Prologue:
Sostenuto

The pianist addressed his audience with the utmost apathy.
The applause didn't even reach his ears.
It was because Arima Kousei was already in another world, in another plane of existence that no other could comprehend.

I miss you

Chopin represented tragedy, rebirth and naivety. It was complimentary to Arima. His sounds were enveloped in so much sorrow, so much regret, that every reverberation forced tears onto its listeners. The chromatic cascade of notes scattered into the audience drawing gasps as the pitch ascended, but never enough.

I hope it reaches you

Deep yearning tore into the hearts of the auditorium. Hundreds had turned up but even without looking he knew they were transfixed with his music. With every sound a clear message of love was being sent, born through courage and faith. There was no other person that could ever hope to be a significant existence to Arima Kousei.

At least not like her.

Kaori

And as the music stopped-
Arima withdrew his fingers from the ivory keys. As always there was a deep-set silence.

Then came the applause and the cheers.
It was a sight that he yearned for, and he just wished that she could see him now, basking in the afterglow.

He was a musician; A performer.

"Bravo Arima Kousei!"

Someone had the audacity to shout amongst the thunderous clapping and he smiled, knowing that if Kaori was here she would say the same thing. Such an outspoken girl… no, not outspoken, but brave.

She ate the sweets that she wanted.
She played the music that she wanted.
She acted just the way she wanted.
She looked at the face of death and fought against it.

Bravo Miyazono Kaori

Arima walked off the stage with a smile. As always, the memory of her was especially clear after each performance and it was because of this that he advanced forward. There was no way that she would be forgotten. Her special existence would always live on inside of him and all his listeners.

"T-That was incredible."

Arima turned towards the speaker and was surprised to see it was a girl scarcely older than him. She was dressed smartly in a red skirted suit and his first instinct was to not socialize any further.

"Thank you, do you need anything else?"

She looked perplexed and shook her head vigorously. Her black hair splashed onto her thin shoulders and it was only when looking more closely did he realise that he had seen her before.

"Oh, my apologies. We've met, haven't we? Isogawa Emrin?"

"Emi! Igawa Emi!"

The girl looked indignant as she folded her arms across her chest. Arima was more than just a bit surprised. He had not expected to find someone he knew all the way here… In London.

The Royal Albert Hall was full of buzzing chatter for the later programs and he almost backed away onto the stage again to avoid the glaring providence from the girl in front of him.

"I finally found you, Legendary Pianist Arima Kousei."

"Legendary?"

Emi had grown taller, she had always been a cool beauty but there was something about her that was different. Well eight years would change anybody. It was only after staring at her face and analysing her body proportions did he realise the newspaper that was in her hands. That looked a lot like him on that pag-

"WHAT?!"

He snatched the paper and began skimming it furiously. Someone had written an article detailing his journey as a pianist and it started from when he left Japan. It was certainly thorough… but the description as 'the embodiment of Mozart' made him uncomfortable.

"I didn't believe you could be even better than back then, but it looks like I was wrong. Well I look forward to working with you, Arima Kousei."

"Working with me?"

"I know that you're teaching students at the Royal Association of Music, so I applied to be your assistant."

"Wha-"

"I'm up next, so be sure to listen."

Arima sighed in defeat. Without even having to clarify he knew that Tsubaki was behind this. That childhood friend of his... She would always find someone to keep an eye on him. Most likely the Royal Association of Music accepted Emi's request due to her intervention.

"You're sly Tsubaki."

He watched silently as his once rival performed in front of his eyes. She was shining brightly, her brow covered with glistening sweat in the stage light. Her whole body moved to the music, she breathed what she played with every second passing.

Yet…

Arima Kousei knew that it wouldn't reach him. Her music was too simplistic. There was something missing from her performance, which although enchanting, was childish. Every few bars she would speed up to build up to the climax, but it lost the original melancholic tone within her own creation. This nocturne was incomplete. Technically flawed, artistically simplistic; he wondered when he had become such a critic.

Ever since you left

The piece finished and Arima was about to leave.

But –

-A figure walked passed him. He caught a glimpse before his mouth opened in shock. His hands tried to reach out to her, but he was not fast enough. The figure stepped without hesitation onto the stage and shook hands with Emi. A violin rested firmly on her collar, the bow placed on the 'A' string ready to play.

But he wasn't in the mood to listen. His feet moved by themselves onto the stage in front of hundreds of people, still reaching out towards her in awe.
Her golden hair clipped behind her and resting on her shoulder
Her long lashes covering her piercing blue eyes
Her rosy cheeks
Her slender figure
Her long fingers
Her slim neck
Her erratic music!

The chords flew from her strings, a mixture of clear and murky vibrations. It was such an unrefined noise that Arima laughed, only she could make that sound… no; only she could play that section so beautifully.

