Chapter Text
June
Hijikata stumbled and caught himself on the doorway of the bar. His body felt heavy and everything around looked a little blurry. But his ears still worked just fine. That was the reason he stopped in at this particular bar. As he stood there propping the door jamb, he swayed unconsciously to the rhythm. It wasn’t the kind of music he usually listened to, a fast paced rocking guitar song, with an occasional haunting tonal shift. It caught his ear as he was staggering past, on his way home from a different bar. In particular, the technical skill of whoever was playing combined with the melody, making it sound easy, as only a master could. And it took a skilled musician to tell just how complex the song actually was. Luckily Hijikata was a skilled musician, not that he considered guitar to be his strongest instrument. As he stood there, he couldn’t help following along and thinking of the hand positions and fingering that would be required to play each part. The song kept building and building and at the climax, he was impressed despite himself, as he thought he wouldn’t be able to sound as good, or come up with such an original yet catchy tune.
The music stopped and Hijikata walked in among the scattered clapping and cheering. In the depths of the dimly lit smoky room all he could see was a bright shock of someone’s hair. He glanced around and sat at the bar gesturing for a drink. He tiredly pushed his long bangs out of his face and pulled his ponytail away from his sweaty neck on this unseasonably warm early summer evening. Sometimes the thick long hair was such a bother, especially in summer heat. He felt a bit pathetic - only 20 and already trying to drown his sorrows in alcohol. Not that it was working terribly well, or maybe he hadn’t gotten it right on his first try at drinking alone. Whether it was too much or not enough alcohol, he wasn’t feeling any better.
He was used to being alone, but lately he was getting too tired to keep a good handle on himself. Sometimes that dark churning in the deep corners of his heart threatened to spill out, and he couldn’t allow that. It was better to stay away from people as he always did, just get his work done, no getting others involved. That never ended well.
As he lit a cigarette, another song started up. Complex guitar licks made his already drunken brain feel dizzy as he tried to follow. But at least he wasn’t thinking about his own troubles anymore. The song was captivating and left no room to worry about his advisor and his demands, about what it would take to pass this semester, what would happen beyond that.
He stayed at that bar longer than he ever intended, caught up in the magic of an unknown guitarist. How could he have not heard him play before? He couldn’t have missed someone this good, in this neighborhood he frequented no less. He didn’t want to speak with anyone in his condition, but he sat and listened, and felt more relaxed than he had in a very long time.
Soon enough the musician finished up, packed up his equipment and left, laughter and cheerful voices trailing in his wake. Hijikata sighed, paid his bill and shakily rose to go home. It was time to go back. Perhaps he would meet this brilliant guitarist again. What could that change, what could a chance meeting like this bring?
***
April ~ a few months earlier
The early morning breeze felt refreshing as Hijikata squinted against the bright spring sunshine. The weight of the cello case a familiar one against his back, he made his way to the studio for a session with his cello teacher. He walked up the stairs to the elegant red brick building that housed the studio rooms.
As he walked into the room Hijikata politely greeted the cello instructor, an older woman with wavy brown hair and smile lines around her brown eyes. He froze when he noticed the tall figure next to her. The man wore a formal jacket and tie, his thinning gray hair slicked back, and a monocle resting on top of his long nose. Down which he was currently looking at Hijikata with an unreadable expression, somehow managing to look dissatisfied.
“Professor Sasaki will be observing some of the sessions today, Hijikata-kun. Let’s proceed as normal.”
“Yeah, of course. Good morning,” he bowed politely, slowly setting down his instrument case.
“Go ahead and warm up, and then play that piece we’ve been working on for me.”
He opened up the case and took out and set up the cello, checking by ear to make sure it was in tune. As he sat down and settled himself in, he ran his hand self-consciously over his long hair, to throw it back over his shoulder and out of the way. He fiddled with the bow and played a few quick warm-up measures.
As part of his program at conservatory, he had to work on studio performance, as well as take classes like music theory, composition, history. He enjoyed his studies well enough, and generally got along with the faculty in the Strings department that he was required to work with. Mostly he just enjoyed playing the cello, improving his performing skills, and letting the music carry him away from the everyday world.
