DISCLAIMER: I don't own any of the Vocaloid characters appearing in this story. They're the intellectual property of the various software companies. This story constitutes "fair use" of these characters as provided for under applicable U.S. and international copyright laws.

NOTE ON FORMATTING: Present-tense internal monologue, flashbacks, and written/electronic communications are italicized.

This fanfic is loosely based on the song Moonflowers (YouTube clip 4jGhqY6AKJk).

TOKYO INTERMEZZO

Chapter 1: Prelude

To this day, whenever I hear a performance of Rachmaninoff's Piano Concerto No. 3, I think of Yuzuki Yukari.

The way her facial expressions mirrored the shifting emotions of the music pouring from her piano. Her long, strong fingers now pounding, now caressing the keys during the concerto's extended solo passages. The sway of her twin violet ponytails as they mirrored the movement of her lean, delicately-curved body. And those eyes…violet oceans that bathed my soul in warmth in a way no one else's had done before, or have since. All these images, burned into my long-term memory, are as fresh today as the moment they were created, waiting only for the sound of the concerto's familiar themes to awaken them.

We were from two different worlds, Yuzuki Yukari and me. She was a marquee soloist, in Tokyo for four days to perform the Rachmaninoff concerto with the Nippon Symphony Orchestra. I, on the other hand, was an anonymous section player, little better than a footnote on the back of the concert program, somewhere in the fine print that lists the orchestra personnel: Akasaka Aria. At the time of the Yukari's performance, I had been playing trumpet for the NSO for all of two months.

Although I'd long numbered myself among Yukari's legion of admirers, I was convinced there was no way our private universes would intersect during her time with the NSO, even though we were going to be sharing the same stage. I figured that, like the rest of my colleagues, I'd get to shake her hand, hear more of those kind words she always seemed to have for anyone and everyone, and perhaps even have my picture taken with her. And that would be it. We'd play the concerts, after which she'd move on to the next engagement, and I'd join the long list of musicians who could say that they'd played on stage with classical music's most promising young pianist.

How beautifully and utterly wrong I was.

On the first Thursday in May, I arrived at Asahi Pavilion in Tokyo's Minato Ward at about 9:25 am, thirty five minutes before the NSO's scheduled rehearsal. For me, the early show was unusual. On a normal work day, I'd roll out of bed at about 6:30, go for a run, and then squeeze in a couple hours' practice before getting to the concert hall a little before ten. But I had plenty of incentive to alter my routine on that particular morning: Yukari was slated to make her first run-through of the Rachmaninoff with the orchestra.

Usually, the Pavilion's cavernous Main Hall would still be shrouded in tomb-like silence this far ahead of time, but management had told our concertmaster that Yukari was planning on arriving well before 10:00 am to visit with the orchestra members, so he'd sent out an email telling us to be in place by 9:30. By the time I showed up, the Hall was already bustling with musicians. Fragments of scales and musical passages from a variety of instruments, together with the sound of a dozen conversations, bounced off of the polished blond-wood flooring and ricocheted around the stage.

Normally, the early call would cause a lot of grumbling. Professional musicians are a jaded, temperamental lot, and can be quite grudging when it comes to showing consideration to even the most famous of visiting soloists. But Yukari was a notable exception. Even though she'd only been touring full time for about 15 months, word had already circulated throughout the international classical music community that – unlike so many star performers – she was friendly, humble, and openly appreciative of the contributions of the musicians she worked with. Orchestras tend to respond well to that sort of attitude, so as 9:30 approached, all 90-odd musicians needed to perform the Rachmaninoff concerto were in the house, and nobody was complaining.

There were certainly no objections from me. I'd been a die-hard Yuzuki Yukari fangirl since I was 13, when I came across an online clip of her winning her first international junior piano competition. Not only was she talented and oh-so-cute, but she looked like she was having the time of her life as she ripped through Robert Schumann's Piano Concerto in A Minor like it was nothing. And at 14, she was barely a year older than me. I was smitten, and from that moment Yukari became my guilty little baby-dyke pleasure. I put her pictures on my bedroom wall, bookmarked every video clip, and downloaded every sound file. While my friends got damp panties from boy bands like Arashi, I fantasized about Yukari serving as my accompanist during my music conservatory auditions, and then making celebratory love to me all night after we found out I'd gotten in.

The celebrity crush had grown far less intense as I moved from adolescence to adulthood, but it never fully went away, which explained why I'd been looking forward to this day as if it was Christmas. Now that The Day had arrived, it took everything I had to stuff my excitement behind the veneer of dignity I was expected to maintain as a professional musician.

