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Piano is just one more thing that Beatrix soured for Reiji, as unintentional as it might have been. When he first learned how to play, the piano was a surprising source of delight. Even as a child, Reiji was not fond of grandiose displays of emotion. Those who were capable of it confused him. Through music, however, he could be a little more honest. “It’s not that I am being emotional, it is merely that this is a song with a lot of feeling,” he would explain, blushing and hiding his mouth behind his palm before settling down to play an etude.
In an uncharacteristic show of devoted motherhood, Beatrix had a grand piano meticulously hand-crafted by a master and brought into the estate. Normal children should never have had the opportunity to play on such a majestic instrument, but Reiji was no mere child. What’s more, he took pride in the fact that he was privileged and special—that he was a child of Karlheinz, king of vampires. Not only was this fine instrument fit for a prince such as him, it was his due. A lesser instrument simply would not suffice.
And so Reiji would spend many an afternoon playing away, his mind temporarily pulled away from more serious pursuits.
It took only one phrase from Beatrix to make Reiji hate the piano: “Now you may play accompaniment for Shu when he plays the violin!”
They played only one duet together: Chopin’s Nocturne in C sharp minor. All in attendance agreed that the duet was devastatingly beautiful—an achingly haunting performance. The depth of feeling in the sound of Shu’s violin simultaneously frustrated and fascinated Reiji. He could not understand from whence it came and this crushed him to the point where he wished never to play the piano again. He could not—would not—face his brother or himself.
Countless years later, Reiji’s surprised to see his old grand piano sitting in the foyer of the Sakamaki house. It seems to him that it hasn’t aged a bit; he can’t help running a finger along the top of it, feeling the familiar texture of smooth wood. “Hmph. I must be getting sentimental... I’m almost tempted to play a tune.” He dismisses the impulse, as he’s sure the piano isn’t in tune.
“Oh~? If it isn’t Reiji! What are you doing in here?” The insincere lilt to the voice immediately gives the identity of the speaker away. Reiji folds his arms across his chest as he watches his younger brother Laito saunter out of the shadows and into view.
“I’m only having a look at this piano,” he explains. After a moment’s pause, he adds “It was a gift from my mother when I was a child.” He’s not sure why he bothers volunteering the information, but trying to hide things from Laito rarely ever works out, in any case.
“Oh, so that’s where it came from!” Laito nods thoughtfully. “The familiars found it in storage and asked if I might like to have it. I didn’t know you play the piano.”
“I played the piano. Strictly in the past tense, you must understand.”
“Ehhh? Why? That’s no fun!”
“I don’t make decisions based on how much amusement you’ll derive from them, Laito.”
Laito puffs out his cheeks, feigning offense. “Everyone ought to, I think! It’s my opinion that counts.” Taking no heed of his older brother’s discomfort, Laito closes the distance between the piano and himself. Like a child unwrapping a gift, he lifts the lid of the grand piano and props it open, then plucks one of the strings with his fingers. A bright C note reverberates through the foyer and Laito’s lips curl into a smirk. “Perfect.”
“How did you get the piano tuned?”
“A man has his ways!” Laito sits down in front of the piano and Reiji realizes that that’s all he’s going to get in the way of explanation. “Care to play a duet, Big Brother?”
He’s reminded once more of the past. “No. And don’t call me that.”
“Aww, why?”
“I dislike nicknames.”
Laito rolls his eyes. “No, I mean... Why won’t you play a duet with me? What’s the harm? Clearly you don’t have anything else to do, otherwise you wouldn’t be standing there talking to me.”
“.........” Loath as Reiji is to admit it, Laito has a point. “I don’t know any duets,” he finally says stiffly.
“Oho, so the little brother’s going to be the teacher this time around!” Laito scoots down on the piano chair to make room for Reiji on his left. With a sigh, Reiji sits down to oblige him. “Just listen to this for a little while and see if you can’t come up with something to go with it.”
“Wha...! Do you expect me to improvise?”
“Yep! Don’t worry, it won’t kill you. Probably.” Laito grins, knowing full well how unused Reiji is to spontaneity.
He begins to play a delicate melody and Reiji listens attentively for a few minutes. It’s all in one key, making the composition of an accompaniment rather straightforward, he thinks. Beyond that, it occurs to Reiji that Laito is a much better pianist than he ever gave him credit for.
Perhaps it’s out of respect for that skill that Reiji finally lifts his hands to the keys and begins to play a slow, supporting set of chords from the lower-toned half of the piano. Like Laito himself, the younger Sakamaki’s half of the duet is spirited and decisive. Reiji notes, however, that the composition is in a minor key. He has to wonder what else Laito’s hiding in that labyrinthian mind of his.
“Why did you stop playing piano?” Laito asks, making conversation over their piano playing.
Reiji isn’t sure how to answer. “My mother”, he could say, or “my brother” might be just as accurate. Neither captures the complexity of his feelings as a child. He finally settles on “I was running away from something.”
“You’re being awfully honest today.”
“Don’t be facetious when you’re the one asking me all these questions.”
“Sorry, sorry~ It’s in my nature.”
“Perhaps you should do something about that.” Reiji nearly stumbles on the keys in his attempt to make a sour remark.
“I don’t think I can. Not this late in the game.” Laito’s mouth is smiling, but his eyes aren’t. Reiji knows that look all too well, but seriousness in Laito is startling. “Sometimes I’m reminded that we are brothers, after all.”
“What makes you say that?”
“We’re a little similar.” Reiji seriously doubts that, but Laito continues speaking before he’s able to argue. “You ran away by quitting piano and I ran away by picking it up.”
Reiji can’t think of anything to say to that. He’s not even sure how much of what Laito’s said is true. The two of them let the duet conclude naturally and the final notes of the chords eventually dim and fade into silence. Neither of them says anything for a long time and Reiji eventually rises from the chair. “That wasn’t the worst way to spend an hour in the afternoon,” he concedes with some difficulty.
What Reiji doesn’t say is that he thinks the two of them are rather too old for this. He recalls that old explosion of feeling, the solace that he once found in music, and shudders as he walks away. Emotions are terrifying. Facing them head-on is terrifying. As Reiji hears Laito start up a mournful tune alone, he can’t help but wonder if his younger brother thinks the same.