Movement 14: C sharp mol

"Konnichiwa, Kahoko."

"Konnichiwa, Len."

I smiled into the phone as I let the scrumptious taste of his name curve over my tongue. "I can't wait to go to Europe. How long are we going to be there?"

"Just about a week. My concert in Italy is on Christmas Eve, but I'll only have a couple of days to prepare with the orchestra beforehand, and after Christmas, I have a small recital in the States that Hihara arranged."

"Really?" Hihara-sempai invited him, and he accepted? If that didn't show improvement, I didn't know what did.

"Yes. I know it's a small affair for such a long flight, but since we'll be flying back to Japan by that route anyway, a short stop won't harm anything."

"And after that we return to Japan? Will we make it back in time for New Year's?"

"Yes. I have another small concert in Niigata on New Year's Eve, and the second day after that, I plan to go to Kyoto. With you, of course," he added, almost as an afterthought.

"So many concerts!" I sighed. Although I was looking forward to hearing him perform in public, I realized that that meant less "just us" time.

Eeee. Just us. The memory of the kiss came back and turned my stomach in knots. What would happen, if we were left alone? As I thought about it, a little sense of nervousness twisted in me.

Wait a minute, you. You only just kissed. You should be grateful for that! Don't take it too fast, oh, just don't...

But when we kiss again...if we kiss again...will I see that flaming desire in his eyes again? And will I also desire...more?

I shivered, suddenly, though I was tucked neatly under the warmth of the kotatsu.

Len heard my silence, I'm sure, but all he said was, "Are you all packed for Europe?"

"Almost."

"How did you mom take the news?"

"She thought it would be a great cultural experience." In other words, I haven't told her yet.

"Kahoko." He knows me too well.

"Fine, fine, I'll call her after I hang up with you."

It was two days before our Departure. I was still staying in the dorms, since the short amount of time before leaving made packing up for going home slightly redundant, and as a result my mother had kept calling to ask when I'd be coming. I put her off, saying that I wanted a little more time to practice where it was quiet and there weren't distractions, but the disappointment in her voice and the promise of "some great surprise when you get home!" made me feel guilty.

"All right. Kahoko," he hesitated for a minute, and then said, lowly, "I really can't wait to show you Europe. I've wanted to for...these two years. I..." He cut off, suddenly, and I patiently waited for him to continue.

"Anyway, make sure you bring some warmer-weather clothing. Italy and LA aren't as cold at this time of year as Japan."

Practical, as always. Well, honestly I didn't really mind it. It was so...Len. I enjoyed it, truly; this slightly Stoic quality about him, although there were aspects of him, his stiffness, even as we kissed, the tenseness, even when we talked; he was guarding himself, even now, when I thought he'd changed from being abroad, and I wanted so badly just to see what was underneath all that. He was still as opaque as a stone wall, for all he'd grown softer in his demeanor.

"Len."

"What?"

"Nothing, I just felt like saying your name." I tilted my head to the side and closed my eyes contentedly.

He tsked at me over the phone. "Don't just say my name for no reason."

I cringed a little. "Gomen nasai..."

Then he added softly, "At least tell me you like me, like that other night, if you're going to say my name."

I caught my breath, dizzy with exhileration, and took several seconds before I said, "Len. I like you, I like you so much."

"And I like you." Ooh! Oh, butterflies, if you fly any more vivaciously, you'll lift me right out from under the kotatsu! "And you should call your mom."

"I will." She'd better be okay with it. I'm in college, after all, I should be able to decide what I do during break.

"I'll see you on Friday morning."

"Ja matta ne."

"Bye."

I hit the "end call" button and paused a minute before dialing home, his "And I like you" still giving the flutteries in my midregion a workout.

.

It was still early in the afternoon as we arrived at Narita airport, went through the long, tedious process of bag-checking and security, and waiting, a full two hours ahead of time, of course, in the terminal, waiting for our plane to come in. More than a few Gaijin were sitting around us, talking in various languages, English and Italian among them, and Len, cool as always, was simply reading a book in German, I think about Tchaikovsky. Which left me to sit there and glance around and get cold feet.