Yukari obviously hadn't arrived yet, so I headed for my usual spot at the stage-left side of the top riser. I barely had the chance to set my trumpet case on my chair before I caught the flash of blonde out of the corner of my eye, and heard my nickname echo across the stage. Just like that, all hope for a moment's peace before rehearsal evaporated.

"Yo, Ia! So, did you bring your autograph book?" Violist Masuda Lily was smiling a bit too smugly for my taste, but the glare I shot her had no effect. She just kept right on grinning as I took her by the arm and pulled her several steps away from the rest of the brass section.

"Not so loud. I don't need anyone else hearing you give me a hard time about this. Good morning yourself, by the way."

Lily and I had known each other for more than four years, since our first day of classes at Tokyo Music Conservatory. She was not only my closest friend, but the most open-minded and understanding straight person I knew. Even so, she wasn't above teasing me about anything and everything, especially my big gay crush on Yukari. It was how we rolled.

"Hey, maybe Yuzuki-san'll sign one of her publicity photos for you," she said in a conspiratorial whisper. "I can see it now. 'To Iacchi – you're the wind beneath my wings.' Get it? Wind? It's a musician joke." She giggled in celebration of her own wit.

"Correction: it's a crappy joke. Geez, I'm 22, Lily. You make it sound like I'm twelve." My words rang hollow, because we both knew I'd been so keyed up all week over the possibility of coming face to face with Yukari that I hadn't exactly been acting my age. "Besides, I already got her autograph once, and a picture, too."

Lily's eyebrows arched upward.

"Really? I know you went to see Yuzuki-san in concert once, but I don't remember you telling me that you actually met her."

"I did tell you, but you have the memory of a fruit fly. Geez, Lily. It was about two years ago, remember? At the big piano competition in Nagoya, the year she won. She signed my program after her final concert."

"Hey, I can barely remember which guy in my contact list I dated last weekend," Lily said, pretending to look offended. "How do you expect me to remember stuff like this? But yeah, now that you mention it, she was the big topic of conversation among the piano majors at the conservatory back then. So you've met her? I take it she was nice, or you wouldn't be quite so enthusiastic."

"She was totally adorable. We talked about music school and what it's like to play professionally. She treated me like I was the most important person on earth. Trust me, Lily, when you meet her in person, you'll see what I mean."

I must have had a weird expression on my face when I said that, because Lily's smile widened perceptibly.

"God, you're such a fangirl. It's hilarious." She paused suddenly, looking at me intently and sniffing. "Hey, you smell really good this morning."

"What? Are you saying that I usually smell bad?"

"You know what I mean. And what's with that blouse? It's a lot tighter than you usually wear. You're practically bursting out of it."

"Stop staring at my…um, my you-know-whats. Creep. Anyway, I haven't the slightest idea what you're talking about. These are my regular clothes. I didn't do anything special this morning."

I was lying, of course. My waist-length hair, which I normally just tossed into a ponytail so it stayed out of my face while playing, was hanging loose, and it had taken a half an hour's worth of hard work to get right. Furthermore, I'd purposely chosen a fitted blouse and tight slacks to emphasize my chest and rear end. I don't know what I was thinking – maybe it was a silly schoolgirl fantasy that if I was attractive enough, Yukari might take more than casual notice of me. Unfortunately, I'd forgotten that I'd have to deal with Lily, whose grin was now well into Cheshire Cat territory.

"Like hell you didn't. Admit it – you got all fancied up because of her, and-…wow, Ia, are you…blushing? My God, you totally are!"

Judging from the burning sensation on my cheeks, she was right, unfortunately.

"Shut up. It's been such a long time…I mean, why would I go to all that trouble for someone who doesn't even remember me? Geez, would you just drop it already?"

Fortunately, Lily knew me well enough to sense when she'd pushed her teasing to the limit.

"Okay, sorry," she said, although she seemed unable to wipe that infuriating grin from her face. "The way you curl that lower lip when you're frustrated is just too cute. I'll be good, though."

"You'd better be."

"Don't worry. But…" All traces of amusement left Lily's expression, replaced by genuine concern. "…what's the deal here, Ia? This isn't like you. Usually, you're the level-headed, mature one in this friendship."

I didn't have an answer for her. The way I was behaving was, for lack of a better word, juvenile. I felt like a rock groupie. It was embarrassing, but I couldn't help myself.

"Never mind me," I said, not really wanting tell Lily what was going through my mind right then. "I'm just being stupid. It'll pass. Now will you leave me alone for a few minutes, please? I need to prep my horn for 10:00."

"Sure, but before I go, here's a bit of advice." That knowing smile of hers was back. "Unbutton one more button on that blouse. The extra cleavage might help Yuzuki-san remember you."

