I mimic Noriko’s motion in sheer astonishment. Are they going to do the whole rest of the song that way? It’s shifted almost the same way it is in the recording, but it’s so…natural. There’s no minute variations in tempo or timing that she worked so hard to overcome while in the studio, and it’s not even at the same key it was in when I heard her playing it previously.
This. This is the way it was meant to be played.
Kayoko’s additions. Saki’s tempo. Chisato’s key.
<<Art by Kuroe>>
If Saki was put off by her missed note earlier, she’s definitely funneling those thoughts into her playing. She keeps time and pace with Chisato, causing the music to ebb and flow, back and forth. The song is amazing enough on its own in the way it captivates, but there’s not many people here outside of the band that can truly appreciate what just happened and what is happening now.
The average person would never know that what happened wasn’t intentional…but then again, there are some fairly exceptional people in the audience.
People like Mrs. Nanahara.
I can’t see her face from where I’m sitting, but she and Takamura are tilting their heads towards each other. I can see that the two of them are whispering, but what about? The missed note? The recovery? The continued performance?
Right now, there’s just no way to know.
The piece builds to its crescendo, the violin and piano coalescing into a beautiful mix that highlight both without overpowering the other. Saki’s eyes are closed, completely in the moment, as her skin starts to glisten with sweat. Nervousness, the heat from the stage lights, the pressure of the previous gaffe; none of it is reaching her. None of it matters.
Finally, the song starts to slow down and lose steam in a barely controlled manner, a few seconds ahead of Saki’s own physical state. I can see her settle further onto the stool, taking more weight off of her legs. The two of them are so close to sticking the landing and from the way her torso is swaying with her motions, there won’t be another chance at it.
With one last flurry of strings from both the violin and the piano, the piece is over. Saki visibly sags, bringing her instrument down with such exhaustion it looks like she’s barely catching it from falling…but the nervous smile of excitement she gives as she realizes she made it through causes my eyes to sting and vision to blur with tears.
She did it. She did it.
I blink hard and see that Saki isn’t even trying to hold back what she’s feeling, wiping at her eyes.
“Whelp, there goes the makeup,” Noriko comments.
Indeed, the mascara and liner has slightly smeared, but at this point, there’s nobody who would fault her for it. Chisato stands up from the piano and moves to her friend, offering a hand to help her up. When Saki takes it to stand, Chisato gives her a tight but brief hug.
“Thank you for that wonderful performance,” Mrs. Sakamoto says, her voice finally breaking the spell of the moment. She’s moved herself back to the podium, and is smiling broadly at her two students. “The absolute feeling you both put into it, along with the skill, was wonderful to see and listen to.”
“She knows,” Noriko says.
“Miss Enomoto, I will say to you what I’ve said to your friend earlier. It has been a pleasure and a privilege to be your teacher for the last three years. You’ve worked harder to be here tonight than almost anyone else could have, and I know that there are others here besides myself that will never forget how you played here tonight. Wherever your next steps may take you, walk them with pride, confidence, and with your head held high. Thank you - both of you - for everything.”
I’m hit with a wave of sadness when I hear this. If you didn’t know Saki, it would sound like the same type of praise she was giving out to all of her students. If you do know her, then those words take on an entirely new meaning.
Saki’s tearing up far more than Chisato did when it was her turn, and this time her friend has an arm around her shoulders for support. I see Chisato give Saki a squeeze, and Saki takes a few more seconds to calm down. The two of them make their way off to the wings, with Saki holding onto Chisato’s shoulder for support.
Mrs. Sakamoto clears her throat. “If you’ll welcome the next group of students to the stage…”
There’s three more performances by the rest of Saki’s year; a trio that plays two more classical tunes like what she and Chisato played, and another that plays a few light jazzy numbers using a few string instruments and the piano. I feel bad that I’m not paying as much attention to them as I was to Saki and Chisato, but I’m really itching to go backstage to see how the two of them are doing. I can tell I’m not the only one from the way I see Mitsuru fidgeting in his chair.
