Tsukimori Len caught himself smiling. He struggled to maintain an expression of impassiveness as he watched Hino. The effort of their many week's work had come to fruition as the notes she played peaked at an emotional crescendo. Both he and the audience held their breaths as she paused, their release exclusively within her power. Then, the last note; it was a golden thread piercing their hearts, all joy and sorrow at once. Len shivered and without allowing it, his eyes became misted. This is what she did to him. This is what scared and excited him. And this ...is was what he would be leaving behind.
Hino Kahoko exhaled slowly through pursed lips. The feeling of calm that came from playing flowed away form her. Steeling herself for the worst, she had yet to open her eyes and face the silence that hung in the auditorium. She imagined the audience was looking up at her, mouths agape in horror as they did at the third concours. Zaoyinu-sensei would more sooner laugh in her face instead of teach her. Tsukimori would probably not even expend that much effort. After all the work he'd put into helping her, Kahoko would be lucky if he would even meet her eyes after being gravely let down. But her panicked thoughts were interrupted as the entire room exploded in applause. Kahoko's eyes snapped open in surprise, her fears vaporized. The roar was overwhelming. She was glad to bow and shield her face that now glowed hot from joy and embarrassment. After giving a shy smile she returned to the side stage where Tsukimori stood waiting for her.
That is, Tsukimori should have been waiting there. As Tsuchiura, Hihara, Fuyumi, Shimizu and Yunoki all gathered around her, he was no where to be found.
Having already performed, Len's presence was no longer required. He had wished to be there and congratulate Hino on her performance but he was unsure of how he would go about doing so. He did not want to say what was in his mind. Neither did he want to say too little and make her feel as if she had let him down. He struggled for the perfect balance of words that would come from one's instructor and friend.
"Hino, it was if...", he trailed off. It was as if she had placed a warm light within his heart. That moment when he'd first caught her listening in on him in the practice rooms, the look of pure joy in her eyes, and later the mystery of her sound that floated down from the school roof, caused a small seed of joy to be planted within him. No, he could not say any of that to her. To himself, he could hardly explain the change in his life over the course of their acquaintance. While the thought of struggling this way in front of the others irritated him, he dreaded the possibility of hurting Hino's feelings now.
Without so much as a word, he had stepped back from her performance. As she bowed to wondrous applause, the stage hall door clicked softly behind him. Without thought to where he was going, he found himself climbing the stairs to the school building's roof. He intended to think more on what he'd say and then meet her alone, possibly walk her home as he had come to when their practicing extended into the late afternoon.
The more Len learned of Hino, the more fascinating she became. Weeks ago, when he had happened to be passing by on his way to practice, he over heard Hino asking Ousaki-sempai to instruct her. That she had previously never had an instructor shocked him. When he realized everything he'd heard her play had been self taught, it struck even him as an amazing feat. It also explained her raw style. The possibility of focussing the pure essence of her sound through a lens of tighter technical skill was exciting. He was envious of Ousaki-sempai for getting to be that lens. But occasionally he would hear her playing, either from the roof or as he passed the door of her practice room. He was dissatisfied with what the sound, Ousaki-sempai was obviously going too easy on Hino. There was so much more she could achieve, he could hear it.
On one occasion, on his way to his reserved practice room, Len had paused at the door where the two were working together. Leaning against the baby grand piano, Ousaki's back was to Len as he listened to Hino. She faced them both, her eyes closed and her face pinched in concentration as her bow slid smoothly over the strings. Then she slipped with a screech. Head bowed, she sighed dejectedly. Ousaki came around beside her and adjusted her positioning as she watched. With one hand on her shoulder, Ousaki instructed her while placing his other hand's finger tips over hers briefly and moving them in the correct order and rhythm. She looked up to think a moment and noticed Len in the window. Her expression brightened as she looked at him questioningly. Len quickly averted his eyed and made a sharp start for his practice room.
In his own practice room, Len could feel his face was flushed. As he removed his violin from its case, he replayed the scene he has just witnessed in his mind. It was nothing out of the ordinary, Ousaki-sempai had also helped him in such a way. Seeing it done with Hino, though, made it seem much more intimate. He wondered what it would be like to touch her fingertips to his own. What if he were to be the one who was teaching her? Would he dare touch her as Ousaki-sempai had?
A cold wind shook Len from his reverie. The competition had long ended. At a time when he thought he would be evaluating his performance and placement in the competition, Len was instead focused solely on Hino Kahoko. Still in his concert attire, he had left everything but his instrument case back in the auditorium. It was quickly growing dark and everyone had presumedly gone home. He suddenly realized that Hino had probably left at this point as well, and that he had said nothing at all to her. His face flushed as he realized that this was probably the worst possible outcome. So lost was he in his agonizing, he didn't pay attention to the time until twilight had nearly taken over. On a school bench looking gloomily over the campus, Tsukimori sat bent under the weight of his worry, head resting heavily on his hands.