"Go!" Heads turned as I barked the command at her, but she simply winked at me, then casually sashayed off into the depths of the viola section. Relieved to be rid of her for the moment, I returned to my chair and pulled my trumpet out of its case. I'd barely gotten its valves oiled before a murmur swept through the assembled musicians.

A group of three people had walked through the stage doors and were heading for the podium. In the lead, easily recognizable by his tall, spare frame and salt-and-pepper hair, strode the NSO's music director. Behind the forty-something Russian were two Asian women. The first, who had shaggy, jaw-length green hair, and whose ample chest strained at the jacket of her tailored suit, was carrying what looked like a tablet computer. I'd never seen her before. To be honest, she barely registered in my mind, because my attention was on the second woman; the sight of her had unleashed what felt like a swarm of butterflies in the pit of my stomach.

Yukari was as beautiful as I remembered. Sure, I'd seen countless online photos of her since that night in Nagoya, but pixels are no substitute for reality. Her mid-thigh-length gray dress molded to her slim contours like a second skin, and matching gray knee-highs showed off her toned, impossibly long legs. She still wore her violet hair in the same distinctive style of her teen years: bobbed all around, except for the twin chest-length ponytails hanging from her temples. They looked as soft and silky as ever, and when she moved, they delicately caressed her exposed collarbone. I wanted to touch both the tails and the collarbone so badly.

But it was Yukari's eyes that drew me like a tractor beam. Words couldn't do them justice. If I had to describe them, I'd say they were warm and sexy and innocent and mischievous all in one soul-twisting package. They were the kind of eyes that, with just a glance, reach inside a girl and grab her heart in a velvet-steel fist. At any rate, that's exactly what they did to me every time I saw them, and that morning was no different.

As Yukari strode across the stage, megawatt smile in full effect, my mouth went dry. For a wind player, that's not a good thing, but I was too busy concentrating on Yukari to worry about it. I looked on as she shook hands with the concertmaster, whom she seemed to know. Because of the Main Hall's live acoustics, their conversation was quite audible.

"Ah, yes, I played a concert in Munich last month. Herr Osterhagen sends his regards. He says he's looking forward to working with you at the Zurich Festival this summer." Sophisticated words, but they were delivered in the bubbly mezzo-soprano of a typical 23-year-old Japanese woman. At the sound of her voice, those butterflies began to swirl around even faster.

She paid her respects to each of the section principals, who had congregated near the podium, and then began working her way through the maze of chairs and music stands, pausing long enough to greet each person with a bow and a few cheerful words. The closer she came, the worse my jitters got.

Finally, Yukari stood before me, and as I rose from my chair, clenching my hands into fists to keep them from trembling, her gorgeous eyes locked directly onto mine. I could hear my pulse rushing in my ears.

"This is Akasaka Aria-san, our assistant principal trumpet player," the music director said with a tight smile in my direction. "She just recently joined us from the conservatory here in Tokyo."

Yukari's brow furrowed.

"Have we met? Yes, I'm sure we've met at some point. Please…Akasaka-san, was it? Where do I know you from?"

My God, does she really remember me? I thought. No way!

"At the Nagoya competition, after you won the gold medal," I said aloud, hoping my voice didn't sound too shaky. "You signed my program."

To my complete surprise, a light dawned somewhere in her memory. The resulting smile was so brilliant that I felt as though I was in the presence of a deity whose glory threatened to consume me.

"Oh, sure! How could I forget such pretty blue eyes? And these…" To my shock, she reached out to gently stroke one of the twin half-braids I'd plaited into the long, gray tresses hanging from my temples. The touch of those elegant fingers turned my knees to rubber, and for a fleeting moment, I thought I might faint. "I see you're still wearing your hair like that. I guess we sort of match, don't we?" She fingered one of her own side-tails for a moment.

"You're being much too forward." The woman in the suit barely spoke above a mutter. "Public image, Yukarin, public image."

"It's fine." Yukari waved a dismissive hand at her, then turned back to me. "You must be a heck of a player to get hired as an assistant principal straight out of music school, and by a first-rate orchestra like this one. I can't wait to hear you play."

"Back then…you inspired me to work harder…thank you…" My voice must have sounded like a croaking frog's, and I was certain that the blush I'd shown Lily earlier had returned with a vengeance.

"We need to keep moving, Yukarin." The green-haired woman, who was likely Yukari's personal assistant, tapped impatiently at the screen of her tablet. With a sigh, the pianist nodded her agreement, although she looked reluctant.

"You're right. I'm spending too much time gabbing, as usual." Yukari's eyes found mine again; they were so soft and warm that I thought I might melt. "I'm glad we crossed paths again, Akasaka-san. It's always nice to see a familiar face."

