Perfect scores. Perfect performance. Perfect, all around skills. That's what Mari is. Perfect.
She had to be perfect. She took up everything and aced them, because she could. Because she tried, and tried, and tried, until it was perfect. A single mistake and she would stop being perfect, so she avoided them as much as possible.
Then there was her little brother. Average, imperfect Sunny. He can't ace everything like she could. He made mistakes, but he tried, and tried, and tried, to the best of his efforts. He was hardworking, even if he couldn't be perfect. Mari loved him nonetheless. Why wouldn't she? He was her dear little brother. She had to be perfect for him, so he didn't have to be.
But that was only partly the reason why she had to be perfect. She had parents not to disappoint. She had teachers who were expectant of her perfect performance. She had her younger friends who looked up to her. She had Hero, and despite him saying he loved her in any way she was, he was perfect like her. He was a great cook. He had a lot of awards. He had a lot of skills. He had the same pressure as the achieving, eldest sibling. They shared a struggle that no one else had.
But his problem was different. They both strived to be perfect, but Hero told her he never wanted to be. He just wanted to be himself, to do what he could without the pressure of expectations holding him down. He just happened to enjoy and be good at everything he tried his hand at. He didn't show that vulnerable side of himself to anyone else-only to her. To Mari, he was really perfect.
But she herself was different. Her strive for perfection was something more...obsessive. A term too strong for her liking, but she couldn't describe it as anything else than that. She just always had the feeling that whatever she did had to be perfect, no matter what. It frustrated her whenever she made a mistake. She would retry from the top, from the beginning, until she made absolutely no mistake until the end. She didn't care if it took hours or how much it ached her. If she got it perfect, that's the only time she will get satisfied.
Satisfaction. Is that what had been driving her to be so perfect? She felt like it was. She was striving to be perfect for her own self-indulgence. The rest felt more like extras than the pressure she puts on herself.
She couldn't help it. She had to be perfect.
She wanted to be perfect.
Mari would count in her mind, like a metronome ticking at a certain tempo. She would count the beats in a song, or any rhythm she perceives. She never needed a metronome when she practiced, but her brother did.
The audible ticking was not something she minded. In fact, she would automatically adjust herself to whatever tempo it was set on. It was just something she could do. She would not like it otherwise if she couldn't.
She matched the keys she pressed to every beat. She tapped her foot along with it. Her rhythm was perfect. She's had practice, after all.
This time she was practicing something challenging: performing a duet with someone. Usually she performed alone, but she saw how her brother wanted to perform with her, so she looked for a duet version of the song she learned. The part for the piano changed a lot, considering it was now accompanied with a string instrument. She liked it either way. Sunny probably liked it too. Coupled with the violin everyone had bought for him in the last holiday season, they would be able to perform it together sometime within the year once they had enough practice.
So she practiced. For hours she would repeat one section whenever she made a mistake. At worst she would start from the top, just so she could see if she'd be able to perform the whole thing straight without any mistakes. This went on for several days, perhaps to the point that she would prioritize it over her school work. She had to will herself not to get too into practicing, otherwise she would lose her balance between this and her school work. Everything has to be perfect.
Weeks went by like a blur. The day of the recital came closer. She had already mastered her part of the song, but her brother still had not. That's okay. He just needs a little more practice.
She knew he was imperfect yet hardworking. She knew he was trying his best. But deep down, she had thoughts that it wasn't enough. She pushed those thoughts away. No, she had to support him.
"You're getting there, Sunny! Just need a bit more." That's what she would tell him, to boost his spirit even for a bit. She knew he could do it. "Let's finish this part, then start from the top. Okay?"
She sported her signature smile, one that should soothe him at least. Sunny would just wordlessly comply and assume his position. So they tried again.
And again.
And again.
With every offbeat note, every dissonant tone, they restarted. Mari's patience was beginning to wear thin. They've been through this part so many times now. How can they still sound off? She let out a sigh and tried to compose herself.
Maybe they needed a break. She stood from her seat and turned toward her brother.
She felt a pang in her chest when she saw him flinch. Had she been too overbearing with practice? She glanced at the grandfather clock that stood at one corner of the room, showing that several hours had already passed since they started practicing. She sighed again.
They do need a break.
"Time sure flies by, huh?" She chuckled, trying to lighten the mood. "Let's take a break. We'll practice again tomorrow."
Sunny wasn't an expressive boy. He was quiet and he rarely showed emotions. He had a hard time communicating with people because of that. But being someone she watched over since his birth, she was able to tell his emotions. It was all a matter of body language and the subtle changes of his expressions. Right now she could see the relief washing over his face upon hearing what she said. Taking a break was a good idea for both of them, for him especially. She approached him and placed a hand on his head.
"It's okay, Sunny. You can do this. You've worked hard all this time! Just a few more days, and all that hard work will pay off." Encouragement. Something to motivate him. She would tell that herself too, as an assurance that all the hours she spent practicing will not go to waste. She hoped he felt the same.
Sunny just hummed in response before leaving her hold. She watched as he walked out the room, then listened to the quiet thuds of his steps as he climbed upstairs. She heard a door shut softly.
The house was quiet. Mari forgot how it felt to have no music reverberating all around her. It was unnatural. She retraced her steps and sat back down on her stool, then leaned back lightly onto the grand piano behind her. She stared at the ceiling for a moment and shut her eyes.
In her mind she imagined a stage, one with a grand piano in the middle. On the piano seat was someone with long, black hair, a plain white collared shirt, and a long, rusty red skirt. By the piano stood another figure. Black hair, a navy blue vest over a white polo, and beige shorts. That person held a violin.
