Classics

A night full of terrors and an inability to sleep left Benjiro a little worse for the wear. The stares he continued to receive from the other students in the halls and even within the drama club. Akiko still maintained her abrasive front and Yamanaka didn't seem to want to cease her needling, so there was at least that. However, to say they were someone he could rely upon was a thought he couldn't entertain.

Surprisingly, not all of the attention he was getting was in a negative sense. There were a fair amount of students that seemed to think that having a sibling that was a gangster was the coolest thing they had ever heard. It was all he could do to find a secluded spot that nobody would either stare at him or ask if Kenshiro had ever brought him along and taught him how to fight.

Exhaustion seemed like an understatement for how tired he was feeling. The bell for lunch, even more than the last time was a saving grace. He was still having trouble waking up on time for early morning play practice, even with his Dad, an alarm and Akiko waiting outside, and as such, he barely had any time to throw together something to put in his lunch. Thankfully, his Dad in his pseudo-wisdom made some rice balls the night before, so he would at least be able to function for part of the day. He slowly chewed the soft food, trying to let the act of chewing stimulate his brain as he had heard, that's what was chewing was supposed to do.

Looking up, he saw the sheet covering the piano. Pulling the dusty fabric off the instrument, he got his first real look at the enormous concert piano. The thing was a majestic shade of black, and perfectly white keys. It looked as though it should be in some fabulous concert hall, leading an orchestra in a dramatic reenactment of some epic play or a recital of a famous composer. Instead, here it was, gathering dust in an old closet, sitting silently without a single note being produced from this instrument that was meant to create unseen life. He realized it was ridiculous, but he almost felt pity for the piano, just patiently waiting for someone to come along and do the thing it was meant to do.

However, at present fatigue outweighed pity and he balled up the sheet to form a makeshift pillow. Finding a corner where no one would see him on the off chance someone actually came inside, Benjiro laid his head down on the bunched up covering. The ground was hard, but it was a rigidity he had grown accustomed to from what seemed like a lifetime ago. With the rough night before, his mind was having trouble forming anything remotely resembling a coherent thought. The inside of his head probably looked like tv static.

As Benjiro eyes shut, that all too familiar abandoned house and the haggard faced monster appeared before him again. However, no matter where he seemingly ran, there was no exit and no hiding place. Once again, there came a time when he finally expended all of his energy and the monster had him cornered. He pressed himself against the wall, unable to look away from the horror that was slowly approaching him, savoring his growing terror before it would tear him to pieces, so many times before.

Then suddenly the sound of a soft melody started to drift through easing the fear. The monster didn't seem to perceive it, but Benjiro unmistakably could hear something. The pounding in his chest didn't calm down, but it subsided enough that he couldn't hear his own heart or feel his limbs pulsing. The monster didn't come any closer, instead it just remained in one spot, observing him and cocking her head as though she couldn't understand why he wasn't cowering. Benjiro tried tracing the source of the sound but couldn't find anything.

Suddenly, reality literally as well as figuratively hit him as he opened his eyes and found himself back in the dimly lit music room. From the music, he didn't shoot out of his sleep as he normally would, but instead quietly sat in an upright position, listening to the slow, melancholic music. Benjiro honestly wasn't sure which to be more surprised by, the skill with which the person was playing, or the fact that someone actually came into the music room to make use of the instrument.

Still in his corner, he couldn't see who was playing, so peering closer he could only see the back. But Benjiro was good at memorizing what things looked like, and he recognized that it was Hiromi's back turned to him. Benjiro could feel a lightning quick thrill shoot through his heart upon seeing her. He wasn't sure whether that thrill was from seeing her or from the memories of the Domon Battalion had so often implied they would do to him, but his heart was fluttering almost as much as in his night terrors. The piece was a difficult one in some spots, and a few minor mistakes were made in the tune, which made her motions still a little more erratic. He could see she was getting frustrated, the more small mistakes she made which continued to feed into more sloppiness. Nonetheless, the sound was pleasant and helped to ease his mind.

Trying to retreat, he backed up, but accidently bumped into a box. Immediately, the music ceased and Hiromi turned around and spied her unknown observer. Her eyes showed surprise for a second before returning to their usual state of refinement. Benjior tried ducking away, quietly but stealth had completely gone out the window.

"Who is there?" Hiromi called out

Knowing it was pointless to try hiding and not even understanding why he was, Benjiro came out from his corner, looking rather sheepish

"Just what are you doing back there, spying upon me?" she demanded with her arms crossed.

'P-please, d-don't st-stop", Benjiro mumbled.

Hiromi's gaze hardened a little. "What are you saying?"

Benjiro couldn't look at her for more than a few minutes. He extended his finger to point at the piano, "Please, d-dont st-stop."

For a moment she was confused as to what he was trying to convey with so few words. Glancing back, she began to get a bit more of an idea, "Do you want me to continue playing?"

Benjiro nodded

"Is my playing not perfect to someone such as you?"

Benjiro blew air into his closed mouth, making his lips blow up and he brought an open hand and fist together a few times as he carefully considered his next words.