She smiled at me once more, thanked me in advance for my hard work, and moved on to the next person. I stood as still as if I'd turned to stone, able only to gaze after her as the butterflies in my stomach coalesced into one seething, fluttering mass.

I didn't know what to make of the fact that, out of all the many hundreds of people she'd met since our last encounter, the memory of a five-minute conversation with an ordinary fan like me had stuck with Yukari for so long. And yet she not only remembered me, but appeared to be genuinely glad to see me. It seemed too good to be true, but I wasn't about to complain.

Now that the shining moment had passed, I reminded myself that I had a job to do, and that I couldn't afford to allow Yukari's presence to distract me from it. Just keep your nose buried in your music stand, and you'll be fine, I told myself.

But then it hit me: in the Rach Three, the second trumpet part consists of no more than two dozen notes over the first two movements. In other words, I'd be playing for all of about 30 seconds out of the first half hour of a 45-minute concerto. There wasn't nearly enough to keep my mind occupied.

The sound of Yukari's laughter floated across the stage like the sound of a silver wind chime on a summer breeze. Oh, God, I want her so badly, but it's not going to happen, I thought, wishing that those damned butterflies would fly away once and for all.

I wondered how I was going to make it through the next two hours without falling to pieces.

Rehearsal turned out to be a much different experience than I'd expected. To my disappointment, I didn't have a clear view of Yukari's face from my vantage point on the rear riser; the podium and the propped-open piano lid combined to block her from my view. With no other alternative, I spent most of my considerable down time listening to her play.

Needless to say, Yukari was as brilliant as ever.

Rachmaninoff's Concerto No. 3 has passages that, in the hands of a truly inspired pianist, evoke a kaleidoscope of images. A raging flood, a lover's caress, the capering of a childhood playmate – Yukari wove them all into a seamless tale that pulled me in so completely that I very nearly missed my first entrance. Fortunately, my boss, the principal trumpet player, saved me with a well-placed elbow.

When rehearsal finally ended, I remained in my chair as the colleagues around me packed up and left, trying to process the previous two and a half hours. As I sat staring into space, my hands on autopilot as they wiped down my trumpet, I gradually sensed something that sounded like a female voice murmuring in my right ear. I was too lost in my thoughts to pay any real attention to it until a hand yanked at my sleeve.

"Hey, you! Quit ignoring me!"

With a start, I looked over my shoulder to find Lily scowling at me.

"I thought I heard a faint buzzing," I deadpanned. "Were you saying something important? Probably not, or I would have noticed."

"Idiot. My stomach's growling. Keep me waiting any longer and I'll stick you with the lunch check."

"Okay, okay. Geez. Give me a second." I reassembled my trumpet's valves and tucked it back into its case. Moments later, Lily and I were walking through the stage door and into the winding hallway that led to the Pavilion's rear exit, instrument cases slung over our shoulders.

"Took you long enough," Lily grumbled.

"Sorry about that. I guess I was spacing out." I scratched the back of my head sheepishly. "And sorry for not hanging out during break, too. I was a bit busy with all these people asking me questions. 'How long have you known Yuzuki-san?' 'How did you two meet?' 'Are you guys really that close?' 'Are the two of going to hang out later? If so, can we come?' What a pain in the neck. No one believes I'm not bosom buddies with her. Thanks for tossing me that water bottle, by the way. I was ready to shrivel up."

"You're welcome," Lily said. "But why're you surprised at the buzz after what happened on stage before rehearsal? Right in front of everyone, too. I guess Yuzuki-san remembered you after all, huh?" She raised a suggestive eyebrow.

"Thank you, Captain Obvious."

Lily either didn't hear my remark, or chose to ignore it.

"What was up with her and your hair, anyway? You and I are close, and I would never do something like that. Well, not in front of an audience. And not unless I was really drunk. And I wouldn't touch your half-braids. I'd go for your boo-…"

I knew all too well where this was going – downhill fast, as usual for Lily – so I cut her off.

"Shut up, pervert. Anyway, she was just being friendly. That's the way she is."

Lily nodded, although she seemed less than convinced.

"The last time someone acted that friendly with me in public, he and I were fucking like rabbits in a love hotel inside of 30 minutes."

That did it. I came to a dead stop in the middle of the deserted corridor and whirled to face Lily, gritting my teeth in frustration and fighting the urge to beat her over the head with my trumpet case.

"Would you please knock off the sleazy comments?"

Lily's shoulders shook with barely-suppressed laughter.

"I'll try, but I'm not sure it's possible," she said. "Anyway, back to what I was saying. It was really weird how she was so much friendlier with you than with anyone else. I mean, she was friendly with everyone, but she really turned on the charm with you. I can't believe you weren't embarrassed by that. Usually, you wilt at the slightest provocation."

