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The school day passed in a blurred haze.
One moment, Kousei sat down at his desk, and the next, the final bell rang. His notebook, filled with detailed notes he had no memory of writing, and if anyone asked him what he learned at school that day, he wouldn’t be able to answer.
It had been months since Kousei felt this way: the familiar monotone creeping into his vision, the weight in his limbs, the inability to connect to anything; the absence of life.
Kaori brought color, and for a moment, Kousei remembered what living felt like.
Now, Kaori was in the hospital, and despite her insistence, Kousei could tell.
She was getting worse.
He planned to visit that day, even if the scent of disinfectant made him sick, and even if he was terrified of seeing the truth, but she sent him a text that morning:
I got important tests today ^_^ So don’t you dare visit! Go play the piano, now! ＼＼\٩(๑`^´๑)۶//／/
Then, another message full of emoticons that Kousei didn’t even want to try to decode. Perhaps, it was her way of comforting him, dancing around grim topics of the hospital by decorating them with bright, cute stickers and emoticons.
All it did was make Kousei’s chest ache more.
Carefully, he ran his thumb against the message, rereading it as he dragged his feet down the hall. As though there was something hidden between the words. Or maybe he was clinging to them — for if the inevitable future that Kousei was dreading would come, there would be no one to spam him with silly emoticons anymore.
An alert blocked his screen, with a reminder in bold: Piano practice with Hiroko-san
Kousei closed his phone with a click.
He wasn’t in the mood to practice — really, he hadn’t been in the mood to practice for over a week now. It all felt so pointless to him; the more he played, the more loss he experienced.
Was the piano really worth all of his suffering?
Tsubaki wasn’t waiting by the gate for him as she usually did, he noted. She was still giving him the silent treatment, ever since she said that odd thing a few weeks ago. Something about how Kousei should fall in love with her — it didn’t make any sense at all, so Kousei tried not to think about it. If there was one thing he learned from hanging out with Kaori, Nagi and Tsubaki, is that he would never understand girl logic.
Even if there was no Tsubaki, there was still his other childhood friend, who saluted him with two fingers and a wave once his eyes met his.
“Kousei!” Watari called out. “Hey man!”
Kousei hitched his shoulders and huffed. “Miyazono-san said she was busy today. We’re not sneaking in.”
“Ouch, that’s cold!” Watari clutched his chest dramatically. “Can’t a guy say hi to his friend? You think I have some inner motives? Or are you just so in love with Kao-chan that you can only think of her? I get it, I feel th—”
“Watari.” Kousei cut him off with a sigh. “What is it?”
He liked Watari — of course he did, they were friends for years — but his endless overflowing only exhausted Kousei more, and kept him away from his royal plans of laying face flat on his bed until sleep took him away.
If Watari noticed the edge in his tone, he didn’t point it out, his smile unwavering. “My sis gave me her day pass to the ice rink — y’know, the one we went to as kids? I owe her now or whatever, but you should come with me.”
Kousei blinked. “You’re inviting me,” he said slowly, as if he misheard. “and not your nine girlfriends?”
“Eight, now.” Watari corrected. “Mic-chan broke up with me… Can you believe it? She said we would be together forever and—”
“I can’t stake.” Kousei cut Watari off again, before he fell deep into his woes. Dating problems were another thing Kousei could never understand. “Go ask a girl or someone on your team. Surely someone will join you.”
“Well, maybe I want to go out with my childhood friend, huh?”
“Why not Tsubaki, then?” Kousei pointed out. “She’s better at skating than me. She can stay upright for more than ten minutes.”
“Tsubaki’s sick, remember?” Watari said. “Her sneezing is so loud you can hear it three classrooms away.”
Kousei frowned. It had been a while since Tsubaki had a lingering cold. If they were on speaking terms, Kousei would have brought her a cane of lemonade, or maybe some soup. If he tried to give her anything now though, she would probably just huff and turn away.
Kousei shook his head; surely, if he waited a while, things would go back to normal between them.
“I have a piano lesson today.” he said, just to get Watari off his back.
“Nice try.” Watari scoffed. “You haven’t gone in almost two weeks now. I heard from Seto-san.”
Kousei grumbled. What was Hiroko doing, talking to his friends like that?
“Well, maybe I have other plans.” Kousei tried to walk past Watari. Watari grabbed his arm though, tightly enough that Kousei couldn’t shake it off.
