Title:Yours, Ryoutaro T.
Disclaimer:La Corda is unfortunately copyrighted, and not by me either.
Author:Catchline
Notes: Because there's not enough tsuki/tsuchi love out there. Hence this short fluffy piece, starring one drunken, miserable Tsuchiura.
Rating: K+, for ideas (i.e. drinking) that children really shouldn't be acquainted too well with.
Warning: Slight hint of slash. Don't like, don't read.
Len,
I'm calling you that because today is the last day I can. As of tomorrow I'll be flying to the States to pursue a degree in music in Shepherd. My parents are going with me, which means I'll probably never return to Japan again.
I suppose this is goodbye then.
I know this is sudden. To tell the truth, I've known this for over three months. So does Kahoko, actually, but I asked her to keep silent about this because I wanted to tell you myself. Except I haven't. So I'm telling you now.
As I write this, I wonder why I'm even doing this. Two years ago I didn't even know your name, and one and a half years ago I wouldn't have seen the need to inform you of my actions. A part of me wishes I could pretend it still is so, for things were so much less complicated then. Except I couldn't – can't – because of the gold of the sunlight on the wood of your violin and the silver of the strings on your bow, because of the harmony between your vibrato and my fortissimo and the contrapuntal bridge between your instrument and mine that even you cannot deny exists.
I don't know if you've already guessed, but the first time I ever entered a music competition was because of you. I found these competitions pointless until I heard your playing in Minami's store. And when I lost confidence in music, it was you who brought me back to the world of music. Back then I thought I found someone to play against.
It wasn't until that evening when we first played together that I realized what I wanted was to play with you. When my fingers unconsciously strayed to the black and white keys at the first strains of your Paganini, I suddenly found the reason for the La Campanella and Liszt. You were my invisible standard all those years when I played only to myself, always pushing myself to strive for the better because, in one corner of my mind, so were you.
You're probably wondering why I'm telling you this. It is, partly, because this is my last chance to do so. But, and more importantly, it's also because I've finally decided that I'm done hiding from it. I don't know when this thing between us changed from rivalry to camaraderie to – well, to this, whatever it is. But when I first noticed this change, I was confused and tried to deny it. You asked me then if I had fallen ill, remember?
I had replied in the affirmative then, and you didn't suspect anything. For someone so skilled in detecting the slightest slip in tune or rhythm, you are – and have always been, actually – extremely dense in matters such as these. Or perhaps you believed me because my music hadn't changed. The music hadn't changed, because it had been telling the truth even before I knew what was happening. I could deceive myself, but I couldn't deceive the music.
And if the music already knew, then I, too, am going to face this like a man. There's no denying the heart, right? Kahoko taught us that.
Kahoko. She taught us a lot of things, and for that I'm grateful to her. Thanks to her, everyone has changed for the better, including me. And you. Without her, we would never have met, and that thought is no longer something I can entertain impassively.
So perhaps in future I will take out those score sheets and we can play a duet together again, but until then I will be playing alone.
Because after those duets with you, I can't play with anyone else now, you see. It doesn't matter who I'm accompanying, in my mind there is always be the comparison of that person with you, and that feeling that something is missing. I've tried. Even with Kahoko, there's the sense of something not right. It's not even something wrong, it's just not right. Without you, the magic is gone.
In any duet, there is always a magic connection between the two musicians. It exists in the interaction between the hearts of the two players, a bond that allows their music to communicate with each other. Previously, I thought that just the shared love for music would be enough to bridge the gap between two players. It was only after that first duet with you that I realized I was wrong. There was a special something that made our music sing, and that is something I have been unable to find with anyone else – and therefore I can never duet with anyone other than you again.
I had not planned for that, you see.
I can no longer remember what I had planned – not even the vague themes along which ideas of the future always run along. But whatever that was, it didn't account for the seamless conversations between your violin and my piano, nor did it explain how my music entwines around your melody as they spiral up in the air in a way that is, simply, magic.
It has become an obsession.
Music, I know you'll say, is an obsession. But the problem is that this obsession is no longer on music. It has focussed on you.
This will come as a shock. After all, I spent the better part of last year doing my best to hide this from the rest of the world. It took me three large cups of sake to bring myself to write this, and even now I'm losing my nerve to finish it.
I left my school sweater at your home the other day. I had planned to collect it and pass you this letter later today; only I've already addressed the envelope. In fact, at this point in time I have no idea whether I'm even going to send this. So if you're reading this, it means that this letter has survived against all reason and sanity.
My one consolation is that, regardless of what your reaction to this is, I will never get to know of it. After all, everyone is abuzz with the news that Julliard has, for the first time in our school's history, offered a full scholarship to a member of our school. The chance is too rare to pass up, even for you. And after that you'll perform, of course. After all, there is nothing better than to spend one's life doing what he loves most. And in that case, perhaps we'll perform together again one day and the magic will return.
Until then, I'll be waiting with the scores. After all, Kahoko may be the one who reminded my why I love the piano, but it was you who made me remember what I loved about the piano in the first place.
Yours,
T. Ryoutaro
End Notes: Feedback of any kind will be very much appreciated. Meanwhile, here's a shameless plea for more tsuki/tsuchi fics. There's so few of them out there.