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Itoshi Rin dug in deeply on the final downbow, just enough to add the slightest metallic edge to the notes his instrument produced. The violin emitted the last raucous shout of Vittorio Monti’s Czardas to a captivated audience. He lifted the bow from the strings with practiced ease as it approached the tip, such that a full, round echo of the very last chord rang out around the concert hall. The strings of the instrument vibrated sympathetically with one another, adding rich overtones to the sound. It pulsed around the room several times, before fading out completely.
Rin stood still and basked in the silence that immediately followed, enjoying this latest iteration of the golden moments right after the end of a piece when it seems no one can move or even draw breath under the weight of the finale their ears have just been served. Seconds later, the hall erupted into loud applause. A high-pitched whistle pierced through the noise of claps and cheers. Some students even stood up. Rin, however, seemed unaffected. As calmly and coolly as he ever did anything, Rin bowed to the audience before making his way offstage.
As he descended the stairs to rejoin his fellow violin studio members, he spotted Doctor Ego standing near the bottom of the steps, half covered in stark shadow created by the beams of the rafters obscuring the bright stage lights. The tall, willowy Professor of Violin nodded as he walked past, but neither said anything to the other. It was one thing Rin appreciated about his teacher — he wasn’t the type to waste his breath lavishing Rin with empty praises, like so many other teachers had before him.
As Rin took his seat, both the Doctor and his colleague, a doctoral student whose name currently escaped Rin, ascended the steps to stand in the center of the stage. The redheaded woman spoke first.
“What a stunning performance by first years Itoshi and Tanaka!” she exclaimed, clapping and looking in the direction of Rin’s accompanist. Rin scoffed — the guy he’d been paired with for this stupid studio class assignment had decent basic skills, but his playing was utterly lifeless. He was glad to be rid of the burly brunet.
“Yes, yes,” Ego said dismissively, waving a hand. “Now, to business. The Blue Lock Conservatory’s Concerto competition is in two months. Miss Teieri and I have decided that our studios will collaborate once more for this event.”
Rin narrowed his eyes and gritted his teeth in annoyance. He was already sick of the other freshmen he’d been forced to work with so far this year from Teieri’s studio. What half-baked, talentless loser would they pair him with this time?
“Please find your name and the name of your assigned partner on this list,” Teieri instructed, holding up a sheet of paper. “It will also be posted outside of Doctor Ego’s office. It also lists the piece you have been assigned to play. Please get in contact with your partner and obtain your sheet music by the end of this week to begin your rehearsals.”
“Dismissed,” Ego finished, and he waved everyone off before disappearing backstage. Teieri followed behind him, while students began to stand and filter out of the hall.
Not wanting to push his way through the crowd that was forming to see the list Teieri left behind, Rin stood to leave. Once his bag and instrument were packed, Rin made his way over to his professor’s office. It was only a short walk to the building next door and upstairs, so he arrived in a matter of minutes. A few people were milling around near the office door, presumably looking at the list. Before he made it over to see for himself, though, one of the people standing nearby rushed up to meet him halfway.
“You’re Itoshi Rin, right?” the short, dark-haired boy asked, grinning widely. “I watched your performance just now. It was incredible! You have some real talent!”
Even in the dim light of the hallway, his big, blue eyes glimmered with excitement. Rin blinked, taken off guard for a brief moment.
“Yeah, sure,” he responded after the pause, “and you are …?”
“Isagi. Isagi Yoichi,” the other boy announced, with far too much excitement. “I’m a second year. We’re partners for this thing!”
Isagi pointed to the list, and Rin sighed when he saw it confirmed. He had to put up with this overly energetic, overly nice idiot for two months? And they'd been assigned the Mendelssohn concerto, a difficult piece that would take lots of rehearsing. He sighed heavily, then leveled a cold gaze at Isagi.
“We’ll rehearse on Thursday nights,” he decreed. “After 5:30. When can you start?”
“Thursday? Thursday is a little —” Rin glared darkly, and Isagi choked on what he was going to say. “Uh, a little busy, but I can make it work! Um, how does six o’clock sound?”
“Thursday at six, then. I’ll reserve the room. Meet me in the main office.”
After this curt final statement, Rin turned on his heel and left.
