Movement 4: A Dur

"Oi, you're still off on the second beat."

"Sorry!"

"And watch your pitch on that D sharp. Don't make it sound like an E flat."

"Aren't they the same pitch?"

"Completely different! Haven't you ever heard of the difference between real pitch and equal temperament?"

"Um..."

Tsuchiura-kun made Usa, slavedriver extraordinaire, seem like a kindly old smiling piano teacher, the kind named Yamamoto-sensei, who sat with their cat in their lap and applauded after every song.

"Speaking of Front, Center."

"Hm? I didn't say anything about her."

"You were thinking about her. I could see it on your face."

"I was just thinking that I haven't seen her in like three years. Apparently she's set up camp in one of the practice rooms and won't come out. Sleeping bag and all."

"Good for her. At least we won't have to hear her annoying voice for awhile. A person like that gets a lightbulb above their head, and then gets totally absorbed in what they're doing until they burn out completely." His eyes twinkled at me. "I knew someone like that in high school. It was cute."

"And what happened to this person?"

"She matured and figured out that the best way to improve is to do it steadily." He reached over and grabbed my bow, which I'd set down on the piano cover, and tapped my head with it. "Back to work."

"Konbanwa, Grieg," I said to the score. "How have you been? Oh, pretty well, how about you? Not bad, you know, the usual. How do you like the piece? Couldn't you have made it the least bit easier? Well, if you'd analyze the music, you would understand it."

"You sound like Front, Center."

"Do not. Grieg is the one who said that."

"No, I mean, I think you're starting to go crazy."

"Yeah..." I sighed and lifted my violin. "Again?"

We played through the first half of the piece, almost without any errors this time, and when we'd gotten to the half-way mark, Tsuchiura looked up at me and grinned.

"Not bad, Hino."

"Not bad yourself. But of course you missed the eighth note of the thirty-second measure."

"What? I did?" He instantly began scouring the score for the error. I laughed at him. "No, I was just making it up. Do you honestly think I could point out a mistake with that precision."

"You should learn to."

"Ugh..."

"Right. Again."

It was an hour and a half later when we finally had to call it quits for the day. My arms were just about falling off.

"I'm tired," I whined as he walked me back up to my dormitory. "Carry me?"

"Okay." As I turned in astonishment, he bent double and caught my waist across his shoulder, hoisting me into a fireman's carry, taking my violin with his other hand.

"Oi! Not cool, what if someone sees us?"

"Then you'll learn to wear longer skirts."

I gasped and twisted to look around at him. "No peeking!" He just laughed at me. "Stay still, or I'll drop you."

"You wouldn't dare."

"I might not have a choice."

His footsteps fell, heavier than usual, in the thick, humid July night. The cicadas were almost deafening. It occured to me that as soon as the recital was over, our short vacation would begin. I knew Tsuchiura-kun and Usa would be sticking around, but I also knew that they had their own various pursuits.

"...Tsuchiura-kun?"

"Yeah?"

"How's soccer going?"

"Okay. The team's really looking up. We might have some tournaments coming up around winter break."

"Oh." The thought of him leaving for the month of winter break made me feel somewhat lonely. The months passed so quickly. It hardly seemed that school had been going for three months already. "How are classes going?"

"Good. Except for theory, I'm the head of most of my classes."

"How do you manage it all?"

"Hi. Mi. Tsu."

"You're just a bloody genius. Why must my life be plagued with such people?"

"You chose the wrong field for mediocrisy, Hino. And besides that, you're a genius in your own way, so don't go about getting jealous over what other people are good at."

"What am I a genius at?"

"Getting people to enjoy music."

I smiled. "That sounds like a handy thing to be good at."

"It is." He paused. "Maybe you'll help someone to remember why he first loved music in the first place."

I wondered if he was talking about himself or Tsukimori-kun.

"And do it every day of his life, forever," he continued quietly.

Uh oh. This was not going down a good path. We'd started this conversation before.

"Look, there's a little campus shrine," I said, to distract him. "Got any change?"

