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THE fun times flew by, and I was in the second year of middle school.
October’s music competition overview was announced publicly, and I was getting nervous about how close it was now.
The rainy season was afoot now that it was June. This month was notable because I spent most of it making recordings at Miss Ayumi’s house for my music competition application.
The Sadia Francesca Junior Music Competition worked like this: first, the applicants would be reduced down to just thirty for each of the school divisions during the preliminary round. The quarterfinal round would eliminate another fifteen, then another ten would be let go during the semifinals. The remaining five participants would contend for the win during the finals.
In most student competitions, the degree of difficulty for the song selections was divided by the school divisions. The Sadia Francesca Junior Music Competition worked differently though. The song selection was the same across all divisions from middle school to university. That was the first point that tended to get most middle school contestants eliminated.
Although the song selection for the preliminary round hadn’t been announced yet, I knew what it was, having read Kon’s Hear My Heart notebook. Among the several songs available to choose from, I planned to pick Chopin’s “Etude Op. 25 No. 11”.
Sorry for cheating, I internally apologized to the rivals I’d yet to meet.
Miss Ayumi picked out the piece for my application. She had given me the new sheet music about a month ago.
“While there are no specific guidelines for sound, Sadia Francesca will be presiding over the judging committee as its chairman. So I believe you should choose something from Tchaikovsky’s ‘18 Pieces’.”
“If we’re talking about Tchaikovsky’s ‘18 Pieces’, would ‘Scherzo-Fantaisie’ work?”
“That one wouldn’t be a bad choice, but I recommend this one.” Miss Ayumi gave me the sheet music to Tchaikovsky’s “Meditation, Op. 72 No. 5”.
I thought that “Scherzo-Fantaisie” would be ear candy for the audience, but Miss Ayumi’s recommended “Mediation” was the more famous of the two.
With my entry piece decided, I spent the entire month practicing Tchaikovsky’s “Mediation”. Sadia Francesca became famous after winning first prize in the International Tchaikovsky Competition. She was always quoted saying that Tchaikovsky was her favorite composer. Choosing “Mediation” as my selection piece might have been a strategic choice on Miss Ayumi’s part to leave a stronger impression on her.
Speaking of the International Tchaikovsky Competition made it impossible not to think of Risa Morikawa. The “Piano Concerto No. 1 in B-flat minor” she had performed with the Moscow Symphony Orchestra remained the best piano concerto performance I had ever heard. I’d replayed the CD so many times I worried I was going to wear out the disc.
Risa Morikawa’s breathtaking piano music hadn’t lost its hold on me even after I’d learned she was the horrible mother who’d abandoned Sou. I liked to keep a person’s nature as a human being separate from their skills as an artist.
Tchaikovsky – 18 Pieces Op. 72 No. 5, Meditation
“Meditation” begins tenderly, but becomes quite impassioned by the end. The intro opens with a relaxed tempo. The sweet theme that appears constantly throughout the piece is romantically supported by arpeggios breaking up the left hand chord. And then you reach the verse where powerful rising sound appears, and the melody is played dynamically through Tchaikovsky’s characteristic octaves. The tempo drops again during the refrain.
I tried playing this part with lots of emotion. I added a decrescendo to the final trill, careful not to muddy up the sound, and gently removed my fingers from the keyboard.
Holding my breath, I glanced at Miss Ayumi. She gave me a thumbs-up and quietly stopped the recording device. “That was very good. It’s just like you to pull it off on your first try, Mashiro.”
“Thank you very much.”
By all appearances, my performance had passed. My cheeks dimpled with a relieved smile.
“I highly doubt you will be eliminated from the preliminary round. I’ll turn your application in for you. We already explained it to your parents and received their blessing, so all that’s left is to keep your condition up while we wait for the main competition.”
“Thank you so much for everything.” I collected my sheet music and bowed to Miss Ayumi. I felt so bad for depending on her for everything.