*
Isagi Yoichi was late. Rin, standing outside the music office fiddling with a practice room key, felt a spark of fury. He’d told the idiot pianist to be here at 6, and now it was 6:05. Five whole minutes of time wasted, time he could’ve spent practicing. Rin did not like wasting rehearsal time, or really anything that threw off his routine. Now he’d be practicing later into the night after he was finally finished here, whenever that was. It all depended on whenever this latest in a string of losers from Teieri’s studio decided to show up. Any longer than ten minutes and he’d be putting in a complaint.
As if reading his mind, the young man in question came rushing down the hallway, a heavy backpack swinging side-to-side behind him. He carried a huge black binder that was near to bursting with papers. He skidded to a stop, and sent up to the taller boy an apologetic grin as he wiped a bead of sweat from his brow.
“I’m really sorry, Itoshi-san, my English professor kept us late —”
“I don’t care. And don’t call me that,” Rin spat. “Let’s go.”
He stormed off around the corner and stalked down the hallway to the practice room he’d reserved for their rehearsal. Isagi followed, scrambling to keep up with Rin while carrying his heavy belongings. He kept a certain distance, almost like he could feel an aura of anger radiating off of Rin and didn’t want to be caught in it.
Rin unlocked the door when they arrived, and it swung open to reveal a small, simple room containing only an old Steinway baby grand piano, a bench, a chair, and a music stand. The floor was carpeted in a dark blue, and blue and brown soundproofing blocks were attached to the white walls. It was a familiar sight for Rin, even a comforting one. When he wasn’t in class, he spent his time in rooms identical to this one throughout the building, practicing. Playing music calmed his inner storm, kept away the intrusive thoughts, and moved him closer to his ultimate goal.
As he took out his bow and tightened it, he heard Isagi sit on the piano bench and lift the lid that covered the piano’s keys. Simultaneously, without a word, they began with their own warm-up exercises for a few minutes.
Rin reached into his bag and pulled out his score, and arranged it neatly on the stand. Isagi took the hint and did likewise. He propped the giant binder on the stand built into the piano and rifled through many tabs, eventually picking one that landed him on the first page of the Mendelssohn Concerto in E minor. Rin blinked in surprise when he saw that the binder was full of not just any old papers, but sheet music. Just how much rep was Isagi responsible for this semester? He was a collaborative piano student, but even so, it seemed to be a lot. Would he be able to keep up with Rin on top of it all? Rin didn’t feel optimistic about the prospect.
“Shall we start —”
“From the top,” Rin interrupted. He laid the bow to the string, fingered the first note, and looked at Isagi. The pianist took his cue, laid his fingers out over the keyboard, and took a deep breath.
With a feather-light touch, Isagi drew the first chord out of the piano, then the second, third — and Rin nearly missed his entrance on the fourth beat. In a matter of seconds, three chords he'd heard a hundred times before had him transfixed. It was as if Isagi’s hands were one with the keyboard, his touch was so perfectly weighted and articulate. Rin felt the air grow heavy with the weight of the melancholy color of E minor. Given the quality of playing he’d gotten used to from Teieri’s students so far, he was utterly shocked. He proceeded to perform the shakiest upbow he’d done since childhood, but quickly recovered, flawlessly keeping a straight face as the music progressed.
They played through the first theme, glancing at each other for cues, allowing the music to move their bodies along with. Rin generally wasn’t a very animated player, but he felt a little more free than usual — playing with someone who could keep up with him didn’t happen often. Isagi, on the other hand, swayed and rocked as he played, following the contour of each phrase. Even as Rin pulled and pushed at the time with much rubato, Isagi never lost him, following along faithfully.
The theme ended, and the piano took over, restating the initial melody. Rin was dumbfounded when he realized Isagi was mimicking his own performance of that melody from just a few minutes before — the harmonic push and pull, timing, articulation, all of it was nearly identical to the way he’d played it. The only difference was the passion with which Isagi played. Rin had simply been going through the motions, trying to get his head on straight from his rocky start. Isagi, though, had made no such mistake. Rin watched, enraptured, as Isagi brought new life to the old melody with his nimble fingers. He watched so intently, in fact, that he missed his next entrance. Isagi, who was looking up at him for a visual cue, faltered, and the music suddenly faded out.
“Um … Rin-san?” the pianist asked. “Is everything all right?”
Rin said nothing. He was using all of his willpower not to gape at the man beside him. He looked him up and down, studying him for a sign he’d missed that Isagi had been hiding an ego big enough to carry all of that talent. There were none. He was just as unassuming as ever.
