Archive of Our Own

“Kousei, stop for a moment.”

The moment Kousei’s hands lifted from the keys, Hiroko suddenly grabbed his right wrist, pulling it towards her.

Kousei hissed loudly. A jolt of pain shot through his arm each time Hiroko poked and prodded at his wrist, but she paid his discomfort no mind, and furrowed her brows.

“When did it start hurting?” she asked, as Kousei finally yanked his wrist away, cradling it against his chest.

He opened his mouth to argue, to deny that anything was wrong with his wrist at all. But Hiroko stared down at him, with a look he knew all too well. The look she gave him once years ago, back when he snuck candy in his room when he knew he was not supposed to. He vividly remembered how she scooped him by the scruff of his shirt then, hanging him in the air as he flailed his limbs and wailed.

Any pathetic excuses he came up with would mean nothing to her.

Kousei sighed then, staring at his hand as he flexed his fingers; each movement accompanied with a jolt of pain.

“Yesterday morning… probably.”

“And you haven’t gotten it checked out?”

Kousei winced. “I was hoping to sleep it off.”

Hiroko sighed, as she pinched the bridge of her nose. Then, sighed again; much slower than the last. Kousei shifted on the piano bench. Her silence felt suffocating, and he didn’t need to look her in the eyes to know she was disappointed. In fact, he avoided that glare he could feel against his back, instead watching the keyboard in front of him.

He wished Koharu would come back from wherever she wobbled off to, and break the tension. Perhaps offering one of her drawings to Hiroko, distracting the woman before she killed Kousei on the spot.

“Fine. Practice is on hold.”

Kousei groaned.

Hiroko pulled his cheek then, and he yelped. “I’ll be bringing this idiot to the hospital instead, and hope he hasn’t permanently damaged his wrist right before the competition!”

Kousei whined, but did very little to stop Hiroko, as she continued to pull harder.

He… couldn’t blame her frustration. If Kousei saw any of his friends working through an injury, he would surely be angry himself. He even vividly remembered a similar story with Tsubaki spraining her ankle years ago during practice, and how he had to fight her to stay in bed.

And, as much as she tried to cover it up, Kousei could feel how Hiroko’s hands were shaking, ever so slightly: fear.

It was only natural. If they found out his condition was serious, he could say goodbye to the competition, despite their months of work. Pushing through, and ignoring a serious injury might let him win this competition, but he could risk him needing surgery in the future — or worse, losing the ability to play all together.

That future scared Kousei more than anything else.

And yet, instead of getting it checked out, he found himself hiding it. Hoping that if he went to bed early, it would simply disappear, fading away with the morning light.

His luck had never been that good, as he woke up with even more pain, and a dreading pit in his stomach.

“Come on.” Hiroko pulled him to his feet — he noticed how she held his left wrist instead, avoiding the injured one as though it were fragile glass. “I’ll go help Koharu get ready. Wait by the door for me, alright?”

Kousei bit his lip and nodded.

He turned back to the piano, brushing his fingers against the keys, noting each bump he had memorized. He could still smell the disinfectant from when he cleaned the keyboard this morning — as he did every morning.

“Sorry.” he whispered to it softly under his breath, before he pulled his hand away.

Kousei just barely had enough time to put on his shoes before Koharu dashed into the room.

“Big brother Kousei!” she shouted as she tackled him with a hug, so strong that he nearly tumbled over. His eyes softened as he felt the tears staining his shirt. “Does it hurt?”

She had always been easy to break into tears, which left a pang of guilt in Kousei’s chest.

“Please don’t cry!” Kousei panicked, patting her head in hopes of some relief. “Everything is fine! Look, It doesn’t hurt, see?”

To prove it, he flexed his right wrist — only to wince as he did. Instantly, a river of tears flooded from Koharu’s eyes.

“Oh, no…” Kousei sat down to her eye level, and awkwardly wrapped his arms around her shaking body. “Don’t cry. Everything is fine, it’s alright, I promise. There, there…”

“Are you ever going to make her stop crying?” Hiroko said as she walked into the room.

Immediately, Koharu pushed herself out of Kousei’s arms and dashed to her mother.

“Kousei is broken!” she wailed. “He can’t play the piano anymore!”

Hiroko clucked her tongue. “Well, that’s no good. We need our Kousei to be able to play, don’t we?”

Koharu nodded vigorously.

“That’s what the doctor is for.” Hiroko explained, her tone careful and gentle. Kousei remembered when she used to talk to him like that, once. “They help fix us when we break. Just like how we fixed your doll last week, remember?”

She turned to Kousei as she spoke, waiting for him to add on. He stared at the floor for a moment, shuffling his shoes together.

“…Yeah.” he agreed, meekly. “That’s all it is, Koharu. There’s no need to be scared.”

To be honest, the thought of the hospital made him want to cry, as well. His last few visits have been less than pleasant, and the thought of seeing the white halls filled with the sickening scent of antiseptic again made him feel nauseous.

Kousei shook his head. He wouldn’t think about it. “Besides…” he started, trying to clear his head. “They usually have lollipops at the hospital. Don’t you want to get one, Koharu?”

Her face lit up at the sound of candy. “Really?!”

Kousei nodded. “Really.”

The nurses used to offer them to him all the time when he visited his mother, he remembered. Especially when he brought Tsubaki and Watari with him. Though, when his mother began to stay at the hospital for months at a time, he quickly got sick of the lollipops. They seemed to lose all their flavor, whenever he saw his mother on that bed—

Once again, Kousei shook his head. He wouldn’t think of it. He wouldn’t think of it.

It was just a check up, after all. He couldn’t die from a strained wrist. It was nothing like his mother, or…

A hand came down on the top of his head, and Kousei jumped.

“Come on, kid.” Hiroko said, patting his hand down again. “We’re leaving.”

