LESSON 38

Nodame sighed as she went up the steps leading to the wide stage. She stood still for several moments and gazed at the empty orchestra chairs and the unoccupied conductor's podium in front of her. After several minutes, she slowly walked over to the imposing black Bechstein at the center of the stage and took her seat in front of the keyboard. A small smile appeared on her lips as her eyes fell on the shiny black and white keys of the piano.

"What should Nodame play this time?" she asked in a voice that was merely a breath.

She looked up at the brightly illuminated stage lights and jutted out her lips as though she were in deep thought. Then all at once, she let out a delighted high-pitched laugh and placed her large hands on top of the keys.

Nodame took a deep breath before playing the first pianissimo chord. Almost effortlessly, she reached the massive ten-note span of the chord and produced a stirring sound that echoed throughout the empty concert hall. As she continued playing, the music became louder and faster, resonating across the thousands of unoccupied seats in the theater like a cold blast of wind that chilled a person's very bones. Nodame herself felt as though she was being pulled into a cyclone which was swirling with fear, doubt, and sorrow. She could feel her heart growing anxious as she played the rapid successions of notes and the seemingly unending arpeggios. She was scared and her entire being was restless. This was always how she felt whenever she played that particular piece. . . and she had played that piece many times. It was, after all, Rachmaninoff's Piano Concerto No. 2 in C Minor.

It was a concerto which she willingly called her very own. Their very own, to be more specific. Nodame had always loved that piece and every single time she played it, she felt a strange sort of excitement overcome her. However, she found it hard to deny to herself that she also felt an unexplainable sense of dread whenever she performed it. Over the years, Nodame had taught herself to believe that because Rachmaninoff was the type of composer who could immerse his listeners in his own emotions through the music he created, she also felt the same anxiety that he felt when he composed that piano concerto. She knew that Rachmaninoff had gone through an intense period of depression during the time when he composed that piece and she believed that he had poured all of the passion inside of him into that concerto.

Nodame had always hated the feeling of anxiety and she tried her very best to avoid it as much as possible. She could not understand what it was about that piece that made her want to feel that dread, though. Whenever anyone other than herself played that concerto, she would find herself completely engrossed in listening to it. And whenever she was the one performing it, she discovered that she would become consumed by that fear and sorrow which she hated so much. It was the very sadness of that piece which drew her to it, but she could not understand why. It almost appeared as though she enjoyed basking in Rachmaninoff's despair.

Why does Nodame always feel this way? she asked herself as her fingers flew like darts from one note to another. Is she hiding in Rachmaninoff's sorrow so no one else will see or hear her own sadness?

She felt a single tear trickle down her cheek and saw it fall onto the ivory piano keys. She did not realize it but she had already been playing that concerto for the past thirty minutes and was just about to reach the climactic finale of the third movement. When she played the very last chord of the piece, she lifted her hands from the piano and placed them on her lap. She let out a heavy sigh. It was only then that she started to become aware of how exhausted she was.

"Bravo! That was beautiful!"

Nodame turned her head to see who had just spoken. She saw a tall, thickset man with large round-rimmed glasses standing just a few feet behind her. There was a broad smile on his face and he was clapping his hands.

"Gyabo!" Nodame gasped, standing up from the piano and running over to him. "Gerard, it's been a while since I last saw you!"

"I heard all about your tour in the UK from my sister," said Gerard Salonga, the principal conductor of the Hong Kong Symphony Orchestra. "She watched your performance with the London Symphony and she just couldn't stop talking about the Ravel concerto! It's a shame I couldn't make it to your tour," he added with a hint of disappointment in his voice.

"Well, at least we'll be performing together again," Nodame piped in brightly. She forgot her exhaustion for a moment.

"Of course," said Salonga. "Playing with the Megumi Noda is always an honor."

Nodame's cheeks turned a faint pink color.

"So the Hong Kong Symphony's music director has decided that we'll be doing an encore of Saint-Saëns's Le carnaval des animaux," Salonga continued as he sat down on one of the empty orchestra chairs, "since it became really popular after that concert we had back in the summer. Do you have any suggestions for the piano concerto, though?"