Finally, the performances of the evening come to a close with one last gesture. Mrs. Sakamoto invites all of the students in the music club back on stage for one final sendoff; everyone bows towards the audience in appreciation, basking in the final round of praise and adulation that is heaped upon them. Saki’s grabbed her cane and taken the few minutes she had backstage to try and fix some of her makeup, but wasn’t very successful.
“And with that,” their teacher’s voice sounds out over the hall, “we conclude our recital tonight. Thank you for being here to show your support, and we hope you enjoyed your time here. If you’ll be watching our students graduate tomorrow, then I hope you’ll enjoy it just as much as you have this evening.” She then turns towards the stage, grabbing the attention of everyone on it. “Go on! Don’t keep your adoring public waiting!”
A ripple of laughter works its way through the building, truly signaling an end to the formalities of the night. Slowly but surely, most of the students on the stage make their way to the side staircases and out into the auditorium, linking up with family members and friends.
“I’m glad you convinced us to come up here tonight,” my father says. “That was a very enjoyable time.”
“I’ve never heard your girlfriend play like that,” my mother chimes in. “What happened there, in the middle? She looked like she was scared for a split second.”
“Ah, probably just nerves,” I try to answer. If they don’t know what happened, I’m not going to be the one to tell them. I look around the room but with everyone standing and mingling, it’s hard to see where a few specific people might be. I see flashes of Chisato’s hat and Saki’s dress through the sea of people, and my folks pick up on it.
Mom laughs. “Go on, we’ll catch up.”
“You sure?”
“Well your friend certainly isn’t waiting,” she says. I turn to look at Noriko and find that she’s already out of the row and in the aisle, deftly maneuvering towards the front of the stage. I give my folks an apologetic nod and follow after her.
By the time I catch up, I find I’m the last one there of a fairly sizable group. Saki and Chisato are bubbling over with excitement fueled by pure endorphins. Takamura is laughing, Chisato has her boyfriend clamped in the hardest hug I’ve ever seen her give, and even Mrs. Nanahara is giving a polite smile. When Saki sees me, she launches herself in my direction and I have to brace my back leg to absorb the shock of impact.
“Hisao!” she exclaims happily, burying her face in the crook of my neck. I can feel her trembling against me, and I wrap my arms around her and lean back, lifting her off the ground. She gives a small squeal of delight and kisses me, not caring how the two of us must look to everyone else.
“You were amazing, Saki. I knew you could do it,” I say, putting her back down. She doesn’t let up for a minute.
“I did it! I actually did it!”
“That you did,” a more somber voice calls out, causing both of us to look at Mrs. Nanahara. Saki’s already so pumped full of adrenaline, I can practically see the switch flip from joyous celebration to terrified apprehension.
“I must admit, I find myself in a bit of a quandary, Miss Enomoto,” the older woman starts. “You and I both know what happened at the end of that first verse. As do you, Miss Souma.”
Both of them stand at attention, barely doing so much as breathe. Saki’s hand finds my own, squeezing as tightly as she can.
“If I’m honest, I was not expecting you to miss that note. What’s more, I was definitely not expecting what happened afterwards, from either of you.” She frowns. “That’s not something that can happen in a professional setting, on stage with an orchestra, you understand.”
I can visibly see Saki flinching at those words, and her body trembles every time her heart beats. I can only imagine how hard her blood is pumping, hearing those words. My own isn’t that far behind.
“Miss Souma, you showed a tremendous amount of quick thinking and skill to turn Miss Enomoto’s error into a key shift, and you made it sound completely natural as well. In fact, had I not heard the recordings over the last few months, I wouldn’t have been sure it was intentional myself.”
Chisato blushes and accepts the compliment, but not as gracefully as one would expect. She turns towards Saki and, like the rest of us, waits for the other shoe to drop.
The older woman continues. “And then, Miss Enomoto, when you had the chance to bring it back down to the key you were familiar with, you didn’t. Instead, you kept playing it at the key your friend was playing. Can you tell me why you made that decision?”
“I…” Saki starts, but then pauses. I can tell she’s trying to think of the answer, and she’s not trying to find the answer that she thinks the director wants to hear. Instead, she really didn’t know why she did what she did. When she swallows hard, she continues.