"W-well it is g-good."

A ghost of a smile shone on Hiromi's lips for a moment.

"B-but, you w-were st-struggling on a f-few m-measures."

The ghost of a smile disappeared, replaced by a mask of, not indifference, it was similar to what Benjiro would do when people would laugh at him. Keep his face as even as he could, betraying no inward emotion.

"My playing was not perfect?" she said evenly

Benjiro didn't know why, but he was beginning to feel uneasy.

"N-no"

Hiromi's head inclined ever so slightly

"It w-wasn't p-perfect ', he explained, "but y-you still p-play r-really w-well. And th-that was a d-difficult p-piece. Th-that was B-Beethov-ven, r-right?"

Her eyebrows slowly rose a few centimeters, "So, someone actually has the decency to recognize a classic. How quaint."

Benjiro glanced downward and squinted a little as he ran through the vocabulary in his brain. With Hiromi's tone, he didn't know if he was being complimented or insulted.

'My playing wasn't perfect', Hiromi inwardly seethed, 'and this insect just had to be around to witness my failure.'

"Y-you h-have a l-lot of sk-skill. W-with a little m-more work, y-you'll st-start to s-sound l-like a r-real p-pro."

It was only the slightest change, but Benjiro could've sworn he saw Hiromi's squeeze her arms tighter.

"Tell me, Mr. Nojiri the proletariat", she addressed, "do you have any idea just how much time and work it takes to perfect such a piece as this."

Benjiro just raised his arms in the air and shrugged.

"Because it takes a very long time and the amount of effort that goes into it is more than some people in this school do all year."

Benjiro curled his lips in and tried to think of a response as well as a reason why Hiromi was so passionate about the piece.

'It was a good piece of music', he thought, "but it felt like it was missing something."

"Excuse me?!" Hiromi interjected, "Just what do you mean when you say that?"

The lanky boy inhaled sharply and silently cursed when he realized that his last thought hadn't been in his head. He drummed his fingers together, realizing he was swimming in shark infested waters.

"I mean!" he attempted to save, "It's-s g-good, but...but..."

"But, what?"

He stopped drumming his fingers together and laced them together.

"You are g-good ,b-but y-you don't l-look as th-though you enj-joy pl-playing."

Hiromi's grip on her arms loosened, and she slightly cocked her head, "Explain."

"Well", he brought his hands behind his head, "It's d-diffic-cult to expl-lain. It j-just doesn't f-feel as th-though th-there's l-life in your m-music. Th-there's skill, s-sure. B-but you s-seem only fr-frustrated w-with the m-music."

Quickly, Hiromi spun around and Benjiro stuck a knuckle in his mouth, thinking he may have gone too far. The slender girl moved with surprising speed, yanking the stunned boy and plopping him down on the hard piano bench. She grabbed his hands, 'Holy crap, they're so soft.' His own hands spasmed for a half second and his heart skipped a beat, before placing them on the keys.

"If you're so inclined", she insisted, "Then show me what it means for music to, as you put it, have life."

Benjiro sat, staring at the keys, surprised at how forceful Hiromi was. Normally she was so composed, but he had never seen her like this. Reaching out for the keys, he plinked out a couple notes, trying to figure out what to play. Something with feeling, life. Then he recalled the subject for the competition, he and Hiromi were in.

'Family. When was the last time I ever had one of those?'

He played a single note, let it ring out through the air. More notes drifted sorrowfully from the strings, leaving the room feeling heavy. Benjiro began singing, just barely in a whisper. Closing his eyes, there was that feeling of emptiness, but of hard reality reached within him as the notes continued their reverberation.

"What I've felt, what I've known", Benjiro rasped, "Never shined through in what I've shown."

The final note faded from the room, Benjiro looked over and saw Hiromi. Her face was trying and failing to remain ladylike, but tears were threatening in the corners of her eyes, and her teeth were biting a trembling bottom lip. Shutting her eyes and licking her lips, she stilled the brewing emotion. Benjiro wondered if he had played so badly, it made her cry.

"Wh-what", she cleared her throat, "What is the name of that song? I've never heard something so horridly simple before."

Benjiro stood up from the bench with his arms crossed.

"Excuse you?" he questioned in a low voice, "What do you mean, when you say 'horridly simple?'"

"I mean, exactly what I said." Hiromi stated matter-of-factly

"I'll have you know", Benjiro countered, "That song was written by one of the most influential bands to ever come out of the 90's."

"Oh, really?" she droned

Benjiro made a humming laugh as he thought, 'Ooh, this girl is treading into dangerous territory, here.'

"And, you should also know" he continued, "They drew inspiration from people like Beethoven in some of their instrumental works."

For the next few minutes they traded musical facts and opinions about both of their inspirations in the most civil but snide way. So much time was spent trying to prove themselves right that they almost didn't hear the bell ring.

"Is that the bell?" Hiromi said loudly, her face tinged pink

"I believe it is", Benjiro responded with equal volume

"I suppose we should get to class", she aggressively suggested

"Indeed", Benjiro concurred, slamming the door open and both of them walking out in a huff.