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Picture Credits:
Till Our Lives Burn Out
Chapter 004-This is This and That is That
(Part 2b)
The Thursday lesson after that night at the hospital was the first time Hotaru had felt energetic that week at all. She had been quite listless during Tuesday’s lessons, and part of it may have been that little extra expenditure of power. She got to bed as early as she could Tuesday night and Wednesday. He had not been tired the next day, or that Thursday. This was odd, because, though he hid it well, he often seemed tired lately. It was during lunch Thursday afternoon that she wondered if, somehow, getting to see Setsuna accounted for this. At any rate, the next few lesson days promised to be extremely dull. She would sit midterm exams on Wednesday and Thursday of next week, and so it would be all review until after that. Kuryakin must’ve sensed how oppressive this felt to her because just before the end of lessons that Thursday, he presented Hotaru with a challenge and an opportunity.
“Hotaru, I’m going to make a deal with you. All this rote recitation of stuff you’ve already learned may actually dull your agile mind. So, I have a riddle I want you to solve. You have until I call you Sunday night. If you can solve it -without any help- we will take a trip to see the dolphins Monday morning. If you can’t, and I’m serious now, we’ll just spend the time reviewing. Understood?”
He handed her a slip of paper on which the riddle was written, and she began reading aloud:
Once upon a time, two knights sought the hand of a beautiful princess. They were excellent and honorable men, just in deeds and valiant in battle. But the king, who sought to marry his daughter to someone who would increase his fortune, did not wish for his daughter to marry either of them. So when the knights came to seek her hand, he set a challenge before them. "On a day of your choosing, you shall race each other to the coast and back, and the knight whose horse comes in last wins," said the king. The two knights accepted the challenge immediately, and then almost as quickly realized they’d been had, for who could win a race where the last horse to cross the finish line won?
“See the problem?” he said. “Just imagine each guy trying to come in last. They would keep retreating from the finish line forever. Pretty shrewd king, eh? But read on.”
…Both of them loved the princess very much, and neither was willing to concede to the other, but they could not think of a solution to the king’s challenge. Then they remembered the wise old man in the mountain. They went to him, and agreed to pay him well if he could solve their problem. He listened to the king’s challenge. He thought for a minute and then said just two words. The knights looked at each other, smiled, and paid him.
What two words did the wise man say?
“And I can’t ask for help from anyone?”
“Well,” he said, “I don’t think this one is really that hard, but then I already know the answer. If you really get bogged down, you can call me anytime this weekend and I’ll give you one hint. Okay, the Kittens are here, so it’s time to go home. I know you can do it. I’ve already made the reservations at the dolphinarium.”
More than a couple of times the next day, she thought about searching the internet to find the answer, but that would be cheating. The closest she came to trying to get outside help was that night when she told the other Outer Senshi what the riddle was, after first making it clear that if they knew the answer they were not to tell her under any circumstances.
“Then, why are you telling us?” asked Michiru.
“To generate positive vibrations,” she said, matter-of-factly. “I really want to see the dolphins again.”
Haruka thought this quite cute, but by Friday night no positive energies were in evidence, and the riddle had Hotaru stumped. She decided to get that little extra help Kuryakin had offered her. She called and then hit “speakerphone” so she could be ready to write down anything he might say.
“Hotaru-chan?!” he said, sounding very excited to get this chance to talk with her outside of lessons. “Well, what a pleasant if excitingly timed surprise. Good thing you called. I forgot to turn this off. I can’t talk long. I’m about to go on stage.”
“On … stage?”
“Yeah, I’m playing for some people tonight. Last minute substitution.”
Sure enough, there was music playing in the background.
“Last minute substitution?”
“Yes, I tell you, sometimes I have the darndest luck. I’m going play piano on Rhapsody in Blue. The pianist who was supposed to play tonight? He, rather foolishly, had pufferfish for lunch, and now he’s over at Juuban Secondary, getting his stomach pumped. I hope the guy is all right, but I know Gershwin cold, and they had me come run through it, and they’re satisfied I can do it.”