"Oh, I haven't thought about that yet," answered Nodame, returning to her seat in front of the piano.

"It should be something cheerful," said Salonga. After a moment, he added excitedly, "To remind us all of Christmas!"

"Mukya! Christmas!" Nodame squealed, her eyes widening with delight. "Then what about Shostakovich's fairy tale concerto?"

"Huh?"

"Nodame can't remember the title," muttered Nodame as her lips formed a pout. "Ah! It sounds like this. . ."

She turned her head away from Salonga to face the piano. After taking a deep breath, she positioned her hands on top of the keys and began playing a cheerful and bouncy melody. In a moment, the jolly air of the piece turned into something much more serious and resolute as Nodame played several rapid and heavily accented passages of staccato notes. Then all at once, the tempo slowed down again as she started playing a somewhat melancholic portion of the piece.

"Piano Concerto No. 2 in F Major!" Salonga exclaimed suddenly.

Nodame immediately stopped playing and faced him again.

"What do you think?" she asked in a rather anxious tone.

"It sounds good," Salonga assured her. "I think that piece will suit our repertoire for the concert. I'll be doing Tchaikovsky's Nutcracker ballet suite with the orchestra as well."

"That's another fairy tale piece!" put in Nodame gleefully, losing the worry in her voice. "I think this will be a magical Christmas performance!"

Salonga couldn't help but laugh at his pianist's childlike enthusiasm. When he recovered from his fit of laughter, he went on in a satisfied voice, "That was probably the best Rachmaninoff I've ever heard in my life."

"What was?" Nodame inquired, puzzled.

"Your Rachmaninoff," replied Salonga. "The piece you played just now."

"No one can play a piece better than the composer himself," Nodame said in a surprisingly solemn manner.

Salonga gazed at her with an amused expression on his face before saying, "You must be second best, then."

His companion beamed at him.

"It would've sounded better if there was an orchestra accompanying it," Salonga continued with a sigh.

"There was! Nodame could hear the orchestra playing along with her!" insisted Nodame. "Didn't you hear them, Gerard?"

Salonga merely stared at her in wonder. After a while, he said softly, "I just probably didn't notice them."

"Yes, probably. . ."

"It must have been Shinichi Chiaki's orchestra that accompanied you," suggested Salonga in a sudden manner.

"Eh?" Nodame asked in surprise. "Why do you think so?"

"Because you played it like that," Salonga replied cryptically.

Nodame stared at him with an utterly confused look on her face.

"It was perfect," explained Salonga, a small smile forming on his lips.

"Nodame made many mistakes," Nodame argued. "It only sounded perfect because Senpai was able to hide all the bad sounds I made by making the orchestra play a little louder. He has a way of doing that."

"'Senpai?'"

"Oh, I meant 'Shinichi,'" said Nodame. She blushed and averted her eyes upon saying the word "Shinichi," though her companion could not understand why.

"Are you all right?" he asked concernedly.

Nodame decided to ignore Salonga's question and piped in, "He can hide my mistakes because he's the best conductor in the world! No other conductor can match his greatness! Even if all the other conductors in the world were to compete with him, none of them would even come close to defeating him!"

Salonga cleared his throat loudly and appeared as though he had not heard Nodame say anything at all.

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Chiaki let out a sigh and slowly closed his eyes, enjoying the peace and warmth of his apartment. He had just come from the nearby grocery store to buy an entire week's worth of food and to put it simply, he had to trek through several blocks of snow-laden sidewalk and endure the bite of the piercing Chicago winter wind just to get to the store and back.

He had gone through many winters in his life before: in Europe, in Japan, and in the US. However, Chiaki had to admit that he found the winters in Chicago incredibly tiring. He knew that it was his choice to be in that city. After all, it was he who had made the decision for himself to become the conductor of the Chicago Symphony Orchestra and to live there for as long as he held that post. Over time, he eventually learned to love that city. But if there was one thing that he hated about Chicago, it was the winter. He loathed having to put on at least four layers of thick sweaters before going out of his house and he especially detested it whenever he had to get up early in the morning to shovel out the snow which had built up around his car overnight just so he could drive to work. The winter in Chicago was a hassle for him and he found it immensely difficult to accept that winter was something that was always bound to happen every year.

