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“How long are you going to keep following me?!”
“I heard in class. You’re going to meet Kousei Arima, aren’t you?” Miike said, adjusting the violin case on his back. “I’m coming, too!”
Aiza whipped around, and gritted her teeth. “Would you stop stalking me for one second? What are you, obsessed with me?”
“Why would anyone be obsessed with you?” Miike scoffed. “Obviously, I’m here for Arima-san. I couldn’t care less about you.”
“You little brat—” Aiza growled. Then, surprisingly, she composed herself, and shook her head. “Why are you so obsessed with him, anyways? He’s a pianist, remember? Shouldn’t you be obsessed with some random violinist instead?”
Miike clucked his tongue. “Maybe we don’t play the same instruments, but he’s still a musician like me. I respect his music.”
Aiza rolled her eyes. “I think what you have is way more than just respect.”
With that, she turned around, and continued to walk again. Miike huffed, adjusted his violin case again, and then followed right behind her. He wasn’t going to let her escape, this time. This was his chance to meet with Arima; he had been waiting two years for this.
Nearly everyday he would ask Aiza to hand over his phone number, or email address or any way of contacting Arima. But each time, she would turn away and huff, or worse, tell him about all of the foods they ate together. Once, she even called him in the middle of class, just to show Miike that she could, and he couldn’t.
So, Miike was going to take matters in his own hands and follow Aiza until she led him to Kousei Arima, the genius pianist who changed the way the saw music forever.
Aiza stopped suddenly, scowled, and turned around again. “Will you give it up already?! Arima-sensei is my teacher, get your own!”
“I already have my own teacher!” Miike exclaimed, pointing at Aiza. “Besides, it’s not fair! You can’t hog him all to yourself — you don’t own him!”
“You don’t, either!”
“You’re the one who’s being stingy, not me!”
“Ugh!” Aiza pulled at her pigtails. “Fine! Do whatever you want. But if he thinks you’re weird, don’t come crying to me.”
The rest of the walk was quiet, then. Although Aiza had her back turned, Miike could tell she was fuming, stomping and kicking at the rocks in her path. Miike couldn’t care less, though. He was finally going to Arima again — and not from the audience looking at the stage. He could see him face to face, and finally explain just how much the last two years meant to him. Maybe, he could even get a duet; it wasn’t fair that only Aiza got to duet with him.
The thought of dueting with his hero made him giddy; what piece should they play? No doubt, anything he picked Arima would be able to follow along, unlike his incompetent classmates. He was a genius, after all.
“Would you stop giggling to yourself?” Aiza glared. “It’s creepy.”
“I was not giggling.”
“Whatever,” Aiza pointed at the house in front of them. “Here we are. Your ‘beloved Kousei Arima’ is in there.”
Miike ignored the sarcasm in Aiza’s voice, taking in the house in front of him. It was bigger than he expected it to be. Really, he was surprised that all he needed to do was to follow Aiza — if he had known, he would have done it much sooner.
Until he saw the nametag.
“You tricked me!” Miike screeched.
“What are you talking about?” Aiza said, exasperated.
He pointed directly at the household name. “This says ‘Seto’, not ‘Arima’! You brought me to some random house!”
“Well, I didn’t say it was his house, did I?” Aiza replied. “I said he was inside of it.”
Miike was still skeptical; after all, this was Aiza, who would flaunt her relationship with Arima in front of his face for years. She would definitely pull this sort of trick.
But Aiza ignored his grumbling, and made her way to the door with confidence, ringing the doorbell. So maybe it wasn’t a stranger’s place after all. Maybe, it was a friend’s house, and the two of them would laugh at Miike for falling for Aiza’s prank.
Instead, a woman with short black hair answered the door. A woman Miike knew, he realized, within a few seconds of squinting. She was with Arima at the Gala concert, and was the one who asked him to switch his place with Miyazono.
“Hello, Seto-sensei!” Aiza said, in a sing-song tone. “Is Arima-sensei ready to go?”