“Don’t make that face. All you have to do is concentrate on giving a beautiful performance, Mashiro. Oh, and I heard that they will be holding a seminar on the song selections over summer break. Some of the judges will be randomly assigned to give public lessons.”
“They’re holding a seminar? Will Sadia Francesca be there too?”
“No one knows. It hasn’t been announced yet, so there is a possibility. There is a participation fee, but I will speak with your mother if you would like to attend.”
Participation fee… I just know it’s going to be outrageously priced.
As it was, I was stretching my parents’ wallets thin with piano tuning fees, sheet music costs, and lessons. I had little doubt they would smile and say okay if I asked them to pay for it. I would have loved to take part in the seminar, but I had much stronger feelings about not wanting to burden my parents anymore.
Miss Ayumi quietly watched me as I internally struggled with how to respond, the corners of her eyes suddenly softening. “It’s okay. There’s still time until the application deadline. You don’t have to give me an answer right now. I will try to come up with some ideas of how to reduce the cost in the meantime.”
“I’m sorry for the trouble. Thank you for helping,” I said, leaving the soundproof lesson room with my bag.
Ugh. I want money. If I had money, I could’ve applied for the seminar without a second thought. Depressed, I plodded for the front door.
“Mashiro,” a deep, resonating voice called out to me from behind.
“You’re here today! It’s been ages since we last met here.” I stopped descending the spiral staircase and looked up at Kou on the top step. The muscled curve of his arms exposed by his short-sleeved white school uniform shirt was too good on the eyes. He was looking older every time I saw him.
“I came because I heard you were recording your song for the competition here today. How’d it go?”
“You went out of your way to check on me? Are you worried about me or something?” I asked wide-eyed.
Kou strained a smile at me. “You can put it like that. But I also came to see Ayumi about something. You’re just an extra.”
“It figures. Phew. You scared me for a second. Ahaha.” Relieved by his answer, I laughed even though it wasn’t the mood for it. Kou’s gaze lingered on me for a while, his expression mixed, before he lightly shook his head.
“You’re way too easy to understand… So? How’d it go?”
“I think I played pretty well for the recording. Miss Ayumi even said she thinks I’ll make it through the preliminaries.”
“She did? Good for you.”
I couldn’t help but be captivated by his soft smile. It wasn’t that calculated, swindler smile. This one had a youthful innocence to it.
“Why are you staring? You’re awfully docile today.”
“N-No reason, really.”
There wasn’t anything for me to feel ashamed of, and yet I felt the heat rush to my cheeks. Kou was being terribly kind to me lately. He stopped tearing me down with his sarcastic remarks and didn’t tease me anymore. He had completely thrown me off my game.
Was it just my imagination that a sweet mood seemed to be flowing between us? No, it had to be my imagination! Absolutely that! A quick retreat was the best course of action in these situations.
“Okay, I’m heading home now.”
“You aren’t waiting for your ride?” Kou asked, skeptical.
I waved him off. “Mom only came to pick me up while I was in elementary school. I’ve been commuting by bicycle since starting middle school.”
“Huh? I never heard anything about that.”
“Well duh, I never told you. I’m not obligated to tell you things, Kou,” I huffed.
“I’ll have Mizusawa drive you home. He can take your bike back for you later,” Kou stated, dismissing my comments.
“You don’t have to do that for me! I’ve gotten home just fine on my own after every other lesson,” I protested.
“…You do remember my warning that it’s too late once something already happens, right?”
His voice was naturally deep, but he sounded like a demon when he purposely deepened it further. Going against him here wouldn’t be smart. All the years I’d known him had taught me that much at least.
“I-I remember.”
“…Wait a minute then.” Kou heaved a pretentious sigh and pulled his smartphone out of his back pants pocket. He called Mr. Mizusawa over in less than thirty seconds.
“May I accompany you home, fair princess?” Kou placed his hand on the car roof and peered down at me after he helped me inside the Benz’s back seat. The faint orange light lingering in the evening darkness illuminated his silky hair.