I wonder what I'm still doing in this damn place when I could already be experiencing the warmth of someplace tropical, he said to himself as he was lying on his back on the large leather couch in his living room. I have more than enough money to be able to afford an entire month in Hawaii. Maybe I should spend Christmas there. . .

All of a sudden, he groaned.

What's the point of celebrating Christmas if you're celebrating it by yourself? he thought. Isn't Christmas supposed to bring people together?

Chiaki's thoughts then lingered on Nodame and the Christmases that they had celebrated together in the past. To his amazement, he felt as though all those past Christmases that they spent together seemed so far away, as though they were part of a long-forgotten era in history.

Last Christmas, I didn't even bother to send her a message or give her a call, he contemplated guiltily. I was too busy thinking about how to get rid of the ring.

After a moment, he continued, Which already belongs to her now. . . even though I wasn't the one who gave it to her.

"Dammit," he said in a furious undertone.

Chiaki started when he heard his phone ringing and got up from the couch. He quickly grabbed it from the coffee table and without bothering to read the caller ID, pressed the Answer button.

"Hello?" he asked rather curtly.

He heard a guffaw from the other end before a male voice said, "Guess who, Chiaki-kun!"

He's Japanese? thought Chiaki, his eyes widening upon hearing the voice speak in his native tongue.

"Who's this?" he went on in the same brusque manner.

There was another loud laugh.

If this idiot doesn't tell me who he is now, I'm hanging up, Chiaki thought heatedly.

"It's your old friend!" answered the voice. "Well, I was really your rival back then, wasn't I? Don't you recognize my voice at all, Chiaki-kun – ?"

"No," Chiaki cut in just as he was about to hang up.

"It's Katahira!" the voice said. "I saw you only a few months ago in Vienna! Do you honestly not remember me?"

Katahira-san? said Chiaki in his mind, pressing the phone to his ear again. Why in the world would he be calling me?

"Katahira. . . Hajime?" he inquired.

"Yes, that's the one!" Katahira piped in. "How have you been? It looks as though you haven't been working since that performance you had with the Vienna Philharmonic!"

"I got to conduct the Chicago Symphony a few more times before I took my leave," replied Chiaki.

"'Leave?'" Katahira asked. "Are you ill?"

"It's my leave for the holidays," replied Chiaki hurriedly.

"But the holidays have only just begun!" Katahira pointed out. After a long pause, he continued in his usual playful voice, "So what have you been up to during your early holiday leave?"

"I visited. . . a friend," Chiaki lied.

He always asks too many questions, he mused, although he wasn't completely annoyed at his former competition rival.

"And was that friend ill?"

"Huh?"

Katahira let out another laugh and said, "Never mind, Chiaki-kun. . . . I just called to ask if you're available during the New Year."

"Yes, of course," answered Chiaki. "Are you hosting a New Year party?"

"I might. . . if everything turns out to be a success," Katahira said cryptically.

"What?" said Chiaki, who was now very confused.

"You see, what I'm really trying to do right now," explained Katahira, "is to get you to become the guest conductor of my chamber orchestra during a special New Year's Eve performance."

He received no answer.

"So what do you say?" Katahira asked.

"It would be my pleasure," replied Chiaki at once. At least I'll have something to look forward to while the holidays last, he added to himself.

"Wonderful!" exclaimed Katahira. "Do you like snow, Chiaki-kun?" he added unexpectedly.

"Yes, very much," Chiaki found himself saying.

What the hell did I just say that for? he thought with regret. Didn't I tell myself that I wanted to go someplace warm just now?

"That's even more wonderful!" said Katahira. "I'm currently the principal conductor of the St. Paul Chamber Orchestra. As you can imagine, it's pretty cold up here all year round." With that, he chuckled.

