Anxious Autumn: Falling Leaves

Shigatsu wa Kimi no Uso © Naoshi Arakawa, A-1 Pictures, and other rights holders.


To become spring, means accepting the risk of winter. To become presence, means accepting the risk of absence.

- Antoine de Saint-Exupéry

- - - oOo - - -

"I saw you walking with a girl," Tsubaki said, gesturing in the direction of Gakuen-dori. "You two seemed reeeaally familiar with each other. I mean, I wouldn't have the guts to drag you into a hidey-hole to make out."

"What?" Kousei fought hard to keep the surprise from his face. It didn't prevent him blushing, though.

Tsubaki got that smug look of one who thought she got the drop on another person. "Huh? You said you were going to tell me the truth. Is she your classmate?"

"She used to be." Kousei stared at her.

"What? Why are you looking at me like that?"

A surge of people coming out of the station forced them to step aside. "Do you really want to talk about this here?"

"Let's go somewhere more private then."

They settled for a nearby food joint, where they got bowls of soba and took seats in a relatively private corner. The place was full of people, but it stayed pretty quiet—they could hear the classical music played over the speakers suspended on the walls.

Kousei's nervousness made him speak. "Why aren't you furious? I thought you'd be spitting mad, catching me with another girl."

"Well . . . part of me does want to kick you in the shins right now. The other part is telling me I'd be a fool to do so, since we never agreed to stop seeing other people." She grabbed Kousei's hand. "I guess that was my fault. But why did you never tell me you were seeing someone else?"

"Tsu-chan . . . it's kind of difficult to explain." Kousei quietly looked up the length of the street, with its pedestrians, its cars, its white streetlamps. "Look, I'm not trying to hurt you or anything, but maybe . . . maybe you should meet her."

Tsubaki twirled the noodles in her bowl with her chopsticks. "And I thought Kaori's memory was the only serious competition I had. Why do you want me to meet her?"

"You make it sound like I'm as bad as Watari when it comes to girls."

"Come on, Kousei. Why?"

Kousei carefully considered his next words. "There is definitely something you must see. When you do, you'll realize why I couldn't just tell you about it . . . about her." The sliced egg he had been trying to pick up disintegrated and fell back into the broth.

"Do you love her very much?" A change in music punctuated Tsubaki's question.

Kousei's ears perked up. He wasn't sure if she knew, though she surely had heard it before—Kreisler's "Love's Sorrow". It just about crushed him to hear it now, of all times.

"Yeah. I . . . I didn't know how to tell you that, so . . . ."

"Then I'll meet her. But only for a short time." Tsubaki noiselessly vacuumed the noodles into her mouth. "Come on, eat your food and take me home."

"Tsubaki . . . ."

"Let's not talk about it any more tonight. But you know something?"

"What?"

"I . . . I'm not sure I can give you up just like that," came Tsubaki's soft reply.

What could one say to such words? Kousei never hated himself as much as he did at that moment. On the train ride and the walk home they were beside each other, but they might as well have been on opposite ends of a gap—a gap as wide as the world. In the morning, before going to school, Tsubaki tried to see him.

"I'm sorry, Tsubaki, but he left very early this morning. He said was going back to his dorm," answered a fully-dressed but sleepy-looking Takahiko Arima. "Did you need him for something?"

"Oh, no, no. I was just going to wish him good luck," fibbed Tsubaki. "Sorry to disturb you."

"That's okay. Want some tea or something?"

"No thank you. I just finished. I'll let myself out."

Tsubaki walked out and closed the latch. She stood looking forlornly at the window of Kousei's room before heading down the quiet street.

- - - oOo - - -

Three days later, after a stint at the Shibuya live bar where he sometimes hung out, Kousei headed for Hikaru's house. Kaori was there, hooked up to a drip bottle and flowmeter and a rack-mounted suite of biomedical apparatus standing by her bed. She was effusive in her greetings, but Kousei remained quiet, for he felt troubled; he had wanted to confront her about the jacket, but seeing her lying wan and pale on the bed stopped him. Now was not the time, he told himself, yet his unuttered fears were eating at him.

