Later that night, after eating dinner by myself, I started practicing my bass. While practicing, I heard a loud sound of avalanching items come from the direction of the main door.
"Oohhh...... It's the ultimate bliss to die while buried under all this great music from different eras......"
At the door was Tetsurou in a suit—a rare sight—buried under a heap of collapsed CDs. He was staring at the ceiling and murmuring to himself in a daze.
"Please save up enough for me to live a well-off life before you die."
Speaking of which, I remember cleaning up quite a bit, no? No matter how hard I tried to arrange the CDs, they always stacked up higher and higher—there was no stopping them. I complained as I dug Tetsurou out of the mess.
"After I die, you must place Stravinsky's <Firebird> in my coffin. Don't go about playing <Requiem Mass in D minor> or something, just play <St Matthew Passion>! Then, I'll overwrite the record held by Jesus Christ and revive myself within two days."
"There's no need for that, just go to hell and stay there! Didn't I tell you to call me if you were drinking?"
"Ah, mhmm. Been a long while since I met up with my fellow classmates from the College of Music...... Urgg......"
The great music of different eras, as well as Tetsurou's only high-end suit, were dirtied by his sour-smelling fluids. That fella was already half-dead due to his stupor.
"Ahhhh. I'll have to send this for cleaning."
After vomiting in the toilet, Tetsurou returned with a pale face. Even after seeing how much he had dirtied his suit, he managed to say that as though it had nothing to do with him. There was only one thing Tetsurou would dress up properly for: a concert. Due to the nature of his job, there were plenty of occasions where he had to attend a concert, and yet, that fella only had a single suit. What should I do with him? In any case, I'll fix him a cup of hot lemon juice to bring him out of his stupor.
"Uuhhhh, I'm revitalized. I'm a really lucky guy. My wife ran away from me, but God has gifted me with a son who knows how to take care of me."
Oh Mum, why didn't you fight harder for my custody?
"I've had enough of women. All five of my classmates are single, and three of them have already divorced once!"
Tetsurou was coming up with his own lyrics while singing along with the aria of <Rigoletto>—<La donna è mobile>. I covered his head with the rubbish bag to shut him up. Think about our neighbors, and stop disturbing them! [TLNote: 'La donna è mobile' is translated as 'Woman is fickle'.]
"It's the same for you with girls, yeah? You've already thrown away that guitar or whatever, right?"
"I'm still playing it! Stop treating me like an idiot!" I pointed to the bass on the sofa.
"But you suck at it, right?"
"Well, sorry about that!" That means the sound can still be heard from outside? I think, in the future, it'd be better for me not to connect my bass to the amplifier when I practice at home.
"Aww, why? Is that girl that good? Ah, it's Ebisawa Mafuyu, right? You mentioned her before. She's a good girl, yeah. You know, there's a silly saying in our circle...... See, in the case of album covers for female musicians, the picture's often taken from their side profile—especially so for the pianists. If she's pretty, the image will be a slanted profile of her face, and if she's gorgeous, the picture will be taken from the front. I've been in this job for fifteen years, and Mafuyu's the first I've seen who had her picture taken from bottom up—Eh? What's wrong, lil' Nao? Was I spot on?"
"Shut up."
I splashed a cup of water onto Tetsurou's face.
"What the heck are you doing...... lil Nao's really cold these days. Could it be that you hate me?"
"Look, Tetsurou......"
"Mmm?"
"Do you hate the so-called consumption tax?"
"Huh? Why the sudden question?"
"Just answer."
"Mmm, if you ask me whether I hate it or not...... I think I'd be better off without it, so maybe I hate it. But I've been paying consumption tax for so long, I think I've already forgotten that feeling of detest."
"Mmm, that's roughly how I feel about you."
"...... Can I cry?"
"Head outside if you wanna cry!"
Tetsurou clamped a bottle of whiskey underneath his armpit and looked as though he was really planning to go outside. Considering how he might be a nuisance to the neighbors, I stopped him immediately. Act your age and go to sleep already!
"But I don't think there's a chance between you and Ebisawa Mafuyu. Because...... well, you know you're the son of a music critic, and she knows that as well. I actually just came back from Ebichiri's concert performance in Japan. I had originally asked him to join us for a drink, but he said he'd be appearing on a live TV show, so it was expected that he'd reject us. We did talk during the banquet though. Seems like he'll be in Japan for this month, but will be travelling to a faraway place come June. Probably back to America."
"As I said, you're misunderstanding...... Eh?"
Ebichiri—Mafuyu's father—is back in Japan?
And he'll be returning to America in June. Then, the June Mafuyu's referring to...... is that?
"...... What about Mafuyu? Did you hear anything related to her?"
"Hah?"
"Nothing. So...... she'll be following him back to America?"
Around this time last year, Mafuyu was probably flying with her father to multiple places across Europe and America, for the world tour. She couldn't have done something pointless, like transferring to our school for a single month, right?
"She's probably not returning to the piano, I think. I just heard about it today as well, but it seems like the critics there had written some really nasty stuff about her. She even participated in a competition unrelated to Ebichiri, and obtained victory as well. But even then, she's still weighed down by the fame of her father."
"Ah......"
I recalled that incident when Mafuyu was staring at me, full of animosity. "The very existence of critics is troublesome. They always write rubbish." She indeed said something along those lines before.
"Her playing style does invite attacks though. Like, how she was not lively enough; how her playing was too calm; how horrible her presentation of the parts was; how her music was like crawling insects; or how she was overly reliant on her techniques...... even I can think up quite a few nasty critiques on the spot. And if I really wanted to, I could probably write about thirty pages commenting on her play style. But it'd be quite stupid of me if I really were to write it out—it's not like all the pieces you play would be considered good just because you played them all vibrantly."
"So that's the reason Mafuyu doesn't play the piano?"
"I don't think so. Well, it seems they also wrote things about her private life, even though they weren't related to music, just because she's the daughter of Ebichiri. You see, her mother's a Hungarian and they're divorced now."
"Ah...... So she really is a mixed blood."
I suddenly remembered the day I fixed her recorder for her. Hungary.
"Ah—you mean you didn't know about that? Well, we should stop discussing this topic. I feel like a paparazzi hounding for news."
Tetsurou popped open the whiskey bottle and drank from it directly. I no longer had the strength to stop him.
When I was a middle-school student living my life leisurely here in Japan, Mafuyu was already on the other side of the sea, under the scrutiny of the curious and hostile stares around her, living a life of fear while grabbing onto her piano tightly. What sort of life was that? I couldn't imagine it at all.
However, I was back at the initial problem once again. If she had really given up the piano, why was she playing the guitar?
The next day, as I walked into the classroom, I heard my classmates discussing yesterday's television program.
"Was the show live?"
"Yeah, seems like he's back in Japan already."
"An interview?"
"They were talking about things I didn't understand. It's not like I listen to classical music anyway."
"Do they look alike?"
"Not one bit. Princess probably takes after her mother?"
From just those bits of conversation, I immediately knew they were talking about Ebichiri. I took a glance at Mafuyu's empty seat.
"The host asked about Princess as well."
"The father and daughter are not on good terms with each other, right?"
I was thinking the whole time—you guys should know Mafuyu's about to get here soon, and yet, you people are still loudly gossiping about things related to her?
"Nao, your father was classmates with Ebichiri, right?"
"...... How did you know?"
No Comments Yet
Post a new comment
Register or Login