Kousei nodded, keeping his eyes on the ground as he let Hiroko lead him to the car. Koharu grabbed his left hand, her small hand gripping his fingers in a way that he could only imagine meant comfort. She flashed him a toothy smile.

Kousei did his best to smile back.

-

The walls felt like they were closing in on him. Pushing more and more, until Kousei felt trapped in a small box. The voices of the nurses around him sounded muffled, as if he were underwater again. Too muffled to make out any words, and yet so loud it hurt his ears.

The smell was the worst of all. The disinfectant that was so strong, it seemed to take every other scent away. Such as his mother, who once smelled like fabric softener and home cooking. Or Kaori, who once smelled like her favorite strawberry shampoo and sunflowers.

Both of them, once so colorful, were drowned and washed out by the scent of the hospital.

Kousei could already feel the smell sticking to his clothes. He felt dizzy.

There wasn’t a moment during the examination where he didn’t fidget, even if he tried his best to stay still. It must have been three times that Hiroko placed her hand on Kousei’s thigh, reminding him not to bounce his leg. He hardly noticed he had even been bouncing it, to begin with.

If the nurses noticed his nervousness, they certainly did not point it out. A part of Kousei appreciated that, at least.

It didn’t take too long for the doctor to return to the room with a heavy sigh, which only increased Kousei’s nervousness. He never did enjoy stern doctors; how bleak their voices sounded as they delivered news Kousei wanted to tune out.

His leg started bouncing again.

“It’s tendonitis.” the doctor stated, shaking his head. “You said you played piano? You likely overworked your wrist playing too much.”

He could hear Hiroko holding her breath next to him. “So the competition…”

”I would advise cancelling it.” he said. “In fact, you should take four weeks off before starting light practice again.”

Kousei froze.

Four weeks. A whole month.

Just a week without practicing would set him back for days. How could he take four weeks off? Forget the upcoming competition — he would be completely behind everyone else when he started high school. After he had tried so hard, and finally got accepted into the music school he wanted…

What would his mother think, if she were still here?

What would Kaori think?

He looked down at his right wrist; more specifically, the brace that now held it straight, constricting his movements. He drummed his fingers against his leg, yet each jolt of pain slowed him down, and the brace kept him from moving his wrist at all, dashing all hopes of him being able to reach certain keys.

He couldn’t play like this.

Not even the simplest songs he knew; no, he couldn’t play anything with his right hand at all. The important one, the one that often played the melody.

Kousei clicked his tongue, picking at the brace. If only he could loosen it, just a bit…

A hand came down on his own. He looked up to see Hiroko in front of him, shaking her head. “Don’t mess with that, Kousei. I know what you’re thinking.”

Kousei looked away.

Hiroko sighed, shifting on her knees in front of him, to meet his eyes. “I know it’s frustrating, but… I think we should listen to the doctor’s advice.”

Her hands rested on Kousei’s wrist brace — he could see them shaking, ever so slightly. Her voice, much softer and deeper than before, continued: “I couldn’t live with myself if you lost your playing, too.”

Kousei said nothing in return, watching her hands.

Much smaller hands rested on top of Hiroko’s, and Kousei spotted Koharu from the corner of his eye, her lips pushed into a pout.

“You can’t take it off, Kousei!” she parroted after her mother. “Otherwise, your hand will fall off!”

At the same time, Hiroko and Kousei snorted, and Hiroko pulled Koharu into a hug. “You’re right. It would be very bad if Kousei’s hand fell off, wouldn’t it.”

“It would be bad! Very bad!” Koharu nodded, and then turned back to Kousei, to jab a small finger in his face. “So you can’t!”

He lifted up his hands in defeat. “Alright, Koharu. You won. I wouldn’t touch it anymore.”

She seemed satisfied at that, grinning and running off to collect the drawings she did during Kousei’s examination. Koharu’s ability to remain bright and unbothered always caught Kousei off guard, but he supposed children were all like that. He, himself, was like that once, his head full of adventures with his friends and his dolls, with little concern in the world.

He couldn’t help but wish that he could go back to those days.

Slowly, he shifted his left hand back to his wrist, picking at the brace. It brought extra weight to his arm, one that was unfamiliar, as though it were pulling Kousei down. Reminding him of his failures — how if he only were a bit more careful…

Dragging his feet, Kousei followed Hiroko and Koharu out of the examination room; squeezing his eyes shut as he tried to tune out the voices of his mother and Kaori that danced in his ears.

—

“…What happened to your wrist?”

Tsubaki was the first one to ask, her voice slow and gentle. It carried the air of someone speaking to a frightened child, or perhaps a cornered animal.

Her tone had shifted in the past few months, Kousei noticed. Every now and then, for just a moment, she would return to her old enthusiastic voice; the one that sparkled like the sun. But, for the most part, each word held weight, and each time his eyes met her own, she looked as though she would burst into tears.

A once sunny day covered by clouds, Kousei thought. Almost as though when Kaori left, the whole world clouded over in her absence.

Kousei turned away from Tsubaki’s clouded eyes, only to be met with his brace, and remembered her question.

“I overworked it.” He pulled his arm to his chest, trying to flex his fingers. The brace limited his movement, as always. Really, he didn’t think he would ever get used to that.

He hated how much the brace stuck out — it might as well be shouting to the whole world that Kousei was ‘broken’, as Koharu called it. Telling everyone how he couldn’t play, anymore.

Kousei’s mouth felt dry. “It’s fine,” he said, pushing the words out.

“It doesn’t look fine to me…” Tsubaki mumbled.

Kousei turned to her, watching how her eyebrows furrowed. The moment her eyes met his, though, she shook her head.

“Nevermind. You should take it easy, OK?” she told him. “I know you well enough by now. You’d keep going even with something like this.”

Kousei couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re one to talk, Tsubaki. You were the one who tried to play softball despite your injuries all the time when we were kids.”