He set me down and I skipped a couple of steps ahead while he slipped a couple of single-yen coins into the wooden slotted box, contemplating the little music diety amid its quaint trappings under the small shelter. "You coming or not?" I asked, looking back, when it seemed that his "worship" had passed its obligatory dues.

He was just gazing up at the sky. "Stars."

"Yeah. What about them?"

"They're bright and beautiful tonight. But not the only thing." He lowered his gaze and met my eyes purposefully.

My feet were rooted to the ground, and couldn't take another step. He was the one who closed the distance.

"Hino. You know why Yunoki-sempai suggested the violin sonata?"

"Um...no..."

"I think he was being nice."

I laughed. "Yunoki-sempai? Being nice?"

"Oh, I know how he treats you. Don't think I haven't noticed this whole time. But he was being nice to me, genuinely nice. He picked the one instrument that I would rather play alongside than any other." He took one more step forward.

He was so close. I didn't know if I wanted to turn and run or step even closer.

"Well," he said, lightly, tapping me on the head and passing by, "I'm sure you still have homework to do, so let's get you back to your room, kay?"

The summer air was cool, and the sky was clear, but my cheeks were very warm.

.

"You CUT your HAIR?"

Yunoki-sempai gave me the hypocritical sweet smile he reserved just for me. "I'm so glad you like it, Hino-san."

"You CUT your friggin' HAIR."

"Well observed. Is college destroying the purity of our sweet Hino-san?"

"Oi. Hino. Come. Sit. Play." Tsuchiura sat down at the piano and hit A4 noisily and purposely.

I took out my violin and started to tune. This was just a dress rehearsal, but I wanted to do my best. If I hadn't learned anything else from Kumoyama-sensei yet, I had at least learned to never tune sloppily. When I was finished, I nodded at Tsuchiura, and we breathed as one and began to play, my first set of eighth, sixtheenth sixtheenth rhythms connecting perfectly with his first chord.

Even during our practice sessions, we had never played like this. It was...breathtaking, really. I thought playing with Usa was magical, but this...this was...unearthly.

I put all my passion into it, making the violin sing as though it had a human voice, in this melancholy key, C mol. Tsuchiura's notes were neither less than nor overcoming mine, so gentle that they scarcely seemed to come from such a huge instrument.

It was a long piece, and now that I think back on it, two months was a rather daunting demand to make on a beginning violinist, but did it matter? We let the music lead us, never faltering, never hesitating, spinning on and on.

At the end, Yunoki-sempai smiled, as always, and applauded from where he sat in the front row of the auditorium. "Well done, you two," he said. "It'll be an honor to have you play for the first piece after the intermission."

"Yunoki-sempai? Is anyone else playing an intermezzo?"

"No, just you two. But don't worry, Hino-san. I have full confidence in your abilities." And he gave me that smile that let me know that every once in a while, he was actually sincere.

"Anyway, just be here a couple of hours ahead of time tomorrow, okay? I'm looking forward to it." He walked out with his flute in tow, along with the couple of stage assistants and technicians who had been touching up last minute details, and left us alone.

Tsuchiura-kun began to close the key cover, and then, thinking better of it, lifted it back open. "Hino, would you be alright with working over this one passage with me? I understand if you need to get back," he added quickly.

I shook my head and walked over to him at the piano. "What passage were you thinking of?" I asked, peering over his shoulder at the music.

"This here, from rehearsal D," he said, pointing. "Because it shifts to the major key in this section, I wanted it to feel more lighthearted...on my part, I mean. Yours was perfect. I was impressed, Hino. I have to admit I was mean."

"What?"

"I deliberately chose this piece to test your skills. Well, I guess I always knew you could do it. But really, you've surprised me. For someone like you, with no musical background, to just begin music, and come this far...you must be special."

He turned over his shoulder and grinned at me. Then he grabbed my chin and touched my nose with his index finger.

"I...don't deserve such praise," I mumbled, thinking of all the help I'd gotten over the last two years, starting with Lili, and from everyone during those first concours, and from both Tsuchiura-kun and Tsukimori-kun.

