Chapter Text
Dearest Oda Toshinori,
As I write this, it's a crisp spring morning, in early April, but by the time you read this, it will likely be late summer. I can't say for certain, of course, but that's my best estimation.
I have a lot to say, perhaps even too much, and yet when I bring pen to paper the words completely scramble from my mind, leaving what I write all over the place. I hope that, at the very least, this makes some sense.
Do you remember the first time we met? I've always wanted to ask you this, the question lingering in the back of my throat, but I kept it to myself all this time. I don't understand why, either. It's not that I'm scared to ask, or that I think the memory is unpleasant, it's nothing like that. The reason is unknown even to myself, but now, I want to tell you, so that incase you have forgotten it will make you come to understand some things, or if you do remember than I hope it is as pleasant of a memory to you as it was for me.
It was a midsummer night, after a few rainy days had left the earth dewy and the smell of wet grass was still strong in the air. There were few grey clouds remaining in the sky, but finally the stars were visible for the first time in what had felt like forever. The moon was not yet quite full but it was well on its way, the light still trickling down and casting a cool glow against the earth. To put it simply, it was a beautiful night out.
At this point, my father had been talking for a few days about some party of a friend of a friends, something along those lines. It wasn't an unusual thing for my father to discuss, so I had stopped listening to the specific details. For appearance sake, naturally, my mother and I were to attend alongside him, and when prompted, encouraged to speak highly of him both in a professional and a personal sense. "He's always so serious about work, but that never stops him from providing so much for the family!" That sort of thing. It's not as if my father is horrible or anything but I'm sure you can relate when I say that it gets tiring feeling like a broken record at each dinner and party, and so on and so forth.
It was an hour into the party, maybe even a little later than that, when I first caught a glimpse of you. You looked so miserable at the time, as if you wanted to be anywhere but there. And, I hope you don't think I'm cruel for saying this, but it made me smile a little. Not because I found pleasure in your unhappiness, but because, for the first time in so long, I finally felt as if there was somebody at one of those parties that (even if only for a fleeting second) I could relate to. By that age, I had grown so accustomed to attending these 'grown-up' parties so often that I had convinced even myself that I was enjoying them when the truth was so much more complicated than that.
The party continued onward, and the same conversations repeated over and over again, only this time, the image of your scowling face kept reappearing in my mind and it resonated deeply with me. Several times, I held back giggles during such serious conversations, and it was brushed off simply as "Teenage girls, what can you do about them?" I do hope you're not offended by me saying all this because I really do not mean it in a malicious way! Somehow it almost helped make the same tedious repeated conversations seem a little more bearable, knowing it was not a burden I suffered alone.
Later into the evening, I excused myself to use the washroom and, after being courteously given the directions by one of your lovely servants, was making my way in the proper direction when a particular noise caught my ear. The distant sound of classical music. But it wasn't a recording on a cassette or a tape, it was the live thing. Before I realized it, my feet were leading me to the source of the music. The closer I got, the more I began to clue in. It was the violin, and, as I would later learn, was a rendition of Chopin's Nocturne in C minor. Peeking my head into the room to catch a glimpse of the mystery musician, I soon realized I was looking at the scowling boy from earlier on in the afternoon- That's right, it was you! I watched in complete awe, my previously wandering feet now grounded firmly in position, and I did all I could to remain silent so as to not disturb the flow of the music.
How can I say this? Perhaps my words are not elegant enough to fully capture what I felt in that moment, but a sense of pure ease had taken over my body. The melody was so elegant and refined, but in no sense did it come across as boring and plain. You played with a certain aura, as if you truly loved the music and had put many tough years of training into perfecting it.
I almost felt as if I were intruding on a personal moment, but I couldn't will myself to turn around. Not until the song ended, that is. As the music came to a stop, you had raised your arm holding the bow into the air triumphantly with a proud smile on your face. I found myself smiling along with you- until our eyes connected. Immediately, my expression dropped and I gasped out-loud before running away just as quickly as I had arrived. You didn't follow me, you didn't even call out. It was a moment I'll never forget, but a moment we had never addressed, so I couldn't help but always wonder:
Do you remember?
With much love,
Kanai Izumi.