He woke up early in the morning and practiced, ran to school, ignoring all his lessons to study sheet music, focusing on strengthening up the muscles needed for playing piano. Once lessons were over, he would run home and start practicing again. He sacrificed both eating and sleeping, often even passing out right atop the keys.
Just as Tabuki hoped, he once again took first place at a competition.
“This is wonderful, Keiju. Let’s frame this one.” His mother smiled softly, stroking his head.
Tabuki was happy. He knew in that moment that his mother loved him. Yet, at the same time, he knew that in the not-too-distant future, his brother would surely rise to number one. Though Tabuki spent absurd amounts of time practicing, finally clawing his way to first place, his brother would soon overtake him.
Tabuki was never certain if the warbling from his little bird was meant as encouragement, or as pity. Even so, the bird was very special to him.
One day, however, the bird no longer replied to the words that slipped from his lips.
“I’m sorry.” He opened the lid of the piano and placed his left hand gently on the keys. Then he slammed the lid shut. There was no other way.
If his time as a pianist was over, then surely time would stop for his mother as well, frozen in the time when he was still number one. No matter how splendid a performer his brother would grow into, surely his mother would still comfort him, show him love and compassion, telling him, “If you had kept playing, I’m sure you would have been number one.”
The pain of the lid falling on his hand sent spikes of agony throughout his entire body. He lost all sensation in his left hand, as if it was permanently asleep. Although his swollen, broken fingers were still connected to his hand, he would never again be able to play the piano as he did before.
Tabuki was certain he had secured his mother’s eternal love.
“Don’t worry, Keiju. I’m sure your brother will be number one at the next recital.” She smiled softly at Tabuki, his left hand wrapped in a sling, and sidled over to his brother, who had taken up the seat at the piano he once played.
Tabuki was all alone.
One by one, the shadows of the red steel beams that made up the building flowed past the trio’s faces and bodies. Tabuki’s head was lowered slightly, looking at his left hand as the elevator climbed up and up. His hand would never move the way it once did, but it proved no real obstacle to a normal life.
“Where…where are we going?” Ringo’s voice grew frantic, unable to grasp Tabuki’s intentions. It was an incredibly tall building, if “building” was the right word for something so unfinished.
“To the place where our fates reside,” Tabuki softly replied.
The elevator swayed and clattered to a halt. Ringo’s anxiety grew as she looked around the floor at which they arrived. Its ceiling was made of bare steel beams, its floor only of smooth concrete, no barriers or anything else in place. Ringo was unsure of how high they had climbed. Himari looked at her, equally afraid.
“Um, Tabuki-san…” Ringo started to say, when Tabuki pushed her away, shoving her back into the elevator. She fell backward, the sleeve of Himari’s cardigan slipping out of her hand.
“Himari-chan!” She picked herself back up frantically, reaching out, but Tabuki swiftly picked up Himari, closing and bolting the accordion-like elevator doors.
“Open up! Tabuki-san!” Ringo gripped the doors, pulling with all her might, but they would not budge. At her feet, a single ball of yarn rolled out of the Yozawaya bag that fell from Himari’s hands. “Why are you doing this?” she cried.
“There is nothing meaningless in this world.” Tabuki’s demeanor was still calm, but his expression was cold and empty, not a hint of the usual light in his eyes. “Those words are not a lie. Look around you, Ringo-chan. Do you see what it is I live for? Why I must exact revenge on the Takakura family?”
Ringo was lost for words. It would seem that neither she nor Takakura Shoma or Kanba knew a single thing about the real Tabuki Keiju. The Tabuki standing before her looked nothing like the man she knew. But what if this was who Tabuki really was?
Himari was unable to even struggle in fear, her lips trembling. She knew there could be no reason for this punishment they were to suffer, other than the accident.
It was natural that the members of the Takakura family should be met with hatred and scorn. Himari believed that ever since Hibari and Hikari had left her side. She always felt that one day their punishment would come, just like this. If that was to be so—if that fate was unavoidable—she prayed that she would be the one to be punished, sparing her brothers.
Himari trembled and prayed to a god she didn’t know for sure existed that this would be the end of it. She would sit back and receive her punishment. Please, just let this all be over.
The place stunk of metal, and something like a massive ventilation fan spun around it, making a hideous sound. It was so vast that it was hard to discern the walls or the ceiling. Tabuki was huddled on the floor with his hands around his knees, amongst a mass of other children doing the same. His little bird was in a cage beside him.
“Where are we? There’s a lot of other kids like me here.” As far as he could see, all the children were haggard and quiet, huddled up small.
“You don’t know? This is the Child Broiler,” said another child, who appeared to be the same age as Tabuki.