“Sorry,” Isagi apologized, his cheeks tinted pink. “I don’t sight-read very well, I must have made you mess up …”
“ … Sight-read?” Rin asked, eyes widening with shock. He might have been offended indeed, if not for the fact that Isagi had been able to not simply play, but perform just now. Rin had to be honest; it was incredible.
Isagi made a face like a little kid with his hand caught in the cookie jar. “Oops. Um, well, the thing is, I’ve been really busy and I haven’t had a chance to look at this for more than a few minutes — it’s Mendelssohn, so it’s not the worst, but I thought I was doing all right —”
“You were sight-reading.” Rin echoed, looking upon Isagi with disbelief.
“Um … yeah, I was,” Isagi admitted sheepishly, his blush intensifying. “I’m really sorry, Rin-san, I know it’s very rude of me to be unprepared —”
“Rin. Just Rin,” he interrupted. “And you were — it was — acceptable.”
Isagi sighed in relief, and turned a glowing smile upon Rin.
“Shall we begin from there?” He played his first chord quietly, with that ever-so-soft touch that made something inside Rin stir.
Rin nodded, placed his bow upon the strings, and cued Isagi in with a breath.
*
Exactly at 3:55 P.M. the following Tuesday, Rin entered Dr. Ego’s office for his weekly lesson. It was a cold room in a tiny corner of the newer music building, with beige walls and teal-and-white tile. Upon the walls between the soundproofing blocks hung Ego’s many diplomas, certificates, and posters and flyers from some of his performances, both as a soloist and as concertmaster for many different, highly esteemed orchestras around the world. Upon the floor, Ego had laid out a large, rectangular carpet that covered most of the tile in the room, which was decorated with an artistic depiction of a violin.
Doctor Ego sat cross-legged in his desk chair (Rin had been Ego’s student for almost a year, and he had yet to see Ego sit properly upon any furniture), elbows on his knees, his fingers steepled as if in deep thought. He glanced at Rin over his glasses as he entered. Rin laid his case on the bench beside Ego’s upright piano and began unpacking his violin.
“Have you met with Isagi yet?” the older man asked first.
Rin stilled. “Yes. We rehearsed on Thursday.”
“And?” Ego’s thin lips were stretched in an amused grin, his beady, black eyes trained on Rin.
Rin paused for a moment before continuing to unpack his instrument. “He’s … better than the others,” he admitted.
“Oh? Do tell.” Ego’s grin had stretched to Cheshire proportions.
Rin recalled at that moment, for some god-forsaken reason, the pinkish-red color of Isagi’s flushed cheeks, and scowled. “He came unprepared, but he sight-read the Mendelssohn like it was ‘Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star.’”
“Oh?” Ego echoed himself. “Interesting, indeed. So, Teieri and I finally found the ideal partner for you, Itoshi Rin?”
“Tch,” Rin scoffed. “He was five minutes late, and unprepared to boot. I wouldn’t call that ‘ideal.’”
“Is ‘unprepared’ really the right word to use here?” Ego queried, intense black boring into Rin’s cold teal. “Perhaps you were the one unprepared?” He bared his too-straight teeth in a mischievous grin.
Rin narrowed his eyes. “Your sense of humor is as lukewarm as your coffee, old man,” he sniped, nodding toward the half-empty mug on Ego’s desk.
Ego laughed in response. “Take out the Mendelssohn, then. I want to hear your progress.”
*
Rin sat alone in the dining commons, tucked away at a small table in a quiet corner of the large room, deep in thought. He was picking at his food rather than eating it, a rare and telltale sign that he was distressed. The thing was, he knew exactly what was making him feel this way.
At first, when considering his prior experiences, the thought of actually placing in the concerto competition hadn’t even entered Rin’s mind. The more he and Isagi rehearsed together, however, the more likely he felt it might be possible. He had to admit — he respected Isagi’s talent and diligence as a musician. He also had to admit that he was satisfied with their progress, which was much more than he could say for the artistically insensitive people he’d worked with before.
As the weeks wore on, Rin and Isagi had continued to meet at least weekly to rehearse. The piece was coming along quite well. They were starting to really understand the nuances of each other’s playing and stylistic choices. When they played together, Rin had started to feel that they were connecting on a deeper level than just playing notes in the right places at the same time. Isagi, he felt, understood music in the same way he did.