St. Paul? Chiaki thought. In Minnesota? That city's even colder than Chicago!

"This morning, I woke up with seven inches of snow covering my front yard!" Katahira went on. "Well, it's only the beginning of December, so I expect it will snow even harder as we get closer to Christmas. Chicago and St. Paul are pretty much the same when it comes to weather, right?"

"I suppose," said Chiaki, trying not to sound too glum.

Just what I need, he thought, rolling his eyes. More snow.

"Then this shouldn't be a problem for you at all," Katahira assured him. "By the way, is it all right if you'll be conducting Debussy's Prelude to the Afternoon of a Faun? I just thought that that piece would remind us of a warm summer day. . . to take our minds off of winter just for the time being."

"That's a good repertoire choice," Chiaki pointed out quite truthfully.

"Great!" said Katahira in an enthusiastic voice. "Can you come here as soon as possible so we can talk about the rest of the programme? I'll introduce you to the orchestra too. It's only a chamber orchestra, so memorizing their faces and their names will be easy for you. Do you think you can come on Tuesday?"

"Yes," Chiaki replied simply. "I'll get there as soon as possible."

I just hope I can make it through the snow, he thought.

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The R S Orchestra members all huddled close to each other as they made their way through the slippery snow-laden cobblestone paths of Momogaoka Music Academy. They were heading for the school's main theater to have rehearsals for their Christmas performance, which was held annually at Suntory Hall.

"It's so cold!" Sakura exclaimed as she buried her small hands in her coat's pockets. "I don't think it's ever snowed this early in Tokyo!"

"I don't think it's ever snowed this hard in Tokyo," put in Kimura, shivering.

Many of the other members nodded rather solemnly.

"I'm in the mood for some warm soba when practice is over," Masumi said with a sigh.

"Me too!" said Shizuka. She tightened her hold on her viola case as though she expected it to give her some extra warmth.

"We're buying some new gloves after the rehearsal," Kaoru announced. "Do you, guys, want to join us?"

"Yes, we'll start buying presents for Christmas as well," added Moe.

"Of course, Moe-san!" Tamaki replied a little too enthusiastically. The bespectacled oboe player Hashimoto, his closest friend in the orchestra, nodded to show his agreement.

"After that, let's all have dinner at the Uraken!" suggested Yuki.

"Good idea," Maiko said. "I heard Mine-san had a new heater installed too – "

"Which makes eating soba all the better!" interrupted Masumi happily.

From what seemed to be out of nowhere, Etoh appeared in front of the group. He was wearing a thick black jacket with a high collar that almost completely covered the bottom half of his face.

"Okuyama, can I have a word with you?" he asked in an intimidating voice.

Masumi looked wary but nodded. Like most of the students at Momogaoka and even many of its alumni, he was slightly frightened of Etoh. During his university days, he was one of the numerous students who was grateful that he was not taking up Piano, which meant that he had absolutely no chance of getting Etoh as his instructor. But even though he knew that he was immune to Etoh's famous harisen back then, Masumi still tried to avoid running into Etoh as much as possible. Over time, he deduced that he was successful when it came to that aspect. The only time Etoh had ever spoken to him anyway was when Etoh asked him if he'd seen Nodame hiding somewhere in the campus. For Etoh to even know his name both surprised and scared Masumi.

What would Etoh-sensei want to talk to me about? thought Masumi in confusion. It can't have anything to do with school, can it? I already graduated more than ten years ago, anyway.

"We'll go ahead, then," Kimura said, interrupting Masumi's inner contemplations.

"See you later, Masumi-chan!" piped in Kaoru as she and the others turned to leave.

When the R S Orchestra members were already several feet away and well out of earshot, Etoh began in a somewhat casual tone, "Let's go to the cafeteria, Okuyama. I'll treat you to some coffee."

"No, thank you, Etoh-sensei," Masumi replied. "I can't stay too long. The orchestra has practice today for the Christmas concert – "

"It's about Noda," said Etoh shortly.

