same speed.”

“Yeah. Takamura thinks it’s a good idea, but they won’t be going at full speed. Just slowed down a bit.”

“I mean, if he thinks that’s what’s best…but she could probably play the next song at full speed too if she wanted to, given how she’s playing this one.”

“She did earlier, but…it took so much out of her that I don’t think she’d be able to do it twice, especially after playing like this.”

Noriko squeezes my hand. “If that’s what she wants to do, then I hope she nails it.”

“She will,” I say, feeling an upwelling sense of pride. I’m not saying it to reassure Noriko, or to reassure myself. I’m not even saying it in hopes that somehow it will reach Saki through some non-tangible connection.

I’m saying it because I believe it.

She passes the climax of the song, slowing down yet never letting up, until the violin plays its last somber note. The silence that follows only lasts for half a second, but stretches out to something far more significant.

Someone starts clapping near the front of the auditorium - and I swear I hear it from either Mrs. Nanahara or Takamura - before the rest of the audience joins in suit. It’s just as loud and earnest as it was for Chisato, and Saki’s reaction is just as grateful. She silently holds her violin down, letting the adoration flow around and through her. I see her eyes scan the crowd, and they settle on myself and Noriko after a brief search. Noriko excitedly gives two thumbs up, and I laugh and give a huge grin.

“You did a great job with that makeup,” I mention to Noriko.

“Damn right I did. Gotta have her looking her best, after all.”

Saki smiles back, first at us and then everyone else, but it doesn’t seem to ease her nervousness…because a few of us know what’s coming.

The applause eases off, with Mrs. Sakamoto once again standing up to the podium and clearing her throat. “Thank you for showing your support and appreciation. Miss Enomoto has also worked very hard to get to where she is tonight; much harder than most.”

Saki blushes at the praise, much the way Chisato did, with her face turning almost as red as her dress. It’s short lived however, and I see heri take a deep breath at what comes next.

“Miss Enomoto and Miss Souma both have one more piece to play for you tonight. It’s a piece they have been working on together this last year. I ask that you give them your attention one more time as they play a song by the revered Pachelbel - one with their own twist.”

The teacher nods at her students before stepping back politely. Chisato adjusts the metronome, and while I can’t hear it this time, I do hear Noriko lightly tapping out the beat on the seat of her chair with a finger.

With one final glance of confirmation towards each other, Chisato starts to play. She sets the pace and tone - a bit slower than the recording, and slower than Saki played it in the back room, but you would never notice it unless being told beforehand. She easily makes it through the first verse, with Saki drawing the bow across the strings halfway through to provide accompaniment. Her brow is furrowed in concentration, the angles of her face set in a sharp intensity.

This has to be one of the most incredible things I’ve ever heard. I’ve heard them practice before, and I’ve heard rough cuts of what they’re playing now, but never with this vibrance. I could easily say that it’s the acoustics of the room, but that’s only a small part of it. Everything has come together for this one crystal clear moment - the journey, the fights, the pain, the friendships…and an inherent need to let this be the best they ever play together.

The melody switches off, with Saki taking over, fingers coaxing every note. I can hear the intricacies that she wasn’t playing earlier today, and see how her body language changes ever so slightly with every stanza; a brief dip of relief followed by a reinvigoration and focus.

I look again to Saki’s parents - and to my surprise, I see her mother smiling. What’s more, there’s a…complicated look on her father’s face. He’s also smiling, or at least, a facsimile of a smile, as if he wasn’t quite used to making the gesture.

My parents have absolutely no problem in this regard, both enraptured.

Saki almost makes it to the end of her first verse - in fact, the very last note - when it happens.

She hits the wrong note.

Several things happen in that instant.

Noriko puts her hand over the back of mine and grips it tightly - she knows exactly what just happened. My heart ramps up and pumps painfully in my chest, a feeling of dread washing over me at the thought of Mrs. Nanahara having seen and heard what just transpired, much less anyone else in the crowd.

Then, shockingly enough, Chisato plays the wrong note. And she does it again. And again. And yet again, barely off her timing or stride.

What the hell?

“Holy shit,” Noriko whispers, her voice awed as she brings her free hand up to cover her mouth. “She’s turning it into a key change.”

(continued...)