This is based on an idea I had a week or so ago, I just haven't had the time to write it out. It's meant to be another injection into the story (much like "Shine on You"), this time in Act 3, during their time at Shizune's house.
There is a musical scene. A link will be provided in the text when the music becomes important.
Cheers!
In One Accord
pastebin:
“[Remind me why we're doing this again?]” I sign.
Shizune turns to me, eyebrow arched. “[Because I haven't been down there in a while.]” She opens the door to her basement, which amounts to a gaping black hole in the wall face. “[And I like trips down memory lane every now and then.]”
“[But wouldn't the door being locked imply th-]” Her hands fly up and grip my wrists. I'm not very well-versed in the culture yet, but I can at least understand what she's getting at.
Glimmering sapphire... yeah, that's a good way to describe her eyes right now. “[Just look at it like another adventure.]” Shining blue meets the pearly white of her toothy grin. Scheming. Mischievous. Should I expect any different from her? Probably not. “[Another enjoyable experience with the perfect girlfriend.]” She adjusts her glasses, the lenses shimmering with glare.
“[Perfect now, are we?]” She nods. “[You'll have to convince me on that one.]”
“[I think I can do that.]” Her fingers run along the collar of my shirt, almost tugging at it. Seduction dripping from her smile, it's not hard to convince me to go along with whatever she has planned. “[I have my ways,]” she continues, biting her lower lip. I don't respond, much to her amusement. “[But for now, basement. Now.]”
“[Alright, alright, I'm going.]” I'm thankful she can't hear me grumbling or muttering obscenities through clenched lips.
She grabs at my sleeve, as she always does when we wander into complete darkness. I imagine there has to be some kind of light switch here pretty soon, otherwise this will be a very short trip. I usually walk faster than she does, but my pace deliberately slows just to make it easier for her to keep up. Each step is taken cautiously; walking with two pairs of legs makes coordination that much harder, not to mention when trying to descend a staircase into an unlit void.
Our footsteps fall synchronously, each plank of wood creaking and groaning from the pressure. I put one of my hands on the outer wall, just to have something to hold onto myself. A slight bump in the surface brings me to a halt, not to mention almost sending Shizune down the stairs and taking me with her. The deformity feels familiar... yep, that's the light switch.
A flick of the switch illuminates the remainder of the staircase - revealing that we are roughly halfway down - along with what I assume is the basement at the bottom. Shizune releases my sleeve, finishing her trip down the leftover steps alone. The light below is dim, leaving portions of the floor clouded. It's an interesting backdrop for her as she walks: strangely graceful, and completely fitting.
I follow her down the stairs. It seems that the basement light is darker than I thought, as my sight is incredibly limited. I tap Shizune on the shoulder to grab her attention once we reach the bottom. “[You sure about this?]”
She squints; she must have as much trouble seeing as I do. She shrugs her shoulders. “[That remains to be seen.]” Great, definitely the answer I wanted to hear.
She wanders off, and I follow like a lost puppy. I can make out a small shelf hanging on one of the far walls, and I assume that it's her target. As we close in on the wall, several shadowy forms start to take shape. Detail slowly fills in, and they look a lot like porcelain dolls. After a few more steps, I can definitely confirm that they are porcelain dolls.
One of the little toys falls into her hands. She runs her fingers through its hair, caressing the glass face and adjusting its clothing. A smile creeps onto her face; this must be one of those trips down memory lane she was talking about. She takes another doll, doing the same as she did with the first.
“[Childhood memories?]” I ask.
“[Yes,]” she replies. “[These were toys of mine when I was a little girl. Gifts from my mother.]”
“[You don't talk about her much, do you?]” She answers with a shake of her head. “[Why not?]”
Another shrug of her shoulders. “[You never asked.]”
“[Well, I'm asking now.]”
A deep breath escapes her nostrils. “[Don't worry about it. I'll tell you later. For now, good memories.]” I'd prefer to talk about it now, obviously, but... whatever floats her boat, I suppose.
We take a few more trips down her memory lane. She finds a mirror that belonged to her mother, striking a few poses in the now dusty glass. “[Remind me to introduce you to her,]” she remarks, “[if I get the chance.]”
“[I'll hold you to that, you know.]”
She smiles. “[Good. I expect you to.]”
There's also a trunk, probably full of untold secrets. Digging through its contents, we find a set of old clothes. Notably, only one set, and only for girls. Naturally, I asked, “[Why not a set for boys?]”
“[You've never noticed how Hideaki wears girly-looking clothes?]”
“[Wait... those aren't hand-me-downs, are they?]” A simple nod is all it takes to give me strange mental images: of Hideaki actually in male clothing, of a young Shizune in his current outfit, and of an older Hideaki in what she wears now. I weep for that boy sometimes. I certainly hope he doesn't let his father's frugality with obscene amounts of money make him the laughingstock of his school. Or, at least, that he doesn't let it continue.