"Eh? What about her?" Masumi asked in surprise as he suddenly found himself incredibly interested in their conversation. Deep inside of him, he hoped that what Etoh had to say had something to do with Nodame and Chiaki's relationship.

"I saw her at Tagaya and Okochi's wedding last week," Etoh continued.

That's all? thought Masumi, averting his eyes so Etoh would not see the disappointment glinting in them.

"She's still probably in Japan, you know," said Etoh.

All Masumi could do was nod.

"I thought that maybe because you're her friend, you would have wanted to see her," Etoh explained. "You probably haven't talked to her in months. . ."

"More like years, I think," put in Masumi softly. After a while, he went on in a louder voice, "Was Chiaki-sama at the wedding too?"

Etoh paused before answering, "Tagaya said she invited him to conduct the orchestra that performed at the wedding, but it turned out he was busy."

"Hmm. . ." began Masumi. "Well, we shouldn't expect any different from Chiaki-sama. He never really seems to run out of work."

"Noda said so too," Etoh said with a sigh. "She mentioned that she hasn't talked to him in months."

"They're still not on good terms with each other, then," Masumi murmured in a disheartened manner.

"Why?" inquired Etoh. "Did they fight about something?"

"Ryu-chan told me back in July that those two argued about something," Masumi said. "They probably still haven't made up. . . . Wait, Etoh-sensei, why do you seem so concerned about Nodame's relationship with Chiaki-sama?"

"Ah, well. . ." Etoh began, appearing as though he was at a loss for words.

Masumi anxiously stared at his face, waiting for Etoh to say more.

"I'm not concerned about it," Etoh insisted in an indifferent voice. "I've never given a damn about either Noda or Chiaki, anyway. I just want to do something. . . to pay them back."

"'Pay them back?'"

"Those two. . . . Well, I'd be lying if I said that they weren't the best students I've ever had," explained Etoh. "And even though I was the one instructing them at that time, they both taught me some things too." It seemed as though he was making a great effort not to look too embarrassed.

Masumi made a small smile.

"For one thing, they taught me how to get rid of my harisen," Etoh went on.

"Thankfully," said Masumi under his breath.

"What was that 'thankfully' for, Okuyama?!" demanded Etoh in a thunderous voice.

"Nothing at all!" Masumi assured him quite nervously.

It doesn't look like either Chiaki-sama or Nodame managed to change his temper, though, he said to himself.

"Anyway, they taught me to understand my students more too," continued Etoh, returning to his more composed tone. "I have to admit that I'm very proud to have been the teacher of two of the most famous classical artists in the world today," he added in a somewhat triumphant manner.

"That's good," Masumi sighed.

"I know Chiaki's always been a vague one and Noda's always been a weird one," said Etoh. "I understand that because of their thoroughly opposite personalities, there are a lot of things stopping them from taking the next step in their relationship. . . . If it's possible, I want to do something to help."

"Etoh-sensei. . ." Masumi began in amazement. "How in the world do you know those things?"

"I'm married, Okuyama," replied Etoh. "It takes experience and observation to know that."

Masumi made an awestruck sort of nod and piped in, "Your wife must have had quite an experience, then."

"What did you say?!" Etoh bellowed.

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As soon as Chiaki unlocked his door and entered his apartment, he went into his bedroom and pulled out an empty black duffel bag from underneath his bed. He hurriedly stuffed two pairs of black trousers and four pairs of white long-sleeved polo shirts into the bag before zipping it up and glancing at his wristwatch. He saw that the time was 5:32 in the afternoon.

I still have about half an hour before my bus leaves for St. Paul, he thought, letting out a relieved sigh. Maybe I should make myself something to eat. . .

He strode out of his bedroom and went into the kitchen, where he started busying himself with making a simple omelet sandwich. Right after he finished beating two eggs in a small bowl, he went out of the kitchen again and walked over to his desk, where his answering machine was placed next to his sleek black laptop. The answering machine's red light was blinking brightly to show that it had a message for Chiaki waiting to be heard. He pressed a button on the answering machine and heard a female voice speak.

"You have 12 messages," said the voice.

