"Alright, dears! It's time for our music session!"
A wave of confusion washed over the assembled children. One raised their hand and spoke out.
"But . . . didn't you say you couldn't play for us anymore?"
The matron smiled warmly. "Who said I would be the one playing?"
She gestured towards Kanade. "Come on, dear."
Slowly, the young girl stood up and walked towards the piano at the front of the room. She could feel the stares on her back and hear the whispers of conversations that had sprouted up.
All this attention focused on her.
It was a novel feeling.
As she sat down on the bench, the older woman patted the piano. "Kanade has been working very hard so we could resume these sessions. I hope you all remember to show your appreciation!"
Kanade gently laid her fingers on the cool, smooth surfaces of the keys. Their touch brought back the memories of late-night practice sessions, of engraving the rhythm and melody into her very being to be recalled at will.
"I know it's been a while, but I hope you all remember the drill. Ready? Three, two, one, go!"
She played the first note.
The dam broke, and the rest of the music smoothly flowed from that point on.
It felt like her body was moving on its own, knowing exactly which note happened on which beat without even thinking about it.
Leaving the technical aspect of things to her subconscious, she devoted her waking mind to the subtler aspects: shifting her body to emphasize a specific part, playing just a little louder on another section, and slowing down just a smidgen on the final melody.
She could faintly recall the others joining their voices with her melody into one vast amalgamation of music, a sweeping sensation that wrapped them all up in the heat of the moment.
Too soon, the song ended, and that magical moment passed.
Silence filled the room.
For a moment, she felt a surge of trepidation: that her performance was terrible, that she did not live up to the older woman's standards, that the other children resented her for this –
Loud applause broke through her thoughts.
The elderly matron was smiling widely at her as she clapped. "That was fantastic! I daresay that it was even better than what you showed me during our practice sessions!"
Looking around, she saw that the other children were applauding as well. A few seemed hesitant, clapping grudgingly because it was expected of them.
But the majority seemed earnest, showing her nothing but honest faces and genuine awe.
"That was so beautiful!"
"Where did you learn to play like that?!"
"Can you teach me how to be like that?!"
"Now, now," the older woman chided. "We only have one piano, so we can't have everyone be learning at the same time." She smiled. "But if we all took turns throughout the day, then I'm sure we could make it work out. Assuming Kanade agrees, of course."
"Why can't you teach us like you taught her?" one plaintive voice called out.
She shook her head. "I'm already busy enough trying to teach you all everything you would have learned in school. And I'm glad that Kanade seems to have nothing more to learn from me since I don't think my old bones could handle many more late nights." She chuckled good-naturedly.
Kanade felt all their gazes return to her as they awaited her answer. It was a peculiar feeling, being the center of attention. There was something frightening yet strangely intoxicating about it.
Did she want to do it? To take the time to teach them, these strangers who just so happened to live in the same building as her?
A part of her rebelled against the idea, the part that had allowed herself to hope only for it to be dashed against the uncaring rocks of reality.
But she did not want to remain stagnant, did not want to remain in this dark cesspool of isolation.
This was a chance.
So, she would take it.
"Okay."
Even amidst the silence of the room, her voice was so soft that it was almost inaudible.
"I'm sorry dear, but could you speak up?" the matron asked.
She straightened up and spoke in a loud, clear voice. "I'll do it. I'll teach them what I can."
The other children cheered, and the woman smiled at her.
"Good to hear! Now, who wants to go first?"
As the children squabbled over who would get to learn from her first, Kanade felt a warm feeling spread through her.
It was a long shot: she knew some of them would lose their eagerness after finding out just how much work playing an instrument could be.
But the ones that persevered, the ones that shouldered on despite the heavy burden of musicianship –
She hoped they would be her first friends.
xxx
"You need to bend your fingers more."
"Like this?"
"That's too much. Try to copy what I'm doing."
"Oh . . . okay."
"That's better. Now, try playing like that."
