Cat's in the Cradle
Disclaimer: The world of Nodame and all her characters belongs to Tomoko Ninomiya
Chapter 1
He was late… but he had desperately needed something to fortify him. Judging at the Conservatoire de Paris' annual piano competition was not something he was looking forward to. But somehow the conservatory's administrators had heard that he was in town and one of their regulars had taken ill at the last moment. Hence, it fell upon him to fill the role, after some cajoling, of course. He supposed he could have turned it down but he had many good memories there and Auclair could be very persuasive. He surmised that it would be the usual mixed bag and endless stream of participants ranging from the indifferent to the cream of the crop. If luck was on his side, this would be a good year. More importantly, if there was just the one… one memorable competitor was worth a hundred. It would make up for the lengthy, sometimes laborious nature of these events.
By the time he got there, the auditorium was packed. He shuffled his way to his seat and collapsed into it.
"Suffering from jetlag, I see." The judge on his right commented knowingly.
"Jetlag… I suppose you can call it that."
"The service in business class must be particularly good. Cognac, eh… lucky devil."
In spite of how he was feeling, he smiled. Baumont, who was seated to his right was known for his epicurean indulgences and obviously had tuned his olfactory senses to a fine degree. Before he could comment further, he heard a loud hush from the end of the row and everyone fell silent. The lights dimmed and the first contestant strolled in… a curvaceous Russian blonde… not bad looking if one cared for that sort of look… and then promptly took her place at the Steinway D.
She struck her first note. This signal the beginning. He and his colleagues now had the unenviable task of sifting and sorting through a whole gamut of sounds to select the three most deserving candidates.
Occasionally his mind would drift off to happier days in Paris… just to relieve himself of the tedium of watching and waiting. Baumont had the annoying habit of tapping his seat when he was excited and Pusson, on his left, constantly dozed off, giving off a gentle snore with astonishing regularity.
He listened absent-mindedly to the Ravel in the background while he was reminded of memories of his son tearing through the streets of Paris shouting "bonjour" to every bystander. Those were the days, he lamented wistfully. These days, he hardly saw his son.
"The next one looks to be a countryman of yours." Baumont had broken into his reverie.
Huh?
"Japanese, isn't it… Megumi Noda…"
"Yes… I suppose so. Female."
"The Revolutionary Etude… This should be interesting… Might even liven things up a little." There were chuckles all round. The last three were somewhat somber. The last one was particularly dour.
Megumi Noda… The name was familiar… where had he heard that name before?
He hadn't been back home for so long and had lost touch with the music scene there. Still there was a nagging feeling that he should know the name. Before he could think further, the lady herself made an appearance. To call her a lady seemed like a misnomer. In some ways, she seemed like a child but there was a determined air about her that gave her demeanor greater gravity.
The owner of the name was a stooped figure and had a rather awkward gait. Peering through her disheveled mop, she timidly sat down and gathered herself together. There was a moment's hesitation as if she was searching for an appropriate context but that was all. Once she began, there was something akin to an explosion… her fingers were flying furiously across the keys. She was a zealot on a mission and she would take it as far as she could. The left hand semi-quavers seemed effortless in her large, pale hands.
It was an intriguing interpretation of the etude… full of anguish and anger. On some level, it seemed wrong but on another it was as if the player was dragging her audience on an emotional journey that threatened to engulf them all.
What in the world could motivate a person to play like this… straddling between madness and exuberance? He didn't know but there was something unique about Megumi Noda… an indefinable charisma… a rare quality of being able to act as a bridge between the audience and the music. He stole a quick look at his fellow judges… they appeared equally mesmerized… even Pusson was wide awake shaking his head.
He was astonished that another pianist could evoke such strong emotions in him. A renowned pianist in his own right… jaded about life, harbouring all those regrets… and struggling to find a way to make peace with the past. For him, it has always been about the music… music came first… and he paid the price. In a way he had conquered the world but the world had left him empty because there was no one to share it with.
Megumi Noda. Noda Megumi. She stood up and bowed, and the room burst into applause. She looked taken aback but responded with a gleeful smile. It was hard to believe this child-like creature could find the dark side of Chopin and unleash its fury. She was definitely a name to watch.
Several others followed. Some with more technical rigor but there was something about the 23 year old Japanese girl that lingered in one's memory.
The judges deliberated, ranted and raved. But it had to be down to ten. Right in the middle of the list was Megumi Noda, the daughter of a seaweed farmer in Kyushu, Japan. Her performance of the Revolutionary Etude would be talked about for days.