“That’s different!” Tsubaki insisted.

Kousei laughed again as she scowled. Really, every time he heard the energy in her voice peaking out, a wave of relief washed over him.

Suddenly, a weight came down on his shoulders. Kousei jumped, feeling the breath of a bellowing laughter against his ear.

“Watari?!” Kousei gasped.

“Hey, Kousei.” he grinned. “Man, if only you saw the look on your face—” His voice cut short, as his eyes fell on Kousei’s brace. “Woah, what’s with the wrist?”

Kousei tried to not hunch his shoulders.

“He overworked himself.” Tsubaki chimed in. “Can you believe this guy? Right before a competition…”

“After watching this guy play like crazy in the last few weeks? I believe it.” Watari laughed. Then, he leaned closer, his arm shifting from Kousei’s shoulder to his arm with a tight squeeze. “Hey man, you know we’re here for you, right?”

“I know.”

“Don’t do anything stupid, alright?” Watari lectured him. His tone reminded Kousei of Tsubaki, from moments ago. “It’s a part of an athlete’s training to rest, after all.”

“I’m not an athlete.” Kousei scoffed.

“It’s the same thing!”

“That’s right!” Tsubaki added.

Laughter filled the air for a moment, but when it faded, an eerie sort of silence followed. A feeling of wrongness — of something that was once there, and should be there, missing.

A fourth laughter, one that Kousei hadn’t heard in months.

He pressed his lips together, trying to ignore how his chest ached. He was sure Watari and Tsubaki noticed as well, how that silence followed them in the last few weeks, although it remained unspoken between them.

Kousei wasn’t even sure if he wanted to talk about it.

Watari was no longer holding his shoulder, standing at a somewhat awkward distance away. Tsubaki kicked the rocks that appeared in her path, keeping her eyes on the sidewalk.

None of them spoke for the remainder of the walk to school.

They waited in silence, for that actor who would never enter the stage. For that familiar blonde hair to shift into their view, chirping into their conversation as though nothing has changed.

Kousei breathed in.

He missed the smell of strawberries.

—-

Though he couldn’t play, Kousei found himself eating his lunch in the music room, again. Perhaps it was because he was used to it. Perhaps it was because the window faced the courtyard, where he could watch Tsubaki and Watari play. Perhaps it was because it was the most quiet place to eat his lunch, since a group of new first years had taken his old spot at the roof.

Kousei shook his head. Really, those were all excuses.

He was terrified of leaving this room. He feared the day he graduated, and would have to say goodbye to it forever.

The smell of chalk, the distant echoing shouts of the soccer team, the soft playing of the piano. If he closed his eyes and listened carefully, he could hear the violin, and the laughter of a girl as she plucked the strings.

Kousei sat down on the piano bench, facing away from the keys as he fumbled to open his egg sandwich package. Yet another problem with his wrist: not only could he not play the piano, but he could barely use his right hand at all. He couldn’t take notes at all today, and had no choice but to stare at the board and pray he could memorize the material.

He let out a huff of annoyance as the egg sandwich slipped from his hands, crashing to the ground.

“Need help, there?”

Kousei looked up, to see Watari smiling at him.

“Watari…”

Before Kousei could give him a response, Watari bent down and picked up the egg sandwich package and opened it with ease. Kousei hunched his shoulders in embarrassment. They weren’t terribly difficult to open; he should have been able to do it by himself.

If Watari had noticed the sour expression on Kousei’s face, he didn’t mention it, handing him back the sandwich.

“You’re not trying to play, are you?” Watari asked, sitting next to Kousei.

“No…” Kousei took the egg sandwich with his left hand and bit into it, chewing slowly. “I just like it here. That’s all.”

“Sure, sure.” Watari laughed. “But I know you well enough by now. You were going to try to start playing when no one was around, weren’t you?”

Kousei hunched his shoulders again. Though it was not his original intention by coming here, it was certainly something that crossed his mind the moment he entered the room. In fact, if Watari hadn’t come in, he likely would have removed the brace, and gave it a shot.

“You could tell?”

“I just can’t keep my eyes off you, huh?” Watari shook his head in disbelief. “Of course I could tell. You’re not the only one who suffered an injury that kept you from doing what you love. Remember seventh grade?”

Kousei blinked. Now that he mentioned it, there was a point where Watari hurt his leg — it wasn’t terribly serious, and it only took a couple of weeks to recover, but he was stuck using crutches, and playing soccer was out of the question.

“I kept trying to remove my own brace and playing, when I thought no one was around.” Watari continued, a nostalgic look in his eyes. “It hurt like hell, and I couldn’t play the way I always did. It was like I lost everything I worked for. Each time I’d end up on the ground, slamming my fist against my ankle and begging my legs to stand up.”

Kousei pressed his lips together. He brought his hand back to his brace, and began picking at it, again.

“But, y’know.” Watari bumped his shoulder against Kousei’s. An attempt to comfort. “By doing that, I only made my injury worse. I was stuck in bed for two weeks longer than I should have been.”

Kousei grimaced. He knew exactly what Watari was getting at: he had no time to waste. If he stayed put, it would be over soon.

“I know that.” Kousei said, putting his egg sandwich down on the wrapper. “But four weeks? I can’t wait that long.”

“You don’t have a choice, Kousei.” Watari said, his voice uncharacteristically stern. “It’s either four weeks, or a couple of months, if you’re lucky. If you strain it hard enough, it’ll be there for the rest of your life. There’s no way you could be a pianist, then.”

Kousei stiffened. Of course, this was all stuff that he already knew. But hearing it out loud from Watari made his chest hurt so much, he couldn’t breathe.

“I just…” He brought his left hand to his knee, and gripped it tight, hoping to hide his shaking. “I feel so useless.”

Kousei’s voice cracked at the word. The moment it left his lips, he immediately wished he kept it in.