Oh, I was. For all my earlier impatience to get out of Japan, now that I was sitting here, about ready to cross the sea, not to mention a whole continent, for the first time, I couldn't quell the uneasy misgivings that were giving my stomach a very different sort of queaziness. Because, it suddenly seemed ridiculous, that there was actually The World out there, one I had never seen before. That there was a completely different way of living, that I knew about, from the few Western movies I'd seen before, and food I'd never eaten and houses made completely of stone and...

And I felt like bolting. I really did. Each and every one of my mother's warnings, after her reluctant permission for me to go abroad for my winter vacation ("Sweetie, you never know what will happen out there. The West is a very dangerous place, and I'd really like to have you home for the break." "Mom. I'm an adult. I'll be safe, and I'll see you when I get home.") revisited my memory and made their accusations loudly in my head.

I left Len and the luggage to betake myself to a terminal café and have a sweet cup of coffee to calm down. Twirling half-heartedly on the round stool with the foam cup on the table in front of me, I told myself, Really, Kahoko. You call yourself level-headed. You should be excited for this opportunity to go. Think about how much effort Len's put into you coming along. (I'd overheard a rather frustrated call to his manager in which my participation in the trip was begrudgingly admitted and scheduled). Think about what a great learning opportunity this is.

I took a sip of the coffee, though my stomach seemed to rebel at the notion.

But...I'd never even been on a plane before! What if we crashed over the ocean? What if we ran out of fuel? What if we flew through a storm?

My hand shook a little and I spilled a bit of hot liquid onto my fingers.

"Ha...tchi!"

"Careful." I looked up at the voice, as Len, carting all of our combined luggage gracefully to the side of the table, took the cup out of my hands and set it firmly on the round table I was high-chaired at like a child. He took a seat opposite me, taking my slightly burned hand to inspect it. "Are you all right? You shouldn't try to drink it until it's cool. How is your hand?"

"It's fine. I thought you were reading?" I watched his hands as they stroked mine gently, patting the wet areas with a paper napkin.

"I was. You were taking too long, so I got worried. Are you alright?"

I avoided his gaze. "Yes," I lied. One of his hands left mine and travelled up to my chin, pulling it up so that my eyes met his, which seemed to pierce into me.

"You're nervous."

"A little." A little a LOT.

"This is your first time away from Japan, isn't it?"

"Yes."

He smiled, and then suddenly, with a quick glance around, leaned forward and kissed me on the forehead. I relished the feel of his lips, very fast and soft, on my skin, and was tempted to return the favor on a more oral part of his face. But his hand had crept up to my cheek, his thumb stroking it gently, as he said, "Don't worry. I'll be with you the entire time."

I shivered slightly, even as I took a cautious sip of the coffee to hide the wide smile that was threatening to split my face in two. "I know."

His eyes darted down to my mouth as I drank, and he stood suddenly. "Can you finish that quickly? We need to start boarding soon."

"Yes."

He continued to hold my hand tightly, as we stood in line for boarding, and as we squeezed through the narrow aisles to put our luggage up in the ridiculously small storage units, and as we sat down and waiting for the plane to start taxi-ing. It was a good thing he did, despite the various disapproving glances we got from various elderly people flying with us, because I kept thinking to myself, I can get off the plane now, before we get going...It's starting to move, but it's still slow enough for me to jump out, just need to open the window, Stop that sort of thinking, Kahoko!...I can't be leaving Japan, I'm scared to go, and I'm not looking forward to flying!

But he continued to hold my hand.

"Ready?" he asked, as the airplane started to get up speed, rushing so that the pavement stripes underneath blurred as one, and, with a sudden burst of acceleration that pushed me back into the seat, the front wheels lifted, and then slowly the back wheels came up from the ground and...

...And we were suddenly in the air, watching all the people in their brightly-colored vests running around the take-off zone, passing the security tower, watching the sparsely-populated area of Narita drop away smally underneath...

As we entered the cloud bank, Len finally released my hand, turned to me and smiled.

"Well done," he said.

.

I won't bore you with the details of the flight, much as I am tempted to torture you with descriptions of the long hours in front of a tiny little screen, searching for movies I'd never seen before in vain, listening to the scanty amount of classical music because the popular stuff wasn't what I was in to, shivering under the tiny blankets, feeling my legs go numb so that I shifted my feet, and then my knees locked up, and how the three rows across of seats seemed far too many for such a small space and trying to sleep...Well, I won't go into all that, nor the short stop off in the Indian terminal before the next flight, nor the insanely long lines at the EU customs, nor the dirty train ride into the center of Rome before we took a taxi to our hotel.

