Chapter Text
Tonight is probably the most nerve-wracking night of Kaneki Ken’s life. So far, anyways.
Kaneki prides himself on being a pretty calm person. Someone’s yelling at him to move out of the way before he gets a fist to the face? Kaneki dodges the offender and politely apologizes for causing trouble. There’s an explosion in the music faculty cafeteria (probably due to a mindless student forgetting to remove the lid when microwaving their food)? Kaneki calls the fire department and assures them that no, the chemistry department is perfectly fine and no one needs to bring in a hazmat squad. And then he goes back to eating his ham sandwich despite the carcinogenic stench of burnt yakisoba poisoning the room.
Yet somehow said violinist always get ridiculously anxious right before concerts. He tries to convince himself that even if he royally screws up, there are dozens of screeching violins, squeaking clarinets and obnoxiously loud trumpets to drown out his mistakes. Despite repeatedly telling himself that tonight though, his stomach twists more and more tightly into a nervous knot. His only consolation is that at least Rize isn’t there yet to call him ‘weak’ and a ‘wet noodle’ like she usually does.
It doesn’t help that while setting up his violin, Kaneki discovers that he forgot his rosin. Thankfully he borrows his desk mate’s but he still got a minor heart attack over it.
It really doesn’t help that he almost trips over a trombone case, and receives a death glare from the principal trombonist aka the second-scariest person in the orchestra (the first is the concertmaster).
He is walking on a tightrope of nerves over an abyss. That’s what Kaneki feels like, anyways. He doesn’t know why he is more wound up than usual tonight, but his question is soon answered when Ogura Hisashi, the orchestra conductor of the Kamii University Symphony Orchestra, pulls Kaneki aside right before dress rehearsal to let him know that second desk, first violinist Kaneki Ken would be tonight’s concertmaster. Yup, off he goes flying into the abyss.
“W-what!?!” Kaneki sputters. He doesn’t think he’s ever sounded so shrill in his life. “What happened to Rize-san? And Karube-san? Isn’t the assistant concertmaster supposed to replace the concertmaster?”
“I don’t know what happened to Kamishiro. She’s not answering any of our calls or messages. As for Karube, she got in a car accident an hour ago and she’s in the hospital now.”
“In the hospital?” Kaneki gasps. “Is she okay?”
The conductor looks down sombrely. “I don’t think so. Apparently some of the glass from the crash got into her eyes.”
“Oh.” Kaneki likes Karube. He really does. She is a very nice person who can somehow manage to deal with Rize’s shit, and he desperately hopes that she will be alright, but the monosyllabic word is all that Kaneki can manage to speak without freaking out about becoming the concertmaster the day of the actual concert. What the hell.
Ogura sighs. “Listen, Kaneki-kun. You’re a smart and talented musician with a sharp ear. You’ve been sitting behind Kamishiro the entire time. Plus, she’s your violin teacher, so you know how she plays. If anyone can perform near her level, it would be you. So please…I’m begging you!”
Kaneki gawks at the bespectacled man. The knot lodged in his stomach lurches upwards and is slowly squeezing his lungs flat. Closing his eyes, he takes a deep breath, letting the cool air fill up his lungs and expelling the panic from his body.
“I’m sorry, I can’t play the solo for Rimsky-Korsakov. I’ve never–”
“Don’t worry,” Ogura reassures him. “You’ve played the theme dozens of times as first violin anyways. Whatever you do I will follow, and the orchestra will follow. Just relax and play the solos to the best of your ability. It’s okay if you slow it down a tiny bit since this is such short notice, but that means I’ll have to slow down the tempo for the entire piece, which I want to avoid if at all possible.”
The conductor’s voice wavers. Kaneki opens his eyes to see the same panic mirrored, no, amplified, in Ogura’s eyes. He must have been trying to stay calm for Kaneki’s sake, but how could he when he had just lost two of his best violinists in one night? On the night of a concert, no less.
The violinist takes another deep breath, already regretting what he is about to say.
“KANEKI! YOU’RE THE WHAT!?!”
“Stop shouting, Hide. You’re going to make me go deaf,” Kaneki winces.
Hide smiles sheepishly. “Sorry, Kaneki. It’s just really…unexpected.”