“Hell if I know.” The woman — Seto, Miike assumed — pulled out a cigarette with a huff. “I haven’t seen him for breakfast or lunch. He’s probably still in bed. I have a recorder in the closet of the piano room, if you want to try waking him up with it.”
Aiza immediately smirked. “Sounds great. I know exactly what to play.”
Seto’s eyes then landed on Miike, and she blinked. “Oh? I didn’t know you were inviting your boyfriend, too.”
Miike’s face scrunched in disgust, and he heard Aiza make a gagging sound.
“Definitely not my boyfriend.” Aiza corrected. “This is Miike. He’s annoying so he followed me here. I want him gone, but he’s weirdly obsessed with Arima-sensei, and wants to come along.”
Seto let out a scoff of amusement, and then turned back to Miike, studying his face. “Miike… Miike… oh, that’s right. You’re the brat from the Gala concert. You’re not a squirt anymore, so I didn’t recognize you.”
Miike’s eyes twitched.
“You know him?” Aiza asked.
Seto shrugged, and took a drag of her cigarette. “Yeah, something like that. Two years ago, Kousei was playing at the Gala concert with Miyazono-san, and we got into a bit of a disagreement.”
Aiza turned back to Miike. “Oh-ho, bad first impression, huh?”
“Back off.” Miike spat.
“Honestly, I’m surprised.” Seto continued. “What’s that about him being obsessed with Kousei?”
Aiza rolled her eyes. “I don’t know. Something about him being ‘the greatest pianist of all time’. It’s really weird. It creeps me out.”
Miike could feel his ears burning red. “It’s not like that! You just don’t get it!”
Seto let out a laugh at that. “Well, I’m afraid the ‘greatest pianist of all time’ is still asleep, so there’s nothing interesting to see here.” she turned to Aiza, then. “Nagi?”
Aiza saluted. “Consider it done!”
And with that, she darted off. Miike couldn’t help but feel bad for Arima — whatever she had planned was no doubt terrible. But, to still be in bed, when it was already three in the afternoon…
Seto turned to Miike, and gestured at him. “If you’re so determined to stay, why don’t you come in? I have to make toast for Kousei anyways, I can make two.”
“Oh, uh.” Miike stood up straight, suddenly awkward. There was no saving his first impression, but the last thing he wanted to do was get on the bad side of the woman who was probably Arima’s mother. “That would be great. Thank you.”
Seto gestured with her head again, and Miike followed her in. The inside of the house was just as impressive as the outside, with matching furniture carefully lined up together. He couldn’t look around too much, though, as Seto was walking quickly, and Miike didn’t want to lose her.
“So,” Seto said, placing two slices of bread in the toaster. “You still play violin?”
She pointed at the case on his back, which Miike rested against the table.
“That’s right.” Miike said, sitting down. “I have a competition coming up in three weeks.”
Seto hummed, tapping her nails against the corner. “Nagi had one not too long ago. First place — although I’m sure she told you.”
Miike shook his head. “She didn’t. We aren’t exactly… friends.”
“And yet you followed her all the way here.” Seto pointed out.
Miike stiffened again. But if Seto minded him being there, she didn’t show it, swinging the fridge door open. Then, she grabbed a carton of milk and turned to him.
“You like milk?”
Miike nodded. “Sure.”
“Kousei is obsessed with it.” Seto said, with an exasperated laugh. “It’s the only thing he drinks. I always stock up when he comes back home.”
Miike blinked at the wording. Home. Didn’t Aiza just say this wasn’t his house? And if Seto was Arima’s mother, how come they had different last names?
Curiosity got the best of him, and before he knew it, he blurted out: “Seto-san, are you Arima-san’s mother? How come you have different last names?”
Seto let out a laugh at that. A loud one, like it was the funniest joke she ever heard. Really, Miike didn’t understand what was so funny.
“I’m not his biological mother.” Seto corrected. “I’m his piano teacher, but I knew him since he was young, so he’s like a son to me.”