My annoyance evaporated as the mental image of Yukari's fingers gently stroking my half-braid flitted across my memory.

"Maybe, but for once in my life, I didn't mind at all."

"It sure didn't look like you minded," Lily snorted. "In fact, when she touched you, I thought you were going to co-…"

"Don't say it! Geez, do you ever think about anything but sex?"

"I do think about other things sometimes," Lily insisted. "Take music, for example. Were you aware that Ravel's Bolero is the perfect background track for long, steady intercourse?"

"I hate you."

"Yes. Yes, you do. But you love me so much more."

"Shut up and walk," I said, cursing her inwardly for being right. With an exasperated shake of my head, I turned and stalked down the corridor. Lily walked beside me in silence, clearly aware that she was dancing on my last nerve. As if extending an olive branch, she turned the conversation in a more serious direction.

"I have to admit that when it comes to Yuzuki-san, you were absolutely right."

"How so?"

"She seems so…'genuine' is the word I'm looking for. Very warm and sincere. I don't think a soloist has ever thanked me for my contribution to their performance. I mean, who cares about the ass end of the viola section? But Yuzuki-san made me feel as important as anyone else before we'd even played a note together. How chill is that? I guess I can see why you're so into her." She hesitated for a moment, then suddenly chuckled. "True confession? I know I've been jerking your chain over all of this, but if the orchestra brought in some young stud of a violinist, like that German guy who models on the side, I'd probably act the same way as you."

"No, you wouldn't," I countered. "You'd be much ruder."

"True. Hot guys do strange things to my inhibitions." She let out a long sigh. "There's a huge gap between people like Yuzuki-san and the rest of us, isn't there? Compared to them, we're nobodies. I guess that's why fans have to content themselves with their dreams, right?"

She had a valid point. Regardless of what had happened between Yukari and me before rehearsal, I was under no illusions. She was untouchable, the stuff of fantasy. I'd had my fangirl moment, and as satisfying as it was, I had no right to expect anything more.

As we approached the Pavilion's service entrance, I was about to ask Lily if there was anywhere in particular she wanted to eat lunch, when she hit me with a question that I didn't expect.

"Hey Ia, do you remember that girl with Yuzuki-san…the one with the green hair?"

"Yeah. What about her?"

Lily paused in front of the doorway.

"She's really good-looking, don't you think? Built like one of those Western swimsuit models. Very easy on the eyes. I wish I had a body like hers."

It seemed a bit odd that Lily would comment on another woman's appearance. Usually, she went on and on about this or that cute guy she'd seen.

"I wasn't really paying attention to her, so I wouldn't know," I said. "Why the sudden interest?"

Lily shrugged.

"Couldn't tell you. It was just that she seemed…different, somehow. I was wondering if it was just me. Maybe it was. I have to say, though…I wouldn't at all mind chatting with her over milk tea."

"If that's an invitation, then I accept," said a voice.

Neither Lily nor I had noticed the speaker as she walked up to us during our conversation: the very woman Lily was talking about. Without Yukari to divert my attention, I got a good look at her for the first time. Even though she wasn't my type, I could definitely see why Lily would consider the woman attractive. She had similar attributes to those Lily preferred in the men she dated: an outgoing, cheerful aura, and a body straight out of an anime.

"Sorry to intrude," she said, bowing politely to Lily and me. Her businesslike expression of earlier had given way to a relaxed, confident smile. "Masami Gumi, Yuzuki-san's personal assistant. Akasaka-san and Masuda-san, right?" I nodded, but Gumi barely noticed. Her attention was firmly fixed on Lily, who stared back at her with much more than casual interest.

"I'm flattered by the compliment, Masuda-san," Gumi continued, "and I really enjoy milk tea, especially when the company's good."

"I'm sorry, you'll have to repeat all that," Lily replied, entering full-on flirt mode. "I was too busy noticing what a beautiful shade of emerald your eyes are."

Gumi didn't miss a beat.

"Yours are the most intriguing shade of azure." Her smile was both speculative and a bit mischievous. "You talk as smoothly as you play your viola. I like that."

"And I like that you were paying such close attention to my playing," was Lily's immediate rejoinder. "What kind of performer would I be if I didn't? Especially when my audience is so…" She paused, flipping her waist-length blonde hair for effect. "…appreciative."

Their exchange took me by completely by surprise. The issue wasn't that Lily was flirting with Gumi, a total stranger. Lily would play the coquette with just about anyone, male or female, young or old, but most of the time it was all in light-hearted fun. She normally reserved her serious efforts for the large supporting cast of men who always seemed to surround her. I'd never seen her hit on another woman so openly, especially one who returned the favor with such enthusiasm. If I'd encountered a similar scenario in a yuri manga or light novel, or seen two girls do their mating dance in a lesbian club, it wouldn't have been a big deal. Given the very public setting, however, it felt weird, and more than a little creepy.