“You’re telling me,” the violinist mutters as he takes a booklet of sheet music out of his folder and sets it on the matte black music stand. Capriccio Espagnol, Op. 34 by Nicolai Rimsky-Korsakov is stamped across the top of the first page in big bold black letters.
Hide peers at the sheet music and flips through it nonchalantly. “Geez, why is the violin score so complicated?”
“Because I can actually play it, unlike you,” Kaneki retorts dryly.
“Very funny,” Hide says, lightly smacking his friend’s head. “I hate that it’s true though. If I could play the trumpet like that, I’d be the best in the world.”
“Good luck playing more than one note on your trumpet at the same time.”
Kaneki has to admit, he already feels a lot better after bantering with his best friend. He suspects that Hide does it on purpose, but he can never tell with the blonde trumpeter.
Hide puts a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “You’ll be fine. You’ve practiced the solos before, right?”
Kaneki pauses before nodding. “Yeah, but it’s completely different playing by yourself, especially for this piece. It’s pretty easy to fudge the trills when I’m playing with everyone, but now I have to play them perfectly and on the beat or else I’ll fall behind and slow everyone down.” What he doesn’t mention is that he has spent afternoons in the university’s private practice rooms playing the solo parts, even if he would never actually get to perform them. Kaneki isn’t sure why he does it, but now he’s thankful for that extra practice.
“Hmm…I don’t have any trills in my trumpet part, but the tempo is definitely an issue,” Hide says thoughtfully.
That was the catch of the Capriccio Espagnol. A beautiful, magnificent orchestral composition, but if the orchestra doesn’t play right on the conductor’s beat, then the lively Spanish dance transforms into a chaotic tangle of limbs and notes.
Kaneki clutches his bow tightly. He looks down at the bulging blue-green vein below his first knuckle on his right hand. “I don’t know what I’m doing. I’ve never been the concertmaster before. I’ve never played a solo in orchestra. I don’t know why the conductor even bothered to choose me out of–”
“Ken.”
The black-haired boy jumps in his seat as Hide plants his arms firmly on Kaneki’s tuxedo-covered shoulders.
“Stop deprecating yourself. Even if you don’t show it, I know you’re one of the best violinists in this orchestra. In Kamii, in fact. I know you’re smart and can get the fingering and tempo down and whatever else with a bit of practice. I believe in you, Kaneki Ken!”
Kaneki gapes at Hide. He doesn’t know what to say to that, but he doesn’t have to because Hide continues his spiel.
“A word of advice though. I know you’ll ace the technical stuff because I see you practicing it every day in that practice room of yours. You know, the farthest one down the hallway? (Kaneki turns pink, how does Hide know that?) But just make sure when you’re playing the solos that you’re enjoying yourself. You tend to be on the melancholy side, you know.” Hide smirks before letting go of Kaneki’s shoulders.
For some reason, Kaneki can’t seem to utter a single word other than, “Hide…”
Hide drops his cocky front and he quickly adds, “Was that pep talk too much? I was hoping that would cheer you up, but if that doesn’t work I can always slap you or something–”
Kaneki grabs Hide’s hand that is unconsciously scratching his cheek, and the blonde falls silent.
“No, I really needed that. Thanks.” Kaneki gives him a warm smile. “Can you set up my metronome? I need to get the tempo down for the triplet notes.”
Hide breathes a sigh of relief as he reaches into his friend’s bag. “I thought you’d never ask.”
The KUSO’s concert repertoire is usually comprised of three pieces, but since the Kamii University Symphony Orchestra Spring Concert was the first concert of the school year, Ogura had only chosen two: Rimsky-Korsakov’s Capriccio Espagnol followed by Tchaikovsky’s Suite No. 1 in D minor.
Kaneki wishes that he doesn’t have to play the Rimsky-Korsakov right away. Anything to avoid the inevitable for as long as possible. But then again, at least he can get it over with. Just like ripping a band-aid off a day-old wound, with the adhesive stuck to the broken skin. Kaneki also wishes that he didn’t have such morbid thoughts so often, but he blames that on the horror novels he had read so often in high school.
There isn’t anything more he can do to prepare by this point. He had practiced the solos alone and with the orchestra, and although he fumbled a bit at first, by the end of dress rehearsal Kaneki was playing almost as well as Rize had. In fact, he sounded exactly like Rize, from the way he interpreted the cadenza and placed emphasis on certain notes to the tempo of each phrase. Kaneki isn’t sure if that is a good or bad thing, but he doesn’t have time to ponder it because before he knows it, Kaneki is already walking across the stage and taking his seat on the edge of the stage.