Therefore I will proceed directly to the point:

Lest the Reader be uninformed, let me describe to you what Rome is like.

Rome is awful. A seriously horrible place. You get on the train to Termini, and the old, old walls flash by, and the old roads, and old apartment buildings, and guess what? They are all trashed. Graffiti, trash, dirt, everywhere! Who would do such a thing to centuries old buildings? Plus, everyone smells! When was the last time they took baths? They're noisy, they're rude...I don't even know where to begin...the rivers are clogged with trash, the trees alongside all hung with white soggy remains of who knows what. The roads are old, even older than those in Japan, and much more cracked and uneven. I sighed as I leaned wearily against the windows of the cab, watching these things all pass by, drearily.

Len, on the other hand, was too busy pointing out all the sights to be affected by such things. Or maybe he'd gotten used to everything already.

"If we go along that direction," he said, "I can show you the Colleseum and the Roman ruins. And about here," pointing on the map, "are the Spanish Steps. But watch your pockets. People in Europe aren't afraid to steal from you or cheat you."

"What?" What about honor? Did these people have none? Weren't they afraid of karma?

Here is another thing to be noted, dear Reader, in case you have never been to Italy. First, all the houses and buildings are built of solid, thick brick and stone, some centuries old, and few that are very modern. The windows are tiny, but the doors are enormous. And there are bars and gates everywhere. All the doors get locked, all the time. I couldn't believe it. The fact that thievery was this common made me sick. Even in the middle of Tokyo, people still leave their doors unlocked at night. But here? Not a chance.

Len threw me a sympathetic look as I halfheartedly climbed the wide stone steps to our hotel, dragging my luggage behind on the bumpy cobblestones. "I know it's hard," he said. "Culture shock is bad enough from country to country in Europe itself, but from Japan to Italy is the worst. It's so completely opposite," he said, sighing as he looked around at the walls and the huge old wooden door at which he buzzed the caller-box and we went in.

The huge door at the entry seemed like nothing compared to the height of the stone ceilings, bright lighting glossing over the marble floors and long staircase. "What, do they expect giants?" I muttered to myself, waiting as Len presented our passports at the front desk for the (unsmiling) hostess, and wordlessly lead the way up the stairs.

As I felt my arms beginning to break off from the two bags I was carrying, Len stopped abruptly and pointed to a door on our right. "That's your room," he said, briefly. "If you could take just about an hour to freshen up, I'll meet you out here and we can go out and see the city."

Thanks, but I've seen enough already. "Where is your room?"

He pointed directly across. "Our time here is short, and there's a lot to see over the next couple of days, especially since I need to rehearse with the orchestra tonight and tomorrow night before the concert on Tuesday. In fact," he hesitated a bit, "today might be all we have. I need to concentrate and practice, starting tomorrow." Reading the disappointment on my face, he added, "Gomen ne. But you should know what it's like by now."

"Wakarimashita."

He smiled and gave me a gentle push toward my room. "It's a good thing we're here early on in the day. And also, I'm looking forward to showing you Rome. Kahoko."

Well, one day was better than nothing. And anyway, his room was right across from mine. Happy smiles.

.

"Wah...how amazing! How old is this, again?" I gaped in amazement, feeling tiny as we looked around from the inside of the Colleseum.

"Almost 2000 years." Len gazed up and around at the huge round structure, as though he'd never seen it before from the inside. Possibly he'd never had time to before. I felt a little smug that we were sharing our first experience of it together.

I felt like a tourist, which I was, but I took out my camera and began photographing the place, though its immensity made the tiny images on my LCD screen seem frivolous. The long arches, some collapsed in, showing the crumbling stones pressed together, winged in all around the oblong arena, which, as Len had explained to me already, had originally been covered by boards and sand, but now was laid bare to reveal the intestine-like tunnels hiding below, from which gladiators and animals would emerge and begin their barbaric mini-wars. Tall above loomed the narrow layered seating areas, in some places complete and some destroyed. Standing at the front platform where Caesar had stood, giving his approval to the deaths of men and beasts, we looked out over the whole, commanding scene. The structure's age was like something left out and picked at by carrion birds, left out to bleach under the sun, not like the respectful courtesy bestowed on Japanese ancient buildings. Not for the first time that day, I felt cold and indignant at the brash lack of honor in this other, ancient society.

