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Toya used to like music.
His family and all he knew was rooted deeply in classical music, as his father both played and taught it. Toya's brothers both learned to play the piano and the violin under his careful eye, and soon it would be Toya's turn. Such a thing seemed like a blessing at the time.
He remembered once, when he was a tiny child, reaching up to try and press down on a few of the beautiful ivory keys of the grand piano in his living room. The resulting sound was flat and tuneless, but he could still remember his father's faint smile as he set his finger down onto a single key.
The following note was clear and beautiful, one he knew he would remember for the rest of his life. The sound was like the sun calmly shining through the trees, or a gentle breeze drifting away. Toya was awed, as well as desperately curious. How could two different sounds have happened if they'd both touched the same thing?
...It had been so strange and mysterious, he recalled. Upon hearing the two different sounds, Toya had wanted then to learn more about and interact with the piano again, too curious too help himself. He wanted to someday play a single key the way his father had, to make the same pure sound with just one finger. It was his first encounter with music, one that would stay embedded in his mind no matter how many days would eventually pass.
Once he was old enough, his father began to teach him. It turned out to be much more an ordeal then he'd imagined, as he'd often sit there playing for hours, not even able to go to sleep until he'd mastered whatever part was wrong. He'd known how strict his father could be from watching him teach his brothers, but it still couldn't have prepared him for how difficult playing the piano was.
One day, though, his father held a small concert just for him. Toya sat there up on the stage all by himself, playing to the best of his ability in front of a large crowd of serious-looking adults. Once he'd finished--giving a short bow to the crowd as he was met with applause--and hurried backstage, his father was waiting for him with a rare bit of praise--and a reminder to not get too satisfied with his skills. "Music is even broader and deeper than you could ever imagine. It has no end," he'd told him almost sternly. To his surprise, he'd smiled. "But if it's you, you may be able to figure out the essence of it someday."
Toya had been filled with such a sense of pride and happiness that day that he began to practice even harder. For the first time his father had told him his performance wasn't bad, and that one day he might be able to understand the beautiful art of music. He became determined to live up the expectations placed onto his small shoulders, eager to see the sight his father described to him. He truly wanted to keep running, to find the "essence of music" his father had described to him. However, the more he thought as much, the joy he'd always felt when playing began to ebb away. Everything started to pile up around him--the days of endless practice, the countless concerts so heavy and formal that he thought he'd be crushed by anxiety--and it began to be too much. The more he played, the more it weighed down on him--he was unable to think of the music that had been so kindly shared with him as anything other than a shackle.
...It can't be like this. They're expecting so much of me...I have to find it for them.
The essence of music...
Can I even find it, the way I am...?
Over time, he stopped protesting when he was ordered to keep playing until late, instead quietly repeating the same part over and over again until his father was satisfied. He stopped pushing to take a break and spend more time with other people, knowing his father would continue to deny him. He let classical music take over him in its entirety, absorbing whatever knowledge would make the day progress faster without really enjoying it. He stopped trying to break free of the chains that seemed to bind him, completely sure that they would never release him. Even if he were to raise his voice, he knew that anything he said would be dismissed by his father, as classical music had become a trap he could never escape from. Life became colorless, everything that he'd previously enjoyed about it slowly disappearing from sight, and the more he played the more he fell further into the depths of his own mind.
...I can't take it anymore.
I want to stop playing, but I can't.
He'll never listen. I know he won't.
And even if I were to run away, I would never be able to stay strong by myself.
I wish it would all stop.
Music, time, even my life. I wish I could just disappear.
Months passed, and that was the only feeling he managed to hold onto. Everything else seemed to drain away as if the piano was sucking it up, leaving him a monotone, empty shell. He turned 12 and then 13, and all he could feel were the hollow pangs of what he could've had if he'd been born as anyone else. Why had he been so eager to learn classical music? It was nothing but a curse.
One day, he woke up with the realization that he could end it all whenever he wished. It was startling, and more than a little terrifying. But the more he thought about it, the more foolproof it sounded. After all, his father couldn't summon him back from the grave, could he?
It was strangely liberating. If he just chose to take his own life, he'd no longer have to endure the nonstop practice or soulless concerts. He'd no longer have to hear the piano, which had become something like a monster in his head. He'd no longer have to think of his father's strict expectations.
He'd no longer have to deal with anything at all.
Even as all these thoughts flickered through his head, each offering its own benefit, Toya shoved them aside. He had to find it. The "essence of music" his father had told him about had become a desperate landmark amid a stormy sea, and although the waves kept pushing him under, he knew he had to reach it.
After all, his father had said that he could.
...Even so...
...I feel so completely alone.
It was a month later when it happened.
Toya had just gotten home when his father handed him a few sheets of paper and told him to wash up. "We're going to be practicing something new today," was all he said.
Toya had simply nodded and done as he was told, quietly heading towards the living room where the piano awaited him like normal. His father was already seated, which was a rare occurrence. "I'll be showing you how to play it first," he said in response to Toya's questioning stare. "Pay close attention."
He set it to the first page and began to play, fingers darting over the keys. Toya listened obediently, taking notes on whatever he could. It's a bit trickier than what we've been playing recently.
