Act 10, Autumn
In her mind she had already hurled and broken all the fragile china on the floor of Wei's dainty kitchen, thrashing out all her anger and frustration as noisily as she could the moment Rika departed the peaceful apartment. But of course being Tomoyo Daidōji meant self-control despite everything, and she could only allow herself to crash and slide against the tiled island counter in the middle of the room as an intense reaction. She wasn't anymore surprised by the turn of events, not too much anyway, not after having found out that she had "withdrawn" all her classes this morning. Her professors wouldn't accept her in class and she left the university embarrassed and defeated. Apparently, somebody who had ties with Osaka University and who could pull the strings without much effort had done that, and now even the daycare center's manager had dismissed her and an unwilling Rika had come to see her to bring the ill news.
"Gomen Tomoyo-san. Obasan wouldn't give me a reasonable explanation why she had to let you go."
The woman couldn't even bring her cinnamon eyes to look at her, ashamed for not being able to provide any acceptable reason to the kohai's unexpected release. Tomoyo was one of the hardest workers in the subway facility, and she knew the dark-haired girl badly needed this job to sustain herself.
"I understand, really. I just wish I could have properly said goodbye to the children."
They had exchanged a few forced pleasantries to ease the apprehension in the air but Rika had to excuse herself eventually.
"Anō," the senpai had hesitantly uttered just as she was turning to leave. "I'm not quite sure if this has anything to do with obasan's decision, but before she asked me to see you, there was a mysterious man who wanted to speak to her about one of her employees. Do you think that might have any connection to this?"
Of course, okaasama have always been serious about her threats.
Tomoyo didn't need to ask any more of what had happened then, suddenly uninterested and tired, and only thanked Rika for coming to see her in spite of the news.
"I'm really sorry, Tomoyo-san."
She shook her head and handled a serene look on her paler face and an easy bow, but inside she broke into a million pieces all over again.
Everybody, the idle instructors and students in the hallways, could note that those amethyst eyes of hers were unusually passive despite the brighter afternoon. She offered a reserved smile and a bow to any greeting that came her way but she never stopped her determined pursuit of the headmaster's office in the southern wing.
"Daidōji-san," Yoshiyuki Terada acknowledged the former heiress with an allusion of surprise, bowing anyway as the young instructor made her way to her superior's desk. "I was just about to call for you."
Stacks of paper, a scheduler, a digital clock and a framed picture of a smiling Rika Sasaki angled obliquely were just a few of the things that could be seen on his table. He didn't attempt to arrange the disorder in front of him but he stopped whatever activity he was previously engaged in to entertain Tomoyo.
"I'm sorry if I interrupted your work but there is something urgent that I would need to speak to you about," Tomoyo stated without delay, clutching a signed paper in her hands. Her agitation was ambiguous despite her pursed lips and tensed movements.
"I think I know what this is about, Daidōji-san," Terada said just as the young woman was going to hand the paper to him, unaware of her anxiety.
"You do?" She wondered if her mother had already reached him and knew what she was really here for, but then the former heiress instantly dismissed the thought when the youthful headmaster had an easy grin on his tanned face. That certainly wouldn't be his reaction if he's forced to let her go.
Terada politely made a gesture for the instructor to take a seat.
"I'm glad that you're back today. Your students couldn't be consoled on your first day of absence, and I had to ask my sister to take care of your voice class," he told her.
"I didn't mean to cause anyone trouble." She seemed to be apologizing a lot these days.
"Forgive me. I'm not trying to make you feel guilty, Daidōji-san. I just remembered how the children harassed my sister in her first substitution class." His rich laughter reverberated in his office, overwhelming the fugue playing in the background. "Anyway, so he had told you about his proposition for the recital next month then. What do you think of a piano duet? It's not entirely a rare event in recitals. Actually, I personally think yours would be an interesting arrangement."
"Recital? Piano duet?"
The fleeting exhilaration ran through her veins.