“Oh.”
“He’s been spending most of his time in the dorms of Okutsu Music School, but when he comes home, he usually stays with me.” She explained as she poured the milk into the cup. “His father usually isn’t home, and I don’t like him staying alone.”
Miike awkwardly shifted in his chair. He came here to learn more about Arima, of course, but he still felt as though he were hearing something he shouldn’t. Something more personal.
The sound of footsteps echoed down the hallway, as Seto set the cup of milk in front of Miike.
“Speak of the devil.” she said.
Aiza was the first to appear in the kitchen. She gritted her teeth at Miike, as though she were trying to remind him that she didn’t want him there, and then turned behind her. “Hurry up! We’re going to be late!”
“I’m coming.” said a groggy voice behind her. “Stop yelling, please.”
Miike held his breath as Arima came in.
He looked… different offstage. Instead of the shining blue suit, he wore ruffled, plain pajamas. His hair was a mess, and his eyes were barely open. It wasn’t at all the appearance of a genius pianist; it was a teenage boy, who had just woken up in the morning. In the afternoon, Miike corrected, after remembering the time of day.
But nonetheless, it was Kousei Arima, with no doubt. Kousei Arima, the genius pianist. The one who changed the way he saw music forever. It took everything in Miike to hold back from bouncing his legs in excitement.
“Good morning, Hiroko-san.” he said, mid-yawn. His voice was more rough than Miike remembered — or maybe it was because he just woke up.
“Not morning.” Seto corrected. “It’s almost four in the afternoon.” She placed the toast at the table, and pointed at it. “Eat. I’m not letting you leave the house without breakfast.”
Arima mumbled something, but made his way to the table nonetheless. It was right when he sat down that his eyes finally locked with Miike’s.
He blinked twice, yawned, and then blinked at Miike again, as though he wasn’t real.
“Um…” Arima finally said, pointing at Miike.
“He’s just a stray that followed me here.” Aiza huffed. “Don’t worry about him. He’s not important.”
“It’s Miike.” Seto jumped in. “From the Gala concert?”
Arima rubbed at the bridge of his nose, his glasses pushed to his forehead. “From… the Gala…”
“He insulted Miyazono-san’s playing.” Seto added.
“Oh.” Arima suddenly put down his hand. “I remember now.” He turned to Miike and nodded. “Hello.”
Miike had so many words in his mouth. Such as ‘I came to all of your competitions and concerts since’ and ‘I’m a big fan’ and ‘You changed my life’. Instead, he nodded back, and then mentally kicked himself. This was Kousei Arima in front of him, finally, and he couldn’t bring himself to say a single word?
Arima paid no mind to his mental conflict. He put the toast in his mouth, chewed for a bit, and then turned to Seto. “Why is he here? Is he friends with Aiza-san?”
“We’re not!” Miike and Aiza said at the time. They turned to each other, and growled.
“I told you, he followed me here.” Aiza continued. “He wasn’t going to leave until he met you.” She turned to Miike. “You saw him now. Satisfied?”
“No way!” Miike said. “I’m staying here!”
“Seriously?!”
“I don’t mind.” Arima said, reaching for the milk.
The words echoed in Miike’s mind. He didn’t mind. Kousei Arima did not mind if he stayed.
“No way.” Aiza scowled. “He’s weird. He’s just going to be annoying the whole time.”
Arima shrugged. “Maybe so, but isn’t it more exciting like that?”
“As if.” Aiza slumped down next to Miike. “You’re just doing this to bother me, aren’t you?”
“He said he doesn’t mind, Aiza.” Miike smirked. “Accept it.”
Aiza clucked her tongue, but didn’t say anything more on the topic.
They fell into a light conversation, mostly carried by Aiza, who talked about the dramas of her class. Seto would laugh, and Miike would add his own stories, sometimes. Most of the time though, he kept his eyes on Arima, still in disbelief of the man himself being in front of him.
Arima didn’t talk much, focused on finishing his breakfast, but every now and then he would make a small comment or laugh.