Kanade smiled as her pupil adopted her suggestions. The younger girl she was teaching was one of the most eager to begin lessons and had not shied away even after discovering how much work learning an instrument would require.
There had been a surprising number of children with similar attitudes. About half of them had expressed interest in learning, and half of those interested had persisted after the first few weeks of lessons.
Setting up a schedule where everyone could play regularly hadn't been difficult; all the students were willing to sacrifice a little time out of their days to learn.
Of course, as the teacher, Kanade needed to be present for every student's session, making her the most affected by this new arrangement.
The matron had apologized to her for taking up so much of her time, but she had assured the older woman that she was content with the arrangement.
"Hey, Teacher! We're about to go play ball, wanna join us?"
But for now, she had to make up for lost time.
She smiled. "Sure."
Her pupils had nicknamed her "Teacher" as an affectionate gesture. She did not mind, but she wished they didn't joke as much about her teaching normal lessons as well.
She could still recall the whispered conversation during the final lesson of the day.
"Hey! Don't you think it would be better if Teacher taught math as well?"
"Yeah! She's super smart! I bet she could do science and history too!"
Instructing a handful of children in a field she was comfortable with was challenging enough.
Quadrupling the number of attendees and adding half a dozen more subjects?
She did not envy the matron's job.
But now that she had a hobby, a tangible interest she could share with the other children, she found it much easier to relate to them.
"Hey, Teacher! Catch!"
They, in turn, found it much easier to reach out to her as well.
Instinctively, she caught the ball as it sailed towards her.
"Over here! Pass it here!"
She tried to throw the ball towards the voice . . .
However, it veered off course, landing in the far corner of the field.
She blinked. "Ah, I'm sorry."
One of the older boys nearby scratched the back of his head sheepishly after witnessing her poor execution. "I . . . don't think that's how you throw a ball. I can show you some pointers if you want?"
She nodded. "I would appreciate that."
The boy retrieved the ball and moved to stand next to her. She watched as his body twisted and uncoiled, releasing the ball in one fluid motion.
It sailed in a smooth arc before being plucked out of the air by a receiver.
He turned towards her with a beaming smile. "See? Like that!"
She nodded as though she understood everything he had just did. "I see."
"Great! Now, you try!"
She caught the ball as it was passed to her. Slowly, she began twisting and turning her body in an attempt to imitate the motions she had seen the older boy perform.
Whoosh!
The ball sailed off course yet again.
She blinked at the sight of another failure. "I'm sorry."
The older boy waved off her apology. "Don't worry about it! You just need some more practice, then you'll get the hang of it!"
That was how she spent the rest of her afternoon: being tossed balls and attempting to pitch them in a semi-straight line. Throughout it all, the older boy who had offered to teach her remained at her side, ready to encourage her whenever she felt her resolve wavering.
It felt like a bridge was being built in her heart, something to span the yawning hole that had been opened the day of her parents' funeral. It made her feel grounded, more in touch with those around her.
She could feel them growing closer together, understanding each other just a little bit more.
She didn't fit in with the other children, not yet.
But it was a start, a sign of hope for the future.
xxx
Despite the lessons she had been teaching, there was one thing that never changed.
"Hey, Teacher! Can you play that new song, pretty please?"
Although she had offered, not a single one of her pupils wished to play for the class during their music sessions.
"It's your job, Teacher! You're the best at it, anyway."
She didn't mind doing it, but it would be good for their growth as musicians to play in front of a bigger audience.
Oh, well. Maybe she could organize a different recital for her students to partake in.
"The new song has a few tricky parts, so I hope you've all been practicing!" the matron said.
She rested her hands on the smooth, white keys. With so many more people using it, they had been more diligent than ever about maintaining the piano. They couldn't do anything about the parts that had already broke, but the least they could do was ensure that it didn't deteriorate any further.
"Whenever you're ready, dear."