"Are you finished?" Len asked, his voice close behind my ear, as he touched me gently on the arm. "There's a lot more to see, so we'd better keep moving."

"I'm so tired," I moaned halfheartedly, following him. We hadn't had hardly any break, since he kept moving us from place to place, and on top of the long plane ride from yesterday, I felt ready to drop.

He didn't make any reply, except to reach out and take my hand, freely, as though nobody could see.

"O...oi!" I protested feebly, not wanting to withdraw my hand, but also aware that we were in public. "Don't you think that we shouldn't..."

"This is Europe, Kahoko," he said, not letting go. "This is okay here."

As I looked around, I became aware that other couples were giving way to even more embarassing public displays of affection, and I blushed. "Seriously? People do this sort of thing...you know...kissing and all, where other people can see?"

"Yup. I'd like to see you in France." He winked at me, and I felt taken aback, suddenly, by how open he was acting. "Besides, my manager isn't here yet. I heard she got held up in Japan because of storm warnings, and is now absolutely furious that we left before she did." He laughed aloud. "Serves her right. I'm so tired of her hanging around, always making sure I'm doing the right thing and..." He leaned over quickly and kissed me on the cheek. When I opened my eyes (yes, I did close them, hoping for more), he was staring at me, breathing heavily, as though he couldn't believe what he'd just done, and on his face was a wide smile.

We took an early dinner, though for me it felt like dinner should have been AGES ago, and it should already be breakfast, at an outdoor restaurant looking out over a plaza with a fountain. The people milled by through the late afternoon sun, accompanied by the sound of a second-rate guitar player sitting next to several portrait-drawing stands.

I let Len order for me, for obvious reasons, trying not to feel terribly annoyed that he was already fluent in who-knows-how-many-languages, and hoped it was something good.

"So, what do you think of Rome?" he asked casually as we waited for the food, looking out over the courtyard.

"Filthy," I answered automatically. His eyebrows lifted, and a small twinkle appeared in his eyes.

"Is that all? What, no appreciation for the great history here, the magnificence of the huge stone structures, the world-renowned cuisine?" His voice was laced with sarcasm, which miffed me a bit. Oi, this was my first time abroad! I was starting to hope it would be my last, too...

I picked at the red-and-white checkered tablecloth, which always looked so romantic in pictures but here only seemed ironic, and took a drink from the glass in front of me.

"I'm afraid I'm about to find out about that last one," I grumbled, as our food emerged from inside the restaurant, the waiter threading his way through the closely placed tables and ignoring the calls from other tables.

He placed the large white plate in front of me and walked off without saying a word. I eyed it suspiciously. The dish appeared to be pasta, but what the meat was, what the gooey white stuff on top was, I had no idea.

"Len, what is this?"

"Sukimono."

"In other words, you don't know what it is, either."

He sighed and picked up his own fork. "Just eat it. It's delicious. I've never gone wrong with Italian food."

I poked at the goo with my fork, watching the creamy sauce pool around the long flat noodles. Awkwardly, I stabbed at it a couple of times before managing to get the stuff on the fork and into my mouth. Chewing thoughtfully, I decided it wasn't bad, a bit too weird as far as texture was concerned, but the taste was full and savory.

"You're really bad at this," Len said, leaning forward with his napkin in hand.

"Eh?"

"Stay still."

He gently wiped at my chin with his napkin, a bit lingeringly, I might add, and then leaned back in his chair. I felt my face go red. "Thanks."

"No problem. Just try to take smaller bites next time."

"Urgh..." So many things to get used to! Who needs noodles twenty centimeters long, anyway? And covered with...I think...melted cheese sauce?

I found myself thinking of tasty, simple soba longingly.

My next surprise came when Len called over the waiter for the bill.

"Ah, I should leave a tip."

"What?" A tip?

"In Europe, you always leave a tip, for service and whatnot."

"Isn't that terribly rude?"

"Nope. Because as you'll see," he pointed on the bill, "they round down their prices regularly."

How weird! Tips for service, and rounding down on the bill! Wasn't that completely backward?