Suddenly, he felt a jab at his ribs. He turned to see Aiza, the displeasure clear in her face.
“Can you stop ogling Arima-sensei?” she grimaced. “It’s really creepy.”
“I am not ogling!”
“Is that why you keep rejecting girls at school?” Aiza gagged. “You’re such a creep.”
“It’s not like that!” Miike slammed his fists on the table. “How many times do I have to say it? I respect his music!”
“He’s not even that good looking.” Aiza continued, ignoring him. “You should have gone for Chabo. Wow, I feel bad for her.”
Miike stood up, but before he could list all of the boys Aiza rejected, Arima loudly put down his cup.
“I can hear everything you guys are saying, by the way.”
Immediately, Miike shut his mouth, and sat down. Aiza didn’t dare to say anything either, as though she had forgotten he was at the table as well.
Seto, who Miike had also forgotten was there, let out a snort. Then, she pointed towards Miike’s seat.
“Aren’t you going to eat your toast?”
Miike looked down at the table. He had been so focused on Arima, he hadn’t even noticed the toast there.
“Hey, wait a second.” Aiza said. “How come I didn’t get any toast? Give me yours, Miike! You don’t need to!”
Miike lifted his plate away from Aida’s grasp. “No way! It’s my toast! Make your own!”
“You aren’t even eating it!”
“I was going to!”
“I’m done.” Arima suddenly declared, standing up. Then, he nodded towards Seto with a soft smile. “Thanks for the food, Hiroko-san.”
“Don’t thank me, go get dressed.” Seto replied. “The poor kids here are so bored they started fighting for entertainment.”
Seeing his opportunity, Miike shoved as much as he could of the toast in his cheek while Aiza was distracted. He could hardly chew, but as long as it was in his mouth and not Aiza’s he considered it a win.
Aiza turned back to the plate, and whined when she saw it empty. “My toast! It was going to taste so sweet after stealing it!”
Smugly, Miike pointed at his full cheeks.
“No wonder they call you a chipmunk.” Aiza wrinkled her nose in disgust. “God, that’s so weird. Why do girls even like you?”
“Well,” Seto jumped in. “He certainly looks like a chipmunk.”
Seto and Aiza started laughing then, but unfortunately for Miike, he couldn’t defend himself with his full cheeks. So he stayed quiet instead, slowly chewing at his toast with his ears red. It would have tasted better if he didn’t shove all of it in his mouth, he decided.
Seto made another toast for Aiza, so she would quit pulling at Miike’s hair. It was right when she finished that toast that she let out a loud scowl, and checked her phone.
“What is that idiot doing?! We’re going to be late for the aquarium!” She stood up, then. “I’m going to yell at him to hurry up.”
“Knock before you open the door!” Seto called after her as she dashed off.
Once again, Miike found himself pitting Arima, for having Aiza of all people as his student. Arima should have duetted with him instead, two years ago. Miike was a much better musician than that stupid Aiza, after all.
Once the jealousy wore off, though, Miike thought back to Aiza’s words.
“Aquarium?” he asked, lifting his head towards Seto.
“You didn’t know?” she asked. “And you came anyway? Wow, Nagi wasn’t kidding. You really are obsessed.”
How many times were they going to tease him? Before Miike could defend himself, Seto continued.
“Yeah, it’s Kousei’s good job gift to Nagi for winning first place at the competition.” she explained. “He always does this. If she brings a good performance, then she gets to choose where to go for the day. Really, he spoils her rotten, sometimes.”
Miike had to admit he was surprised. His teacher never offered anything like that, although, if he won, his mama would hug him and cry and tell him how proud she was, which was usually enough for him. He never expected Arima to be the kind of teacher to reward his student, but then again, he supposed it explained all of those foods they ate together that Aiza kept bragging about.
“He stayed up all of last night playing though, so he’s not doing a great job today.” Seto grimaced. “I’m sorry about that.”