In those short five minutes before the concert begins, Kaneki senses everything in his surroundings. His close proximity to the conductor’s podium and the audience. The brilliant stage lights warming the crown of his head. The faint scent of cherry blossoms from his desk mate. The quiet tittering of the audience in the packed concert hall. Ogura’s motioning hand from behind the stage curtains. His shaking calf muscles as he stands up, moving his music stand slightly out of the way to clear some space. The immediate silence that sweeps across the hall. The dust motes swirling around in the blinding light. The eye contact with the principal oboist as she inhales and plays a steady concert A. The haphazard collection of slightly out-of-tune A’s converging into one harmonious note and eventually into a warm heavenly chord which fades away once he sinks into his cushioned chair. The heavy clomping steps of the conductor, followed by a fortissimo applause. Ogura’s sweaty palm while shaking hands, and sitting back down onto the chair he has just vacated. The deep breath from above and the conductor raising his arms in preparation. The familiar sensation of the hard chinrest against his skin, and his worn bow near the rosin-dusted strings. The first downward stroke of the baton. And finally, an explosion of fast colourful notes, the snare drum keeping the beat steady.
Kaneki’s body sways to the energetic music. This isn’t so bad, he thinks. I’ve played this melody dozens of times. I can play this a couple times on my own. No big deal. As soon as the first round of the theme ends, he quickly lifts his bow and begins plucking the strings with his fingers, accompanying the sound of the sweet clarinet as it skips through the air.
He wishes he could stay in this moment forever, but the orchestra is now repeating the melody, the clarinet is shining in its second solo, and Kaneki can feel his impending debut solo quickly approaching.
Stay on the beat, stay on the beat. He stares at his sheet music, counting each bar religiously. A bar before his solo, Kaneki takes a full breath and lifts his bow.
What the hell am I playing?
Kaneki cringes, the sound grating his ears. Everything feels heavy, the atmosphere the consistency of molasses. His stone fingers and arms refuse to move properly, and it takes all of his concentration just to barely stay on time. Light flicks with a stick, not heavy strikes with a sword.
Light fingers. I need to be light. I need to relax so that it actually sounds like a Spanish dance, not a funeral dirge.
The second movement, Variazioni, begins, and his mind wanders as he listens to the soothing movement taken over by the wind and brass, echoes of a repeating melody that wash Kaneki in his memories.
He is sitting on a giant plastic whale in the middle of a playground. The sun is sinking rapidly into the ground, and the kids and their parents are getting ready to leave the park. He sees a girl with a ponytail, around eight, holding her arms and waving them around until her father amusedly picks her up. A toddler crying as his mother pats his head soothingly and wipes his tears with her thumb.
He probably should have waited until the playground was empty before coming here. He just hopes that none of the adults approach him and ask where his parents are, or else he might actually burst into tears.
“Oi, Kaneki. Have you been there this entire time?”
Kaneki starts. He glances to his right and there Hide is, looking up at him from the ground, a red school backpack in tow.
“How did you…?”
“Know where you were?” Hide puts on an invisible deerstalker hat and pretends to smoke a pipe. “Elementary, my dear Kaneki. I figured you would be either on the hill or here, so I took a guess. And I was right!”
“Oh…” Kaneki trails off. He stares at the red and blue rubber playground floor blankly.
Hide stares at him for a few seconds before jumping up and joining Kaneki on the whale structure. He pats Kaneki’s shoulders firmly, jolting Kaneki from his gloomy thoughts.
“My mom’s making udon tonight. I’m sure she has enough for you as well.”
Kaneki’s eyes widen. “What? I can’t, I’d just be disrupting–”
“No way, she loves you! I think she bought too many udon packages, so we’d be okay even if we fed you for an entire week. Plus, I want you to hear me play the trumpet. I don’t sound like a dying goose anymore! Why don’t you try playing it too?”
The boy prattles on about his beloved trumpet. A small smile slowly creeps onto Kaneki’s face.
“I doubt I’ll be able to play it.”
“No way! Just blow as hard as you can and you’ll be good to go!”
Kaneki smiles nostalgically as the second movement comes to a quiet close. He somehow feels lighter, the flute trilling away the stress from his burdens, even with his upcoming solo. Amazing how Hide can help him even now.