He heard the shifting of clothes, and felt the warmth of Watari’s arm, wrapping around his shoulder.

“You’re not useless, Kousei. That’s just your brain playing tricks on you — everyone feels that way when they’re forced to rest.” Watari said, the edge on his voice melting away. “But didn’t I tell you? It’s part of an athlete's training to rest.”

“I’m still not an athlete.”

“It’s the same thing.” Watari pulled away with a pat on Kousei's back. The sound echoed in the empty music room. “Every star has his major set back, remember? It’s what makes their story all the more exciting when they reach the top.”

Kousei thought he had way too many setbacks for one life, and if he got anymore, he would be out of the running for good. Really, it was a miracle he could worm his way back to the piano world in the first place.

But he nodded anyway, picking at his brace. “Thanks, Watari.”

“Don’t fall apart here, Kousei.” Watari held his shoulder. “You rest, and then you get back up again. We got your back.”

Kousei closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Then, he gave Watari another nod.

“Alright.”

With that, Watari pulled away, satisfied with Kousei’s response. “Oh, and… before I forget.”

Kousei blinked curiously as Watari dug in his bag, before pulling out a notebook. A very beaten up notebook; the pages were all wrinkled, and there were two yellow stains that, frankly, Kousei wasn’t sure if he wanted to ask what it was.

Watari flipped to a page, and handed it to Kousei. “The class notes. I noticed you couldn’t hold a pen.”

Kousei squinted at the paper. Through the yellow stains, he could see characters that could only be described as chicken scratch in blue pen. Every other word was scratched off. Honestly, Kousei wasn’t even sure if these notes were from Japanese or history class.

“What do you think?” Watari said, pride in his voice. “I even went out and organized them for you. I don’t organize my notes — actually, I never take notes — but I know you do. It’s my repayment for all of those years of borrowing your notes.”

Kousei grimaced, bringing the paper closer to his face. This was organized? What did unorganized look like, then? Really, it was a miracle Watari even made it to junior high.

“Now you can rest with ease!” Watari continued. “Leave the notes and egg sandwich packaging opening to me!”

“Uh, yeah.” Kousei forced a smile. “Thanks Watari.”

Watari flashed him a grin, bright and toothy, before launching into a story about one of his soccer teammates. Something about how the fool scored the perfect blind date, only to completely mess it up.

Kousei didn’t know much about dating — that was, outside of the books he read — so frankly, he hardly understood what Watari was talking about. But his voice was loud and strong, echoing across the music room and filling the air with it.

A distraction, at least for a moment, from the weighed feeling in his wrist that haunted him.

—

Although he couldn’t play himself, Kousei still showed up to Nagi’s piano practice. Hiroko was less than pleased to see him show up, though.

“You should rest, Kousei.” she said, sternly.

“It’s fine.” Kousei replied. “Teaching isn’t the same thing as playing. I don’t need to touch the keyboard at all — my mom never did when she was sick. Besides, I’m injured, not sick. I can’t just sit around for a month.”

Hiroko let out a heavy sigh. “Alright, but no playing. I’ll be watching you.”

Kousei hunched his shoulders.

“I know you don’t like this, Kousei, but we can’t risk anything now.” Hiroko continued. “If you were to strain your wrist more…”

“I know.” Kousei said. When would people stop reminding him, already?

Hiroko huffed, but before she could lecture Kousei any more, the doorbell rang.

“That must be Nagi.” Hiroko said, turning to open the door.

As she went off, Kousei looked down, his eyes catching his brace as he did. He grimaced, pulling at the strings. If Hiroko wasn’t there, he would have pulled it off, before Nagi could see it. Not because he wanted to sneak in some practice, but because he couldn’t bear worrying her. He already received so many lectures from concerned friends at school. The last thing he wanted was to worry his student, too.

But before he was ready to meet her, he heard Nagi’s light steps skipping towards him. “Arima-sensei!”

Kousei looked up, catching Nagi’s yellow pigtails flopping in the air as she made her way towards him.

“You’ll never guess.” she told him.

“What happened?” Kousei asked.

“Remember my annoying classmate, Miike?” she paused to fake a gag. “He’s challenging me to a ‘music duel’ or whatever that means. Can you believe it? What a kid.”

Kousei blinked. “A music… what?”

Nagi shook her head. “I don’t know. It’s weird, but the whole school is invested now, so I have no choice.”

“Sounds…” Kousei searched for the word. “Exciting.”

“It is so not.” Nagi scowled. “We don’t even play the same instrument, how is that supposed to work?”

Kousei laughed. “You say that, but you look like you’re ready to take him down.”

“Of course I am!” Nagi puffed her chest out. “There’s no way I’ll lose to someone like Miike.”

Kousei let out another laugh. A music duel… that kind of nonsense was exactly the kind of thing that Kaori would enjoy. The kind of thing she would make up right on the spot, pointing her bow at Kousei’s nose and declaring in a proud voice: “You and me, we’re dueling, right now!”, and would start playing right then and there, ignoring Kousei’s begs for clarification.

Kousei took a deep breath, and yanked the strings of his brace. If she saw him now…

Kousei shook his head. “So, did you decide on a piece?”

Nagi didn’t respond, her eyes fixated on his right arm. Or more specifically, his right wrist. Kousei grimaced and immediately let go of the strings.

“Arima-sensei…” she spoke slowly. “What happened?”

“I…” Kousei kicked at the ground. “I overworked it. It’s fine, it’ll go away.”

“How long?”

“…Four weeks.”

“You should be resting!” Nagi declared. “Seto-sensei can take over for now, don’t overwork yourself!”

“It’s fine if I’m just teaching.” Kousei said, awkwardly. “You’re the one who’s playing, after all. It won’t strain my wrist.”

Nagi huffed. “Geez, why am I surrounded by so many reckless idiots?! You’re not better than my brother.”