Miike could understand. He often would play until early mornings, until his body gave out on him. Maybe that was why he got fevers so easily now — nearly every competition meant a trip to the nurse’s office. It didn’t bother him, really, but it scared his mama and the people around him, so he tried to keep it to himself.
“I’m just happy I can stay.” Miike admitted. “Arima-san’s performance at the Gala concert meant a lot to me. I have so much to say.”
Seto’s face softened then, the same way his mama’s would when she would sing lullabies to him as a kid. “Good. You go tell him that. That’s what he needs to hear, right now.”
Before Miike could ask her what she meant, Aiza poked her head in.
“We’re leaving!” With that, she turned to Miike. “You should stay here with Seto-sensei, since you’re having so much fun talking. We don’t need you here!”
“Come on, Aiza-san…” he could hear Arima’s voice, behind the door.
“It’s Nagi!” Aiza said, whipping around. “Geez, after all these years! Just call me Nagi already!”
Not wanting to be left behind, Miike stood up, before looking down at his violin. He came directly from school, so he had no choice but to bring his school bag and violin with him. They might let his school bag in, but what about his violin…?
“You can leave your stuff here.” Seto said, as though his thoughts were clear on his face. “Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of your violin. Wouldn’t be much of a musician if I broke it.”
Miike hesitated, for a moment. His violin was his important partner; his entire life. If anything happened to it, he wouldn’t be able to forgive himself.
But he could feel honestly in Seto’s eyes; a look as though she were asking him to entrust her with his own child. She knew just what an instrument meant to a musician.
“…Alright.” Miike agreed. “Thank you.”
Seto shook her head, as though it were no big deal. “Hurry up now. I heard the front door close — they’re leaving without you.”
Damn that Aiza, Miike thought. Then, he waved at Seto one last time, and dashed out of the house. Thankfully for him, Aiza and Arima were not too far, only a few steps away from the door.
“Wait up!” Miike screamed. “I’m coming too!”
“Dammit.” Aiza cursed as she saw Miike. “I was so close, too!”
Arima laughed, lightly. “Maybe next time, Aiza-san.”
Aiza whipped around and glared at Arima. “Just who’s side are you on? You're the one who let him join us, in case you forgot.”
Arima ignored her, making his way to Miike. “Miike-san, do you have enough money to pay for the entrance ticket? I can pay for it otherwise — I don’t mind.”
Miike blinked rapidly. The Kousei Arima was talking to him, and using his name, and offering to pay for his ticket. His voice was as gentle as his playing, and really, why hadn’t he tried to follow Aiza before? His heart felt like it was about to pound out of his chest.
“That’s not fair at all!” Aiza pouted. “I’m the one who won the competition, not Miike! He hasn’t even done his competition yet!”
Miike’s eye twitched. “Well, you don’t have to worry about me doing well. I always win.”
Aiza scoffed. “No you don’t. You got second place that one time, and third the other.”
“So what?!”
Arima coughed twice, reminding them to bring the conversation back on topic.
“Um,” Miike shifted awkwardly, meeting Arima’s eyes. His smile was too bright, though, so Miike looked away. “I have money. I can pay for myself.”
“Yeah, he’s not a kid.” Aiza added. “You don’t need to spoil him.”
“You seem to have no problem with him spoiling you.” Miike pointed out.
Aiza huffed. “That’s different! He’s my teacher, remember?”
“Sounds like we’re all good, then.” Arima decided, and continued on, paying no mind to Miike and Aiza’s bickering.
While following him, Aiza slowed down her pace, until she was shoulder to shoulder with Miike. Then, she leaned in, whispering. “He’s always like that — being all nice and letting people walk over him. At some point, someone is going to take advantage of his kindness, and it’ll be all over for him!”
Miike scowled and whispered back. “Should you really be talking like that about your teacher? Arima-san is just a nice guy. Clearly, someone like you couldn’t understand.”
“What are you talking about?” Aiza said. “I’m the sweetest angel anyone has ever known! It’s you who doesn’t understand.”