After making a show of clearing my throat, I asked, "Um, Masami-san, is there something we can help you with?"

Gumi looked at me blankly for the briefest of moments. Then, as quickly as it had lifted, her mask of professionalism snapped back into place.

"Sorry for being inconsiderate, Akasaka-san. I was looking for you, actually, so I'm glad I caught you before you left. Yuzuki-san would like to invite you to visit her in her dressing room to continue your conversation of earlier this morning. Provided you're not busy, of course."

I was so shocked that I couldn't even nod my agreement, let alone answer her. The most I could do was stand there gaping at Gumi like a fool.

"Of course she would." Lily, who must have seen that I wasn't capable of speaking for myself, answered for me. "She'd rather die than miss this chance. Isn't that right?" With a wink, Lily nudged me with her elbow. "Run along with the pretty lady, Ia. Don't worry about me."

Gumi smiled knowingly.

"'Pretty lady', huh? I like the way you think, Masuda-san. This conversation is not over."

"I certainly hope not," Lily said. "Um, I'll wait in the musicians' break room, Ia. Have fun." She may have been talking to me, but her goofy grin was directed at Gumi.

I barely noticed, because I was still trying to get my mind wrapped around the fact that I was going to get to have a private conversation with Yukari, something I thought wasn't ever going to happen. My voice was little more than a squeak as I replied, "Um, sure. I shouldn't be long."

As I walked with Gumi through Asahi Pavilion's maze of backstage corridors, it's impossible to say what I was feeling more intensely: nervousness or anticipation. For Gumi's part, she didn't have a lot to say at first, which was fine by me, because I was too preoccupied with my thoughts to engage in any meaningful conversation. After we turned the second corner and headed up the stairs, however, she finally broke the silence.

"Big fan of Yuzuki-san's, are you?"

I glanced at her briefly, trying to decide if she was borrowing a page from Lily's teasing playbook. She didn't seem to be, though; more likely, she'd seen reactions like mine many times before, and was simply trying to put me at ease. I decided to be honest.

"For years."

"Relax. She won't bite you. This was her idea, after all."

"Sorry about this. I feel so childish."

"Don't be sorry. Yuzuki-san's every bit as sweet as she appears to be. At least she is to everyone but me." Gumi chuckled quietly for a moment, as if it was some sort of private joke. "For what it's worth, she never does this."

"Never does what?"

"Brings people to her dressing room. I've been her P.A. since she started touring full time, and I've never seen her do it. Of course, she hasn't ever mentioned you before today, but it looked to me like you two have a past, so I guess it makes sense. I wouldn't dream of prying, though."

Not much, you wouldn't, I thought, but decided there was no harm in explaining this so-called "past." There was nothing to it, after all.

When I finished, Gumi said, "You must have made quite an impression on her. No offense, but it seems a little strange. Oh, well, who knows what she's thinking? She isn't exactly predictable. Obviously, you know from experience how artists can be."

Reassured by Gumi's easy manner, I began to relax.

"I hang around with Masuda-san," I said "Trust me, I live with the temperamental musician stereotype every day."

This time, Gumi's laugh was a bit louder.

"Funny you should mention Masuda-san. I meet a lot of people in this job, but I don't recall ever meeting someone so…interesting. Was she on the level with that milk tea comment? Hope so. I'd even pay for the tea myself. That is, if she's serious."

Obviously, Gumi was fishing for information, but she wasn't going to get any from me. For all her teasing, Lily had always respected my privacy, and I wasn't about to violate hers. Still, I thought it would be rude to ignore Gumi's question completely.

"One way to find out would be to ask her. Masuda-san says what she thinks, and she respects that quality in others."

Gumi nodded, and fell silent; I could sense that she was mulling over my words. Neither of us said anything further until we got to Yukari's dressing room.

When we finally arrived at the Main Hall's backstage complex, Gumi walked up to one of the long line of nondescript, unmarked doorways and knocked twice. Without waiting for an answer, she opened the door and went inside, motioning for me to follow her.

Despite the number of people shoehorned into it, the cramped room didn't show any sign of being occupied. Other than a scarlet-and-black hoodie draped over one of the chairs, and Gumi's tablet, which was lying on the make-up table, there were no personal items visible. Even so, the place didn't seem at all sterile to me, given who was standing in front of the mirror that hung on the far wall.

Yukari was facing away from me, cell phone pressed to her ear. The conversation sounded contentious, but I was too busy gawking at her to pay much attention to what she was saying.