He played through the practice piece for his teacher, but as he played, Sasaki loomed and drummed his fingers impatiently.
“Nicely done, Hijikata-kun, you’ve mastered that tricky passage since last time. Why don’t you --”
“I’ll take over from here, Abe-san, you may go,” interrupted Sasaki. Hijikata looked up at the condescending tone in his voice.
The cello teacher nodded and left the room. Hijikata waited, unsure what was going on. Sasaki was a senior member of the faculty, angling for a leadership role within the school, according to rumors. So what was he doing in a random studio session with a second year student?
“Young people these days have little appreciation for the fine tradition of classical music. Only the truly elite still give it justice and value the world’s musical heritage. You may be wondering what we are doing here. I am told that you show some promise among the students in our department. If you impress me, I may take you on as a student and ensure your future as an elite musician. Although, at the moment I am skeptical to say the least. Certainly your current level of instruction leaves much to be desired.” He eyed Hijikata through his monocle.
“You are going to have to work quite hard for me to accept you as my student. Of course, none of the other faculty will be willing to take you on if I do not consider you worthy.
“Believe me, I am quite capable of making your life here at our illustrious institution very difficult indeed. Starting with the spring semester examinations, for example. As you know, there is a minimum academic achievement requirement in order to pass, as well as to continue to qualify for the scholarship money that is currently supporting your tuition fees.
“On the other hand, if you maintain adequate performance, cooperate to my satisfaction, and win the music competitions I select for you, I guarantee a bright future for my protege.”
Sasaki walked around Hijikata’s chair, and he could feel his gaze on him, and then see him staring intensely. Hijikata almost felt self-conscious in his usual outfit of hoodie sweatshirt over a light t-shirt and jeans. His eyes widened in confusion when Sasaki reached forward and took hold of Hijikata’s chin, lifting his face and running his thumb over his jawline.
“I will be taking over your studio instruction from now on. Come by my office later to pick up the music to master for next time.” He smirked, released his hold, and walked out of the room before Hijikata had a chance to think of a response.
Hijikata sat there and thought, what just happened? He had a odd feeling about his new advisor. It was puzzling since as far as he knew Sasaki was a violinist, not a cellist, but undeniably he had power and influence to help an up-and-coming classically trained musician in a world without too many opportunities. Not that Hijikata was certain that he wanted to make his living from music performance, but he could not imagine his future with no music.
He had been drawn to music since he was a kid, in fact music got him through some bad times in the past. From his early childhood he was getting passed around different relatives’ houses, never staying too long at any one place. His mother was gone, and his step-mother could not stand the sight of him. He didn’t understand why at the time, feeling sad and guilty about upsetting the adults when he was young. Now that he understood the truth, it made him all the more bitter about the treatment he received as a child.
When he was about 7, he would secretly watch his aunt, that he was staying with at the time, play the piano. He would sit and listen for hours, anytime he heard her play. Sometimes she would host home concerts, and during those he hid in the room, listening to performances of beautiful piano melodies and the delighted murmurs of the guests in the audience. He wasn’t allowed to touch the beautiful glossy grand piano himself, but sometimes he snuck into the room when no one was around, to play the songs and pieces he’d heard. He couldn’t read music, but it turned out that he had excellent memory and an ear for music. Over time he figured out the layout of the keyboard and pieced together some simple melodies by ear. Despite being treated coldly, he remembered his time at that house fondly because of the beautiful piano and the music his aunt played. It came to an end when one day she returned home unexpectedly and discovered him playing a melody on the piano. After her initial surprise, she ordered him out of the room angrily. Then soon after the incident he moved to a different family, never to return to that house again.
Some months later, Toshiro had brought home, wherever that was at that time, an old guitar he found somewhere in a dusty storage room. He somehow managed to convince the family to let him keep it. He cleaned it up and did little odd jobs to save up some money to get replacement strings. He visited the musical instrument shop in town and learned how to take care of the guitar properly. Over time he taught himself to play. The only person he really showed was his big brother Tamegoro. He was at university at the time and not around much, but sometimes he visited Toshiro, and then he would spend time with him, play games, and take him to fun places. When Tamegoro heard Toshiro play his guitar, he looked amazed. It seemed Tamegoro was the only person to be happy about it. After that he saved up extra money and paid for Toshiro to get some music lessons and books to study with. Even if it had only been simple encouragement, it still meant the world to Toshiro.