I turn my head back and forth. Seems I've lost track of her. Dammit, why can't I just call for her? That would make this so much easier. On the other hand, why is this basement so massive? The lights really aren't bright enough to illuminate the whole room, which only makes finding her that much harder.
Aha. Thanks to a stroke of luck, I manage to spot her standing in front of a large, cloth-covered mound sitting against the far wall. My curiosity's piqued. The floor creaks with each step I take, despite my attempts at lightening my pace. She glances backward, as if she heard me coming. Vibrations in the floor, I guess? How sensitive would her touch have to be to discern that?
She traces her fingers along the fabric, leaving lines of disturbed threading in their wake. I stuff my hands in my pockets, cocking my head to catch her attention when she glances at me. “[Another one of those memories?]” I sign. She only nods, pulling away the sheet and casting it onto the floor. A small upright piano sits exposed, accompanied by a stocky, decorated bench, the instrument's keys enveloped by a wooden cover. “[What on earth is that doing here?]” Jigoro doesn't seem like the musical type, and God forbid if he'd let Hideaki take up something like that.
She doesn't respond for a moment, instead just grazing the piano's texture as she did with the fabric. The cover on the keys finally comes up, and she responds. “[It's mine.]”
Okay, that strikes me as a bit odd. How can she play piano if she's deaf? “[Yours? How does that work?]”
She glares at me, as if I should understand perfectly. “[I own it. It was a gift. What do you mean ‘How does that work?’]”
“[Well...,]” I stop to scratch the back of my head, thinking about what I want to say. “[I mean, how do you play it? Can you even play?]”
A nod of her head. “[I used to play when I was little.]” She runs her fingers along the keys, feeling out the cracks and grooves in the otherwise smooth surfaces. A single key press emits the corresponding note. I wonder what music is like to Shizune? “[It was my mother's idea.]” There it is, her mother again. “[She never wanted me to feel truly disabled, like I couldn't do something just because I was deaf. I guess music was one of those things.]”
Is that why she doesn't like talking about her mother? Was her mother the only one who ever really saw her disability as something to be embraced, not necessarily overcome? “[What do you mean it was her idea? You didn't like the sound of it?]” I have to admit, it's still hard to not use idioms like that around her.
“[No, I did.]” Thankfully, she's learned not to worry about it. Or she doesn't seem to care. “[Liked the idea, that is. It was a hobby, something to do. Something to distract me from the mundane and the ordinary.]”
“[But how did you learn?]” I reply in turn. It strikes me that I still don't know that much about Shizune's past. “[Wasn't it hard for you to understand it?]”
“[It was very... abstract. Alien.]” She pauses, affirming that those words are correct. “[But I had a good teacher.]” A smile wipes across her face. The memories must be pleasant. “[He taught me about Beethoven. And even though I was born deaf, it was inspiring. That a man who could no longer hear could become famous for his craft... why should it stop me?]”
“[That's so very like you,]” I sign affirmatively. She cocks her head. “[Headstrong, unwavering... never willing to take 'no' for an answer.]” I pause. And smile. “[It's what I like most about you.]”
She gives me a light shove on the arm, and I respond playfully by faking a fall off the piano bench. She mimics a giggle, pulling me back up on the bench. “[I could say the same thing about how playful you are.]”
“[You mean you actually
like me? What a surprise!]”
“[Well, I
did let you come to my house. I'm willing to show you my father and you seem willing to put up with him.]” She adjusts her glasses, her smile almost resembling a smirk. “[I'd say that's pretty close to liking you, don't you think?]”
“[I suppose so.]” My grin turns cheeky, suggestive even. “[I could stand to use more convincing, though.]”
She's more than happy to oblige, wrapping her hands around the back of my neck and pulling our lips together. For a faint moment, I feel like I'm floating. As if there's nothing else in the world to care about. There is only this girl and me, and the sensation is completely overwhelming. When she pulls away, the softness of her skin still lingers. My face feels unnaturally hot, like it's flushed... I'm not blushing, am I?
“[Convinced?]” she asks. I don't respond. I just blink quickly, not sure how to react. She, of course, takes great amusement in this. “[I'll take the blushing as a yes.]” Dammit.
She strikes a few keys as I try to parse what has happened. The improvised melody she concocts is actually rather soothing. It even sounds familiar, though I can't quite put my finger on how. It's jazzy, which I suppose fits her. Sounds almost like American 1920's music. But slower, more refined, and more relaxed. Her fingers dance along the keys, hitting each lightly, but with an air of perfect confidence. She knows what she's playing; each note is chosen deliberately. How? How does she do it?
She catches me watching her, and a flare of red creeps across her own cheeks. “[I like jazz.]”
Thank you, Captain Obvious. “[I assumed, since you were playing it.]”