Alborada, the third movement, begins, the woodwinds reprising the first movement. Kaneki focuses on his sheet music, counting down the bars until his solo. He returns the bow into his grasp, takes a deep breath and dives into the music.
Am I really playing right now? It can’t be – the melody sounds much happier than anything Kaneki has ever played in his life. And yet it’s his fingers that are dancing with excitement and keeping in perfect time with the orchestra, and his bow that is caressing the violin strings. Everything feels weightless, a rare experience for Kaneki who is used to the heaviness of life.
The clarinet sneaks in, mingling with Kaneki’s violin as its arpeggios rise and fall. The third movement ends with an orchestra hit, and Kaneki takes a much needed sigh of relief. He has almost made it, but the hardest part is still yet to come. Even though he has free reign of the cadenza, he is still nervous. At that moment, no one will be accompanying him. Just Kaneki alone on that stage, the unwanted spotlight shining directly on him, like that time in elementary school when he was forced to be the lead of the school play. How does he even end up in these situations?
The fourth movement, Scena e Canto gitano, takes off with the horns and trumpets in the back, accompanied by the snare drum. Kaneki can almost hear Hide shout, “You can do it, Kaneki! Ace that solo!” from his trumpet fanfare. He shivers as the trumpets announce the start of the Spanish gypsy dance with the D minor arpeggio, and he feels the adrenaline racing through his veins as he picks up his bow to perform the cadenza.
He wonders where Rize is, what could have happened to make her miss such an important night, because he’s pretty sure that this cadenza is her favourite part of the piece, if not the entire concert repertoire. He remembers that she once told him that she liked performing cadenzas because of the freedom to interpret the cadenza and make it her own. Not the conductor’s, not another musician’s, but hers alone. At least that’s what Kaneki picked up from it. Her exact words were something like this is the only time I can play however I want without the fucking conductor throwing a hissy fit. Yeah, Kaneki prefers his interpretation of Rize’s quote, but unfortunately he won’t be able to follow it tonight, because the last thought that pops up in Kaneki’s head before beginning the cadenza is: how would Rize-san play this?
The first chord slices through the air like lightning. Kaneki’s fingers fly across the fingerboard, and he strikes the strings delicately yet with fervor. He moves the bow sensually, the vibrato from each chord filling the hall with heated tension. Agonizingly slow arpeggios that snake through the audience and leave behind goosebumps as parting gifts. No one can look away as Kaneki and his violin dance to the exotic Spanish melody, and he plays his final note, a high A, shrill but oddly pleasing to the ear.
The concert hall is silent for what seems like an eternity as the high note dissipates almost instantaneously. Kaneki has little time to dwell on his performance though, and he quickly joins the first violins while the solo flute and clarinet sing the passed-on melody. Like two rabbits hopping around on a grassy meadow, the wind carrying the haunting melody through the field before snatching the two rabbits’ melodies out of sight and replacing them with the oboe’s and the harp’s.
The harpist plays the heavenly notes with a flourish, but Kaneki can barely hear it over the pounding of blood pulsing through his head. He’s pretty sure his face is tomato red now, but he doesn’t care because he did it. He did it! Actually, Rize-san did it, but–
He doesn’t have any more time to think though, because the spotlight has returned to the violins, and Kaneki throws himself back into the sheet music as the gypsy dance commences.
The rest of the Capriccio Espagnol passes by in an energetic blur, but when it ends in vivid red fireworks with a maelstrom of musical notes exploding into the air, Kaneki thinks, Rize-san, thank you for lending me your strength.
The audience explodes into thunderous applause. Ogura is bowing to the audience, then turns around and gestures for Kaneki to stand up. Kaneki stands up awkwardly, his legs completely stiff, and the crowd claps even louder. The blood rushes to his face and he manages a slight bow without knocking over any stands or instruments, which he considers a success.
One by one, the soloists stand up, and the applause increases in volume. Kaneki glances to his left, and the first thing that catches his eye is a sparkling silver flute held upright by with both hands by a girl with short dark blue hair, her bangs completely covering up her right eye. He also notices a boy with messy hair, colour similar to the flutist’s, except he is holding a black clarinet with charcoal keys instead of the usual silver. And of course, Hide’s familiar tuft of blonde hair all the way in the back.
