Seasons
Spring
When he first sees her, it's like his whole world turns to color.
It's almost overwhelming, because the monochrome that he's used to seeing every day of his life has exploded into a strange brilliance for the first time in years. The impact is jarring.
Then he blinks, and realizes that it's not possible that a stranger he's never talked to could make him see such vibrant colors all at once. Logically, it's probably just the arrival of spring in this particular park and nothing special.
Cherry blossoms litter the trees, the lively melody stops, and Miyazono Kaori turns around and their eyes meet for the first time.
She almost smiles.
.
The next few moments are a blur. Soon, she's on stage and she's performing the Kreutzer, and he watches her from one of the audience seats. For once, he's the spectator, not the performer.
Her bow slides past the strings, and he tenses almost immediately. Her playing is different. It's strange. He doesn't understand, at first - it almost seems like a mistake. A misinterpretation.
Her performance paints completely different colors than the ones Beethoven wrote down. It makes him nervous. She's broken the rules, and he knows that the judges won't like it. He knows his mother wouldn't have liked it. He knows that he shouldn't like it, either.
But it's different, and it sounds alive, like a glimpse of the freedom and courage he's never had. He closes his eyes, and the notes flow through his entire body.
It almost sounds beautiful.
Summer
Summer arrives and they play their first duet. It's completely awful - they aren't in sync at all, and halfway through the notes of the piano dissipate and suddenly he can't hear anymore.
He panics.
The ghost of his mother consumes him once more, and he finds himself falling, sinking deeper into the void of sound. He's drowning. Suffocating.
For that one moment, he really believes that he's nothing more than a good-for-nothing machine that can't function without his mother. Just like he's always been.
But then he sees her. Kaori. She looks almost radiant under the stage lights, like an angel in his dull world. And something snaps and he doesn't care anymore, he's going to play even if he can't hear the sound. He's going to play for her, for the most beautiful girl he's ever met.
Everything is warming up.
Fall
The leaves are crimson and gold, fresh and crisp, like burning fires on the trees. The air is cool but not cold, and everything smells of apples and cinnamon.
Together, they jump into the water under the bridge, fully clothed, and he loses his glasses somewhere. The evening sunsets turns to a blur of red and blue in his imperfect vision, and the water is cold and deep and he can't touch the ground.
It's frightening.
Then Kaori starts to laugh, and despite himself, he can't help but laugh too. It feels like he's little again, in the few days before his mother confined him to the piano, and he likes that.
For the first time in awhile, he feels alive again.
Winter
He's angry when he finds out. He's so angry because she never told him. She never trusted him enough to say anything.
But mostly, he's angry because he's scared. He's so scared that he'll lose her. Her life is faltering with every single second and yet he can do nothing at all - no matter how well he plays the piano, it won't be enough. It will never be enough to save her.
In the end, he's nothing more than Friend A.
A helpless spectator from the sidelines.
Kousei's breath escapes him in a cloud of white as he stands outside of the concert hall. Taking in a deep breath, he shoves his cold, numbing hands into his pockets and makes his way backstage.
When he steps in front of the crowd, the people burst into applause. He can't see their faces, but he already knows.
Kaori isn't here.
She's in the hospital.
He takes a seat at the piano bench and closes his eyes. He thinks of Tsubaki and Watari, of Emi and Takeshi, of his mother and Saki.
He thinks of Kaori - her raincloud eyes; the brilliant sound of her violin filling the room; the feeling of her hand pressed against his; the way her lips curve, so effortlessly, into a radiant smile.
He begins to play.
...
She dies in the hospital later that day.
Spring (2)
It's a particularly rainy spring. The sporadic rain seems to wash away all the colors around him, and he finds himself faced with the same, colorless world once again.
It's a spring without her.
Everything feels inexplicably empty. When he calls her name, no one responds. It's like he's banging his fingers on the keys of a piano, but all he's faced with is an overwhelming silence where there should be sound.
Miyazono Kaori is gone.
She was too young. Only fourteen. He hadn't even had the chance to play a second duet with her. He hadn't even had the chance to say goodbye.
His fingers trail over the flagstone of her grave, and he suddenly wants to scream her name, wants to hear the sound of her playing her violin or speaking to him. One more time. Just one more time.
Instead, he lifts his glance to the sky.
Did it reach her?
The clouds are parting, and spring sunlight filters in from a pool of blue. He can almost see Kaori silhouetted there, with her smile that is one thousand times brighter than the sun. He's Friend A, sure, and she's just another character in his story, yet she is everything.
Does she know? Does she know that she's the one who saved his life? That even now, he's in love with her, just as much as before?
.
I hope it reached her.
...Just a quick(ish) oneshot.
I'd be eternally grateful if you could leave a review! ;-;