"I hope you don't mind waiting a bit," she said apologetically as she sat up in her bed. "It's almost done, just a couple of more minutes."

"That's fine, Kaori. My dad knows I'll be coming home late anyway. How are you feeling?"

The pale-skinned girl nodded. "I'm okay. In fact, I just want this to be over so I can ask you to help me."

"Do what?"

A light twinkled in Kaori's eye. "I was sort of hoping you could help me with The Lark."

Kousei smiled faintly. "Uh-oh. Look, just let me do a pass at it—I haven't touched it lately. Are we using the music room?"

"Yup."

"Sure you're up to it?"

"Yes. Stop worrying."

Thirty minutes later they made their way down to the music room. Kaori was dressed in crocheted jacket, long-sleeved shirt, and black pants; she moved slowly but insisted she was well enough to practice.

"What was that about?" asked Kousei, motioning upstairs.

Kaori cocked her head at him as she tied a kerchief around her head to keep her hair away from her face. "Don't tell me you've already forgotten. The deal with the people who were after me, remember?"

"Oh."

"Earth to Kousei Arima, come in, Arima," she joked, walking over to a rectangular black instrument case lying on top of a dresser. She undid the latches of the thing and opened it, carefully bringing out a golden brown violin.

"You have a new violin?" Kousei asked.

"Borrowed, thanks to Hikaru-san's friend." Kaori gave the scrollwork an affectionate pat. "He and I have been getting along quite well."

"He?"

Kaori laughed. "I don't know why, but something makes me think it's a guy." From the case Kaori brought out a bow. "I need a couple of minutes to tune it."

Kousei nodded and sat down at the keyboard, digging around in his shoulder bag and bringing out the sheet music for the William Auer version of The Lark. He smoothed it over his knee before putting it on the backboard.

"Kaori?"

"Yeah?"

"Where's Hikaru-san?"

"She left this morning for Hokkaido and won't be back until the weekend. Give me an A, would you?"

Kousei switched voices on the keyboard and played a bass A.

"Haha. That's so funny, Kousei."

In response, Kousei smiled and played a shrill upper note.

"Quit fooling around . . . ." Kaori stood up threateningly.

Quickly Kousei played the appropriate tone. "Lighten up. You're so serious about this."

Kaori mumbled something, but the sound of her tuning the strings covered her voice.

"Sorry, I didn't quite catch that."

"I said," the flaxed-haired girl said, her voice rising, "that's because there's no way I'm going to allow you to become Miss Beanpole's prize!"

For a long second they stared at each other, with Kousei's face doing a passable impression of a tomato. Or someone who had had a sudden case of sunburn.

"You're so dense you make me say the stupidest things!" snapped Kaori, her own cheeks aflame with color. "Don't you dare gloat over what I just said."

"I wasn't . . . I wasn't going to."

Kaori finished setting her violin up and played the beginning of Mendelssohn's Violin Concerto in E Minor, quickly halting and adjusting her instrument when a string or two sounded out of tune—and Kousei could hear it, what with his perfect pitch. When she was finished, she nodded curtly at her accompanist.

Opening with a tentative measure, Kousei was slightly taken aback by Kaori's opening, which to his mind was a bit too harsh. Kaori herself must have noticed, because she immediately stopped and said "Again."

The repeat sounded better. It was played in that characteristic stop-go-stop fashion that people practicing have: sometimes they would have a short discussion on how a part should sound. And since Kousei was now in his element, his reticent self disappeared, and he shared his opinions on Kaori's playing, leading to an argument or two. Kaori looked visibly hurt at the end of the last one, where Kousei said "Look, just because it's a popular thing to do doesn't mean it should be done. Everything you need is on the notation. I'm not a string player, but for example, I've read that a certain legendary cellist played a passage in a concerto a particular way, and now practically every cello player also plays it the way she played it, because of her." He shrugged. "That doesn't really sit well with me, sometimes."

"Well, I think it's okay," Kaori fired back, "and lots of well-known musicians don't stick to the sheet music like a train on rails. And people like their music just fine."