She shrugs her shoulders. “[I was just thinking of when I still played, and the music just... came to me, I guess.]”
So she can improvise. Impressive. “[Do you know any actual songs?]”
She thinks for a moment before answering. “[I never learned any jazz songs.]” Something clicks in her brain, evidenced by the glimmer in her eyes. Her fingers come to rest on the keys again, and she assumes proper posture. She hits her hips against mine, trying to nudge me over so she can center herself on the bench. “[But my teacher did show me a lot of Debussy.]”
My ears perk up. “[Can you play some for me?]”
The smile on her face is wordlessly beautiful. “[Worth a shot.]” She takes her position, reaffirming her seat on the bench.
Music
Pairs of keys fall in simultaneous strikes at first. The melody is soft, clear, and peaceful. She makes ample use of her dampening pedal, causing the notes to meld together and resonate through the small room. The vibrations ripple through the wood of the piano and into the bench, slowly drifting to my extremities. I don't think I've ever had a real piano played in front of me before, but the experience is... marvelous, to say the least.
Her dainty fingers drift from key to key, her nails quietly clicking against the ivory. She adds a secondary tune on top of the chord progression, emphasizing the warm, almost romantic nature of her music. Just looking at her eyes, at the determination and fire swirling in them... focused, refined, and so confident.
Her eyelids fall as she shifts into the next section of the song, her fingers almost banging on the keys in sixteenth beats for more volume. She shakes her head back and forth, in time with the defined rhythm. As she starts a flourish of ascending notes, she slows the movements in her neck in accompaniment with the first step in each staircase. She smiles, falling away into the very core of the music.
The tempo increases, and the notes start flying off the keyboard. Chords turn into arpeggios, crafting fresh melodies that are fluttering at first, then returning to that peace from the start of her work. The bobbing of her head returns, though much slower and less forceful. She catches sight of me, staring right into my eyes as her playing slows.
She freezes, realizing how invested she was in playing just now. She doesn't sign, hands frozen in a tinge of embarrassment. “[Sorry,]” she finally waves out.
“[Don't apologize,]” I reply in turn. “[That was beautiful.]”
A hint of red crawls into her cheeks again. “[It was... nothing, really.]”
“[Don't be so modest. You were...]” Is there a word for what I thought of her throughout that? I don't think so. “[Amazing. How do you do it?]”
“[The vibrations.]” The dumbfounded look on my face manages to pull further explanation out of her. “[I can... feel the music through my fingers. Through the keys.]” I guess that makes sense. How else would she know?
“[And you can tell which note is which?]”
She nods. “[Barely. That was the hardest part of learning.]” Her fingertips dance on the keys, outlining a muted score. “[The vibrations are different for each note. It took a long time to figure out which was which.]” She traces along the ivory keys again, almost looking dejected. “[I wish I could play more. Being at school limits that.]”
“[Why not join a music club?]” I suggest. “[Surely they have something like that.]”
She raises her eyebrow. “[A deaf-mute in a music club? Surely, you're joking.]” I shake my head, and she sighs. “[But what would they think of me? How would I convince them?]”
“[You just convinced me. Why can't you convince them?]”
“[It's not that easy. You're...]” A pause. “[Well, you.]”
“[What happened to that girl who didn't take 'no' for an answer?]” She perks her head up, inquisitive. I make sure to pick my words before I say them. They are infinitely important right now. “[I am nothing but a man, Shizune. A man that you just completely blew away in the span of a few minutes. You have a talent. You worked for this. You can do something extraordinary. Use it.]”
Her smile returns, almost hopeful. “[Thank you.]”
“[For what?]” I sign playfully. I know what I said, but I want her to acknowledge it. Call me egotistical.
She giggles. “[For believing in me. I appreciate it.]” That's something you don't hear every day from Shizune Hakamichi.
“[Well, what do you expect? I'm a pretty great guy, aren't I?]” I've really adapted her sarcasm, I think. At least she finds it amusing.
“[Yeah, you're not conceited at all,]” she snaps back with an evil grin.
“[And you're not?]”
“[Absolutely not.]” She adjusts her glasses, as she always does when trying to be snide. “[I deserve every ounce of praise.]”
We share a laugh, silent on both ends. I've noticed that I have started mimicking her giggles recently, only miming them instead of producing actual sound. She rubs off on you, that's for sure. Influential, as a good leader should be.
She stands up from the bench, smoothing out the front of her skirt and patting the back to knock loose any collected dust. I offer her my arm, wordlessly and without even a single sign. She knows the gesture and accepts my proposal. Perhaps there have been enough memories for one day. And so, arms intertwined, we march back up the staircase, shutting off the lights when we reach the halfway point.
The door shuts on today's walk back in time. But not necessarily forever.
“Hey!” a familiar voice booms. “Was that the door on my basement?!”
Remind me why this girl is worth it again?