I don't feel anything while listening to it, though.
Just...a sense of emptiness.
"What did you think?"
Toya blinked, focusing back on his father. "Eh?"
"What did you think of the song?" his father repeated.
"...It was a wonderful song," he answered simply. "I look forward to playing it."
His father frowned slightly before nodding and getting to his feet. "Then let's get started."
Toya played the song all afternoon long, only pausing to eat dinner before returning to the piano under his father's watchful gaze. He was finally allowed to go to his room around 11 PM, and once he was there he fell onto his bed with a sigh. So tiring.
It was undoubtedly a "good song." I'm sure that to most everyone, it likely is.
But what am I supposed to say about it?
...As usual, I felt nothing from it.
He picked up his phone and looked up the song, putting in his earbuds and listening to it again. The piano played in his ears, each note feeling as if a needle was stabbing into his skin. A sick feeling rose up in his stomach, and eventually he was forced to take out his earbuds without finishing the video. It's so frustrating.
They expected so much of me, and yet I can't even hear the piano without feeling sick.
Maybe I can't find it at all...
Hm? It's recommending me another video.
A video with just a black thumbnail...it doesn't look as though it's related to classical music at all with a title like that.
I know it won't do anything...but maybe it wouldn't hurt to give it one listen.
He put his earbuds back in, clicking on the video. The intro surprised him--it was a basic guitar melody mixed with a drum machine, which gave a strangely ethereal impression as a girl--by the sound of it, she was that Virtual Singer everyone loved--began to sing, her voice spelling out the writer's misery. For some reason, he felt as though someone had taken hold of his heart. What...what is this?
What is this song doing to me?
Once it had finished he replayed it, again and again until nearly half an hour had passed. It was nearly midnight, but he paid no attention to the clock and continued to loop the song. I don't understand. It feels as though it's pulling me in.
It's awkward and a little messy, and some of the music doesn’t fit the rhythm well, but every note is steeped in pain and frustration. It's like the writer's anger and despair is swallowing them whole.
But...somehow, I can't not listen to it.
Why is that so? Nothing's made me feel anything so powerful since I was little. So why now?
...Who even wrote this song?
Toya waited until the song had finished to click on the channel icon beside its title, staring down at their homepage. Their name is...
...Aki?
...What am I doing?
It was an average day in his house, about a week after hearing the song. However, every night since then Toya begun using his laptop to remix it with the piano. He knew a little bit about composing as his father had taught him (along with considering what was going through the composer's head as they wrote) but he’d only ever played songs that had already been written without using that information for himself. So why was he doing this?
What kind of effect is this song having on me?
It’s not like playing around with it will help get closer to finding it.
But…
It’s not like “music” is just the world I’ve been trapped in all this time.
Perhaps if I can find the "essence of music" my father spoke of...
It'll be worth it again.
I'll have finally reached it.
Maybe then there won't be any need to disappear.
He set his focus back on the laptop, carefully moving the tabs around to try and mimic the sound of Aki’s song. Parts of it are oddly messy, as if they're still a new composer. There's a lot of mistakes that someone more used to the art might've caught. Makes sense, since their channel's only been around for a year or so.
But here...it's so refined it's practically sharp. Almost like it's...imitating something else.
In the background there are strange clips that seem to have been almost thrown in, as if they're from another song.
...They're so out of place beside this simple melody. They're so much more complete.
It hurts.
Feeling as though you'll never reach the height of your dreams, your pursuits...
...That must've been what they were trying to communicate.
If I do the same, but rearrange the melody more and add in some piano solos--
Within minutes he had a decent few seconds' worth of music displayed on his screen, minus the drums in the original (which he substituted a few chords in for instead.) He tiptoed over to his piano, which sat quiet and unobtrusively at the corner of his room. After checking to make sure the lid was completely closed and his door was shut tight, he set up his phone for recording and carefully played out a little bit of the song his father had walked him through earlier that day. The sound of the piano was uncomfortably loud in the heavy silence, but the noise was still somewhat muffled. Perfect.
It's like it's being stifled...
...why am I taking this so seriously?
It's not as if this'll solve anything.
...But I feel as though I can't waste this chance.
He stopped the recording and hurried back to his laptop. Once he'd slid the clip in with everything else, he felt somewhat satisfied. It wasn't as good as a single performance his father might've done, but it was good enough for tonight. Now...what do I do with it?
Now that the initial rush of adrenaline had worn off, he realized he'd been slightly foolish. It's not like I can show this to my father.
And I seriously doubt that this what he would've meant by the "height of music."
No matter how deeply it shook me, it's just another song by some random artist. He'd only scoff at something as amateurish as this.
He might even be furious with me.
The thought was enough to make him panic. I can't let him find it.
I have to delete it now.
He was about to do so, but a part of him hesitated. I feel as though...this is important.
It's just a rushed rearrangement, not polished at all.
But...if I were to maybe send this to them...
...what might happen then?
...Oh. It requires a name.
I supposed I can't just put my real name...but it won't accept anything blank, either...
What if...?
He typed a single word into the bar, and finally it was accepted. Nearly holding his breath, Toya attached the URL and sent his comment.
Maybe as "Willow"...
...I can find it.