"I never said it wasn't okay. I said I'm uncomfortable with it. I think that for classical music, there's a lot of room for expressing your own feelings within the piece itself. Think how Kissin sounds different from Bradley."

"Well, we'll just have to disagree on that point." Kaori pursed her lips. "I play the way I want to play, you play the way you want to play. Hmph." She pondered. "Maybe it's because we're both soloists."

"Maybe."

Kaori shouldered her violin. "But I think I ought to remind you you're accompanying me for this piece. Let's proceed." Looking down the fingerboard, she thought to herself, And in this, your mother lives on. She resumed playing from where they left off.

They finished the lied and remained where they were for a long moment, frozen statues in a silent tableau, each not wanting to break the spell of the music.

"It was you." Kousei's words fell into the silence.

"Me?"

"You taught me to look beyond the score, beyond the notes." Kousei looked up at her. "But with you gone, I lost a great part of my inspiration. So I fell back to doing what I knew best—technical perfection and pathos. I could play 'happy,' but in it . . . there was always an echo of the time I lost you."

Kaori walked back to the dresser, laid her violin on the case, and walked back to Kousei. He was still seated on the bench; she stood in front of him and gave him a hug.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered. "If I could've spared you . . . ."

Kousei's right hand went up against the small of Kaori's back and pressed her to him, while his left arm encircled her waist. He could hear the flutter of her heart, beating inside its cage; her scent was warm, earthy and faintly sweet, somehow reminding him of a dewy forest glade with a night sky full of glittering stars. "It's okay. Everyone's got to grow up sometime, right?"

"Yeah." Kaori stroked his hair. "They say work is the best antidote to sorrow. Come on." She strode back to her violin and picked it up, lifted it into place and set bow to string. "Let's continue our journey."

- - - oOo - - -

For two hours they practiced. When they called a stop to it they were both mentally tired.

Kaori sighed. "You know what I really need? I need to play in front of an audience."

"Hmm." Kousei looked up from the keyboard. "It just so happens that there's going to be a sort-of student recital next week at my school. I might be able to sneak you in."

"You'd do that for me?"

"Of course."

Kaori seemed to light up with glee. Clasping her hands together, she exclaimed "Thank you!" and went over to give him a peck on the cheek. "Ooh, I wonder if Mom and Dad can come and watch."

"There isn't an assigned audience, so as long as there are seats . . . ."

"Do you have classes tomorrow?"

"Well, no, but I have to go back to my dorm."

"How do I get to your school?"

"What? Why?"

"I just want to have a look at it."

"Shouldn't you be doing that with your parents?"

"I will. But I need directions."

"It'd be easier to draw you a map. It's two train rides, unless you want to end up in the boondocks."

Kousei moved to a table and with pen and paper from his bag, sketching directions and explaining to Kaori as he did so. As he talked, she saw something in his bag and fished it out.

"Hey, you had our photo printed?"

"Uh-huh."

Kaori looked at their snapshot. In it they were standing in the Arimas' living room. She was grinning and he was smiling, his fingers forming a V-for-Victory sign, while his other arm had boldly encircled Kaori's waist.

"Hey, um, give me one of yours," she said.

"As soon as I get back home. Everything's on a flash drive."

"Borrow your pen."

Kousei handed it over.

She turned the photo over and scribbled on the back. Kousei reached for it, but Kaori snatched the photo away, shaking a finger and saying, "Ah-ah-ah. You don't get to read it until after we have one final go." She stuffed it down her skirt pocket.

Kousei sighed. "Killjoy."

They played through The Lark one last time.

"Your opinion?" queried Kaori after the last note had died away.

"The solos sounded a lot better." To illustrate his point Kousei played a fragment of Chopin's Etude in C-Sharp Minor Op. 10 No. 4, slurring his way through it the first time, then playing each note clearly the second. "Image it."

"Eh?"

"Image it, like a certain violinist told me before." A phantasm of Kaori wearing her white dress, flower hairclip in her hair, momentarily overcame Kousei, staring with unblinking eyes into his soul before dissipating. Look up, came a disembodied voice. Look at me.