“Hotaru, who’s he playing for?” Michiru whispered.
“Where are you playing?”
“NHK Hall, for the NHK Philharmonic. They’re doing an All-Gershwin concert. So what’s the problem?”
“NHK? We had tickets to that, didn’t we?” Haruka whispered to Michiru who nodded.
“I’m so sorry, I’ll call back …”
“No, no, I have about four minutes. Wish I had longer. You’re welcome to call me anytime with any problem. What’s up?”
“Well, … it’s that riddle.”
“Ah, got you stumped has it? Need a little hint do you?”
“Just a little one, please?”
“Okay, it is a bit deceptive, so I’ll give you this much. This riddle has a dozen variations in the way it’s put. Forget all the medieval imagery. Think, precisely now, about the king’s challenge, and just ask yourself this question: ‘given exactly what the king said, what one little thing do the two men have to do to make the race winnable?’ Say it in two words. I’m counting on you, Hotaru! Think it through, and let’s have some fun Monday.”
In the background an audience was a applauding the piece that had just ended.
“I’ll do my best,” she with an uncertain smile. What little he’d given her didn’t seem to be much help.
“Nothing less from you, Hotaru. Okay, there’s the curtain! Gotta go!”
“That concert should be on NHK-FM radio right now,” Michiru said, mostly to herself.
“You’re right,” Haruka said.
Michiru turned on the radio and sure enough the opening clarinet glissando of Rhapsody in Blue was just reaching its apex.
“That’s really that guy?” said Haruka, after a few minutes of the piano entrance.
“He said music is the second best thing he does,” said Hotaru.
“What is the first thing?” asked Setsuna, who had just come into the room with some fabric under her arm.
“He didn’t say.”
“He did not say, or he would not tell you?”
“Well, he was cryptic about it. He said ‘I hope you never have to see that.’ He looked really serious when he said it, too.”
“He’s good,” Haruka admitted.
“He’s playing it very slyly,” said Michiru. “And Haruka? To play for the NHK Phil you have to be better than good. I wonder how he got ‘in’ with them in the first place?”
“Perhaps he tutored someone for an influential donor,” said Setsuna airily, though she appeared to be listening. “That seems to be how he meets everyone.”
“I thought you didn’t like music,” Michiru said.
“It is not that I dislike music,” she said quietly. “I just did not like it as an academic subject. So then, do you still think there is nothing strange about him?”
‘Strange?’ thought Hotaru. “It’s not a big secret he is a good pianist, Setsuna-momma. You heard him the other night.”
“Yes, Hotaru, but if he is as good as Michiru says, then we may append one more item to the list of talents in the incredible Mister Kuryakin’s repertoire.”
“It’s not usual for people to be able to play the piano, Setsuna,” said Haruka, smiling. “I’m good enough to accompany Michiru in a pinch. He seems like a pretty athletic guy. Such people are often very good pianists.”
“I know a couple of soccer players who play the piano very well,” said Michiru.
Haruka raised an eyebrow at that.
“But if I understand you correctly, Michiru, he would have to be world class to play for that orchestra.”
“Okay, yes, Setsuna, he is strange,” said Michiru. “He is unusually talented in a lot of ways, and I too would be curious to know his story, but that doesn’t mean he’s a threat, which is what you seem to be suggesting.”
“Setsuna-momma, why would you think that?” Hotaru asked looking surprised and concerned. This was the first time Hotaru had been present when Setsuna discussed her tutor with Haruka and Michiru. She had no idea Setsuna was thinking this way about him. This could mean she might have to rethink what she thought she was seeing between her and him.
“Oh Hotaru, that is not what I am thinking. I am … simply curious – very curious, I do admit- to how so young a man could be able to do so many things, so well.”
“When we first met, I checked him out in my mirror,” said Michiru. “Nothing to worry about.”
“Your mirror is not flawless in these matters,” Setsuna said offhandedly.
“Neither is your time consciousness. You know, I have to wonder why you’re so… obsessed … here,” she said smiling, and left it at that.