Kousei blinked in surprise. “Did Aiza have…?”

“Not tendinitis.” Nagi corrected. “But he got really sick once. He was working too hard for a competition, and all those days of skipping sleep and meals piled up, and he got really sick.”

Kousei winced. He… couldn’t say that he didn’t understand. That had happened to him, too, several times.

“Mom told him to stay in bed, but I kept hearing the sounds of the piano.” Nagi continued. “I knew it was him. He kept getting worse and worse, until we had to take him to the hospital.”

“Oh…”

“I hate that about the piano.” Nagi said, pulling on the straps of her bag. “I hate watching people around me get sick and hurt over some stupid competition.”

Kousei frowned. He supposed she saw quite a lot of that, going to a music school. Her brother, any of her friends at school, and even himself — all of them were musicians so dedicated to their art, it destroyed them.

Nagi’s eyes softened then. “But I know why they do it. I’m not any better myself, I’m just a hypocrite. Ugh, what a cliche.”

Kousei laughed. “It’s that dedication that makes someone an artist, isn’t it?”

“Well, it shouldn’t be!” Nagi declared. “Remember, Arima-sensei, your health matters more than any piano!”

“I know.” Kousei said. “I’ll take care of myself.”

Nagi hummed twice, and gave a satisfied nod. “Alright, so I got the perfect piece to bring Miike down. I started practicing last night, and…”

Kousei let Nagi’s words wash over him as he followed her to the piano room. He couldn’t help but envy her excitement for the duel — even if she insisted she hated it. But she had a goal to work towards, in the next few weeks. Something to get her out of bed each day, to keep her busy.

Kousei’s schedule, meanwhile, was suddenly open. Too open and empty for his liking. Everyone insisted that he rest, but rest meant laying in bed as he memorized each speck of dust in his room. It meant his mind wandered off, back to the smell of strawberries, and bright blonde hair.

Kousei longed for the piano.

He longed for a distraction.

—

It was dark when Kousei and Nagi got off the bus, so Kousei offered to walk her home. He hadn’t expected her to say yes — in the past, she always brushed him off, saying she wasn’t a child. But that evening, she nodded, and even invited Kousei over for dinner.

“My mom always cooks too much.” she explained. “And then my brother and I have to eat it all. We could use a helping hand.”

“Oh, I don’t want to be a burden…”

“It’s more of a burden if you don’t come.” Nagi insisted. “Really, mom cooks so much, it’s like a feast everyday. You should come over. I think my brother would like that.”

Kousei wasn’t sure about that last part, but he supposed that he should take her up for the offer. Last time he checked, his fridge was empty.

“Alright.” he nodded.

Still, he couldn’t help but wonder about the sudden interest in him coming over. Was she trying to keep an eye on him, so he wouldn’t go home and practice? That was exactly the kind of thing Tsubaki would do, but Kousei wasn’t too sure about Nagi. He hummed to himself as he walked, deep in thought. He hadn’t noticed when Nagi stopped, until she yanked at his sleeve.

“Here,” Nagi said. “this is my house.”

Kousei looked up and down, taking in the place. It was a nice house, perhaps a bit smaller than his own. Sure enough, the nameplate read: ‘Aiza’, confirming it was the right location.

Nagi pulled the keys out of her bag and swung open the door. “Come on, Arima-sensei!”

“I’m coming!”

The inside of the Aiza residence was just as nice as the outside; a homely little place. A small framed photo immediately caught his eye: two children that Kousei recognized as Takeshi and Nagi. It seemed that Nagi always wore those pigtails, Kousei noted with a smile.

“Welcome back, Nagi—”

Kousei looked up from the photo to see Takeshi, glaring right at him.

“What the hell?” Takeshi narrowed his eyes. “Arima? What are you doing here?”

“I invited him over for dinner!” Nagi chimed in.

“Like hell!” Takeshi stomped his way over to Kousei. “What do you think you’re doing, walking alone at night with my sister?!”

He jabbed his finger against Kousei’s chest. Kousei stiffened and stuttered out: “Um… I always take Aiza-san back home…”

“Always?!” Takeshi screamed, grabbing Kousei’s shirt. “Why you little…!”

Kousei squeezed his eyes shut, preparing himself for impact. But nothing happened, and after a moment, he felt Takeshi’s grip loosen. Hesitantly, Kousei opened one eye to see Takeshi frozen, staring at Kousei’s right wrist.

“Arima.” his voice sounded shaky. “Your wrist…”

Kousei immediately hid his arm behind his back, but there was no use. The damage had already been done. Takeshi slowly met Kousei’s eyes again, his anger replaced with something much more raw and real: fear. The same fear that Hiroko wore.

“What happened?” he asked.

“Tendonitis.” Kousei hated the word. He hated labeling it to his name.

“How bad?” Takeshi’s voice was steady, and low. Not a voice Kousei heard from him often. “What did the doctor say?”

“Four weeks of rest, until I can resume light practice again.” Kousei gripped the hem of his shirt with his left hand.

“Four weeks.” Takeshi breathed. “Four weeks.” He repeated, resting his hand against his face with a sigh. “So the competition…”

“I’m out of the running.” Kousei let out an awkward laugh. Nothing about it was funny. “With winning the Eastern Piano Competition, I might still be OK for Okutsu’s entrance exams, but…”

“One month of no practice is a big blow.” Takeshi continued, from where he trailed off. “It’s going to be hard to keep up with everyone in Okutsu. Getting a drawback now, of all times, is…”

Kousei squeezed his eyes shut. He didn’t want to hear the rest of that sentence. He knew how it ended already. He knew. The last thing he wanted was to hear it out loud.

“Geez!” Nagi huffed, standing in between the two. “Don’t give Arima-sensei a hard time, brother! He feels really bad about it!” She turned to Takeshi, with her hands on her hips. “The last thing he needs is crazy ideas of practicing when he should be resting!”