Kousei glanced over at Kaori, who had settled against the dresser on which the instrument case lay, leaning on it as she held her violin by the neck and cradled the bow. Her eyes were closed.

Kousei played a few bars of The Lark. "Image?" he prompted.

"A bird flying over an autumn field full of grass."

"Boring."

"The bird is circling the field. It is singing."

"Why is it singing?"

Kaori's eyes popped open. "Because . . . the higher it climbs, the farther its song can carry." Kousei had the impression that she wanted to say something else, but chose rather not to say it. She reached for the instrument case. "I-I think that'll be enough for now. You must be hungry."

"To tell you the truth, practice always makes me hungry." Kousei smiled. "But I already ate before I went here, so you don't need to worry about that."

"Nonsense. You're eating before you go home, even if it's only a snack."

Still a bit fatigued by the practice, the prodigy chose discretion over valor. "Yes, Milady."

"Great. Otherwise I'd have to eat all of the food." She took a cloth from the case and began to wipe the violin down. "Give me a moment, I'll just put this away."

"Got a name for it?"

"A name?"

"Well, you see, all those master-class violins seem to have names. I was just wondering what you called the one you have now."

"Gee, I never thought about it," Kaori remarked, pulling the cloth gently between the strings and fingerboard. Her face brightened. "How about 'Chocolate Lightning'?"

Kousei made a face.

"Monitor Lizard, after the Molitor Stradivarius."

"Kaori . . . ."

"Just kidding." She finished packing the violin and closed the case, snapping its fasteners shut. "How about 'The Canele'?"

Kousei's face turned serious so fast Kaori wondered for a second if she had committed a serious gaffe. "No way. Can't be."

"Why?"

"You'd eat it."

The blond girl laughed. "In a heartbeat. You know, I feel like eating you up." Kaori stomped over to Kousei. She ruffled his hair with both hands, and brought her head down to bite his shoulder.

"No hickeys!"

"Too late."

Kousei's hands went round her waist. At first Kaori wondered what he was doing, caressing her sides, but when his hands started roaming upward she knew all too well what he intended.

"No . . . Kousei . . . don't—"

As quick as lightning Kousei reached downward, into Kaori's pants pocket, and pulled out the photo before she could stop him. He raised his trophy in triumph.

Kaori straightened up, at once annoyed and relieved. "You piano pervert!" she yelled. "I thought you were going to do something risqué!" To make sure he knew how she felt, she bopped him once on the head.

"Ow!" Kousei grabbed her and forced her to sit down beside him. "Now let's see what you wrote. 'K. liebt K. I'm so glad we met again.'" Kousei looked at Kaori, a wide grin splitting his face.

Kaori turned pink. She placed her hands on her knees and looked away from him. "Meanie."

"Hey." Kousei leaned over and kissed the side of her neck, sending a shiver down her spine.

"What?"

"I love you too. Even if you always hit me and pinch me, even if you fly off the handle at the smallest things. I know a better way of showing how K. loves K."

He took hold of her shoulder and tried to pull her towards him. As she was leaning away from him, it was easy for her to resist, and she didn't budge an inch.

Kousei made a questioning noise, to which the blond teenager replied "Don't wanna."

"Why?"

"You might do something."

"I won't."

"You promise?"

"May I eat a field of spider lilies if I don't."

"Yuck. Please don't say that." Kaori leaned back until her weight was supported by Kousei. He smiled at her. "Doesn't that feel much better?"

"I hate you. You make me feel weak," grumbled Kaori. "And you're only doing this because you're feeling romantic at the moment."

"The last time we did something like this . . . ." Kousei said, "I was more like wishing I could take the fear and pain away from you. I felt so helpless because I couldn't. Just like I couldn't help my Mom." He told her in a monotone how he had said "I wish you were dead" after she had beaten him with her cane after that competition. When he had finished his tale, Kaori twisted over to his side and insinuated herself into the circle of his arms, like a cat snuggling against a favorite person. Kousei looked down at the top of her head.