Shaking off the old memories, Hijikata sighed and packed up his cello, in no mood to keep playing, even though there was almost a half-hour left of his scheduled time in the music room. As he walked slowly down the hallway, he heard his old teacher call out to him.
“Hijikata-kun, I’m sorry about that. I was just informed that Professor Sasaki is taking over your instruction. I wish I could keep working with you, but if there is anything you would like to talk about, please come to me anytime. And I will still see you at the chamber ensemble rehearsals.”
“Thanks, Abe-sensei. Thanks for everything. I’ll see you at rehearsal tomorrow.”
***
He went to the three story building that housed the faculty offices, just as all the campus buildings it had lofty ceilings, European style red brick walls, elegant white-framed windows, and sweeping staircases. As he was walking down the hallway on the top floor in search for Sasaki’s office, he saw an old man who smiled and beckoned to him.
“Hello, Dean Suzuki, can I help you with something?”
“Yes, actually, please come over here, Hijikata-san. I’ve been trying to rearrange my collection, but I can’t reach the top shelf - my balance isn’t what it used to be since they have me on these heart pills.”
“Of course, sir.” Hijikata hadn’t been inside one of the administrative offices before, and it was impressive. The Dean had a large office, with his assistant’s smaller office right next door. Hijikata supposed it was appropriate for the office of the head of the department to be impressive. Heavy mahogany furniture would have dominated the room if it hadn’t been so huge. A large mahogany cabinet at one side was full of various small to medium size statuettes made from different materials. At a glance, Hijikata noticed that most of them were people in different poses, some of them set up in little scenes. The dean directed him to rearrange some figures on the top shelf.
“Oh, what do you think of my newest acquisition? Look at her exquisite posture, the arms and legs! She is so beautiful.” The old man pointed out a fairly small statue of a dancer girl, about the size of a hand. Hijikata wasn’t an expert on sculpture or art, so he just shrugged and made a noncommittal noise. He quietly stayed for a brief enthusiastic tour of Dean Suzuki’s sculpture collection.
“Hijikata-san, I hear that Sasaki-kun is taking you on as your advisor.”
“Yes, sir. I just found out today.”
“He is very talented in his own way, very driven. He can be a bit hard to work with, but he could really help you out if you take advantage of things. He’s got quite the vision for how music should be taught… quite radical...” Suzuki paused in thought, still looking troubled. “I’ve known him for a long time, you see, my boy. After that terrible thing that happened, he was never the same again… If anything, he became more driven, and he expects everyone else to be the same way.”
“Terrible thing?”
“Ah, well, I shouldn’t really say… But he had a family once, and they were killed, an awful tragedy. His poor wife and their child…”
Hijikata waited quietly to see if he would continue, but the old man seemed to shake himself, and his eyes lost their faraway look.
“If things really don’t work out, come to me. You have real talent, and I will support you.” Suzuki finally said with a fond smile.
“Th-thank you, sir… I’m sure it will be fine working with Professor Sasaki… You don’t have to worry about me.”
Hijikata tried to hide his surprise at the compliment. He simply played music and worked on improving his skills because that’s what he loved to do. He loved working with the sound and challenging himself to master difficult compositions. He knew that he played reasonably well, but never really cared to compare himself to the other students or to insist on recognition or praise.
“Very well. Now I’ve kept you long enough. Go on, and thank you for helping this old man play with his collection.”
“Goodbye, Dean Suzuki.”
Walking out, Hijikata turned as his name was called again. It was the Dean’s assistant, the department secretary.
“Hijikata-san, if you have a moment, could you please take care of this paperwork? I was going to send it to you in the mail, but since you are here in person, this will be much quicker.”
“Sure.” He walked into the smaller office, accepting a few sheets of paper from the tall dark haired man. His glance slid across the desk, idly noting the name plate “Nakamura Kyojiro”, a sleek computer monitor, some pens, and an array of paper trays full of letters and forms, nothing unusual. Except… his eye snagged on the top letter seeing a familiar name “Hijikata Shizuka”. He felt a little shock when he recognized his step-mother’s name.
