(Where's the Walkthrough?)
https://ks.fhs.sh/
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).
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.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...)
“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...)
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...)
“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…”