With the matron's soothing voice in her ears, she could feel herself settle down.
And with a final shift, she played the first note –
The musical trance fell upon her, carrying her body through all the proper motions of the song.
And in the blink of an eye, it was over.
As she was met with the usual applause, she noticed something unusual.
A set of clapping hands that did not seem to originate from the crowd of children.
"That was very beautiful."
A young man stood in the doorway. Wearing a crisp, black uniform, he exuded an aura of strictness and discipline that starkly contrasted the homey atmosphere of the orphanage.
The matron looked surprised. "Ah, what are you doing in here?"
The man bowed. "Apologies. I was waiting in the reception area, but when I heard the music, I couldn't help but investigate."
He glanced at Kanade. "You are very talented."
"Thank you," she said.
The older woman quickly stood up. "Why don't we take this somewhere private?"
"Of course," the man smoothly replied.
She turned back to her class for a moment. "Behave yourselves while I'm gone, okay?"
They walked out, leaving behind a room that was now buzzing with whispers about the "strange, black-haired man."
"Do you think he's here to adopt someone?"
"I hope he adopts me!"
"Nah, he doesn't look old enough to be here for that."
"Then why else would he be here?"
"Maybe he's going to adopt Teacher!"
Kanade was startled. The thought had never crossed her mind until that voice aired it for all to hear.
"Well, he did compliment her . . ."
"I hope he doesn't! Who would teach us if Teacher were gone?"
"Yeah, I would miss her too!"
Kanade smiled at the warmth filling their tones. Life at the orphanage was . . . pleasant, these days. She was in no hurry to leave.
But opportunities rarely came twice, and if she were presented with the choice then and there, for the chance to live with a proper, caring family . . .
It was something she had sorely lacked in her own childhood, and it was something she did not want to pass up on. But she didn't know what it would be like, whether they would thaw her frozen heart or freeze it shut for good.
She didn't know what she would do.
But she doubted that she would have to make such a decision anytime soon.
xxx
A few days later, everything changed.
Kanade and the other children were gathered together in the common area to greet visitors. It seemed like it would be just another couple coming by, tentatively considering adoption –
But the greying man who walked in had a certain presence to him, an authority that showed that he was used to being obeyed, to being in control. He had a stern face, with wrinkles lining his countenance like scars on a veteran. He wore a formal black uniform that seemed vaguely familiar until she recalled that the young man from a few days ago had worn something similar.
His gaze zoned in on her unerringly. "Is she the one you told me about?"
"Yes, sir," the black-haired young man from before said, standing just behind him.
His stare was intense, an unwavering, piercing gaze that sought to deconstruct her very being.
"Play for me."
The matron looked confused. "Pardon me?"
"That girl. I want her to play the piano. Any song will do."
The older woman turned to her with a questioning gaze, asking if she was willing to go along with the man's request.
She was as startled by the turn of events as anyone, but she did not see a good reason to refuse.
She nodded.
The matron turned back with a smile. "If you'll follow me, the piano is right this way. Come on, Kanade dear. And the rest of you, behave while we're gone!"
The trip was made in silence. Kanade was taciturn by nature, but the two men had an imposing presence that made it difficult to speak out. Even the lively matron seemed subdued.
Eventually, they made it to the music room. Kanade sat down behind the piano while the others took their places in the audience.
"Whenever you're ready."
The older man's voice was rough, a demanding tone that expected nothing less than perfection.
But she did not let the pressure overwhelm her. Within the flow of the music, such external factors were trivial.
She did not pick a song.
No, she played a note and allowed her body to guide her into whatever it felt was most appropriate.
It was a simple song, one that wasn't nearly as technically difficult as the harder songs she had already learned from the music books.
But as a song that had sprung from her heart, its ability to convey her emotions were unmatched.
The song was of love and loss, of happiness and sorrow. Of the upturns and downturns of life, and of how one must persevere during even the darkest times.
Because there will always be a light at the end.