“I’m not suggesting that! It’s not like I’m trying to give him a hard time!” Takeshi defended himself. Then, he looked back up at Kousei, awkwardly bringing his hand to his neck. “Look man, Nagi is right here. The last thing you should do right now is practice. If I see you at the competition, I’ll kick your ass.”

Kousei looked away.

“It sucks, sure, but these things happen.” Takeshi continued. Even so, Kousei could detect the disappointment in his voice, which only drove the knife in deeper. “Emi got tendonitis and had to skip one or two competitions too, y’know? She was really pissed about it.”

Kousei blinked. He didn’t notice at all, likely because he was so absorbed in his own bubble that he never even realized Takeshi and Emi were always there until he came back to the piano. Tsubaki laughed when he pointed it out; apparently, even she noticed they were always there.

“Really?”

“Yeah. Her face got super red when I pointed it out too. Really, really pissed about it.” Takeshi said, laughing at the memory. “But she rested and healed properly, so there was no lasting damage.”

“That’s… good.” Kousei said, easing his shoulders. He wasn’t sure how long ago that story was, but Emi certainly didn’t seem to have any problems moving her wrist now — at least, not that Kousei noticed.

“It’s your turn, now.” Takeshi said, bumping against Kousei’s shoulder. “Hurry up and recover so I can beat your ass again. I’ll be waiting for you. I waited three years, once. One month is nothing.”

Kousei hummed, absentmindedly. He thought of the silver of disappointment in Takeshi’s voice earlier, the one he tried to cover up.

“Come on, let’s eat.” Nagi insisted. “I’m hungry.”

Kousei pushed that thought away, and nodded. If Takeshi had any problems with Kousei staying, he didn’t voice them. His eyes remained on Kousei’s brace, but every time Kousei met his eyes, he turned away.

—

Kousei stared blankly at the screen of his flip phone.

March 19. The night before the first round of the competition.

His wrist ached more than usual, complaining at each little twitch of his fingers, no matter how small they were. He hadn’t felt the touch of the keys in a week, save for occasionally playing scales with his left hand. Hiroko didn’t even let him do that for more than ten minutes though; it was already difficult enough to convince her to let him play scales in the first place.

It was hopeless for the competition. Kousei should have accepted that the moment he stepped into the hospital. In fact, he was sure that Hiroko had withdrawn his application already, since he hadn’t received any emails reminding him of the upcoming event. There was no point in checking, since he couldn’t go, but he did so anyway, reloading his screen every ten minutes, just in case.

Kousei closed his phone with a heavy sigh, and draped his left arm over his eyes.

As ridiculous as it was, a part of him still hasn't given up. There was time before the competition, even if it was a few hours. He could throw away his wrist brace and show up, unexpectedly and unplanned. He could march his way up to the stage, making a disaster of the whole competition, and play, despite it all.

A laugh bubbled up in his throat at the thought.

“What am I thinking?” he said, out loud. “Impudent, loud, disastrous performance… That’s so unlike me. Even now, you’re still stringing me along with your nonsense.”

And you’re not even here, anymore. Kousei added mentally, unable to push the words out.

He sat up then, swinging his legs over the bed and stretching his arms. There was no point in sitting around staring at the ceiling — he wasn’t going to fall asleep anytime soon. A little walk would do him some good, he decided, pulling his coat over his pajamas and walking out the door.

The lights of the Sawabe’s house were on, including the light to Tsubaki’s room. She had been staying up late recently to study, or so Kousei heard from Kashiwagi. If Tsubaki saw him out the window, she no doubt would have opened it to lecture Kousei over walking around so late, in his pajamas no less. But he never saw her familiar face sticking out, nor did the window open.

Kousei didn’t bother with ringing the doorbell either. The last thing Kousei wanted to do was burden the Sawabes, and he was perfectly capable of taking a walk by himself, thank you very much.

So he left in the opposite direction instead, kicking stones he saw in his path. The sleeves of his coat hid the brace, but the pain was still there, flaring with each movement he made. He winced and pulled it closer to his chest. The doctor said it would continue to hurt regularly for weeks, and that all he could do was rest and take medication. Even so, Kousei couldn’t help but worry: what if it was getting worse? What if the pain was permanent, and he had to say goodbye to the piano, after everything?

He shuddered, and pulled on his coat.

Kousei didn’t have a destination in mind, but his feet brought him to the cemetery. Somewhere on the far left, row three, was his mother. Somewhere near the middle, row eight, was Kaori. With time, the cemetery would slowly fill with other faces he knew. Where would Hiroko’s grave lay when she passed away? Or his father’s, or Tsubaki’s, or Watari’s grave? What about his own?

Kousei made his way to Kaori’s grave. He kept his eyes on the ground, avoiding looking at the words carved on the stone. He didn’t need to look at them; he already knew which grave was hers. Someone had left flowers, and from the look of them, it must have been from today. Still fresh, with the stem still wet from the water of whatever vase it was placed in previously. It could have been the Miyazonos, or Watari, or Tsubaki, or some other friend Kaori had and didn’t tell Kousei about.

There was so much that he didn’t know about her. So much that he would never know.

He sat down, running his fingers through the cold stone. So many words filled his head; what Tsubaki and Watari did at school, Nagi’s lessons, his injury and the competition he had to cancel. But Kousei couldn’t find himself saying anything of them out loud, and instead began to hum Twinkle Twinkle Little Star to himself.

There was a nice view of the stars from the grave, not hidden by any trees or lights. A perfect resting place; Kaori would have loved the view.

“Kousei!”

Kousei looked up at the sound of his name, and turned around. Watari stood there, his hands resting on his knees as he tried to catch his breath. There was a panicked look in his eyes, which made Kousei stand up.