She began idly picking on the keys of the keyboard, playing a piece by a well-known composer (the one who had written Emily's Memory, in fact) about a girl who flew around and explored her world on a glider-like craft called Mehve. Then she began to sing the Requiem, which consisted mainly of a solitary child's voice singing over an eerie synth backing track, but Kousei laid a hand on her forearm and shook his head. She stopped.

"Don't sing things like that," Kousei said quietly. "You might call something that's best left alone."

"Huh?"

"Come off it, Kaori. You know what I mean." Kousei pulled his head back, and Kaori saw that he was smiling at her before his face descended upon hers into a cologne-scented blur. Before their lips met, however, their glasses clicked against each other, and they jerked their heads back, startled.

"No, I don't," Kaori protested, pushing him away, along making fall off the bench. "What are you saying?"

"Nothing, nothing. I was just joking." Kousei reached for her, but she scooted away from him.

"If you have something to say to me, say it directly."

"Well, who poured boiling water on you? I was just kidding."

Kaori regarded him dubiously as she replaced her violin in its case and snapped the fasteners shut. Kousei saw her image juxtaposing with his mother's as she stood there looking at him.

"Mais ça, c'est la condition de l'existence," she said haltingly.

Kousei raised an eyebrow. "Pardon, mademoiselle, je ne parle qu'un peu le français."

"It's the very condition of existence," said Kaori. "I'll hurt you; you'll hurt me. We'll hurt each other. But one takes risks. Don't you agree?"

Kousei stood up. "You should know."

- - - oOo - - -

Later that evening, at dinner, Kousei mentioned his encounter with Tsubaki. They were at the bar in the kitchen, seated on the high stools as they ate a simple meal of celery-garnished katsudon.

"Anyway, I don't know if I'm doing the right thing . . . but I want you to meet her."

The violinist balked. "Are y-you sure? Because I—you know. I don't feel really comfortable doing that."

"I think it's the least we can do." He told her how Tsubaki mistook her for some other girl and what she said in the restaurant.

Kaori's frown grew. She laid a hand on Kousei's and squeezed it. "Okay, I'll go. But you have to be there with me. Please?"

Kousei nodded.

- - - oOo - - -

"Oh, she's so pretty!" exclaimed the girl who leaned over Kousei's shoulder as he looked at the little picure while hurrying in the hallway.

Kousei looked back—up, rather—and smiled at Emily.

"You know, you two seem to be really belong together." Emily held her hand out. "May I see?"

Kousei handed her the photo.

"She looks so happy. That violin of hers—is it old? It looks old."

"I don't know. It's on loan to her—she never told me what it was exactly. She wanted to call it 'The Canele.'"

"That so? If she names it that, I'll call my cello 'Backbreaker.'" Emily's mobile face scrunched up. "I'll bet it's a terribly old thing. The patina, the style of construction—could I ask a favor, Piano Man?"

"What is it?"

"Could I borrow this pic? I'll give it back on Wednesday."

"Why do you need it?"

"Oh, nothing much. There's this guy I'm seeing, and I want to show him what I mean when I say 'happy.' It's sort of a little argument we're having," Emily explained.

"It's not Matsuno, is it?"

"Eh? No. Why would I be interested in an overbearing Boy Scout?"

Kousei flinched. Trust Emily to say what was on her mind. While Matsuno could be obnoxious at times, Kousei didn't think he was that bad. "Huh, I always thought he was your type."

"Well, he's not. Hey, are we still on for that contest?"

"Yeah. Oh, speaking of which, she'll be playing in the recital this weekend."

"What recital?"

"The one here, downstairs, in the auditorium. You weren't listening to Matsuda-sensei, were you?"

"I probably didn't." The tall girl grinned guiltily. "How'd she get invited?"

"Courtesy of me, of course."

Emily brought a hand up and stroked her chin. "Hmm. Interesting. I think I should watch as well."

"Observing the opposition, eh?"

"But of course. Oh, and Kousei, be sure to take a shower just before the contest."

"Why?"

"I don't want a smelly manservant." Emily winked and left him standing there.