“Kousei, listen to me.” Watari spoke slowly, his voice steady. “We don’t have to go to the ice rink if you don’t want to. We could just get those egg sandwiches that you like so much, or — I don’t know — show up at my place and watch a shitty movie. But I’m not letting you go home alone again today.”
“You’re not making any sense, Watari.” Kousei tried to yank his arm away again. “I lived alone for years now, what’s the big deal? I can handle myself.”
“You’re going back to the way you used to be, Kousei.”
Kousei froze. His lip quivered, and he bit down until he tasted blood.
“You’re going back to living like a hollow corpse.” Watari continued. “Doing nothing but sleeping all day — after Kao-chan finally helped you find your passion.”
Kousei squeezed his eyes shut at her name. He knew that. He didn’t need Watari to remind him.
“She’s… really worried, y’know?” Watari’s voice softened, the way it always would when Kousei would cry. “Even with all those tests and medicine that she hates, everytime she talks to me it’s always about you. If you’re doing alright. Or playing the piano.”
Kousei scoffed at that last sentence. Kaori certainly didn’t miss a single morning to remind him in text, either.
“I’m worried too.” Watari said. “And Tsubaki, and Kashiwagi, and Seto-san.”
“And you think ice skating will help?” Kousei replied.
“I think not being in that dark, cold house alone will help.” Watari said. “You haven’t even fixed the heater yet, have you?”
Kousei grimaced. He did, in fact, not fix the heater. His dad wouldn’t be home for another two months, so it didn’t really matter. The cold didn’t bother him too much, even if it drained the color from his face, or made his hands clam up. He wasn’t playing the piano, so the state of his hands didn’t matter, either.
“Come on.” Watari said, giving Kousei’s arm another tug. “We can skip the ice rink if you hate it so much. Just let me have this one day — and if you don’t wanna do it for me, do it for Kao-chan.” he took a deep breath. “It would make her happy. She needs some happiness, right now.”
The aching was back in Kousei’s chest again.
Kaori tried so hard to be strong, but the longer Kousei spent in that dark empty room, suffocating in disinfectant, the more aware he became of the pain in her eyes. How pale her skin had gotten; the red blush from her cheeks faded. How bony she was, with no remaining baby fat in her cheeks.
Kousei couldn’t give her any health. He couldn’t give her any happiness, either. Really, nothing Watari made sense at all — what part of him enjoying himself would bring anything to Kaori?
After all, she should have been the one ice skating, instead.
Still, Watari knew more about Kaori than he ever could, and when Watari got like this, he wouldn’t quit until he got what he wanted. So Kousei hung his head in defeat.
“OK, we’ll go to the ice rink,” he said.
“Yes! Alright!” Watari cheered. Then, he turned around and pointed at the sky. “I told you I could get Kousei out of the house, Kao-chan! You owe me a canelé.”
“You guys betted on… whether I could get out of the house?” Kousei said, exasperating. “I’m not a shut-in. I go to school everyday!”
“Whether I could drag you somewhere outside school, or whether you’d stay in your room and sulk.” Watari corrected as he wagged his finger with a tsk. “Kao-chan said you were too moody. I said our friendship would pull through.”
“I can’t believe you lied to me like that.” Kousei sulked. “I actually thought you were worried, for a moment.”
“Woah, who said anything about lying?” Watari slapped Kousei’s shoulder twice, before pulling him in a side hug. “It’s all true. I really am worried, y’know.”
“You’re awful.”
“And charming,” Watari winked. “That’s why the girls love me.”
He let out a hearty laugh then, his fogged up breath brushing against Kousei’s cheek before dancing into the sky. Kousei let Watari lead him along to the ice rink like that, one arm wrapped around his shoulder, and the air filled with light, meaningless conversations. There was no color in the town drowned in winter; his world was still monotonous.
Even so, if he focused, Kousei could feel the smallest of warmth, where Watari held him.
—
The ice rink was louder than Kousei expected it to be.
There was a child crying loudly on the bench, a child screaming at his parents, two children giggling at each other—
Lots of children, he noted.
There were couples too: blushing boys and girls who held gloved hands as they tried to skate in sync. Most of them failed. Though there was one pair that skated faster than anyone else in the rink, and from the way they moved, Kousei guessed that they were accustomed to the ice.
Everyone had their own talents, Kousei supposed.
For a moment, he thought of the piano; the keys that were collecting dust in his house as he sat here. Even after Kaori had worked so hard on cleaning them, promising they would never be abandoned again.