“What happened?!” he asked, anxiety gripping at his chest. Could it have been Tsubaki? If she got hurt…

“What happened?” Watari forced out a laugh between breaths. “I should be asking you that. Tsubaki called me saying that you disappeared!”

Kousei blinked. “What do you mean, disappeared? I’m right here.”

“Geez, way to give me a heart attack. She’s so overdramatic.” Watari scowled, and flicked on his phone to send a quick message. Then, he turned back to Kousei. “Apparently, she went over to your place to give you a midnight snack, but when she saw no one was home, she called your phone. But since you wouldn’t answer, she panicked. Thought you might have thrown yourself off a bridge or something, with the competition and all.”

Kousei grimaced. That was a horribly morbid thought. Tsubaki was far from the only one who had such worries, unfortunately. There was a reason why Hiroko forced Kousei to hand over the spare keys of his house.

“So, she called me over to come and find you. We’ve been out here for an hour.”

Kousei suddenly checked his phone, realizing that Watari was right. It had been almost two hours since he left the house — when did so much time pass? He noticed the 27 missed calls from Tsubaki, and 10 more from Watari, but somehow, Kousei hadn’t registered his phone ringing at all.

Watari ran his hand through his hair, letting out an exasperated sigh. One that was mixed with overwhelming relief, and the fear had yet to fade away from his eyes. Guilt pulled at Kousei’s chest.

“Um, I’m sorry…” he shuffled his feet against the ground. “I couldn’t sleep so I went on a walk. I didn’t think it would make a big deal.”

“Then answer your phone, idiot!” Watari said. “You have it for a reason.”

Kousei hunched his shoulders. “I’m sorry.”

Watari shook his head. “Whatever, man. I’m just glad you’re safe. Come on, let’s meet up with Tsubaki.”

Kousei let Watari wrap his arm around his shoulders to lead him away. Before he could leave, though, Watari turned around and nodded to Kaori’s grave. “Thanks for keeping an eye on this idiot for us, Kao-chan. I appreciate it.”

“Come on, Watari.” Kousei scowled, face red. “I can take care of myself.”

Watari didn’t answer him though, silently pulling him out of the graveyard. With time, the fear slowly faded from Watari’s eyes, but Kousei supposed the scare was too much, and he wasn’t in the mood for any jokes. So Kousei didn’t say anything back, letting Watari pull him along and listening to the sounds of the night.

—

They found Tsubaki sitting at a bench in front of a convenience store, her hands clutching a lemonade and her face blotched red with tears. Her eyes softened at the sight of Kousei.

“You idiot!” she yelled. “Answer your phone next time!”

Kousei hung his head low and nodded.

“I’m never doing that again.” Watari said. “Look how late it is.”

“It’s your fault, Kousei!” Tsubaki choked out a sob. “You idiot! Idiot! Dumbass! At least tell us where you’re going!”

In Kousei’s defense, the last thing he expected was Tsubaki to go to his house and notice he went missing in the first place. But he couldn’t bring himself to bite back an argument, too fixated on the way Tsubaki’s hands shook as she clung to his coat.

“Don’t do that again,” Tsubaki begged, pressing his forehead against his chest. “Call next time. Tell us where you are. Don’t go out alone.”

If it were any other time, Kousei might have bristled in anger. He didn’t need a babysitter. But the way his friends held onto him made his chest ache; they had lost Kaori not too long ago, and the wound was still fresh. It was no surprise that Watari and Tsubaki would be so paranoid.

“Okay.” Kousei found himself promising. “Next time I leave the house, I’ll leave a message.”

“With your location.” Watari added.

Kousei grimaced. “That’s pushing it.”

“How else are we supposed to check on you?” Watari pointed out.

“You don’t need to—” Kousei heard Tsubaki sniffle against his coat, and took a deep breath. “Fine. With my location. I’ll even send a picture.”

They spent ten more minutes like that, Tsubaki’s face pressed against his chest as she tried to calm her tears, and Watari with his arm wrapped around Kousei’s shoulder. The two of them held on tightly, as though Kousei would fade away right in front of them.

So really, Kousei couldn’t say he was too surprised when Watari turned to him and said: “You should spend the night at my place tonight. I can sleep on the floor.”

Kousei grimaced and shook his head. “No way. I can sleep in my own bed. Seriously guys, you don’t need to baby me—”

“And let you wander off again?” Tsubaki huffed. “As if. Watari’s an idiot, and he snores, but he’s better than that empty, cold house.”

“Excuse me?!” Watari growled. “I don’t snore! You kick people in your sleep! Remember first grade? You nearly killed me!”

“That was on purpose.”

“Demon!” Watari jabbed a finger in Tsubaki’s face. “Gorilla girl!”

Kousei immediately put himself between the two. “Easy there. Let’s not wake up the whole town, okay? I’ll go with Watari.”

That seemed to satisfy the duo at least, and the three of them made their way back. Halfway through, Tsubaki separated from the ground, taking a different left. She turned around, and called out: “Feed him something other than egg sandwiches this morning! He’s stubborn, but don’t give in!”

“Aye, aye captain!” Watari called back.

“Don’t talk about me like I’m a dog!” Kousei added.

Tsubaki gave a satisfied smile, nodded, and skipped off.

“It’s just the guys now.” Watari said, turning to Kousei. “Dudes night out?”

“I’m ready to go to bed.” Kousei admitted.

Watari shrugged. “Next time, then.” Then, his eyes softened. “How’s the wrist?”

Kousei brought his hand to his brace, hidden by the sleeve of his coat. “It’s fine.” His hand twitched, and he winced. “I lied. It hurts like hell.”

“You haven’t been using it, right?” Watari narrowed his eyes.

Kousei scowled. “There’s no way I could. Hiroko-san has been watching me too closely.”

Watari let out a laugh. “Good. Someone needs to keep you in check. We can get you ice and ibuprofen at home. Is there anything else you need?”