"Huh?!" Chiaki asked in utter surprise, as though he expected the machine to explain why he had so many messages. He pressed the button again and after a few seconds, a familiar male voice speaking in rapid French started issuing out of the machine's speaker.

"Chiaki, it's me! It's Lucas!" the voice piped in. "Please pick up! It's very urgent."

"Dammit," muttered Chiaki furiously. He rolled his eyes in frustration and headed back into the kitchen.

When he started pouring the eggs onto a pan placed on top of the stove, he heard a beeping sound coming out of the answering machine and afterwards Lucas's voice continuing in a rather impatient tone, "Chiaki, why won't you pick up? Isn't this your number?"

There was another beeping sound before he heard Lucas's voice again.

"Chiaki, answer me! Please!!!" Lucas's voice pleaded. "I have something very important to tell you."

After another beep, Lucas's voice went on, "Chiaki, come on!"

Stupid kid, Chiaki thought savagely, flipping the half-cooked omelet on the pan. When will he stop?

"Chiaki, you have got to answer me!" said Lucas's voice after yet another beeping sound. "This is a life-and-death situation!"

There was another beep before Lucas's voice cried loudly, "Chiaki, my grandmother got caught up in an accident somewhere in downtown Chicago! Please help me – !"

"Liar," Chiaki hissed as he placed the omelet in between two thick slices of wheat bread and wrapped his newly-made sandwich in a large piece of paper towel. He's involving his grandmother too?! he added in his mind.

"Her car collided with a truck on Michigan Avenue!" Lucas's voice continued. "You're the only person I know who can help her! Please, Chiaki! I will – "

All at once, Chiaki strode out of the kitchen with the sandwich in his hand and returned to his desk. He immediately stopped hearing Lucas's voice when he jabbed his finger on the answering machine button. Another beeping sound came out before Lucas's voice started speaking again. This time, Chiaki could hear a hint of a chuckle in the voice he had already been hearing for the past several minutes.

"I'm just kidding," said Lucas's voice brightly. "My grandmother's in Paris and she's perfectly safe. Just please pick up the phone!"

Chiaki made an exasperated groan before going back to his bedroom to get his duffel bag. As he grabbed the bag from the bed, he heard another beep from the next room and Lucas's voice speaking once more.

"I'll be honest with you, then," said the voice. "It's about her. It's about Nodame. I know you'd want to hear what I have to say, but it's a long story and I need your response so answer me for goodness sake!"

Why would you need my answer? Chiaki thought, his insides boiling with anger. Are you asking for my blessing as well?

He opened his bag and threw the wrapped sandwich on top of his clothes inside of it before rushing out of his bedroom. The moment he stepped out into the living room, another beep issued from the answering machine.

"I proposed to her last Thursday," Lucas's voice explained. "It was after her performance with the City of Birmingham Symphony. I was planning on proposing to her someplace special, maybe during a candlelit dinner or – "

Chiaki walked over to his desk and hit the answering machine button so hard that he hurt his own finger.

"Dammit!" he said in an irate undertone.

There was another beeping sound before Lucas's voice went on, "Chiaki, it's not as bad as it sounds. Actually, it's good news!"

How can it be good news to me? Chiaki thought bitterly, feeling like his heart was being crushed into pieces. With an expression of pain in his eyes, he glanced at the answering machine one last time before briskly walking out of his apartment and slamming the door shut behind him.

Another beep came out of the answering machine and rang throughout the empty apartment as the twelfth and final message began to play.

"She said 'no!'" said Lucas's voice. "It's because she still loves you. She always has! Just please answer the phone so I can explain everything to you."

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AUTHOR'S NOTE: I hope this rather lengthy chapter makes up for my inability to update this fic fast enough. ;-)

I tried to squeeze in as many events in this particular chapter as I possibly could. I hope the action wasn't too fast!

By the way, Gerard Salonga is a real person, like many of the other supporting characters in this story. He is a Filipino conductor and is also well-known for being the brother of the successful singer and theater actress Leah Salonga. I do believe I mentioned him in Lesson 6 as well.

All your comments are highly appreciated.