MUSE OF THE FORGOTTEN
I. From Sayaka, the Birth of a Classic
Sayaka, the most celebrated musical composition of the 21st century, found its first form in a concerto for four strings created by Kyosuke Kamijo, the prodigious Japanese violinist. By all accounts, it was not created because Kamijo desired greatness. Many people who conversed with Mr. Kamijo over the years heard the same explanation for the origin of Sayaka. Apparently, from the beginning of his career, Kamijo experienced a growing and finally crippling feeling of guilt and longing that had no cause other than the name Sayaka, which persistently rang in his ears night and day. Over the years, he discovered no clue as to who Sayaka might be. Behind closed doors, Mr. Kamijo descended into an alcoholic spiral that resulted in his contemplating the street from twenty stories up, trying to decide whether to jump because his unaccountable emotional hell would certainly end when he hit the pavement. Oddly, though, as he looked down, the Sayaka concerto emerged fully formed in his mind and inner ear, crystallizing his longing. Thus was a musical masterpiece born. On one occasion, complimented on the achievement, Kamijo said emphatically that it was simply the payment of a debt he hadn't known he had. The rest was out of his hands.
Sayako, as they say, too on a life of its own. Detached from its classical music context, it rapidly became an international standard, both as a popular melody in his main theme and a formative structure for jazz and other musical forms. Throughout its various forms, though, its uncanny emotional power left audiences and musicians in tears or states of bewildered longing. The piece, in this light, is best described as magical. What is more, the intense affect in performance is always accompanied by a compulsion to achieve new and sometimes bizarre musical expression by singers and instrumentalists. The melody and rhythm emerges in a new form with each performance, as the performer is forced, within the song, to bare her or his soul concerning longing for the lost and forgotten. When lyrics are set to the piece, the name "Sayaka" is chosen with care, since its effect invariably is emotionally explosive for the performer and audience.
II. A Glimpse of Hitomi
Winter rain, straight from the ocean, pounded down on the streets of Tokyo. Holding a large umbrella, standing in high heels and an expensive business suit, Hitomi Shizuki waited for a cab in one of the city's premier fashion districts, her hair subtly waved and the great beauty of her face clearly visible. Irritated at the failure of a cab to arrive, she closed her eyes to rest them right before the song Sayaka drifted into hearing from a music club three doors away.
Her stomach clenched and her eyes watered with the sickening sorrow and anger that the cursed song laid on her every time she heard it. She hated the name "Sayaka" because the song, and everything it had meant in her life, did not correspond to any woman she could hate or question. That woman had never existed.
"Why did Kyosuke come up with this?" Hitomi muttered the words bitterly, shaking her head. Their marriage had lasted a good ten years. But even when things were good, Kyosuke came unwound and increasingly drew away from her. The name "Sayaka" appeared on letter paper, sticky refrigerator note paper, and the margins of books. Then, to her horror, Kyosuke started cutting the name Sayaka into the surface of fine furniture and, in the worse incident right before their device, burned the name into their living room rug. She couldn't protest or help him by that time, because he would flee when he came near her. When the notice of divorce arrived at their house, it had been sent from a cheap Kyoto hotel where, it turned out, Kyosuke had settled for two straight weeks to write Sayaka, a concerto for four strings.
Entranced by the melody pouring outside from the music club, Hitomi folded up the umbrella and stood fully exposed to the rain. It was falling harder. She wanted to feel it strike every part of her, even the parts it could not touch. "Sayaka," she whispered, "you stole my husband and happiness. I should have known you would. He never loved anyone else."
Blindly, she turned and crossed the street, failing as she always did to check the traffic first.