And he hated it. All of it. It was starting to become a serious distraction.
Well, not it, but who. Isagi was starting to become a serious distraction.
He hated that the distracting thoughts weren’t of the music they were playing, but of the person he was playing with. He hated Isagi’s stupid smiling face, with those brilliant azure eyes that Rin thought might glitter even in the dark. He hated Isagi’s stupid, long-fingered, dexterous hands as they skittered over the piano keys. He hated the stupid peaceful look that crossed Isagi’s face when he was enraptured by music — eyes closed, features softened into a blissful mien. The stupid way Isagi swayed and rocked while playing, letting the music move him as the moon pulls and pushes the tide. The stupid way Isagi would hurry up to Rin as he arrived for rehearsal, a little pink in the face, enthusiastic and energetic. The stupid way Isagi looked as he departed after their rehearsals, always in a hurry, carrying one binder or another that was full to bursting with sheet music. He hated the way he’d found himself thinking lately at performances not just that he could have done it better, but that he and Isagi could have done it better.
Of course, what he hated most of all was how endearing all of those things were, how they’d wormed their way into his thoughts without him even realizing. They would come to him at any moment, whether he was resting or rehearsing, with increasing frequency. Thoughts of Isagi just kept pushing their way to the forefront of his mind. One week when they had a joint repertoire class with Teieri’s studio again, he even caught himself looking around the room for his accompanist, as if he had the intention of saying hello, or sitting next to him, or something equally mortifying. It infuriated him so much that outside of required rehearsals or classes, he made it a point to avoid Isagi. The less contact they had, the less fodder for his mind to think up stupid shit with, he figured. Still, to his dismay, he found himself looking forward to their rehearsals.
That was another thing. He also hated how much he enjoyed playing with Isagi. When they made music together, it was as if they had a mental connection between them, like one could read the other’s mind. As Rin led, Isagi followed faithfully, intertwining himself with Rin’s solo parts, creating the structure that beautified the melody.
The worst and yet most incredible part of it all was that Isagi challenged him, pushing him to perform at his peak so they could make the best music possible between the two of them. The last person he’d been able to create music he felt this satisfied with was Sae, and the two of them hadn’t played together, much less spoken, in years. Finally, he’d found someone worthy of standing up next to his rat bastard of a brother — maybe even to push him past the level Sae was capable of getting him to perform at — and it was this utterly unassuming, lukewarm scrub, who looked and acted nothing like Rin imagined someone of the sort would.
He hated it all.
But he couldn’t bring himself to hate Isagi.
*
Rin looked in the mirror and straightened the collar of his black button-up shirt. He brushed a stray hair back into place, where it settled perfectly. After giving himself a final last look up and down, he decided his concert black looked acceptable. His instrument was tuned and ready to go. He had everything he needed for a performance — except his pianist, who, as usual, was running late. Rin had expected as much, but this time he didn’t mind it. The less time he had to be in Isagi’s presence, feeling those silly things Isagi made him feel, the better.
It was then that Isagi stumbled into the backstage dressing room, carrying an armful of black clothing and a black performance folder, and scurried over to the door of one of the dressing room’s stalls. Rin reflected on this dichotomy, how Isagi was so clumsy overall (it wasn’t the first time Rin had seen Isagi nearly slip and fall), yet he was so deft with his hands. It was …
Cute. It was cute. Isagi was cute.
Rin shook his head and gritted his teeth. He shot an annoyed glare at his accompanist, who wilted a little.
”Are you incapable of being on time for important events?” Rin asked sourly.
Isagi cringed as he opened the changing room door and scurried inside. “Sorry, Rin,” he managed, then shut the door.
Rin scowled. ”You’d better not play as tepidly out there as you’re acting right now,” he warned.
Isagi didn’t reply. After a few minutes, he exited the stall, brushing invisible dust from his clothes. Rin scrutinized his appearance. There were a few small wrinkles here and there, but everything fit well, and overall Isagi looked … good, Rin supposed.
Then he realized what he’d just thought, and quickly turned his head away as he felt his face begin to flush. Why did he have to have all of these stupid, embarrassing thoughts right now, of all times? He gritted his teeth.
”Um … do I look that bad?” Isagi asked, and made his way over to the mirror with a worried look on his face, patting down the front of his shirt.