"A duet with Eriol-kun, yes. His and your debut of sorts. Didn't he mention it to you? I was sure he was going to after he spoke to me yesterday." The crease on Terada's forehead was enough sign that he was puzzled himself, and the grin on his lips quickly melted away. "Eriol-kun had previously told me about discovering your talent by accident, but it was just yesterday that he made a proposal."
Hiiragizawa-san?
Her dark lashes fluttered at the heady suggestion, heart hammering madly against her chest. The blush rose to her face as she recalled of the day when the dorm mate had found her in his practice room.
But I can't—not now when—
"I really have no idea about any proposal, kōchō-sensei," the former heiress confessed however, foiling her own sudden excitement as her hope was devastated by her own ruthless reality. "In fact, I came here early for an entirely different matter."
Even before he had it in his hands, Terada had already read the graceful kanji on the folded paper.
"You're resigning?" Pure disbelief graced his previously smiling face.
"Hai." She expected herself to look so upset as the word was spoken, but the young woman thankfully was able to keep a straight face despite her inner turmoil.
"I don't understand why you are doing this. Didn't you say you love teaching music to children?"
Tomoyo hid her shaking hands in her front pockets.
"I do. I really love teaching and children and music...and you gave me the opportunity of pursuing what I've dreamed of since I was a child. But I'm leaving Tomoeda, kōchō-sensei."
"If I may ask...why, Daidōji-san?"
"I have somewhere else to be." Though that wasn't completely a dishonesty, the young woman was silently restless and could not look up to the headmaster's face.
Terada might have taken the action as a consequence of cultured indifference.
"It's inevitable."
"What is?"
"I can't stay. I shouldn't stay," Tomoyo calmly said, not even answering his question, but inside she was privately pained at the fact that she had to leave very soon, too. "I hope you understand."
Terada had stood from his seat and carefully paced a short distance from the sparsely decorated walls to the cushioned seat right across the amethyst-eyed girl. He had tried to read through the mask that his youngest voice instructor had suddenly sported the moment she looked away from his eyes, but he couldn't quite get past her pretense to detached composure. Daidōji Tomoyo had seemed pleased at her senpai's proposal earlier.
The Brahms symphony that just previously reached the closing bars left a suspended emptiness in the air as the only two people in the room sat still, thoughts afloat to divided concerns. The intense radiance of the afternoon sun hadn't been enough consolation to any of them.
"I suppose I have no choice but to accept this," the superior told her finally, but not without a disappointed sigh. "However, know that I regret letting you go so easily, Daidōji-san. I really would have wanted to see what you could do with Eriol-kun."
Tomoyo could only bow in silent gratitude to the headmaster.
As her now former employer saw her out of the door a pleasant Mozart sonata greeted their ears.
"That's Eriol-kun," Terada remarked almost absentmindedly, staring at the slightly opened practice room athwart his office. "He particularly likes this adagio played much softer than necessary."
The young headmaster and his former voice instructor peered at the door pane, automatically drawn to the quiet music's invitation. The bespectacled pianist's rather taut posture on the bench and his unreadable face were harsh disparities to his limber fingers on the ivories in front of him.
"Clow Reed should be proud of the boy," the older one among the unmoving spectators said, still strangely thoughtful. "His son had worked so hard to catch up with him. Eriol-kun should also realize that he is his own person."
A shadow had formed on the dark-haired man's face as the macabre shade of the nearby tree fell on his suddenly lithe figure. The pianissimo was performed more harshly than what was intended of the piece.
Why, Hiiragizawa-san? Why did you have to give me hope just when I have to go away?
"I can only hope for the success of the recital, sensei."
She didn't even know why she had to say that.
A/N: Yeah, there's a hint of Terada/Rika there, you haven't read it wrong. And, Eriol is playing the piano part of Mozart's Piano concerto no.23: Adagio. You might want to check that one out.
Quick Notes:
gomen/gomen nasai - "I am sorry."
obasan - aunt
kocho-sensei – headmaster