I've never been much for buxom women. My most recent girlfriend, a butchy redhead with scarlet eyes, could easily pass for a teenage boy when she had her hair tucked into a hat. That girl had just enough curves to be dangerous, and for whatever reason, that really flips my switch. So it was no surprise that I couldn't keep my eyes off of the lean contours of Yukari's shoulders and back, and her slim, boyish hips.

Don't stare at her ass, don't stare at her ass, don't stare at her ass, I chanted in my mind. Oh, God, too late!

Whether it was from joy or frustration, I wasn't sure, but suddenly I wanted to cry. The butterflies I'd felt in the morning didn't return – thankfully – but in their place I could feel that heavy tension building in my belly, the kind a girl gets when she's close enough to touch someone she's strongly attracted to.

Gumi tapped Yukari on the shoulder, and then jerked a thumb in my direction. Immediately, the pianist spun around to face me.

"Hang on," she barked into the phone, then clamped a palm over it. When our eyes met, I was treated to a smile as brilliant as the one she'd flashed at me onstage before rehearsal. "You're here! I'm so glad!"

As if I could have refused you. Unfortunately, I couldn't manage to transform that thought into actual words, so I simply bowed in greeting and smiled awkwardly back at her.

"Give me a second to finish this," Yukari said, pointing apologetically to her phone. When I nodded, she turned away and resumed her conversation. As for me, I went right back to staring at her, wondering how it would feel to mold my body against her back while she talked.

"Hey, it's me again…Look, you need to tell St. Louis to stick to the original agreement, which was Prokofiev Two. I'm not switching to the Brahms One on such short notice. There's not enough prep time…No means no. If they insist on this change, they can find themselves another soloist…I don't care if their guest conductor's having a hissy fit. I didn't like the guy when I worked with him in Prague, and I'm not in any mood to take any more of his bullying…Look, I'm about to go into a super-important meeting, okay? I'll have Masami-san call the American office directly, sometime tomorrow…Fine…Okay, later."

With a growl of frustration, Yukari mashed a finger into her smartphone screen.

"You're going to have to straighten this out for me, Gumi-chan. My English isn't good enough to argue with these people. Some agents they are – they do whatever they want. Remind me never to book with the St. Louis Philharmonic again after this, okay?"

"Tell me the details later," her assistant said. "It's time for your 'super-important meeting', remember?"

"Ooh, you're right!" Yukari's head snapped upward, eyes glowing with delight. "Akasaka-san, hello again!"

"Yuzuki-san…it's an honor…" I sounded wheezy, like I was hyperventilating. Which I very nearly was.

"I was afraid you wouldn't come to see me, but you did anyway. Somebody…" Yukari glanced at Gumi – a little guiltily, I thought, "…gave me a hard time about being too familiar in public with someone I hardly know. After she did, I got to thinking that you might have been really offended, and I didn't want that at all. So now that you're here, I can apologize properly. I'm really sorry for embarrassing you!"

She bowed deeply and held it.

"Th-there's, um, no n-need," I stammered. "Please d-don't do this." She didn't move. "Yuzuki-san, please. You didn't embarrass me before. This is embarrassing me."

When Yukari stood upright again, she looked relieved.

"I'm so glad you're not angry with me. About what I did earlier…it's just that…uh, after Nagoya, I never quite forgot you, and…after all this time, there you were. Um, I was so happy to see a face I recognized that I just sort of…reacted." To my complete shock, she blushed, then dropped her head into her hands. "My God, I'm thinking out loud again. I sound like a total stalker. Guh! Sorry!"

Clearly, the memory of our encounter in Nagoya meant much more to Yukari than I'd ever expected. I had to fight to keep from pinching myself to make sure I wasn't dreaming.

"Behold the power of the Red String of Fate," Gumi intoned, as if she was doing a voiceover for a shoujo anime. Yukari scowled at her, but there was no real venom in the action. If anything, she looked more cute than fierce, at least to me.

"Stop talking like an old woman, Gumi-chan. Don't you have personal-assistant-type things to do? Go on, take a spin around the Pavilion and give Akasaka-san and me some privacy."

"Fine," Gumi said with a shrug and an indulgent smile, almost like she was humoring a little sister. Ignoring her boss' display of petulance, she retrieved her tablet, and began to tick items off what appeared to be Yukari's "to-do" list. "Don't forget – dinner with the NSO Board of Directors is at 17:00, so you need to be back at the hotel by 16:00. I'll pick up your dress for tonight from the dry cleaners and have it waiting. Also, you need to return your cousin Mayu-san's phone call, preferably before dinner. You can't keep putting her off – you know how, um, insistent she gets."

"Yeah, yeah, I got it." Yukari rolled her eyes. "Anything else, Slavedriver-san?"