No matter how long you spend searching for it.
In short, it was a journey, and her audience were merely passengers.
She played the final chord, and a wave of exhaustion swept over her.
Clap, clap, clap.
The older man was applauding while looking at her with an approving expression. The matron was clapping enthusiastically as she always did.
"That was great, Kanade dear! When did you learn that?"
She smiled. It was not a song she had learned. No, it was a song she had always carried within her.
She simply did not have the means to express it until now.
"That was a superb performance for one your age. With some refinement, you could become one of the greatest pianists of all time," the older man said.
He turned to the matron. "I would like to adopt her."
The older woman seemed startled. "Oh, well that's great!" She turned to Kanade. "I'm so glad you've found a family willing to take you in! Congratulations!"
Kanade felt a bit apprehensive about the idea. The man had seemed detached and cold, not at all what she imagined a caring parent to be like.
But she was only seeing one side of him, so perhaps it was unfair of her to judge him so soon.
He had expressed interest in nurturing her burgeoning hobby, which was a point in his favor.
She bowed. "Thank you for taking me in."
He nodded and stood up. "My name is Saionji Katsumoto. That is my assistant over there, Teramoto Atsumichi."
Said assistant gave her a nod before turning away.
"My family is from a line of famous pianists, so I'm sure you'll fit in well," the man said.
She had felt a tinge of nervousness at that statement. She didn't know how well she compared to famous and talented musicians.
But the man seemed experienced and had judged her worthy.
So, she would trust in his judgment.
It was the least she could do.
xxx
"Again."
Saionji's voice was strict and uncompromising. He expected nothing less than perfection from her, and he would not relent until she had delivered it.
Obediently, she replayed the passage that had been giving her so much trouble, a section that involved a sixteenth note jump.
But just like before, her fingers stumbled, and her flow broke yet again, a loud note of dissonance proclaiming her mistake for all to hear.
"Again."
A hint of displeasure crept into his voice, but the man's iron discipline stamped it out so quickly that a casual observer wouldn't have been able to detect it.
But she had lived with the man for the past few years, and she had learned to pick up his subtle tells whenever they appeared.
She had plenty of opportunities to do so, after all.
After that day years ago, when she had arrived at her new "home," she had rarely gone a day without a music lesson with her new "father."
In the beginning, she had learned rapidly, absorbing the knowledge of basic and intermediate techniques and notations like a sponge. But he seemed keen to push her even further, to delve into the rigorous and complex pieces of famous composers such as Franz Liszt and Chopin.
It was difficult work, but she persevered and met the man's continuous demands.
But despite her flourishing talent, her heart remained as cold as ever.
The man had never once displayed an ounce of affection for her, preferring instead to remain cold and detached.
He would compliment her whenever she did well, but his praise always held a tone of emptiness to them, a sense of dullness that never made them seem sincere.
And aside from their daily sessions, she almost never saw the man. All the housework was done by a butler who did not speak to her unless necessary.
No, the only thing her "father" seemed to care about was "nurturing her talent into something splendorous."
That was all.
In the end, despite being adopted, she was lonelier than ever. At least in the hospital, she could hope that one day she would be reunited with her parents and have a tearful reunion.
But she didn't even have that small shred of hope here. Despite being her "family," she didn't share any level of intimacy at all with them.
And it was unlikely that that would ever change.
She wondered if she should have chosen to stay at the orphanage, to cling to that small, simple life. She didn't know if she would have amounted to anything if she had chosen that path, but at the very least, she could have found some small happiness in sharing her joy of music with others.
Or maybe she should have waited for a different family, one that did not see her as a pianist first and a daughter second (if he even considered her a daughter at all).
Regardless, it was too late now. Her fate was sealed.
Perhaps it was foolish of her back then to wish for a better life; whenever she did so, fate seemed to conspire to make her regret it.
If that was the case, then she would just have to close herself off.