Setsuna looked like she was about to contradict the veiled suggestion in the strongest possible terms, but then thought better of it. She didn’t want Hotaru hearing anymore of this discussion.
“I wish we could watch,” said Hotaru.
“You can, in two days,” said Michiru. “They rebroadcast those concerts on NHK-BS2 on Sunday afternoon.”
“Oh, we’ll be shopping though. Can we record it?”
“I don’t see why not.”
The concert had reached intermission. The audience was applauding with some sincerity, it seemed. Hotaru was thinking hard about what Setsuna had just said, and decided that even if she was thinking of him in terms of a threat, it didn’t make sense that threat was to the Sailor Senshi. Was this “threat” somehow personal? In the end, she thought this little revelation might in fact be one more sign of what she suspected. She smiled, but then warned herself, as her newest teacher had taught her, “when all you have is a hammer, everything looks like a nail.” She decided to review all her checked boxes. Meanwhile, Haruka had finished some reading for a class and Michiru was done typing some program notes for her next recital on her laptop.
“Okay,” Haruka announced. “We’re going out now. It is Friday night after all.”
Till Our Lives Burn Out
Chapter 004-This is This and That is That
(Part 3a)
Haruka and Michiru did not go to the Philharmonic tonight because Michiru didn’t care for Gershwin, although she certainly knew when someone had played him well. Instead, they’d had a late dinner and now were walking along the Ginza.
“You know,” said Michiru, “he is sufficiently strange maybe we ought to try and do something to put Setsuna’s mind at ease. Her coursework is very heavy this term.”
“Well, she knew it would be,” replied Haruka. “That was one reason why she wasn’t dead set against hiring that guy.”
“Right, but it’s worked out the opposite. She really can’t afford the distractions. And she just won’t let go of it. It’s getting really hard to avoid coming to a ‘certain conclusion’ here.”
“What’s that?” Haruka smiled, knowingly, while appearing to look absentmindedly in a store front window.
“Haruka, think about it …”
“Remember now, I don’t like prying into peoples’ personal affairs. Just as I don’t like them prying into ours.”
“Yes, but you said it might be necessary,” Michiru relied.
‘Oh, so you think that Chaos is at work upon her?”
“One never knows. So … think for a moment. Until she awoke in this age, how many men had Setsuna ever even met, much less known?”
“One, I guess.”
“So far as we know, yes. And she knew him as a king, all regal and polished and erudite and 1000 years’ mature, although even there I’ve heard stories about escapades when he and the Queen wished to get out of doing something. And now she’s had the chance to meet him in his brash and youthful days. Now even though she knows that she can never, ever …”
“I get the picture,” said Haruka somewhat impatiently. “But she’s met plenty since awakening.”
“Right, but I think she has committed herself to him –and thereby to them both- precisely because she knows she can ‘never, ever’ and prefers it that way. It keeps her from being distracted from her duty by her own feelings or hopes. It’s counterintuitive perhaps, but really, I think she has a low opinion of herself. Second, even if she did consider it, he is the standard by which she judges any prospect. So the bar is set pretty high.”
“Possible, I suppose,” said Haruka who really didn’t want to talk about this. “Michiru, when I said we might have to pry now and then, I didn’t mean for you to start doing character biographies of everyone we know.”
“Yet,” she continued, ignoring Haruka, “there is something about this guy. Very classy. Good manners. And he’s not bad looking – in fact, the more one looks at him … any way. And he’s almost insanely smart and talented. ‘Renaissance Man’ doesn’t begin to cover it. There’s a mystery there, no question.”
“I suppose.”
“Haruka, isn’t your threat radar pinging loudly over him? No one can be that smart and accomplished this early in life. Even a modest genius requires about ten years of grappling with a field to master it, though a real genius can do it in maybe five, if he doesn’t do anything else but eat or sleep.”
“So you’ve been thinking about this heavily too? What exactly did you see when you checked him out in your mirror.”
“Oh nothing much,” Michiru said in a way that implied she may have seen more than she was letting on, but fully intended to keep her own council for now.
“I … see.”