- - - oOo - - -

They met in Okujii Park in the early afternoon, near a trio of picnic tables beside a slow-moving stream. They were alone, save for a few people traversing the nearby wooden bridge and a duck in the water nearby, periodically bobbing its head; every now and then the wind blew through the dark green cherry trees, cooling them.

"I don't know what to do," Kaori confessed, sitting on the edge of a table. "She'll probably kill me. After all, I did steal you from her."

"No, she won't," Kousei returned. "And you're not alone, okay?"

"Thanks. You're my hero."

"Not really." Kousei grimaced. "I know how hard she can hit. Anyway, we can't run from this forever."

"Now I'm even more terrified." Kaori watched the waterfowl, until in a spray of brown feathers and silver droplets it took flight and disappeared above the trees. "I feel like I'm in a movie with the waltz from 'The Godfather' playing."

- - - oOo - - -

In the end it was a young woman's voice that punctured the little bubble of their anxious silence. Tsubaki waved from the bridge and jogged up to them. Her jog slowed to a walk as she realized exactly who the girl beside Kousei was.

"Kaori-chan?" A hand went to cover her mouth. "I don't believe it."

Kaori stood up and smiled at Tsubaki. It was a slight smile, full of trepidation. "I can hardly believe it myself," she agreed, a question in her eyes.

Tsubaki, turning to face Kousei, stammered "I . . . I have so many questions I don't know where to begin."

"Do you want me to start at the beginning?"

Tsubaki glanced at Kaori, then at Kousei. "I guess you'd better." She sat down on the park bench, and Kousei begin to quietly tell his story.

- - - oOo - - -

The sun was westering when Kousei and Kaori finished talking.

"Why didn't you tell me about Kao-chan before?" Tsubaki asked, having sat down on the park bench.

Kousei's eye darted from one girl to the other. "At first I was so happy having her back that it kind of eclipsed everything else. Even back then, though, I was wondering what I was going to do about you. After that . . . I sort of let things slide." Kousei looked down. "I'm sorry."

"That's it? 'Gee, Tsubaki, I forgot, sorry?'"

Kousei remained mute.

"It . . . was more like he didn't want to hurt you," Kaori said.

"Let him speak for himself," Tsubaki said curtly. "Kousei, I'm going to ask you some things and you'd better answer them truthfully. Never mind if you think it'll hurt me. Okay?"

Kousei nodded.

"Does Kaori make you happy?"

"Yes."

"What am I to you?"

"Someone special." Kousei's voice was jagged with emotion. "Someone I . . . wish I didn't have to hurt."

Tsubaki breathed in and out several times. "Was I just someone to fill in the time while she was gone?"

"No," Kousei whispered. "Never that. I was just as surprised to find out she was alive as you are."

"I . . . see." The girl with the tousled brown hair wiped her eyes. She began sniffling. "Look at me. I promised I wouldn't cry." She pressed down hard on her eyes with the handkerchief she carried.

Kaori stood and bowed deeply, hands on legs. "I'm sorry for the pain I've caused, Tsubaki. But I can't apologize for my feelings toward Kousei."

Tsubaki stopped wiping her cheeks. "It's not that you can't apologize, Kao-chan. You won't apologize, and I understand why. You're basically a selfish person." Her eyes glittered.

Kaori looked unhappily at her. "If wanting to be happy is selfish, then yes, I am. If trying to appeal to Kousei through something we share is a terrible thing to do, then I'm a bad person for doing that."

"Neither of those would give anyone cause to complain. But you made sure he'd remember you, even though you knew you didn't have long to live! You knew you'd hurt him, but you went ahead and did what you did!" Tsubaki shot to her feet. "I can't forgive that! Did you realize—no, did you even care—how close Kousei came to breaking again, like he did when his mom died?"

"But he didn't! Taking risks is part of who we are! Otherwise you'll suddenly realize one day that you've gone and wasted your life, just because you were afraid all the time!"

Tsubaki's face contorted into a mask of fury. She raised her hand.