“No, that’ll work great.” Kousei shook his head. “Thanks, Watari. I appreciate it.”

Watari flashed Kousei a grin, and wrapped his arm around his shoulders again to pull him closer. “Anytime, buddy.”

A comfortable silence fell back between them. Crickets sang, and a lone firefly danced in the air, even though spring had only just begun. Most of the houses they passed by had their lights off, the small town in blissful sleep. He could hear Watari’s breathing near his ear. The sounds of the town at night, Kousei thought, was a music of its own.

“Hey Kousei?”

Kousei hummed.

“I’m not good at this mushy stuff, so it might sound stupid, but I’m proud of you. For not being a total idiot and playing the piano despite your injury.” he let out a soft laugh. “You’re better than I was.”

Kousei kicked a rock in his path. “I couldn’t even if I wanted to. You guys are always buzzing around me.”

“Damn right.” Watari said. “And we’re not leaving either. But y’know, it’s not easy to sit back. So I figured I’d be the one to tell you: you’re doing great.”

Kousei hunched his shoulders. What was Watari talking about? It wasn’t like he had a choice in the matter, so why should he be praised? Even now, he still wanted to run to the piano and start playing, despite the risks.

Watari paid him no mind, ruffling his hair. “You’ll be back on stage soon, trust me. But until then, we got your back. I got your back.”

Kousei pressed his lips together, and tugged at the hem of his coat. “You’re not making any sense, Watari. Lack of sleep is making you sound ridiculous.”

Watari laughed. “Really? I offer words from the heart, and you reject them? If you were a girl, you definitely would have fallen for that. Maybe my charm doesn’t work on men…”

Kousei grimaced. “Don’t try to charm me. I don’t want to be involved in your circle of girls.”

“Worth a shot.” Watari shrugged, humor in his voice. “Wow, I feel bad for Tsubaki. That’s one tough customer.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Don’t worry about it.” Watari winked at him. “Past midnight, remember? Nothing we say means anything, anymore.”

Kousei huffed and turned his attention back to the ground. He kicked three more rocks on his path, before speaking up again.

“Even if you’re making no sense, I appreciate it, Watari. I’m really glad you’re my friend.” he looked up at Watari with a smile.

Watari blinked twice, and then covered his mouth with his hand. “Woah, poor Tsubaki. That smile could give any girl a heart attack on the spot. Maybe Kashiwagi was right…”

Kousei furrowed his brow. “Why do you keep mentioning Tsubaki? And what’s wrong with my smile? It’s not that bad, is it?”

“It’s not that it’s bad…” Watari mumbled. “It’s dangerous. To girls.”

“Dangerous?”

“Oh, look, we’re home.” Watari suddenly pointed. “Come on, I’ll go tell mom to set up the mattress.”

Before Kousei could continue to prod Watari, he ran off. Kousei hummed, deciding to shrug it off. Midnight or not, Watari’s girl talk would never make sense to Kousei, and the fatigue of the day weighing on him too much to question it anymore. He followed Watari in, letting the warmth of the house wash over him.

“Oh, Kou-chan!”

Kousei looked up to see Watari’s mother running towards him. She cupped his face with her hands, and frowned. “You’re freezing. Ryota, where did you two go?!”

Watari shrugged. “The convenience store. It’s no big deal.”

“Kou-chan is in his pajamas.” Watari’s mom pointed out.

“Yeah, uhhh…” Watari rubbed the back of his head. “I dragged him out of bed or whatever. No big deal.”

Watari’s mom huffed and rolled her eyes, muttering something under her breath along the words of: Teenage boys, what’s wrong with them? before making her way down the hall.

“Do you want a coffee, Kou-chan?” she asked, turning around. “It’ll warm you up.”

Kousei smiled meekly. “Actually, I’d rather just go to bed, thank you.”

“Oh, so polite.” Watari’s mom gasped. “Why can’t you learn from him, Ryota?”

Watari scowled. “Mom! It’s too late for this.” Then, he turned back to Kousei. “Sorry man, I’ll get your ice and ibuprofen. You can wait in my room.”

“Ibuprofen?” Watari’s mom asked, narrowing her eyes.

Kousei panicked. “It’s not a new injury! I strained my wrist a week ago, and it started hurting.”

“Don’t make a big deal out of it, mom.” Watari said. “Otherwise Kousei will freak out. He’s already miserable about it.”

Kousei was sure that those words only made Watari’s mom worry more, but thankfully, she dropped it. “I’ll be going to bed then, boys. It’s far too late. Don’t stay up all night.”

“We won’t.” Kousei promised.

“No need to worry, mom.” Watari added.

With that, the woman huffed, and disappeared down the hall. Watari wasted no time to usher Kousei upstairs to his room. “Just wait up there, I’ll get everything ready.”

“Are you sure you don’t want me to help?”

Watari shook his head. “Your wrist, remember? You shouldn’t strain it even more. I can handle it.”

Before Kousei could argue, Watari ran back downstairs. So instead, he sat down on Watari’s bed with a sigh. The bed was unmade — Watari was probably sleeping before Tsubaki woke him up. Kousei hunched his shoulders.

“Sorry, Watari.” he mumbled to the air. “I really do appreciate it.”

Another wave of exhaustion hit him, and before Kousei knew it , he was laying down and staring at the ceiling; decorated with all of those glow in the dark stars that Watari got when he was six. Kousei had expected him to get rid of them by now, as all of his old childhood toys have been stored away and replaced with video games, but the stars remained.

He wondered if Kaori even saw those stars, and if she started singing Twinkle Twinkle Little Star, as she did with Kousei.

Kousei closed his eyes. He couldn’t fall asleep there. Watari was downstairs, setting up a mattress. But still, the bed was so warm and safe, that Kousei found himself drifting off, despite his insistence to stay awake.