“Furthermore, Setsuna’s been around so long …”
“No,” said Haruka very quietly, “Sailor Pluto has. Setsuna has an actual birthday, and had an awakening, like us.”
“Right, but have you noticed? Sailor Pluto’s consciousness has never been interrupted. Once awakened, Setsuna came into full possession of that consciousness. So, she feels she ought to be able to figure things out instantly especially where any of us are concerned. And she’d rather figure it out on her own than ask him directly what he’s about, though in the end it looks like that’s the only way she’s going to ….”
“Michiru, the only thing strange about that guy is that I don’t completely hate him.”
“Oh, Haruka, I know you don’t really hate anybody. Outside of our duty, you are incredibly easy going. It’s one of the things I love most about you.”
“Thank you, Michiru,” Haruka said. “But, I think you’re the one fascinated by this guy, which first of all bothers me, second, has us both talking more than we ever do, and third, I think all this is a sign that you’re projecting your own fascination onto Setsuna.”
“Oh? Are you jealous?” she said coyly. It was time to play that game now. Haruka was as clear as she that something about this tutor rightly bothered Setsuna.
“Maybe.”
“You must be jealous. You’re using compound sentences.”
The exchange just escalated.
“You don’t think she’s like us, do you?” asked Haruka with mock thoughtfulness.
“Oh, you wish …”
“No, I do not…”
“Yes, you do …”
“I do not!”
“Oh yes….”
“Michiru, I’m not talking about this any more.”
An unexpected and not unpleasant turn. After a few moments silence, and checking out a few windows, Michiru muttered quietly “do too …”
“Okay, I’m not talking to you any more.”
“So then,” said Michiru now that she could proceed uninterrupted, “Setsuna has been all alone during that time. We both know that really she is a deeply passionate person: few loves but loves deeply, and I think deep down, under all those years and years of duty, there lurks a classic romantic, even-possibly- a blushing maiden, with quite innocent dreams of love, and a very strong sense of propriety. Like any classic romantic, she tends to hold just out of reach the thing she claims to desire. Or in this case, it is held there for her by unchangeable circumstances …”
“Where do you get that from?”
“Did she ever show you that poem she wrote for one of her Humanities classes?”
“Oh, yeah,” said Haruka, looking thoughtful, “I thought it was pretty good.”
“Do you remember any of it?”
“Not a lot. I seem to remember something about ‘singing the eternal song of love in her heart.’ Or some such.”
Michiru reached into her purse and pulled out a piece of paper.
“You wrote it down, and keep it with you?” chuckled Haruka incredulously. “Michiru, that is positively pathological …”
“Haruka, if you want to know people, their artistic expressions, however good or bad, can at least tell you a little bit about them,” she said defensively. “Besides, it’s a very good poem, and I find comfort in reading it now and then. That Setsuna wrote such a poem says a lot about the real her. Even now, even to us, she’s still quite a mystery. She gave me permission to write it down. Listen to this.”
The poem was entitled “Secret” and Michiru read it with emphasis on certain phrases:
When I step firmly on the ground of this planet,
I am happy, and I fill it with the sweet green song on my lips.
When I embrace the thin shoulders of the people I love,
in spite of myself the secret song of love is locked deep in my heart.
On a day like this, even when I pretend to hang my head,
there's nothing I can do. I'll quit hesitating as I put in the key.
On a clear day like this, I'll take off my white jacket and go outside.
Pretending not to notice my restrained spirit, I'll invite the girls into the strong sunlight.
When I run across the ground of this planet, I am glad, and the smile for a special occasion spills out on my lips.
The jewel of time that has not shined twice. Softly I hum to you the eternal song of love.
“Notice,” continued Michiru, “it is in spite of herself that the song of love is in her heart, as though she doesn’t deserve it. She pretends to hang her head, as though she isn’t entitled to any feeling other than sadness. She has to force herself to quit hesitating. She must pretend not to notice her restrained spirit. Her smile spills out, as though it were something she did not intend, and she hums the song of love softly, rather than sing it loud and clear. Notice too, I'll invite the girls into the strong sunlight. I’d say that means she feels … well, like a mother to all of us.”
