Steam rose from the flounder. The egg rolls were absorbing moisture, becoming damp. The results of my 30 minutes of toil were slowly cooling down. Incredibly, unbelievably, Nodame did not come to my house for dinner today.

I hung my head in despair, suppressing thoughts mostly consisting of murderous intent. Indeed, she was as unpredictable as her own rambling performances. When I finally anticipated her visit and prepared dinner for both of us, she once again fooled me. I gazed at the table, wondering how much harm eating the food prepared for two would do to my stomach.

In retrospect, Nodame seemed weirder—if that is possible in any means—in the past few days. She had been avoiding me, and when I was able to corner her down, she would escape, screaming equally alarming noises like "Kyaoo!", or "Kabo!", or "Kyahoo!" She had also been meeting Professor Ehto rather more often than she needed to. To sum it up, she had been showing characteristics that she never had—a typical sign of insanity. If the 'normal' Nodame was capable of demolishing other's sanity, then I was fearful even at the thought of the crazy Nodame.

I leaned back and closed my eyes. I could not hear the melody of her piano—she was not in her home.

I crept outside. I stopped in front of her door, hesitating. I ringed the doorbell several times, but the room was empty, as expected. I turned the doorknob. The door was not locked. Would this qualify as stalking? Yes, I concluded, but I stepped in. I should remind her that she should lock her door at all times.

Even a pig sty has order. If one had enough leisure to observe a pig sty in detail, he or she would have noticed that there is a space for eating, a space for sleeping, and a space for nurturing their young. Well, Nodame's kotatsu might have qualified as a space for sleeping, and she did not need a space for nurturing her young, but myriad other aspects of her room were worse than a pig sty.

This was hideous, this was terrible, this was—

I sighed.

This was Nodame.

Moonlight was sliding through the half opened windows, and a cluster of boxes were piled around the kotatsu. At least there weren't any decaying leftovers, since she ate at my house now. Beside her kotatsu was her piano.

A dusty picture in the corner caught my eye.

A younger Nodame was staring at me.

She was nearly identical to her current self, excluding her smaller height. She was wearing a dress too big for her, and was holding a score. She was frowning.

There was another man in the picture. Was he her father? There was no resemblance between them. He was wearing glasses, and seemed too aged to be her father, though. Who was he?

Children's Concours

The words were written behind the two. Ah, so he was her piano instructor. I flipped the picture frame. There was a sentence scribbled on the back in Nodame's handwriting.

Why do we love music?

I looked back at the picture. Something about her expression troubled me. It was a different Nodame, an aspect quite perplexing was troubling me. Nodame never frowned in the presence of a piano. She seemed—unsatisfied? I could not find the right word.

"Why do we love music?" I whispered in the room. Indeed, a perplexing question. Perhaps it was in the nature of all people who devote themselves to music. An inspiration? I found myself unable to answer that question.

Nodame was frowning in the picture. Frankly put, she did not look like a girl who loves music.

"But does she?"

I once again viewed the piano. Another book caught my attention. She seemed to have practiced a score in the book. I whispered the title, the universal, powerful word.

"Beethoven."

--

Mine approached me after the orchestra was dismissed.

"Ah, Chiaki…are you free at eight today?" he mustered up all of his casualness. It was, in some meanings, quite pitiful to watch his effort to cover up his hidden intention, whatever it was. He was definitely up to something.

"Um…yes."

"Oh, great! I know of a superb—wait a second," he rummaged his pockets, and pulled out a crumpled paper. He unfolded it, and was silent for a moment, reading what was written on the paper. "A superb and beautiful pianist, right."

I was already beginning to have an ominous feeling about this.

"I know of a superb and beautiful pianist who would be performing at the concert hall. Why won't you come?"

"It's not like you can just pop in and listen. I bet that the tickets are already sold out. Next time you tell me something like this, make sure to say it earlier," I dismissed.

"Ah, but, um…you won't need tickets for this one." Mine stammered.

"Huh? Why?"

"Um…ah! It is a charity performance, so it's completely free!"

"Charity performance? But you are supposed to pay more for charity performances, because the money you've paid is used for charity!"

"Um, not that kind of charity. Argh!" He screamed a string of expletives, shocking the passerby.

"I mean……just go to the concert hall at eight." Losing all pretence, he sighed.

"Well, I don't mind. But why won't you come along?"

He looked at me incredulously.

"Don't you know what today is?"

"Hmm, no."

"It's Valentines!" He exclaimed.

"Ah." Today was indeed February 14th. I once again flinched. To my surprise, Nodame did not go on about a date or anything of the similar as she had in last Christmas. Something definitely sinister must have happened to her.