The audience slowly quiets down, and the musicians take their seats again. The conductor mouths Tchaikovsky, and waits a few seconds before making eye contact to the back of the stage. He lifts his baton, and the eerie melody of the bassoon permeates the hall.
Kaneki would have loved to revel in the bassoon’s solo longer, but only a couple measures pass before he and the other violinists quietly start trilling, swirling around the bassoon’s ghostly voice before taking over the melody themselves.
Even though there are five other movements in the suite, Kaneki has to admit that the Introduzione of the first movement is his favourite part of the entire piece, the only one that truly feels like D minor. There is just something about D minor that resonates within Kaneki’s core. D minor understands Kaneki, and Kaneki understands D minor. The remaining movements are too bright for Kaneki’s taste, even the third movement, Intermezzo. They must have been the precursor of Tchaikovsky’s Nutcracker Suite, because whenever he hears the fourth movement, Marche miniature, that is all he can think about. Toy soldiers and ballet dancers and Christmas ornaments.
As Kaneki slides the bow across the violin strings at the climax of Introduzione, his bowing arm relaxes and plays the discordant descending chromatic scale. He can pinpoint Hide’s trumpet in the haunting fanfare, the one that sounds just a bit brighter than the other brass instruments. The entire orchestra comes to a sudden halt with the timpani the only sound echoing in the hall. He continues to play, albeit accompanying the cellos with harmony until Introduzione comes to a quiet close.
The second half of the first movement, Moderato e con anima, begins, and Kaneki returns to the music in front of him, playing with precision. He finds that the fugue is too traditional for his tastes, reminiscent of Bach and his structural pieces. Not that the king of counterpoint is bad, but Kaneki prefers modern and abstract pieces in general because they express everything much more accurately, whether it be waking up in a puddle in the middle of a magical forest or lying in a hospital bed waiting for death to hurry up and pull the plug. He likes the way the notes flow freely, sometimes harmonizing with each other and other times colliding into seemingly chaotic dissonance.
The first movement ends, and the rest of the Nutcracker-esque suite proceeds smoothly. The suite and the concert end on a bright note, and the fluffy dance is replaced with thundering applause while the tired musicians stand up and the conductor bows many times before the clock strikes midnight and reality seeps into the dream-like aura of the concert hall.
As soon as Kaneki leaves the stuffy stage, he groans loudly in relief. The adrenaline has finally taken its toll on his body, and he is exhausted and looking forward to greeting his pillow.
He isn’t sure what to think of tonight. It had been terrifying and exhilarating at the same time. And yet when he was playing the solo, everything in his vicinity had fogged up and disappeared from his mind. Just him and his violin. That was all that had mattered at the time. It was weird because even though he had performed plenty of recitals before, this was the first time that Kaneki had ever been this absorbed in the music.
“Kaneki-kun, congrats on the solo!” someone calls out from the crowd of musicians just exiting the stage.
“Yeah, that was amazing! How’d you learn to play like that?”
The backstage room echoes with dozens of congratulations. Kaneki blushes and stammers a thank you, but he doesn’t think anyone can hear it.
“Oi, Kaneki, where are you?” Hide calls out just as he steps into Kaneki’s line of sight. He finally sees Kaneki and runs up to him.
“What did I tell you? I told you that you would ace it!” he declares enthusiastically, waving his arms around like a spastic octopus holding a golden spit-covered trumpet. The spit goes flying, and someone shouts, “Nagachika, you bastard, watch where you’re aiming that thing!”
“Sorry, Nishio-san!” Hide yells back, and lowers his instrument.
“D-did I really? Ace it, I mean,” Kaneki asks incredulously.
“Uh, yeah! When I heard you, it was mind-blowing. You connected really well with the accompanying woodwinds, and you played really brightly for the third movement. And then your cadenza was – wow. You can’t get any more Spanish than that. You could probably seduce a hot girl playing like that.” Hide raises his eyebrows suggestively.
Kaneki blushes again because he thinks Hide is laying on the compliments a bit too much. Not that he doesn’t appreciate it.
“That’s good,” Kaneki replies automatically, but he catches himself. “I mean the playing well thing, not the seducing thing!! Hide, stop laughing!”
Hide continues to chortle and clutches his stomach in mock pain. Typical Hide.