As my eyes wandered, thinking, I'm sure you can guess about whom, Tsuchiura-kun sighed and released me. "Hey, let's go over it now, and head home, okay?" he said.

I nodded, and we practiced the section again. Something occurred to me while we were playing it, though, something that made my heart stop and my fingers, too, in the middle of the passage.

"Hino, are you okay?" Tsuchiura-kun asked, when I stopped. "Sorry, I'm keeping you out so late..."

"No, I'm fine," I said, "I'm sorry to hold you up. Let's do it again."

We did. And again. And while we walked back to the train station to head back to campus, and him to his sister's, we were both silent, remembering those notes.

Because what had occurred to me was this: It wasn't that there was anything wrong with the passage the first time. It had been perfect, and Tsuchiura-kun had wanted to play it with me again, just like that. And I had, too...

.

"Ready?"

"As ready as I'll ever be." I adjusted the spaghetti straps on my lavender dress and looked hard at my reflection in the full length mirror. Maybe my sister had been right about the "freshman 15". At any rate, the top of the dress wasn't fitting quite the same as it had the last time I'd worn it in high school. I made a mental note to go on a diet.

"You should come on out," Tsuchiura-kun's voice came from the other side of the dressing-room door. "Although we aren't playing for the first half, we should be backstage to cheer on Yunoki-sempai."

"Coming." I picked up my violin case and headed for the door. As I opened it, Tsuchiura-kun's eyes widened and his mouth opened slightly.

"Eh? Are you okay?" I started to walk down the hall, him beside me.

He was still looking at me, and at the dress. I began to feel a little self-concious. "I think I've put on a little weight...Ahahaha!" I laughed nervously and touched the back of my head.

"It's not a bad thing," he murmured, and then blushed furiously.

Hmm. Now what was that supposed to mean?

We sat in a pair of metal chairs backstage, where Yunoki-sempai was touching up his tuning for the final time and running over a couple of difficult passages. "You two are ready? You look very beautiful, Hino-san. Both of you look very nice together. Picture? Give me your camera...and smile! Well, that's my call," as the stage manager beckoned from the curtain that lead to the stage. "Ready?"

"Ready," I answered, watching him leave.

Through the heavy curtain, softly, came the notes of his first song. I sat there and listened, and Tsuchiura-kun sat there and watched me with a far-off look in his eye. Yunoki-sempai came in and out for his various short breaks and water, with smiles, of course, but Tsuchiura-kun wasn't paying attention.

The last song before the intermission, I was beginning to get worried.

I don't think Tsuchiura-kun has fully recovered yet, dear Reader. Perhaps I should give him a little encouragement?

"Well, this is it!" I said cheerfully. "I'm excited, how about you?"

"Mmhm."

Warning. Warning. Bad sign when your accompanist is out of it. I reached over and smacked him on the head.

"Itai...what was that for?"

"You. What in the world are you thinking of? We're supposed to be focusing on the music, remember? Stop dreaming about soccer, or whatever it is."

He lost his temper. "Oi, I'm not dreaming about soccer! I'm definitely thinking about the music! Just the music! I'm wondering how you're going to play in a dress like that, that's all!"

"Huh? What's wrong with my dress?"

"It's too tight, Hino. How can you breathe in that thing?"

I narrowed my eyes and looked away. "It's not like there's anything I can do about it now," I said, loftily. "I can breathe just fine. You, on the other hand, look like you're about to pass out. What's the matter with you?"

"Nothing! I just don't want all the guys in the audience to look at you in that dress and think weird things, that's all!"

"What? What weird things? You're the one who's thinking weird things, Tsuchiura Ryoutaro."

He reddened even more, if possible, and "hmphed" as he crossed his arms and looked away.

I felt a little bad. "Ne, Tsuchiura-kun. I'm sorry, okay? I said something unnecessary."

No response. Mayday, mayday.