Kousei squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head.
“Oh, Kousei!” Watari waved, making his way to the bench where he sat. “I got the rental skates! This should fit you, right?”
Kousei frowned as Watari placed the skates in his hands. “No, I can’t skate. I’m fine just sitting here and watching where the ground is not frozen. This is nice.”
“No way.” Watari said. “What kind of weirdo goes to a rink to watch other people?”
Kousei was that kind of weirdo, he thought, but he held his tongue.
“Besides,” Watari gestured behind him. “You’re not alone. Look at that woman over there — that’s the tenth time she fell.”
He looked over to where Watari was pointing to see a young woman, probably in her early twenties. She fell backwards with a yelp, and then laughed as her friends teased her. Then, when one of them tried to pull her up, they both fell together.
“See? It’s all fun—” Watari paused, and shifted in another direction. “Woah, look at that girl over there! What a looker!”
Kousei didn’t bother to look at where Watari was hollering at — he could already take a good guess at what she looked like, knowing Watari’s tastes — and looked at the skates in his hands inside. He was, admittedly, less than pleased at the idea of wearing skates that had been worn by someone else.
But if he didn’t skate, Watari would no doubt spend the rest of the evening on the bench with him, pointing at every girl he saw. Kousei wasn’t sure if he wanted to go through that humiliation.
With a grunt, he pulled off his worn sneakers, replacing them with the rental skates. They were slightly warm, which made Kousei’s nose wrinkle in disgust.
“Oh! About time!” Watari turned back to Kousei with a grin. Then, he pulled Kousei to his feet. “Come on, let’s go already!”
Kousei yelped and fell forward, with Watari just barely catching him in time.
“How are you supposed to walk in these?!” Kousei grimaced. “The blade is messing up my balance.”
Watari laughed. “Well, they’re not made for walking. They’re made for skating.”
Kousei scowled, but no matter how much he tried, he couldn’t find his balance, so he had no choice but to rely on Watari to take him to the rink edge.
Watari enters the rink with ease, and to only insult what little pride Kousei had, he even did a little spin, which heard him whispers from nearby girls.
“Come on, Kousei!” Watari called, turning around on one leg. “It’s not going to kill you!”
Kousei gritted his teeth as he leaned against the edge. Under his breath, he muttered. “Easy for you to say. Where did you learn to skate, anyways?”
He vividly remembered Tsubaki also being somewhat of a show off on the ice: yet another athletic thing that his friends excelled at while Kousei crashed and burned. He really didn’t know why they still expected anything from him.
He inched closer to the rink entrance, using the wall to guide him. He could hear Watari’s distant cheering, which only made his face burn in embarrassment as heads turned. If he was struggling in the lobby on solid ground, there was no hope for him on the ice.
Still, he hesitatedly placed one foot on the ice. And then the other. For a moment, he was upright. And sliding forward, without his own control. But upwards, without leaning on anything. Before Kousei could celebrate this small miracle, all of his weight shifted backwards, and he yelped, flailing his arms helplessly.
Before he could crash on the ground, though, Watari caught him. His reflexes never failed to surprise Kousei, but he supposed Watari was used to Kousei falling nearly everyday in gym class.
“Woah, be careful there.” Watari carefully pulled Kousei up. “Almost cracked your head open there.”
“I can’t skate.” Kousei stated, for what felt like the seventh time that day.
“Just hold on to me and it’ll be fine!” Watari grinned. “I’ll go slow, I promise.”
Kousei couldn’t think of anything more embarrassing, but it sounded better than staining the ice with his blood, so he grabbed Watari’s hand. Once Watari started moving, though, Kousei yelped, and latched onto Watari’s waist.
“Too fast, too fast!” Kousei whined. “Go slow!”
“This is slow!” Watari insisted. “Be a man, Kousei!”
Kousei shook his head and squeezed his eyes shut, clutching Watari’s waist as hard as he could. He heard the click of a camera, and opened his eyes to see Watari sticking his phone in his face, with a grin on his face.
“A souvenir for Kao-chan.” he explained as he admired the photo. “She’ll love this one. We’re making a collection of pathetic Kousei pictures.”
“You’re evil!” Kousei exclaimed. “You picked the ice rink on purpose!”