The spotlight was held toward them, and only them. It was their time to shine.
And so they performed. A descending arpeggio started from the piano, speeding up as the notes went down, only to slow upon ascending. A quiet waltz began, soon followed by the accompaniment of the violin. Both sounded good together, from beginning to the end.
That's what Mari thinks their performance should will be like. Well done and perfect, just like what they've been practicing all this time.
She opened her eyes and turned to the piano. She did say they needed a break, but…
Perhaps one more attempt.
And so the house was once again filled with music. Mari focused on the song she played. It sounded strange without the accompaniment, but that didn't matter right now. She had to perfect this song.
Sometime in the song she heard the faint sound of a violin, trying to play along.
Neither of them had taken a break.
It was now the day of the recital.
The performance itself wasn't until the late afternoon, so they still had a few more hours to prepare. Mari called her brother over.
"Today's the day, Sunny! Let's make a run-down one last time, then we'll start heading over to the recital."
They should be able to perfect this now, but a few more attempts shouldn't hurt.
Sunny just nodded. So they began.
The song started well. The accompaniment part started well too. They were halfway through the song, but then the rhythm broke.
A note that followed a little too late. The same note was dissonant, discordant. It was a single note, but that was enough for something in Mari to snap.
She stopped abruptly. They still made a mistake. Sunny still made a mistake. All this time she tried to convince herself she was part of it, but she knew she was not.
She didn't want to admit it, but it was all him.
"Sunny...let's try again from that part." Her voice was soft, but sometimes her frustration would slip through. "We can't afford to make more mistakes."
She turned back to the piano before she could see his response. This is all for the recital. It has to be perfect.
Minutes turned into hours, but this time Mari was painfully aware of how much time had passed while they were attempting to perfect the song. A glance past her brother and outside the room showed that it was already growing dark. They had to prepare for the recital now.
They finished their last attempt. It wasn't perfect; the violin faltered in some parts after the first mistake.
Mari knew where this was going. At this rate, their performance wouldn't be perfect. But it's okay. They both tried hard.
That's what she wanted to tell herself, but the urge to make it perfect was stronger.
Unfortunately there was no time to do that anymore. Dissatisfied, she sighed quietly and stood.
"This...should be good enough." Good enough was not perfect. "Take a break. We'll leave in half an hour."
Mari went out first, turning back and waiting for her brother. She wasn't able to tell what he felt this time. His face was just blank, with a distant look in his eyes. It took a moment for him to respond, but he eventually followed her upstairs.
Sunny still had his violin in hand as if it was glued on it. He walked with it everywhere he went. Mari saw him leave their room in the corner of her eye as she prepared herself to dress up.
That's when she heard a loud crash.
Startled, she ran out the room and saw him standing before the stairs, his hands now free from his stringed instrument.
"Sunny, what was that noise? Did something fall?" She approached him. "And where is your violin-"
Her eyes followed the descending steps. At the bottom she found a violin, shattered and broken into pieces.
Shattered, broken, imperfect.
There was no way they'll be able to perform now.
The rage that boiled within began to overflow. Like the bow at the bottom of the stairs, Mari finally snapped.
"Sunny! Why did you do that?!"
Everything she had built up, now free. Everything she worked for, gone in an instant. The only time she allowed to be good enough, not perfect, became worse. Her raw thoughts flowed out of her mouth without remorse. She was too blinded by her own rage.
"Today's the recital and you broke your violin! We can't perform like this! What were you thinking?!"
Her brother just stared at the ground, unresponsive. This fuelled her anger.
"Everyone bought that violin for you! That was expensive, you know?!"
Her loud voice resonated within the quiet house. Any louder and she could be heard from outside. This was the first time she raised her voice at all. Someone is bound to come over soon. She needed to fix this quickly, to fix this mess, to fix this imperfection. She let herself scoff.
"And we were so close! You worked hard, didn't you? That was good enough!"
She knew he worked hard, she really did. She told him that was good enough, but...it was never enough for her. It was never perfect.
Sunny continued to be quiet. But he turned, and began to head downstairs. Mari could not believe his behavior.
"Hey, I'm not done talking!" She stepped in front of him and grabbed his wrist. "Don't run away from this! You can't always do that, you have to face the consequences of what you did!"
"...can't…"
Sunny spoke. She heard his quiet voice among her yells. She can't tell what he was feeling, with his face overshadowed by the light behind him. "Can't, can't what?! Sunny, you can't give up now!"
"i can't...do this anymore!"
Suddenly she felt light, and time seemed to slow. She saw him lift his head and in that instant she could see the visible, seething fury on his face, twisting into the wide-eyed shock, coupled with something else. Regret. Remorse.
Mari watched as he grew further from her, his expression now etched into her memory. His arms were outstretched in front of him. Was she falling? Did he push her? She could feel the wind rushing against her as gravity pulled her down for what seemed like an eternity.
At that moment she began to realize.
Perfect. That's what she strove to be. That's what she was. If she was perfect, why was she falling? If she was perfect, how did she fail to see how much her brother was suffering over the practice for the recital? She knew he was working hard, but she had failed to see that he could not perfect it like she did, no matter how hard he tried.
Failure. Failure meant she won't be able to fix her mistake, one that would cost her life. Failure meant imperfection. Failure over this…
Over a damned recital.
She shouldn't have pushed him too hard. She should've let him practice at his own pace. She should've spent more time with him all those months ago, but no. She let herself get consumed by her own desire to be perfect.
She looked at him one last time, a sad smile on her face.
I'm sorry, Sunny.
She was never perfect.