Rin spat his reply viciously. ”What do I care about how you look? As long as you don’t look like a scrub who just rolled out of bed, I don’t give a shit.”
Isagi looked embarrassed. A pink flush had spread across his cheeks. “I just thought — you looked at me and then looked away, so — never mind, just forget it,” he babbled.
Rin rolled his eyes. “Idiot.”
He stalked over to the table where his violin lay in its open case. He picked it up, quickly double-checked his intonation, plucking the strings quietly. After some minor adjustments, he picked up and tightened the bow.
They both proceeded with individual warm-ups, ran through some short sections, and then headed down the hallway to the green room. On the way, Rin stole a sideways glance at Isagi just in time to see him shudder. He narrowed his eyes and gave him a good slap on the back.
”Nervous? How lukewarm,” he chided, forcing himself to look straight ahead.
”Nah,” Isagi replied immediately. “It’s called being excited. You should try it sometime.”
From the corner of his eye, Rin saw Isagi give him a wicked grin. He rolled his eyes, but didn’t reply.
When they arrived in the green room, there were a few other people already there awaiting their turns. Rin and Isagi, however, barely had time to settle in the green room before their names were called for their turn onstage. They locked eyes one last time, for just a moment, before Rin turned away and led Isagi up the steps and out beneath the stage lights.
*
A week passed as Rin and Isagi awaited the results of the competition. It had taken several days for the judges to hear all of the entrants and come to their decisions. On a balmy Thursday evening, right around six P.M., the results were posted on bulletin boards scattered throughout the department’s buildings. Rin had planned to use the time to practice, and so stood outside of the music office, in his and Isagi’s usual meeting spot, at his and Isagi’s meeting time, once more. He quickly scanned the strings division page for his name —
He did not expect it to be at the top of the list. He felt his eyes widen and his mouth open into a small ‘o’ of shock. They’d won. They had actually won their division. Rin had known they would do well, perhaps even place in the top ten, and had daydreamed about winning, but never thought it would actually happen.
At that moment, Rin heard a familiar sound — running feet hitting the ground in a familiar cadence, accompanied by a familiar panting. He knew before he turned his head to look that it was Isagi.
Isagi skidded to a stop a few steps from Rin, and took a moment to catch his breath. “I heard … the results … were posted,” he gasped.
”… Yeah,” Rin replied dumbly, tearing his eyes away from Isagi’s pink flush. He cocked his head to the side, indicating the page headed by their names. Isagi came closer to get a better look, and as he did, he froze.
”No way,” he croaked out, “no way. We won?!” Isagi’s volume escalated as he let out a cheer of victory. He turned to Rin, grinning widely and brightly.
”Rin! We won! We really won!”
Isagi suddenly lunged at Rin, arms wide open, but Rin was quick to react. He took a step to the side, and watched as Isagi reached out to hug him but only caught air. He stumbled, then nearly regained balance, but the weight of his backpack sent him down to the ground. He landed on his palms and knees, and let out a loud hiss of pain.
”Oww,” he complained through gritted teeth. He started to push himself up off the ground, but suddenly Rin’s hand appeared in his face. He looked up quizzically.
”Tch. Moron,” Rin chided. “Hurry up. I’m losing my patience.”
Isagi blinked, but took Rin’s offer of aid, and together they heaved him and his heavy bag up and off of the floor.
”Just how much music do you carry around at all times?” Rin questioned him, only half sarcastically, nodding toward the backpack.
”Ah … I have three binders right now,” Isagi admitted bashfully. “I like to stay busy, I guess. Well, and I want to learn lots of rep so I can be the best, of course.”
Rin thought for a moment, then opened his shoulder bag and pulled out a few scores.
“Here. Take these.”
Rin thrust the scores into Isagi’s hands. Isagi looked down at them in surprise, then back up at Rin, wide-eyed. Rin found himself caught up suddenly by glimmering blue outshining the rest of his vision. Isagi’s eyes, the color of the deep ocean, gleamed with excitement, and Rin once again found himself falling in.
“Is this —” Isagi began.
“My jury rep,” Rin interrupted shortly, tearing his gaze from the pianist’s face. “If it’ll fit in your stupid binder. String juries are on Tuesday of finals week. I’ll see you at the usual time.”
He sidestepped Isagi swiftly so he didn’t have to see his brilliantly beaming, stupid, cute face any longer, and kept walking down the hall toward the stairs.