Kaneki wipes his brow and sighs. “At least it’s over with. By the way, good job on the trumpet solo. It sent shivers down my back.”
“Ah well, it was all of us playing, but I’ll take the thanks,” Hide grins and gives him a thumbs-up. “I have to admit, it was pretty epic. Anyways, I have to go clean my trumpet before I get spit on someone else again, so I’ll be back in a few minutes, ‘kay?”
Kaneki nods. “See you in a bit.”
Kaneki and Hide are walking out into the main lobby of the concert hall when a man with whitening grey hair approaches them.
“Excuse me. Are you the concertmaster by any chance?” The man has a soothing voice and a genial smile on his aged face.
Kaneki blinks. “Interim concertmaster,” Kaneki corrects him hesitantly. “The actual concertmaster and assistant concertmaster couldn’t make it today.”
“Ah, I’m sorry to hear that. Although you played the Rimsky-Korsakov exceptionally well. Even with the limited amount of practice you must have had, I was quite moved by your cadenza.”
“T-thank you, sir,” Kaneki stutters. Hide elbows him in the side and Kaneki shoots him a glare.
“Anyways,” the man looks pointedly at Hide before bringing his gaze back to Kaneki, “I was wondering if I could talk to you alone.”
Hide immediately notices the man’s tone change, all business, and he nods. “I’ll be waiting by the front entrance, Kaneki.”
Kaneki and the man watch the blonde disappear from the lobby.
“So you are Kaneki?”
“Yes, Kaneki Ken.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Kaneki-san. I am Dr. Kanou Akihiro, and I am the conductor of the Tokyo Symphony Orchestra.”
Kaneki’s eyes widen in shock. The Tokyo Symphony Orchestra is one of the top orchestras in Japan. What is he talking to a measly university violinist for?
“Although I am a very busy man, I stopped by here tonight for a reason.” Kanou purses his lips and continues. “One of the violinists from my orchestra has suddenly quit, although I believe you may know her as the concertmaster and your current violin teacher?”
Kaneki gapes at Kanou. “Rize-san? She actually contacted you?”
“Yes, just a couple hours ago, actually. Told me that she couldn’t stand playing as a group, and quit on the spot.”
Kaneki groans. Something seems a bit off, but that definitely sounds like something she would do on a whim. Although everyone recognizes that Kamishiro Rize is an extremely talented musician, few could actually stand her due to her terrible personality and unwillingness to cooperate with others. Frankly, he isn’t sure how he deals with her either.
“At least she’s not floating face down in the middle of the Sumida River,” he deadpans.
Kanou chuckles at Kaneki’s dark humour. “Yes, anything but. But that was not the main reason I came to talk to you today.”
Kaneki tilts his head in confusion.
“Because Kamishiro-san quit, the TSO is now a violinist short. This normally wouldn’t be a problem, but a few of our regular violinists and all of our backup ones were borrowed for an international tour, and we have a concert in just over a week.”
Kaneki doesn’t like where this is headed.
The conductor clears his throat. “I was very impressed with your last-minute performance, and how well you seem to work under pressure. I was wondering if you would like to play for the Tokyo Symphony Orchestra as a first violinist.”
Kaneki opens and closes his mouth like a goldfish before managing to stammer, “I-I’m only a second year though. Wouldn’t there be other violinists better and more experienced than me?”
“Of course, but I don’t have time to run auditions through all of Kamii’s and Tokyo’s violinists, and to be honest, you do have the technical skill necessary to do well in the TSO.”
Kaneki doesn’t know what to think. He had started out tonight almost getting murdered by the scary trombonist, and now he is being offered a seat in one of the most prestigious orchestras in Japan. What is he, the protagonist of a novel?
“Could I have some time to think over your offer?”
“Of course, Kaneki-san. I realize that this is very sudden for you.”
Kaneki mutters a thank-you, and just as he is about to leave, Kanou hands him his business card and calls out, “It would be great if you could give me an answer by tomorrow noon, seeing as how short on time we are.”
Kaneki nods mutely and bows slightly to the esteemed conductor before taking his leave. He walks back silently to the front entrance to where Hide is waiting for him.
“So what did the old man want to talk to you about?” Hide questions Kaneki as they begin walking towards the bus stop.
Kaneki looks into Hide’s warm brown eyes. “He wants me to play for the Tokyo Symphony Orchestra.”