Aiza was the farthest thing from an angel, and the fact that all his male classmates didn’t understand that yet was a miracle to Miike. But despite her wording, and despite the fact that Miike never wanted to agree with Aiza, he had to admit he understood where she was coming from.
Arima’s kindness never failed to blow him away. The first and last time they talked, Miike had insulted his partner. And yet there he was, talking as if nothing had ever happened. Clearly, he remembered their conversation, so why didn’t he blame Miike?
Maybe, it was that level of kindness that was needed to make his notes as gentle and soft as they were, touching the hearts of everyone around him. But Aiza had a point: people were cruel, especially in the music industry. It was only a matter of time before someone took advantage of Arima.
The thought made Miike boil in anger. If he caught anyone bothering Arima, he decided, he would hunt them down himself.
—
Miike had only gone to the aquarium once or twice, with his mama years ago. Even so, it looked the exact same as Miike remembered it did, the walls decorated in blue and white.
Despite Miike insisting he would pay, Arima paid for all three of them, saying he didn’t mind. Aiza had plenty of complaints about that, and blamed Miike, even though it was Arima’s idea. Her sour mode disappeared once they entered the first room though, running to the first fish she saw with enthusiasm.
“Look at this ugly one,” She pointed at the glass, and turned back to Miike with a smirk. “I’ll call him Miike.”
“Oh yeah?” Miike said, pointing at the first ugly fish he saw. “Then I’ll call this one Aiza!”
“Ew!” Aiza said. “That is not me.”
Arima laughed. “If it makes you feel better, Aiza-san, I went here with a girl once, and she compared me to the same fish.”
Aiza sputtered. “You went here with a girl?! Who?!”
Miike blinked in surprise as well. He never considered Arima to be the kind of person to have a girlfriend. Unless, it was…
“Was it Miyazono-san?” Miike asked. He knew little about their relationship, but from the way he reacted at the Gala, she was, with no doubt, someone important to him.
Aiza froze suddenly, and then her eyes darted from Miike to Arima, as if he had mentioned some forbidden topic. Arima didn’t share the same reaction, though, his eyes widening in surprise for a moment, before covering it with a smile.
“Yeah, that’s right.” he said. “I took her two years ago. She compared me to every fish she spotted.”
That must have been awful, Miike thought. He turned to Aiza, expecting her to make a comment. But instead, she stayed stiff and pale, biting her lip. She didn’t move even when Arima went to read a sign across the room, so Miike inched his way over.
Before Miike could open his mouth to tease her about being jealous, Aiza hissed at him:
“Miike, you idiot. Don’t mention her so casually like that!”
Miike furrowed his brows. “What are you talking about? Did they have a nasty break up?”
“No!” Aiza whispered back, and pulled on her pigtails. “Are you playing dumb?!”
“Of course not!” Miike scowled. “And why are we whispering? Tell me what happened, already!”
With that, Aiza grabbed Miike by the arm and pulled him into a corner, far from where Arima was admiring the fish. She double checked behind her, as if she was looking to see if Arima was coming, before turning back to Miike.
“Miyazono-san passed away two years ago.”
Miike froze. Passed away? But she was, what, fifteen? The same age as he was now — what could have happened? An accident?
He immediately remembered the Gala concert, and how Miyazono never showed up in the end, and felt nauseous.
“She was sick. Really sick.” Aiza continued, as if she noticed the confusion on Miike’s face. “Apparently, she has been for years. But Arima-sensei didn’t know, and he fell in love with her, and…”
She trailed off, but Miike didn’t need to hear the rest. He already pieced it together, although he still couldn’t accept it. Death was a foreign concept to Miike; of course, he knew people died, and it was inevitable. But experiencing it first hand was something he had never experienced, everyone he had known in his life was still alive, including his grandparents and their pets.
Death meant that Miyazono was gone, that he would never cross paths with her again.
“Just… try not to mention her so casually.” Aiza continued, tugging at the hem of her school uniform. “He looks better now, but two years ago, he was really bad. Really, really bad. I don’t want to see him like that again.”