"Your point is?" I dryly asked.

"Well—I have a date."

"With whom?"

"You don't need to know!" he stammered.

I decided to let go of this point.

"Okay. It would better not be a prank, though. If it is, I will seriously consider kicking you out of the orchestra."

He flinched at my comment, yet smiled mysteriously.

"Oh, I won't worry about that, Chiaki. One last question,"

"Hmm?"

"Do you have anything against giraffes?"

"No, none at all." For the first time, I was bewildered.

"Hmm, I see." Chuckling, he walked away.

--

However, I immediately decided to kick Mine off the orchestra when I saw the vacant entrance of the concert hall. I checked the time again, making sure that it was eight.

"Whatever," I grumbled. I slowly stepped in the concert hall.

It was completely dark inside, and from the streetlight shining outside the window, I could barely make out a piano and a player. The sound of the door closing resonated around me. What was happening?

A slow note emanated from the stage. My eyes adjusted to the darkness, and the player came into sight.

The player of the piano was—a giraffe. Or, more precisely put, a crude and sad imitation of what seems to be a giraffe. A slow realization struck me. So this was what she was doing for the past few weeks.

I recognized the notes.

Moonlight Sonata-Beethoven piano Sonata n.14.

The first chapter.

To my immediate surprise, she did not wildly go around, creating her own version of the song. To understand the composer and the music—Nodame was slowly beginning to realize its importance.

The slow, hesitating rhythm, gaining momentum as the melody steadily escalated from the depth, harmonized with the notes, reaching to a sudden crescendo.

A pond, filled in the silver glare of the full moon—a drop of water forming navy ripples, reaching to the far edges of the bank—

I felt shivers rising as her fingers glided on the keys, forming an arpeggio.

C#G#C#

A brief silence hung in the room as she drew her breath.

The second chapter

I closed my eyes in anticipation. The brief, beautiful, yet frail hymn drifted out. It was an incredibly short, yet relieving—light—tune.

And finally—the third chapter.

A tempest. The 'giraffe' flourished her arms, moving them in superhuman speed. Was there an echo of the first chapter? The third chapter of Moonlight Sonata was renowned to be fast, but this—

This was twice faster.

The 'giraffe' threw her head back, and in the flourish, the mask was ripped off, revealing Nodame's head, dripping with sweat. She did not seem to notice this, her fingers dancing across the keyboard.

Nodame's lips were pouted as if she was singing the melody, instead of the piano. She was playing as if she was singing—cantabile.

Nodame Cantabile.

When the melody rose to a last crescendo, I glanced outside the window. It was a full moon. How fitting.

Nodame was panting on the piano. I approached her, lightly grasping her shoulders.

"Nice work, Nodame. This has to be the first time when I saw you follow the scores."

She jolted, and then whispered, "This is not Nodame. This is Mister Giraffe."

"Nodame, you do realize that your mask came off."

"Kyapoo!" she touched her face, and then screamed. I jumped in surprise. She sighed and scratched her head.

"I thought…I could surprise you, Sempai. I thought you wouldn't find out."

She must think of me as an idiot!

"You were the one who lured me to the place by describing yourself as a superb and beautiful pianist. There is only one student that I know who would describe yourself like that."

"So am I special to you, Sempai? Yes! I am Chiaki Sempai's special person!"

"Sleeptalk only when you are sleeping."

"But I thought the descriptions were fitting," she murmured.

"Talented, sometimes, but beautiful, definitely not," I settled. I ruffled her hair. "There were a few mistakes, especially in the third chapter. We'll practice—"

"No, Sempai," she whispered.

"Huh?"

"Today is Valentine's day. You know that, right?"

"I have heard about it," I admitted.

"Nodame wanted to practice Moonlight Sonata just for this. Just for—" she hesitated. I sighed, and then hugged her.

"That was a wonderful Valentine's day present. Thank you, Nodame." I whispered. My thoughts drifted back to the faded picture frame in Nodame's house, and the question written on the back of it.

Why do we love music?

Before now, I believe that both of us would not have found the answer. It was an intangible sensation, powerful yet impalpable. And right now, in this room, inundated by the moonlight as beautiful as the sonata, I may have found an answer.

And so seemed Nodame.


My first attempt at a Nodame Cantabile fanfiction. Please forgive me if I portrayed the characters a bit roughly, for I have only seen a part of the animation.

I definitely recommend Moonlight Sonata. Probably many of you must have heard it. It is an excellent sonata, one of Beethoven's best, I dare to state.

Thank you for reading, and please review!