“After shifting up to match Chisato, I was completely focused on trying to keep the key where it was. I wasn’t sure I would have been able to move it back down without missing it or making it sound worse…and I didn’t know if Chisato would mess up trying to cover for me again.”
It’s a painfully honest answer, even if she knows it might be one that would help her the most. My grip on her hand tightens in reassurance and she reciprocates…but she’s still terrified.
The director looks up at Takamura. “Well, I’ve heard all that I needed to hear.” She turns back to Saki with piercingly intense eyes. “I believe you said your parents were here this evening?”
“Y…yes, they are,” Saki says, her voice incredibly fragile and uncertain.
In fact, where are they? I would have thought they’d be down here at the front of the stage by now. I shift my head a few times to get a better view of the auditorium, and finally get a glance at them. Mr. Enomoto and his wife are taking the time to gather their things and put their coats back on. Maybe they wanted to wait until the rest of the crowd thinned out before they came down, or they’re planning to leave fairly quickly.
My question is answered when they move to the aisle and start heading towards us, Saki’s brother bringing up the rear. They stand aside to let others pass, holding up their progress.
“Please,” Saki blurts out, barely a whisper. “Wh…why do you need to talk to them?”
“I’m going to need them to sign some paperwork. That is…unless you’ve changed your mind about attending our school. I assume you still want to?”
Both of Saki’s hands cover her mouth, her eyes tearing up instantly with how overwhelmed she is. “Yes! I want to, I want to!”
“Then the spot is yours,” the director says, breaking the tension with a small smile. “Congratulations.”
“Ha! You did it, kid!” Takamura laughs, clapping a hand on Saki’s shoulder. “Damn good job!”
Saki turns to me to say something, but is interrupted by her family finally arriving. She immediately goes to hug her brother, who mirrors my earlier actions by picking her off the ground and laughing with her.
“I did it! I did it!” she babbles, completely lost in the moment. I take a small step back, standing side to side with Noriko and Chisato. The two of them are just as happy for their friend as I am, and it’s hard for any of us to keep our eyes dry.
“I can’t believe you managed to pull that off, Chisato,” Noriko says, causing Chisato to grin. “When that wrong note came up, I thought that was the end.”
“I told her I could play it at any tempo she wanted. Didn’t think I’d have to play it in a new key, though.”
I frown, remembering back to the practice. Something similar happened when they were on stage, and Mrs. Nanahara took notice of it. When it happened during the performance, this must be what she was talking about.
“Saki kept up too,” Noriko continues. “You two together are amazing.”
“Looks like we’re not getting rid of each other that easily after all,” Chisato laughs. She takes off her hat and puts it on my head, drawing out a small yelp of protest. “Take care of that, will you? I’m going to go say hi to Mitsuru’s parents.”
With a quick hug from both of us, she vanishes in the direction of her boyfriend, leaving Noriko and myself to watch the upcoming discussion.
Saki gives her mother a much more reserved hug, earning some words of encouragement and praise from her. When she steps back, she and her father look at each other.
While the two of them don’t go in for a hug, they’re clearly communicating in their own way. Saki’s chest is full of pride and cheerfulness to the point of near bursting, and there’s no way she’s going to let anyone take this moment away from her - no matter who it is. The fire in her eyes shows it. She’s almost daring him to challenge her on it.
To my surprise, he gives a small smile. “You sounded very good. I had heard you practicing a few times at home, but I didn’t know it would sound like this.”
Before Saki can say anything, Mrs. Nanahara clears her throat. “You must be Mr. Enomoto. We spoke on the phone a time or two before Christmas. My name is Haruka Nanahara, the admissions director at the Tokyo University of the Arts.”
Saki’s father frowns for a moment before recognition dawns on his face. “Ah, I do remember now. How have you been?” he asks, slipping into a practiced cordiality and matching the director’s tone.
That’s a neat little trick. I guess it’s something you pick up when you’re in a position like he’s in.
“I’ve been well, thank you,” she replies. “I hope you and the rest of your family are doing the same?”