Watari merely laughed, and to Kousei’s horror, sped up. He squeezed his eyes shut again, the blur of rink making him nauseous. Instead, he focused on the sounds around him: the faded J-POP songs he didn’t recognize in the background, drowned out by all the talking. The laughing, the falls, and the crying. Watari’s saying: “Hey ladies!” every now and then. He could hear girls’ giggling after that, to which Kousei would dig his face deeper into Watari’s sweater to hide his red face. He could only wish that they were giggling at Watari, and not him.
Watari suddenly stopped, which made Kousei almost fall on his face. When he opened his eyes, he saw the entrance.
“Alright, it was fun, but I’m dropping you off here, you big baby.” Watari said, leading Kousei off the rink. “You look like you’re going to pass out.”
“I feel like I’m going to pass out.” Kousei said, breathless. “I hate skating.”
“Better than rotting away in bed, isn’t it?”
“I don’t know about that one…” Kousei mumbled, kicking the skates off, while mentally swearing to never wear them again.
“Anyways, I’m going to do two rounds, and then join you. Wait for me on the bench?”
“Sure.” Kousei shrugged. “Take your time.”
Watari saluted, and with that, he bolted off. His ability to skate was really impressive, Kousei noted as he sat down at a bench where he could see the rink. Twirling around and skating backwards — all kinds of things that Kousei didn’t even know that Watari could do, even though they had known each other for as long as Kousei could remember.
Maybe he learned it while Kousei was spending hours at piano practice, with his mom’s cane hovering over his head. Or maybe he learned it after Kousei’s mom died, when Kousei drowned himself in every book he could get his hands on for an escape, or blissful sleep.
If Kousei never learned the piano, maybe he would have learned how to skate with Watari, and be on that ice right now with him. The thought made him bite his lip, and he clasped his hands together.
Everyone had their own talents.
Kousei’s was the piano.
He had already accepted that he couldn’t escape that part of him. It was too much of him; even if he said he would let go, he would just be a shadow of himself. An empty husk: that was all he was without music.
“There’s nothing wrong with that.” was what Kaori told him when he admitted he had nothing but the piano. All great artists feel that way.
Even so, Kousei couldn’t help but feel jealous of Watari as he watched his glide with ease. Jealous of his ability to thrive in so much, and enjoy it. For his chosen destiny to be a golden crown on his head, that he proudly wore.
Kousei’s piano was not a crown. It was a rose, that he held by the thorns, so tightly until his hands bleed. But its beauty drew him in; he couldn’t let go.
Kousei ran his hands through his face with a heavy sigh.
The Eastern Japan Competition was coming up. The day of Kaori’s surgery — it was looming over his head. He wanted time to stop; time to rest and think for just a moment longer. But the clock ticked on, and he continued to waste precious time he could never get back.
But Kaori expected him to play. She asked him to play.
And as someone who was tied to the piano for eternity, he had no choice but to play. He needed to play. He needed to play. He needed to—
“Hey, Kousei!”
He looked up to see Watari waving at him.
“You look pale.” Watari noted, with a frown. “Was it that bad? Should I call Seto-san?”
“You have her number?” Kousei said, with a grimace.
“A charming guy like me can get any girl’s number.” Watari said with a smirk. Kousei wrinkled his nose in disgust, and Watari laughed. “I gave it to her for Kousei updates. I inform her how many times you pass out in gym class.”
“Lovely.” Kousei said dryly. Then, he shook his head “I’m fine, just cold. Please don’t call Hiroko-san.”
Watari must have believed it, for he shrugged and took the skates Kousei abandoned on the ground. “I’ll be returning these. Wait here, OK?” and then with a smirk, he added. “Don’t get lost.”
“I’m not a kid.” Kousei bit back. “I’ll be here.”
He brought his attention back to his hands; his awkwardly long fingers that Kaori praised as pianist hands. He flexed them back and forth. The blood from the cat who died in the car accident a few days ago still felt fresh, and the thought of touching piano keys with tainted hands made him sick.
Still, he had no choice, he reminded himself.
Kousei leaned forward, tugging on his bangs as he did so. All of the noise of the rink drowned out, and even though he was surrounded by so many people, Kousei felt alone again.
“Aren’t you going to struggle too?” he remembered Kaori asking him.
Kousei had no choice but to struggle. All he could do was struggle. But a small part of him screamed and cried still, desperately wishing that Kousei lived a life where he didn’t have to struggle. Where he could love the piano wholeheartedly, without getting burned by it. Where he had a mom who was alive, and held him gently instead of hurting him.
Where he could fall in love with a girl, and have more than a year’s time to be by her side.