The bow accelerated, playing single stroke phrases as individual notes.

Rebellious, but even so…

He stopped himself, noticing for the first time where he was; standing at the end of the piano reaching out towards the violinist, drawing attention from the audience. Further from that Emi was giving him a look of utter horror and he shyly backed away.

Am I going to run away again?

It was clear that no matter how skilled Emi was, she could not draw out the musicality of the violinist. She did not have the resolve to let her music be heard, while this violinist… like Miyazono Kaori… she was special.

Her cries of yearning would lose to no one.
But, could it be her?
How could it be?
But, she looked exactly like her! Sounded like her!

She was...

"What the hell are you doing?!" Emi mouthed at him from a distance. He shrugged before sitting next to her on the piano. There were whispers from the audience and the violinist was looking towards them both in anger. Her music was being lost in the drama and he was truly reminded of Kaori as her eyes met his own.

As Mozart said… let's go on a journey.

Emi gave him the 'okay' signal before letting her hands off the piano. The quiet section was coming up and was the perfect transition for the pianists.
But Arima had other ideas.

"Elohim Essaim, Elohim Essaim, I implore you."

This solemn music by Brahms could not express his feelings clearly. He was overjoyed, and with such joy his fingers slammed onto the ivory keys with avarice, stunning the audience and violinist.

"W-What?!" Emi screamed trying to push him off the narrow piano stool.

Arima would not give way, as the tempo hastened into the melodic arpeggios accompanying the string lead.

But she did not let him steal the show.

Her elbows stiffened.

She forced out a chromatic ascension, matching his speed with frightening accuracy as her bow bounced off and on the strings. Her staccato accents made it clear to him that she was more technically advanced than Kaori… there was no need to hold back.

Time and time again he would slow the tempo, before sharply speeding up; giving loud accents to hollow phrases and sometimes pausing his playing altogether.

But she kept up, her bow shimmering as her fingers blurred along the violin.

Sweat gleamed on her brow, flowing to her neck, descending onto her low cut formal dress. If there was someone like him in the crowd then Arima was sure that they would think that the violinist was sloppy, egotistic, eccentric… but undeniably beautiful.

"Let this reach you!"

He said this much louder than he intended. The violinist turned towards him mid phrasing and said clearly.

"It has reached me!"

Euphoria spread through his limbs. This piece was no longer the solemn melody from Brahms.
It was their fated meeting.
She might not be Miyazono Kaori, but she was special.
And he wanted to know more about her.

The music was nearing the end, and he sighed in sadness. Never had his playing moved him to this extent. He was not sure what kind of sound his piano was making, but he didn't care any longer. His vision was filled with shimmering flower petals and a maelstrom of water from his erratic heart-beat.

Had this been a competition, he would have lost.
Had this been an exam, the examiner would have probably fainted from the insolence of the performer.
But this was not any of those.

And it wouldn't have mattered even if it was.
This was their sound!

The final chords, and he already knew how to tackle them.

As loud as possible!

She also had similar ideas as her volume began to increase, each stroke now flowing like water as the broken bow-hairs swayed. To break her own instrument, she must have treasured this moment as much as him. Arima began to play with such force that he could feel his own wrists and elbows quake from the building pressure.

But, her sound was still louder!

The bow was now a blur of movement as she became the most stunning musician that he had ever met. Arima could scarcely believe that he was being supressed and he delved further into the music. His glasses fell to the floor, but he continued, sweat dripping onto his fingertips. A snapping sound caught his attention, but he ignored it. His playing began to drown out the violin, but she was gathering momentum once more.

Let this reach you!

The final note echoed within the auditorium.

It was the end.

Arima withdrew his hands from the piano.

There was silence as he slowly wiped the sweat from his brow with a pocket handkerchief. His hands slowly reached for his glasses and he looked towards the violinist. Her body stood tall and proud, staring up into the ceiling lights… no, beyond that. His eyes were then drawn to the violin which was limp in her left hand, two strings were broken, and the arch bent awkwardly. There was blood running down her neck from where the severed string had pierced her skin. Even so she did not give it any attention. It simply flowed onto her white dress.

Screams of admiration.

Applause echoed within the four walls.

Arima's heart shuddered at the sensation. This was the sight that he had yearned for, on stage amidst the sea of clapping hands having played all that his body had to offer. The violinist reached out towards him, and he took her hand. She was smaller than he imagined, only reaching up to his shoulder but her smile was radiant. He softly clenched her hand as they bowed to the applause.

She returned his gesture.

He chanced a look towards her face, and she did the same.

"I felt your music," they whispered in unison.

And that's when Arima knew that his journey had begun

Again