Because to hope again would simply be inviting herself to be hurt again.
xxx
She could remember her first concert vividly.
Seeing all those people gathered for her debut, those nameless, faceless strangers who knew of her when she didn't even know them, made her stomach twist and turn, an ugly feeling that made her want to freeze, to run and hide where those thousand stares couldn't pin her in place.
Compared to when she had played for the children back at the orphanage, the difference in atmosphere was staggering. Back then, performances had been relaxing, a time where they could come together and make music together to strengthen their bonds.
But here, there was none of that.
There was only this overwhelming pressure bearing down on her.
Deep breaths. Deep breaths.
She had practiced constantly for this moment. Her "father" had seen to that.
Her fingers trembled ever so slightly as they touched the cool, ivory keys of the grand piano in front of her. This was it. This debut would make or break her career as a concert pianist.
She couldn't afford to make a mistake.
She felt herself shiver. It was chilly, she realized. Even though she could feel the sweat building up all over her body from her nervous tension, she couldn't help but feel ice cold.
Every eye darted to her as the curtains were raised, exposing herself to the fickle crowd. They gazed coldly at her, searching for any hint of weakness like a flock of vultures.
Watching her.
Staring at her.
Just waiting for her to slip up.
She closed her eyes, pressed on the first note, and let the rest of the song flow through her like water.
She could not recall what she felt as she played. All she knew was that her body moved like a well-oiled machine, pushing keys in time with her internal metronome to recreate the song she had spent hours perfecting in her practice sessions.
The next thing she knew, it was over.
The cheers were overwhelming.
It was all she could do to stagger to her feet and give a short, awkward bow before quickly shuffling off-stage.
She almost collapsed in the back room, unused to such adrenaline coursing through her body. She found herself panting and gasping for several minutes before finally calming down.
"You did well."
She turned to find Saionji looking at her with a smile on his lips.
But even that looked fake, insincere. As if he was smiling because it was expected of him rather than any genuine desire.
"Thank you," she murmured.
He nodded. "With this, I have nothing left to teach you. Now that you are an adult and have made a successful debut, you are ready to become a full-fledged concert pianist." He paused. "I have business overseas, so I will not be able to aid you any longer. However, you may still in my house in this city as long as you like, and you can still ask Teramoto to help you handle the logistics surrounding your concert performances. You may also rely on Shiina as an escort if necessary."
He patted her shoulder awkwardly. "I'm sorry if I haven't been much of a father to you these past few years. I have always been a musician first, and I have always felt the need to cultivate my passion in others as well." He paused. "At the very least, you have a bright future ahead of you now. Take care of yourself now."
He turned and walked away, leaving her behind.
That was the last time she ever saw him.
The man who had molded her into who she was today, and he had left her life just as easily as he had entered it, leaving behind only an empty apology for all those years of giving her the cold-shoulder.
She should've been outraged at him, this man who thought that cheap words could alleviate his neglect as a father.
But it didn't bother her. Like he said, he had never been much of a father to her, and thus she had never developed any affection for him.
She had long since stopped expecting any sort of fatherly love to come from him.
But because of him, her future was all planned out for her like a neatly plotted roadmap. The life of a concert pianist, who moved around in a month more often than the average person did in a lifetime and performed for crowds of strangers who would never see past her skill to notice the person underneath.
But, that man was no longer there. He had said it himself: she was an adult now, capable of making her own decisions. There was nothing stopping her from discarding his map and attempting to blaze her own trail.
Except, she had no idea what to do if she went off on her own. Every time she tried to think of an alternative plan, her mind would blank out.
Her "father" had never asked her if she wanted to be a concert pianist. It was simply the role he had been grooming her for from the very start, and she had been too overwhelmed by the transition to protest.
And now it was too late.
Because her last several years of life had been consumed by music, by her preparations to become a concert pianist, she had no inkling of what other career she could pursue.
There was only one path for her to take now.
She could only accept it.