“We have been. Thank you for asking.” I can just feel the indignation coming off of Saki when he says that, even if she’s showing no outward signs of it.
The director nods. With that extremely brief exchange of pleasantries, she pushes right on to the point. “What did you think of your daughter’s performance tonight?”
“It sounded quite exquisite. Both the piece she played by herself and the one she played together with her friend. I admit, I’m not as familiar with classical music as I should be.”
Maybe if he took more of an active interest in his daughter’s hobbies and abilities beyond just the optics of such, he would be.
“That’s what I wished to discuss with you,” Mrs. Nanahara said. “There was never any formal resolution to your daughter’s ambitions to apply at our school. The process stalled, for reasons that you know. I’m not here to retrod old ground. However, one of the reasons I did come up here tonight is because her application status is still open. After hearing her play tonight, I am prepared to offer her a spot in our program and at our school.”
Saki’s father raises his eyebrows at this, while both his wife and son show a more surprised expression. Mrs. Enomoto’s face settles to concern after the original shock, while Saki’s brother gives a short yelp of joy and a huge smile. “That’s amazing! Congrats!” He closes the distance between them and gives her another enthusiastic embrace.
Before anyone else can say anything, we have yet another person who decides to interject. Mrs. Sakamoto has been making the rounds between different students and their parents and socializing, and she’s finally gotten around to joining our - now rather large - group near the front. As soon as Saki sees her, she smiles broadly and bows deeply.
“Oh, please,” the older woman huffs. “Come here. You’ve earned more than just a bow.”
Saki complies as her teacher wraps her arms around her and gives her back a brief rub. When they separate, the teacher and the director lock eyes for a fraction of a second. “Didn’t I tell you it would be worth the drive to get up here?”
“That it was. I was just informing Miss Enomoto and her family that the spot in the program is hers, should she still want it,” she clarifies, casting a sidelong glance at Saki.
Saki tries to regain as much composure as she can, but her voice is raw with frayed emotions from everything she’s had to endure tonight. “Yes! I still want it! I want the spot!” Her eyes are wet with tears, and she’s shaking from the excitement she’s feeling when she says those words.
I start to wonder why the director is asking this of her again, given that she already asked this a few minutes ago, when I suddenly realize the reason. Saki’s parents weren’t there when she was asked previously, but now they are. Everyone in the group is congratulating Saki not just on her performance but on the fact it’s good enough to get accepted. It’s not just me, Chisato, or Noriko - I’m under no delusions that my opinion would hold any sway to this man - but Takamura, Mrs. Nanahara, Mrs. Sakamoto, and even her brother; everyone here has been building up a hype to the point that her father can’t ignore it or brush it aside easily. For a man that relies as heavily on appearances as Mr. Enomoto does, he can’t say no at this point. If he does, everyone here will lose any budding respect they have for him, and while they may not have any control or influence in his life, he recognizes their objective importance in their own circles and professions.
He was put into a position of checkmate before he even knew he was playing a game.
“Then, I suppose I should offer my own congratulations as well,” he finally says, smiling. It doesn’t quite reach his eyes, but it’s not because it seems ingenuine; instead, it feels again like a warm smile is a concept that’s alien to him and he’s doing his best impression of one.
Saki throws all decorum out the window when she hears his answer, and throws her arms up in the air. “Yes!” she shouts, with all the joy and stress and relief that she’s endured over the last year pouring out of her, crystallizing in that one brief moment. A few of the other teachers and students look over out of concern, but nobody in our little cluster seems to care.
Mrs. Nanahara nods, cementing the deal. “Very well. Will you and your wife be here tomorrow for the graduation ceremony? I’m planning on spending the night here instead of driving back to Tokyo. If you would like, we can discuss this in the morning over breakfast in town. There’s some paperwork to go over, but it shouldn’t take that long - most of the process was already completed before I came up here this evening.”
For the first time tonight, Saki’s father casts a deferring glance to his wife. She opens her mouth and answers for both of them.
“Tomorrow will be fine. We’re staying at a hotel in town.”
(continued...)
). I know we're almost done here, but I'll never rush you (no one has the right to), because you know what you're doing when it comes to this sort of thing!