“You have a lot of paperwork there, must be really busy…”
“Oh yes, there is a fundraising campaign on right now for the department, and I’m coordinating the donations, writing the thank-you letters, documenting everything. It does keep me busy.” Nakamura had an easy charming smile.
“Oh is that what those are…”
“Yes, well, if you know of any good potential donors, let us know… Although I imagine donating money to other people is the furthest thing from your mind right now… But some of these funds do go to support our scholarship students, like you,” He said with a friendly smile.
“Thanks for your hard work… I’ll get these forms filled out and back to you.”
“Very well, you can drop them off when they are finished.”
Hijikata left and walked on along the hallway. Eventually he found a shiny brass plaque with Sasaki’s name on it. In the box mounted on the wall next to the door he found a thick envelope addressed to him. He shrugged and picked it up, sticking the envelope in his small backpack as he made his way back down the stairs.
***
The following week time came around for his next studio session. Hijikata supposed it would be in the usual room, but there was nothing usual about the teacher. The workload - or the number of pieces he was to work on - was three times what the old teacher used to assign. Instead of two compositions, he had to practice six! But if he was to impress the ambitious senior instructor, six is what he would master. He even wore a button-down shirt instead of his usual well-worn hoodie, considering how formally Sasaki dressed at all times.
Hijikata came in a little early, set up the sheet music and his instrument. Sat down on the little stool, made sure the cello was in tune and the bow ready to go, and waited. And waited.
Soon, Sasaki walked briskly into the room. He gave Hijikata an expressionless stare and waved his hand impatiently.
“Would you like me to play them in order, Sensei?”
“Yes, yes, let’s see what you can make of them.”
Hijikata picked up the bow, adjusted the cello between his legs and started to play. Most of the pieces were not technically too challenging for him, but neither was he very emotionally engaged in them. He simply played them as written, simple when required, expressive when the notation called for it. He occasionally looked over at Sasaki as he played, but the man seemed to be engrossed in this smartphone. Weird… Was he really listening?
After three or four pieces were played, Sasaki gestured for Hijikata to stop, and proceeded to lecture him about the music and all the ways his performance of the pieces fell short of expectations. Apparently he had a very particular interpretation of the music and the way he expected Hijikata to play, making him repeat some sections several times until he was satisfied. It was a long while before he allowed Hijikata to continue on to the remaining compositions.
On the fifth piece, which was one of the more difficult ones, Hijikata had to focus more on playing, so that he lost track of everything else in the room around him. Suddenly he startled as he felt a touch run down his back, starting at the back of the neck, along his spine, and all the way down his backside. The warmth lingering on his ass. The sheer surprise made his cheeks flare up red. His hands faltered and he missed a few notes, the music trailing off awkwardly.
“Did I tell you you could stop playing?” Sasaki’s voice was cold and monotonous, but oddly threatening.
“Is this some kind of harassment?!”
“Those are bold words for a little nobody student. If you can’t handle any little distraction when you play these piddling practice pieces, how will you handle real performance? How will you handle the brilliance of the truly elite composers?”
“I don’t have to put up with this.” Hijikata turned to face Sasaki, his fists tightening until his knuckles turned white.
“Put up with what? This isn’t elementary school. I will not coddle you. Are you perhaps uncomfortable with the workload? With rigorous instruction? What else are you imagining is going to happen here?”
“...” Hijikata wasn’t sure what to say, he just couldn’t figure out what the hell was going on.
“If you can’t handle the challenge of studying here, you can always consider dropping out. Perhaps you are no stranger to disgrace, but perhaps your dear brother would be disappointed that you could not handle your studies, even though he has done so much to help you come here. Perhaps you should quit now and make it quick. It will be easier for everyone.”
“No! I- I’m not going to quit.” Hijikata wasn’t sure what Sasaki wanted, but he definitely knew he couldn’t bear to disappoint Tamegoro, the only person who ever believed in him when he was growing up, and now one of a very small number of people who cared what he did and what happened to him.
“Very well. Then, continue with your assignment.” Sasaki stared down at him impassively.
Unsettled, Hijikata raised the bow and started to play again.