For a moment, Miike could see tears welling up her eyes. But she quickly brushed them off, and turned away from Miike.
“Anyway,” she continued. “Don’t say anything careless, or I’ll hunt you down.”
Miike was used to them sharing insults, but something about Aiza’s voice then made him immediately stiffen.
“Alright,” he said. “I’ll be careful.”
The last thing Miike wanted to do was hurt Arima. Especially after he had given him so much.
As the day continued, Aiza slowly gained back her energy, enthusiastically chattering with Arima as she walked beside him. Miike, however, hovered behind, hardly focusing on all of the sea creatures around him. The thought of Miyazono, and her violin, which Miike hardly remembered, echoed in his mind.
She was dead. She was dead. She was really dead, and gone, and Miike hardly knew her — resented her, even — but his chest still ached. She was the one who stole his spotlight, after he had worked so hard, to the point of passing out.
Miike did everything he was supposed to do. Play by the score, wasn’t that what the people wanted? But Miyazono did the exact opposite, and although she never got close to first place, she was the only one people cared about. Even after she disappeared, people whispered her name; a lasting impact.
Miike was jealous; what impact did he leave behind? Did he leave one at all?
His jealousy of Miyazono faded once he heard Arima’s playing. Arima’s playing gave him a new purpose, a new light to music. He had never known music could touch and move people until his performance of Love’s Sorrow at the Gala concert, and since then, Miike had become addicted.
He searched everywhere he could for each competition and concert that Arima went to, and showed up to every single one. Each time, he was brought to tears, and would walk back home clutching his chest and crying, until his mama would dash over and ask him what happened.
There was something sorrowful about Arima’s play. It was heavy, and weighed, and worn, like a man who had lost everything. It was the kind of sound Miike had never heard from the elementary or middle division; it was mature. The kind of playing an adult would have.
Each time, Miike would stare at the violin and wonder to himself. Just how did Arima play like that? What did he see?
Miike understood now.
What he was hearing was the sound of death. The sound of loss. The sound of grief.
It was no wonder he, who had never experienced death, couldn’t emulate that sound he was so addicted to, even though he was praised as the best violinist in his school. But, maybe that was why he was so addicted to Arima — he could create a sound Miike couldn’t. A sound that Miike had only heard from Arima’s piano.
He was relieved when they arrived at a room with beaches, where Miike could sit. The more he thought about death, the more weak his legs felt. He sat down slowly, watching as the two kids in front of him tapped at the glass, trying to scream at the whale to come in their direction. The whale, of course, ignored them, which made them scream even louder. Miike winced.
“You’ve been quiet.”
Miike jumped, and looked behind him to see Arima, holding a can of lemonade towards him with a smile. Miike blinked at the lemonade, and then back at Arima.
“There was a vending machine in the last room.” Arima explained. “Don’t like lemonade?”
Not wanting to be rude, Miike shook his head, and took the lemonade. “Thank you.”
He opened the can, and took a sip. Really, lemonade wasn’t his favorite drink — he hated it as a kid — but since Arima bought it for him, he decided to give it a try. It tasted better than he remembered, even.
Arima sat down next to him, opening his own can of lemonade.
“I thought you were going to spend the entire day fighting with Aiza-san, but you’ve been quiet the whole day.” Arima explained, before taking a sip. “What’s wrong? You don’t like aquariums?”
“It’s nothing like that.” Miike said, shaking his head. But he couldn’t tell Arima the truth either, so he kicked at the ground.
“Are you feeling sick?” Arima asked. “Aiza-san told me you get fevers easily.”
Miike grimaced. She noticed? Miike supposed he shouldn’t be too surprised. The whole school probably knew, after he passed in the middle of class last year. Aiza was in his class that year, too.
He felt a hand gently brush away his bangs and press against his forehead. To his horror, he turned to see Arima leaning in, his bright blue eyes even more clear than before.