"Nope, that's pretty much it. Oh, and I made the reservations at the restaurant like you asked. If you and Akasaka-san don't get going, you'll be late."

'Reservations at the restaurant'…'you and Akasaka-san'…a meal? With Yukari? These girls are messing with me, I just know it.

"Akasaka-san, um…I'm sorry for springing it on you like this." Yukari wrung her hands anxiously. "I mean, if you don't have more pressing matters to attend to, uh…would you allow me to treat you to lunch?"

This was no joke.

"Oh, no, I couldn't impose on you like that," I said aloud, more for the sake of propriety than anything else. Inside, however, I was screaming yes at the top of my lungs.

"But I insist," Yukari countered. "Consider it the other half of my apology."

"Then thanks for your kindness. But, uh, my friend is outside waiting for me. I need to tell her what's up."

"I'll take care of that for you, Akasaka-san," Gumi said, her eyes gleaming at my mention of Lily. "Masuda-san and I need to finish our conversation, after all. Call me if you need me, Yukarin."

With a wave, Gumi was gone. And then the reality of the situation hit me. I was alone. With Yukari. In her dressing room.

My mind began to race. Unfortunately, all the images dancing through it involved Yukari doing things to me that polite people normally only discussed behind closed doors, if then. My rational side knew that there wasn't a chance in hell of anything actually happening between us, and that Yukari was just being her usual friendly self, but that thought didn't exactly help cool down my overheated imagination.

"What's this about a conversation?"

The sound of Yukari's voice brought me back to down to earth, and I turned to find her looking at me curiously. Her exact words didn't immediately register, because I was transfixed by the sight of those violet eyes. If I'd fallen into them and drowned right then, I would have considered it a noble death. But the moment didn't last, because Yukari wouldn't let her question go unanswered.

"Earth to Akasaka-san. What conversation?"

I told her about how Gumi and Lily had hit it off, omitting the details of their flirting. It didn't seem wise to tell Yukari that the same personal assistant who had lectured her about social boundaries had turned right around and hit on one of the orchestra members less than three hours later.

"Masuda-san? The blonde violist, huh?" Yukari grinned almost wickedly. "Heh. Different city, same old Gumi-chan."

"What do you mean?"

"Oh, nothing. It's not important."

For some reason, she seemed pleased with herself, but I wasn't going to push things by asking her to explain her cryptic comment. Besides, I really didn't care what was going on between Lily and Gumi, if anything. I had something much more important on my mind: my soon-to-be lunch, one on one, with Yukari.

Before it fully sank in that another of my fangirl dreams was about to come true, Yukari went one better by winding her arm around mine, as if we were old, close friends. For the second time that day, my legs felt like noodles.

"Let's go," she said, grabbing her hoodie with her free hand and pulling me toward the dressing room door. "We don't want to lose our reservation." She paused to giggle, a sound so beautiful that my heart nearly burst. "It's been so long since I had lunch with a friend. I'm so excited! I promise you, Akasaka-san, we're going to have an awesome time!"

Rather than answer, I simply nodded, and allowed Yukari to lead me. The warmth of her body against my arm was not only doing wonderful things to my insides, it had my mind on lockdown. I could only process one single word, the one Yukari had used on me moments before, with devastating effect.

Friend.

A/N:

− I'd like to express my gratitude to my beta-reading team, Musican74 and Gray Voice, for suffering through the long and convoluted writing process. Because of their unwavering encouragement, this story actually made it to publication and didn't wind up in the bit bucket. Many humble thanks to you both!

− In this fic, Lily's surname came from her voice provider, while Gumi's and IA's came from their illustrators. Also, I spell IA "Ia" for the sake of readability, and I use that as a nickname for the full first name "Aria."

− I drew significant inspiration for Yukari's style of playing from a 2001 performance of Rachmaninoff's Piano Concerto No. 3 – YouTube clip 9AmxZnlRa6Q – that won pianist Olga Kern a share of first prize in that year's prestigious Van Cliburn competition. Even if you're not into classical music, cue it up at 39:30 and watch the cute blonde Russian bring it home to the big finish. Now imagine it's Yukari. You'll get it.

− My mental image of 14-year-old Yukari playing Robert Schumann's Piano Concerto in A Minor came from a 2012 performance of that work by child prodigy Emily Bear (YouTube clip YLPWFrErfWE).

− In this story, the names of places (Asahi Pavilion), organizations (Nippon Symphony Orchestra, Tokyo Music Conservatory, St. Louis Philharmonic), and events (the Nagoya Piano Competition, the Zurich Festival) are fictitious, but are based on real-world entities or composites thereof.

− I don't own the cover art. All rights to that belong to the artist, Minatsuki (pastelcanvas [d0t] weebly [d0t] c0m).

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