"There's one more thing I want to show you tonight, before it gets too late," he continued. "Although it's a pity I can't show you the Vatican museum, but I think you'll like St. Peter's Basilica, and it's just around time for the choral Mass."

"Mass?" I felt my stomach turn a bit queasily when I thought about that. Western religion seemed a bit...forward for my taste. For example, some people actually seemed to believe in it. I mean, yeah, it's great to visit temples and stuff, because it's good for your mind, but to actually worship some "diety"? Isn't that taking it too far? Besides, I'd seen the outside of some of the cathedrals we'd passed while walking on the roads to and from the Colleseum. They were immense, huge pointed buildings of stone, solid and forbidding.

But when we entered the Basilica, I forgot about all that.

It completely blew me away. We entered to the muted silence, people milling around in whispers, and the upward-arching columns drew my attention up, up, to the peaked painted domes, seemingly kilometers high, and then I looked around at the huge stone statues carved out into the room, peaking around pillars, leaning, hushing the room enclosed. If I were to describe everything, it would bore you to tears, I'm sure, because there's so much to see, the gold sunburst at the front behind the crucifix, the marble Pieta behind solid glass, the colored stone floor...

As I was admiring the intricate marble sculptures of various Bible characters along the walls, a lonely voice rang out from the front of the Cathedral, singing its mysterious praise in a language I did not know, and another which I understood with my heart. The sound took on a life of its own, as the original melody gave forth its harmonic series, singing notes unsung. I closed my eyes, remembering what Ichi had said about modality, and listened intently as another voice joined, and the two of them rose in harmony, or sank to a tuneful whisper.

"Kahoko...ah, I should have known." Len's footsteps, which had been getting farther away, came back, and I opened my eyes to look into his. He was feeling it, too, the magic of the musical echoes. He smiled, and took both my hands in his, leaning forward to kiss my forehead softly. "Being in this Cathedral and hearing these notes, I first learned to understand why for hundreds of years, the harmonies which you and I take for granted were for so long considered dissonant," he whispered, leading me by the hand to the front, where we looked at the dazzling sculpture of Christ at the front, surrounded by outstretching golden beams, so sharp that you thought you might cut yourself on them.

"What do you mean?" I whispered back, our heads close together so we wouldn't disturb the people around us.

"You've studied about the harmonic series, right?" he asked, and I nodded. "Well, you know how the series starts out with larger intervals, octave, fifth, fourth, and so on, in the bass range, and gradually diminishes in size until they are too close together to be distinguishable? Think about it, Kahoko. For centuries, music was made in stone buildings of enormous arches, like this one, without muffling the acoustical properties of the room the way we do now, so that every note can ring properly but also distinctively. All of their notes rang together, creating chords even with monophony, a solo creating layers and layers of different notes, all by itself. With that in mind, and considering the harmonic series singing different notes underneath, think of all the harmonies that were already being made. Using the chord progressions that Beethoven and Schubert would begin to use later on, you can only imagine the cacophony that would arise as a result. And all because of these magnificent rooms," he said, gazing up at one of the painted peaks above our heads. "Imagine what a solo violin would sound like in this room."

"I was already doing so," I said, smiling at him. We continued, hand in hand, while the polyphony around us sang its complex harmonies in open intervals.

And the sun set golden, creating dark shadows in the corners where the golden candelabras didn't reach, the first day in Italy.

Author's Notes: Sorry about all the hasty description in this chapter! Like many things, I feel like it's important to get a general feel for the situation, especially since the first oversea trip isn't something that you can just write, "And so we boarded the plane the next day and flew to Italy". But at the same time, I didn't want to write a lot of stuff that wasn't important to the plot.

In any case, thanks for reading, as always! I really appreciate the reviews, and I've received so many beautiful and helpful ones while writing this story. I'm so happy! ^^

Oh, and by the way, Kahoko's naivity about "all things Europe" is not intended to be pointed at the Japanese. This is more of what I think Kahoko herself would be like, and how she would react. You kind of get the feeling in the anime that she's not overly bright. In a way, this story is kind of a "before and after" picture of her, sort of a "coming of age" thing. I hope it's not too boring.

Translations:

Gomen nasai: I'm very sorry

Gomen ne: Sorry

Wakarimashita: I understand