“I’m not sick!” Miike exclaimed, as his heart skipped a few beats. “I’m not sick!”
Kousei Arima is touching my forehead with his genius pianist hands!, Miike thought. I’ve been blessed!
“No fever.” Arima agreed. “But you still look pale. Maybe you should go home, just in case.”
Although his tone was gentle, his voice sounded serious. Of course, Miike thought, pressing his lips into a firm line. Didn’t Aiza say that Miyazono passed away from an illness?
The thought of Miyazono and Arima made the guilt fill up in his chest again.
“Arima-san,” he said, before he could stop his voice. “Why are you so nice to me? It doesn’t make any sense. I insulted your partner — Miyazono-san.”
Arima blinked. “Well, that was years ago. Sure, I got angry at the time, but why would I still be now?”
The lemonade felt heavy in his hands. “Maybe I’m the same person as I was years ago. Then what? You wasted all of that kindness on someone who insulted a girl you liked.”
He expected that to be the final blow. For Arima to leave, then. The thought made him horribly miserable, sure, but Arima needed to stand up for himself.
Instead, Arima laughed, and brought the lemonade to his lips. “You reminded me of how I used to be — I guess that part is still true.”
Miike’s heart fluttered at that. Him, like Arima?
“I also thought the score was absolute once, you know.” Arima explained. “So much that it gave me a bit of a reputation, even if I hated it.”
“The human metronome.” Miike echoed. He learned it while researching for Arima’s competitions.
“You’re well informed.” Arima smiled, meekly. “I won a lot of competitions, all with little emotion in my music.”
The old Arima was something Miike was not as aware of. He knew he had quite a reputation, but the first time Miike had really heard his playing was at the Gala concert, which was anything but emotionless.
“It was Miyazono-san that changed that.” Arima said. “She dragged me kicking and screaming to be her accompanist, and when she played, she would change the tempo and dynamics each time, without warning me. I had no choice but to figure it out as we went.”
Immediately, Miike winced at the thought. He was so structured in his playing, that the mere thought of duetting with someone like that gave him a headache. Really, he pitied Arima.
“It was stressful, but it was really fun.” Arima let out a soft laugh. “Playing music with her changed everything for me. I never knew music could be so moving until I met her.”
Miike hummed, bringing the lemonade to his lips.
“You’re the same way now, aren’t you?” Arima asked. “I can tell from the way you played your violin at the Kuru school festival.”
Miike felt the heat reach his ears. So Arima did notice his playing. A lopsided smile tugged on his lips before he could control it, suddenly feeling fired up. He had tried so hard at the festival, hoping his playing would reach Arima. The fact that he had remembered meant that Miike had succeeded.
“That’s right.” Miike said, squeezing his
lemonade can. “There’s a musician I admire, and I won’t rest until I can play like him.”
Miike couldn’t bring himself to say the obvious out loud: that musician was the very person he was talking to. But Arima nodded firmly, and if he noticed, he made no comments at it.
“I’m sure you’ll get there.” Arima said, with certainty. “That’s exactly the drive you need, as a musician. Rivals are a great thing, aren’t they?”
You’re not my rival at all, Miike thought, finishing the can of lemonade. You’re my idol.
Before he could say anything else though, Aiza appeared, with her hands on her hips. “How long are you two going to keep sitting there and talking?! You’re like a bunch of old men — so boring!”
Miike’s eye twitched. “Excuse me?! What about you, running all over the place? You’re like a child!”
“How lively.” Arima added. Then, he turned to Aiza. “I’m sorry, Aiza-san. Let’s keep going, OK?”
“I thought I told you to call me Nagi…” Aiza grumbled, but Arima ignored her, walking off to the next room. Aiza turned out, stuck out her tongue at Miike, and then skipped over to join Arima.
Miike stood up, squeezing the can again as he did. The metal was all bent by now, but Miike paid no mind.
I’ll catch up to you, he swore, as he watched Arima’s back.
One day, I’ll definitely be able to play music that feels like love, the way you do.