“Let me adjust your posture.” After a minute or so Sasaki’s voice came from behind him, and then his hands slid firmly over his thighs, changing the position of his legs slightly. The fabric of his khaki pants felt too thin as the hands grasped his legs and spread them a little wider. A hand then ran softly down his bowing arm, almost in a caress, and made a slight shift to the arm position and angle. Hijikata blushed again but managed to keep playing. He was not used to being touched. He didn’t exactly get much in the way of hugs and affection growing up, and he wasn’t too interested in dating and getting physically involved with people either. The last time he did anything like that was back in high school, and that pretty much went nowhere.
Not that he was very experienced with this sort of thing, but the touches felt oddly irritating and not entirely innocent. But everything Sasaki said indicated that Hijikata was misinterpreting what was happening. He didn’t know what to think, but he felt an itchy mix of embarrassment and anger that he tried to keep down, contained.
After finishing the last two pieces he endured more grueling drilling and repetition of several sections. His arms were starting to feel numb and worn out, and his head was feeling heavy. In fact he was starting to get a headache from all the tension and what felt like several hours of intensive focus. After Hijikata lost concentration several times, his eyes glazing over from Sasaki’s lecturing, the man made a big sigh and grabbed his ponytail, pulling his face up.
“Looks like you’re all done for today. You’d best show me next time that we didn’t waste time today. I’ll also be leaving more assignments for you - I’ll text you the names of the pieces and the editions of the sheet music I want you to study for the next two weeks. It may have been easy going so far, with the slipshod way this department is run. But remember, you will have to work hard to convince me that you should pass your semester-end examinations and continue your studies here. Not to mention keeping your scholarship support.”
“I- I see, okay…” the hand jerked his hair painfully. “Yes, sir.”
Under the taller man’s gaze, Hijikata fumbled to pack up his stuff, and stood up to leave. He briefly looked back as he left the room and was left uneasy at the hint of a smirk on Sasaki’s face.
***
June
The spring semester was only halfway through, it was lovely early June outside, but Hijikata spent little time enjoying it. Week after week, the workload he was supposed to study was relentless. No matter what, he was determined that Sasaki would not get the better of him. With hours and hours of daily practice on top of his other homework, and the occasional paying gig with Kondo’s wedding and event ensemble, he stayed up late to keep up, and got up early every day to start all over again. His shoulders hurt sometimes, but it wasn’t too bad, so he shrugged it off and kept going.
The sessions with Sasaki were exhausting, but he had to give the man some credit. Hijikata’s technique and stamina were improving from all the effort. He was strict and unforgiving, but he really knew his subject and had a lot to teach Hijikata. Sasaki had him playing a lot of complicated baroque music, the likes of Bach and Vivaldi. After all the practice the intricate compositions slipped polished and effortless from his bow. Just like shining glass ornaments. Or beautiful flowers preserved and unchanging forever. When did the cello start to feel so artificial? So lifeless? The music he played felt distant, disconnected, as if coming from somewhere else, someone else. When he tried to listen inside himself, for what used to flow naturally, nothing came.
One evening he decided to go out, after enduring yet another session filled with much criticism, drilling, stingy on approval, and peppered with ambiguous invasions of personal space and touches that were just a little too intimate. Never crossing the line so that he could later justify punching his professor, however. Every time he felt he was making progress, though maybe not quite fast enough for Sasaki to approve. Would he deign to give him good marks at the exams coming up in a month and a half? Otherwise, nothing bad happened, but every time he felt uneasy and bad afterwards, in a way he couldn’t explain. Maybe he really was being too sensitive?
Regardless, it was time to get his mind off these useless worries. He had just turned 20 about a month ago, so he could go to a bar and get some drinks. At the time, Kondo, Yamazaki, and a couple of their buddies, as his wiser older friends at all of 25, had taken him out drinking to celebrate his birthday, becoming an adult and all that. He didn’t remember that night all too clearly, just a blur of laughter and bright lights. So he figured doing it again would help him unwind. And that’s how he came to be thoroughly drunk as he stumbled upon an unknown, incredible, guitarist in an unfamiliar bar. Or at least he’d been too drunk to register where he had followed his ears. But what could it change, what could a chance meeting like that possibly bring?