"Just think about the music, okay? We can't mess this up for Yunoki-sempai, no matter what. We have to do our best."

"You always do your best, Hino," he answered quietly. "Every day, every moment. I look at you and I feel inspired. I want to do better, because I see you working hard."

Our eyes met, and suddenly I couldn't breathe.

"Excuse me, please get ready," whispered the stage manager. We broke our gaze, and I gave a final, quiet tuning to my violin.

Then we stepped out on stage together.

I believe everyone on earth is familiar with that universal sensation, stage fright. After a few times, you begin to get used to it. But when the bright lights first hit you in the eye, and you realize that you can't see anything period, and then your vision begins to clear, all there is is the stage. You must put the audience behind you.

At the moment, neither of us were thinking of the audience, or the stage, or anything else.

The music we made that night made the night previous seem like a distant dream. "Allegro con passionata"...do you know what that means? It means, "Quickly and passionately."

Our music told about us, about the feelings that were confusedly swirling around, about our uncertainty, about hope. That passage that we'd worked on last night glided on the air, swooping and floating.

I wondered if I'd ever be able to play with anyone else again.

And then it ended, and for a moment, nobody applauded, the last notes heavy on the ears of everyone, still ringing, even through the silence afterwards. Then the whole audience broke out into cheers.

Tsuchiura-kun and I looked at each other for the first time since we'd started the piece, and we smiled as we bowed. Uncertainty? It wasn't there anymore. Hope was blossoming.

We walked back offstage, on air, it seemed.

And so...we stood just there, backstage, flooded with after-performance adrenhaline, and just stared at each other with maniac-wide smiles on our faces.

Then he started to laugh, and I did too, and back there, surrounded by old stage sets and musty instrument cases, we let loose and howled like a pair of old hound dogs until the tears streamed out of our eyes.

"Um...are you two okay?" asked the stage director, peeping from around the curtain. "It would be best if you quieted down. The audience can't hear you, but Yunoki-san might."

"Yeah, it's okay," Tsuchiura-kun said, still grinning like mad. "Just give us a minute to cool down."

The stage director gave the thumbs up, clearly used to this sort of exhilarated reaction from first-time performers, and left us alone.

The laughter was gone, but the exhileration wasn't yet.

"That was awesome," he said, looking down at me and putting an arm around my shoulders for a sidehug. "You were awesome."

I giggled and returned the hug. "Yeah, not too shabby for a first college performance, huh?" I winked at him. "You were pretty good, too."

He caught his breath suddenly, and I became aware of his bronzed face growing darker under the red glow of the dim back-stage lights.

His grip on my shoulders became firmer, and suddenly he turned me all the way around and hugged me full-on.

"Kahoko," he breathed against my hair, "you are amazing."

The prickly stubble along his chin brushed against my forehead, and I became aware, in that minute, of how much of a man Tsuchiura had become, right under my nose, over the last year and a half.

I let myself become enveloped in that manliness, enjoying the strength of his lean torso and broad shoulders, smelling his slightly metallic after-shave, and for a minute, I forgot the concert, I forgot the music we had just made, I even forgot the violinist I was waiting for in Europe. This felt right, and I hadn't even noticed this entire time.

Our rhapsody was cut short by the insistent buzz of my cellphone, buried in the depths of my backpack I'd left backstage. I sighed as I pulled away, reluctantly, and stared into his eyes for just a brief second before running over to throw the contents of my backpack madly onto the floor.

"Come on, come on, where are you?" I muttered, before my hand closed around the object of my pursuit. I snatched it up and opened it. One missed call. I hardly needed to see Tsukimori-kun's number on the screen to know it had been him. Damn! I pressed "redial", but got a busy signal.

I sighed and leaned back on my heels dejectedly. Behind me, Tsuchiura also sighed, and the two of us waited there, each feeling disappointed. At last he walked over and offered me his hand like a gentleman.

"I think we should get out into the reception hall to greet the audience with Yunoki-sempai," he said, and I accepted his hand.

Author's Notes:

Translations:

Himitsu: secret