Chapter 2-Eriol
Things went on slowly, very slowly. Yet it went fast, in a way. Before we know it, it was December 20th, and we're off, away from school. White Christmas is rare, but that year we did, oh yes. It snowed like Antarctica during the Ice age. We get to enjoy the view. Xuyan once joked about playing outside. Quite frankly, I still didn't know how the men had managed to get my piano through the door-Nakuru was the supervisor. But I guess they took the legs off, as well as the pedals.
The damp pedal creaks-Nakuru was right about that one. She didn't know that the soft pedal is stuck and the middle one doesn't work anymore. That's alright, musicians don't use it as much as the damp pedal. But I guess if we were out in the snow, I won't even be able to use that one, creaky or not.
So laugh, laugh, and more laugh, we managed the last week, all the way up to the last day before the winter recess, which was from the eighteenth all the way until the fourth of January, because the new year was on Friday.
The concert was actually on Christmas, oh gee. No wait, it was actually after, the day after. Oh gee. So the entire vacation we had to get together. Syaoran and Xuyan were able to practice at home-they live together anyway, for as long as Xuyan wanted. He didn't really show signs of homesickness, and besides, with Yukito in college who knows where Syaoran would be now. Yukito had went back for about three weeks, although he didn't really want to.
But even with the violon and the violoncello ( Italian for the obvious) the trio just doesn't sound right without the piano. And the trio, in the other way, just doesn't sound right without the violin and cello. So of course, they had to carry their cases over to my house, because although I might like to hit some people with my instrument I can't exactly lift it. It was a B sized model, which was another reason I was so upset. B size is actually the largest you can get these days. They're about six feet three inches or so. Or was it seven? I don't keep track. Steinways don't make C's anymore, the C's were seven feet, and the D's are the largest, nine feet something inches. Don't ask me about the new piano at Carnegie Hall in New York, I have absolutely no idea how large it is-I think it's about fifteen feet, because I went there once. It's a nice hall, a nice piano, I would die to get a chance to play it, although if it were at my house, you play a low C and the house just tumbles. But enough of the A's and B's and C's and D's, because that was not important. In fact, all of the things I will be telling are not important. They're just in chronological order.
Also, this happened to be one of the brighter things to tell, like a calm before
the storm. I remember Yukito was watching us practice when a string popped on
my piano. I was so fed up with it.
" God, the piano's as bad as a Knabe. Good sound and all, but it can't handle the
pressure."
" It's new!" I protested.
" I know." Xuyan continued. " You should get a Yamaha."
" Hai! A Yamaha!" Then Syaoran started laughing. He laughed so much now. "
Eriol! You really ought to. The Yamaha stands the abuse better than your piano,"
He flicked his bow gently against the side of the piano.
" I hate Yamaha." I protested. " I hate Yamaha, and Kawai. The Japanese pianos
stink."
" I know." Xuyan turned to Syaoran. " They have the weird robotic sound."
" Mechanical. Not musical at all." Syaoran agreed. " But at least they stand better."
" What's wrong with a Yamaha?" Yukito asked, curious. That time, Tomoyo was
with him, and Tomoyo was looking a little insulted.
" Oh, they say it's just the people who make them." Syaoran answered, ignoring
Tomoyo's look of uneasiness, which I didn't appreciate. " I mean, the Japanese
people, they say, tend to try to do everything as precisely as they can-which is good
most of the time, but not with music. Of course, in Eriol's case," He threw me a
humorous glance, " He needs a precise piano."
" Hai, I mean," Xuyan continued, " They're very robotic, the Japanese people. They
have good technique and everything, especially on music, but when it comes to
understanding it-which was why they can't make a good piano-they don't
understand it. Hey, remember the time when there was a hundred or something
year old violin, perfectly preserved, found in Italy?"
" Hai, Italians make the best violins." Syaoran nodded. " They say the wood is dense
there. I remember. That thing costed six million dollars just to rent it. The owner,
undoubtedly, wouldn't sell it for anything. The Japanese tried make an exact replica
by trying to measure every micrometer and shape, using the exact wood and
everything, and in the end it still sounded like garbage, and the violin still costs six
million dollars."
Xuyan started laughing. " The good thing, though, is the flutes."
" Hai, the Yamaha flutes are pretty good." Syaoran nodded. " So what do you say,
Eriol? Get a Yamaha Grand?"
" Not a chance!" I remarked. Because as upsetting as that may be, the quality of the
Yamaha couldn't be doubted. I wouldn't buy one for a million bucks.
The concert went well. There were other trios, of course. But we did it. The
piano there was much better, of course, because if it wasn't, I'll seriously throw
things at whoever organized this thing-Kaho as well. Of course, it wasn't really
necessary.
After that, came the competitions. Syaoran was going to attend a competition in Tokyo in the Spring. Only three months away. And I was supposed to accompany him. Not that I was so interested in music, I was more interested in magic. But magic is more of a long run. This is a short. And with Syaoran keeping himself busy, he drags other people with him. I've never seen him so open and attached to his friends before.
For Christmas, my piano was finally fixed. The pedal stopped creaking, the
hammers were replaced, and the thing was restringed. I got new keys, white and
shiny, although I liked ivory better. All in all, it was pretty good. We celebrated
Yukito's birthday, there wasn't much to talk about that. And the new year in
Tiananmen Square was a little freaky, with all the dancing and sorts.