The slap sounded like a pistol shot. Kaori staggered backward and clutched at her cheek.

"You irresponsible little brat! You naïve doll!" Tsubaki shouted. "Who gave you the right to play with other people like that? What if Kousei had broken, huh? What if he had lost the will to live, would you be there to help fix the damage you did? No, leave it for others to do, if he didn't jump off a building or just die pining for you in the meantime."

"It wasn't as if I had a choice! If you were in my place," Kaori asked, her voice quietening down, "would you have stopped yourself? Would you have been able to? I already paid my dues having that operation which almost killed me." She removed her hand from her cheek, and they saw angry red flesh underneath. "Of course I knew I would break his heart! If only I could make you understand what I went through to get back to Kousei!"

"What are you saying?" Tsubaki scoffed, feeling a growing disquiet at Kaori's words and the pinprick of anger growing in her blue eyes. "Have you gone crazy?"

"It would've been so easy to just give up. No more pain, no more worrying." It was as if the pale-haired girl hadn't heard her; lost in her own world of pain, Kaori babbled on, eyes open but unseeing. "Just let the light consume me. No more Kaori Miyazono. I'd be part of everything. I'd know the secrets of every living thing on Earth, including you. But I forsook all that. I went through heaven and hell for him, Tsubaki! You think it was a lovely journey, fleeing from one place to another, being hunted by greedy butchers?" She looked up, eyes burning. "I did what I set out to do. I got him back in front of the piano. What did you ever do for him?"

"I was his friend. I tried to keep him from crumbling," Tsubaki said, taking solace in the fact that she had known and supported Kousei for far longer than this arrogant upstart had. "And unlike you, I've done lots of things for him ever since we were kids. You weren't there to piggyback him home after he had skinned his knee. You weren't there to drag him out of his house and try and put the smile back on his face after his mother had beaten him. And you weren't there to try and plug that hole you left in his heart."

"That isn't fair—"

"That's enough, both of you," snapped Kousei. "Yes, Kaori, you did shatter me into pieces. But it was your terrible gift that helped me make it through, even though Springs passed without the girl who had left me just after she had reawakened my dreams."

"So did my friends, who never failed to be there for me. Who both put up with me in my despair. It's thanks to all of you that I didn't break down like before." He turned to Tsubaki. "Now I ask you—I beg you—suffer us to live the way we want to."

Tsubaki's sniffles had given way to sobs. Hiding her face in her hands, she cried quietly. Kousei wanted to comfort her, but he knew she would have nothing to do with someone who had just poisoned the well of a thirteen-year-old friendship, so he had to stand there and watch her suffer.

Tsubaki dabbed at her eyes. "Fair enough. I guess I was too s-stupid to understand. I hope y-you two will be happy t-together." She stood up and walked away quickly. From behind some nearby trees Watari emerged and gestured at Kousei. The latter shook his head, whereupon Watari nodded and ran after Tsubaki. As he caught up to her, he appeared to say something to her. Surprised by his appearance, she snarled "I don't need your help! Get away from me!" loud enough for them to hear. Shrugging his shoulders, Watari gave Kousei a brief wave and trotted after her.

"I wish things could've gone better," Kaori said quietly. She was standing behind Kousei's left side, her eyes sadly watching the figures of Tsubaki and Watari disappear from sight behind some greenery.

Kousei sighed. "Kaori?"

"Hmm?"

"In the future, when you talk about moving heaven and earth, of sacrifices, and doubt how I feel about you—kindly remember this day and what I gave up."

Kaori wrapped her arms around his waist and, closing her eyes, hugged him. Something warm and liquid touched the back of her hand, and did so again, and again.

- - - oOo - - -

Now this chapter's finished. Sorry about that. I apologize for the overall quality of this chapter (it was originally 2 separate ones), and the long delay in putting it out (it was on fire). Also, I've begun to study the violin and have bought my own. I've learned about first position, second position, third position, the proper way to carry a violin, and that you don't just chuck your bridge into the trash unless you're prepared to carve a new one yourself. The latter I found out the hard way—and there are no luthiers hereabouts.