Tomoyo, Syaoran, Sakura, Xuyan and I made dumplins for New Years Eve. We had wine-although it tasted awful, despite good memories, so we switched to soda. Dumplins, soy sauce, vinegar, Chinese foods, and then sushi, salami with a whole bottle of wasabi-perfect for running noses and lack of tissues are the Japanese foods. There was a whole lot of people for Yukito's party and the New Year's party. I think Kaho, Nakuru, Spinel, and of course I was there, Tomoyo and Daidouji-san, since after the awful revealing of magic in that school the news sprouted everywhere, so it was impossible for someone like Daidouji-san not to hear about it. Fujitaka, my other half, Touya and Sakura-chan, Touya being home with Yukito from college. Chiharu, Yamazaki, Noako, who were the ones who made the sushi and salami and prepared the salmon. Rika brought the cakes. It was a nice New Year, very happy, but unfortunately Syaoran still had to drink his medication. We had the party over at Tomoyo's mansion.
So things went slowly, yet they went fast. Chiharu and Yamazaki are going on their first date. I always knew they would, after all. Rika was going to the Tchaikovsky piano competition in July. It would have been good, if I wasn't going too. This year they're holding it in Moscow, a proper place, I guess. I don't know how to speak Russian. Rika doesn't either. Noako, who played chess ( if this is new) is competing in Brazil.
Everything was going well, we were starting to go our own ways yet again. January passed. February came. March came like a lion. And there was our soccer tournament.
I still can't believe he was alright for three months, and then he all of the sudden just collapsed.
It started with the first one. Tomoeda Elementary was waiting because the other areas have to compete for a representing school. We had our Japanese tournaments in Kyoto, the weirdest place for such things. I don't know much about Kyoto, but I just think it doesn't make sense. Imagine monks playing soccer.
So we had to wait until about March twenty ninth. The team and its cheerleaders had skipped school with permission from both parents and principal. My parents are not here, so I didn't need any. Off we went, on the bus. It took some time. There was a lot of talking of course, and Syaoran got a little sick from the bus motion. Thankfully he didn't throw up. We reached that place just in time, and I told Syaoran to sit in the front when we get back.
On the first round, like the World Cup, we had groups of four team. This time, there was only five groups. So in all we had twenty teams. Our first match was with a team of Odaiba, who had a very good soccer player named Iori Wakabayashi. I've heard about the boy when I had stayed in Japan. He was a very tough fellow, with a spirit of a Korean, always determined not to lose. You tell him to run, he runs as fast as he could go. Which was why no one ever beated that team. Of the team, Iori was the best, but there was another person, Yui Yoshihara, who was a fast runner. These two had helped Odaiba earn many trophies. A good team. I was secretly hoping Syaoran wouldn't kill himself over this.
He didn't really. He got tired quickly. The game started, and then just two seconds later the ball was out. It was pathetic. It was our team, that had forced the ball out. I don't know if it was Yamazaki or Satoshi. But the ball went out, and the good thrower, I think his name was Yuji, went to get the ball. The game continued.
We are not very good players, not like the World Cup. So it's not just one goal or two goals in the end. It's seven or eight. Our team scored none of it for the first round. We couldn't last ninety minutes so it went down to sixty, thirty minutes each.
Now Iori was a good kicker, his aim true to his reputation. I was almost going to use my magic if I wasn't careful. I could tell Xuyan was too. Iori had the ball repeatedly, and although he had to get it back, after about five minutes of playing, he was almost right in front of the goal box. Syaoran was tense, concentrated, and Iori, with a smooth move, kicked the goal towards the box.
If a goalie, under such circumstances, wants to get the ball, the obvious choice of defense would be the hands. Not for catching-that will knock a hole in your lungs. But for blocking. Syaoran, with his expert martial arts skills, kicked the ball way over the center line. The goalie was the only one who was able to reach the ball and he kicked it back. Yamazaki hit it with his head, and it went flying back. I went and caught the ball on my chest and began making my way as fast as I could towards the goalie box.
We must have made quite a comical scene. I always loved it, in my carefree moments, how two or more players would fight with their legs over a ball and end up tumbling over each other. It was not funny for me. The player threw the ball a kick and the ball slowly made its way towards the other goalie, who caught it with his foot.
I went to get a quick drink of water when the thirty minutes were over. Syaoran had blocked Iori's ball five times during those thirty minutes, two by foot and three by hand. The second set of thirty minutes Iori wore a look of pure frustration, while Syaoran wore a look of exhaustion. So Xuyan, Yamazaki, and I made the attempt to block the ball with our heads, sparing Syaoran the necessity of using his energy. It helped, I guess, but only a little.
By the end of the game, zero to zero, and we had to do overtime, ten minutes. We were only eleven or twelve. Syaoran asked for a break and got it. We had another one of us become the goalie, while Syaoran stepped to the side.
When Iori saw the new goalie I think I saw a flash of disappointment in his eyes. And so he didn't play as hard. We had penalty kicks. Syaoran, rested after his twenty minutes or so, went back to being goalie. First up, me, and I kicked in. Second, from the other team, a French guy named Louis, and he was knocked out. Yamazaki went the next time, his was in again. Next up, Yui, and even his was knocked out. With Syaoran's leg. They sat down, Yui, very disappointed. Xuyan went next. His was in again. We were happy.
Iori saw that he has to make this one. Face to face with his chief rival, a goalie and a very tired one, I saw a weird smirk on his face, a smirk that didn't bring good luck. I still remember that scene. Iori kicked straight at Syaoran, something that wasn't expected and could have knocked him into the box. Syaoran simply leaped up, caught the ball with his left leg, and stopped the ball dead on the grass, right outside the box.
The game was over. Four to X. The other team will continue playing though this year they had tried to make it as close to the World Cup as possible. But I'll never forget the look on Iori's face, a look of dejection. He had lost to a goalie! And we all rushed to Syaoran, our hero, our life saver. But Syaoran sighed and sat down on the ground, laid back and remained there, too tired to move, too tired to speak. We learned later that he had blacked out, from lack of water, from exhaustion, from the heat. He poured cold sweat. I thought I almost lost him. As did the rest of us.