“Interesting poetical analysis, Michiru. Yes, if it’s an accurate, intentional expression of herself, it’s suggests someone who has a very low opinion of themselves, is filled with reluctance where their own desires are concerned, and seeks justification for their life by the causes they attach themselves to.”
“More than that, Haruka, it suggests someone who is submitted to a goal, a way of being, that, ultimately, may not even have her own interests at heart, and she doesn’t even care. We’ve both known that feeling. Haven’t you ever worried that maybe … we aren’t needed anymore? That we have fulfilled our purpose?”
“I don’t see why there is no longer any possibility of outside threats. All that aside, Michiru, this is precisely why I don’t like prying, even though I may think it’s necessary now and then. I don’t like over-analyzing things. Look, peoples’ inner feelings are the same everywhere. Am I good enough? Am I unique? Am I a fluke, an accident? Is there any point to my existence? Does anybody care about me? The only reason your inner feelings matter to me – and they matter the whole world to me – is because I love you. All we can do is love the few people we do, and keep to our duty. I’m not trying to sound mean-spirited; it’s just that only through love does anything really matter anyway.”
“That’s actually quite sweet of you to say, Haruka, but I thought you weren’t talking to me.”
Haruka smirked and pulled her close. They walked silently for a few blocks.
“So who does Setsuna have?”
“She has us,” said Haruka.
“We killed her. Nothing will ever be quite the same because of that.”
“We let our star seeds be taken first. We suffered too. She knew - they both knew- what we were doing.”
“But there’s no getting around the after effects, Haruka. Who does she really have?”
“She has Hotaru.”
“Yes,” said Michiru as if she was waiting to get to this point, “Hotaru cares what happens to her, even more than we do, so much that she might even take matters into her own hands.”
“What do you mean?”
“Do things for her that she will never do for herself.”
“Okay,” said Haruka, “I see where this is going. Michiru, that poem may not even be intended as a self-expression. It may have been just school work. Yes, it’s about her, and, in general about how we all feel inadequate and yet hopeful from time to time. I think you’re closer to the mark with that motherly streak thing. We’ve all raised Hotaru, but she was with her the all the time while we were out globetrotting. But either way, in the light of day, she knows that on some level she is incredible not just as a Senshi, but as a woman. Look at all the guys she has to brush off.”
“Exactly, she is so amazing, if she doesn’t have someone, it’s because she doesn’t want to …”
‘Okay, that’s enough of this,’ thought Haruka. “Really, I’d have to admit she is the most beautiful of us all.”
Michiru blinked a couple of times.
“Oh?”
“Oh yes. Stunning. Utterly.”
“You really think so?”
“Easily.”
“Well,” said Michiru a bit huffily, “I agree she is certainly the most mature.”
“And beautiful,” Haruka added offhandedly.
“Y’know, Usagi once said I was the ideal of a princess, and she ought to know … after all she is one.”
“So are we all, but that doesn’t necessarily mean ‘most beautiful’ …”
“Now I’m not talking to you.”
Haruka was getting a little too good at this game.
“Well,” said Haruka “if we’re not talking to each other, maybe we can think of something else to do …”
“Hmmm, you know what we should do?”
“I’m getting an idea or two, yes.”
“We should go with them.”
“Go with … who?”
“Hotaru and her tutor.”
Haruka stared at her.
“You mean go with them on Monday to the fish pond?”
“Yes, we’ll spend the day with them both. Watch him work. Hotaru says he constantly teaches her even when they’re doing something fun. We’ll come back and tell Setsuna what we think, and then she’ll …”
“… go right on being obsessed. Not a good idea, Michiru. Beside, Hotaru still has to solve that riddle.”
“Oh, I’ll bet you even if she doesn’t, they’ll still go.”
“Not a good idea, Michiru.”
They walked another couple of blocks.
“If she solves the riddle, we go,” said Michiru with that combination of “indulge me” sweetness and royal command that she did so well.
Haruka sighed: her usual sign of acquiescence.
Michiru hugged her arm more tightly and then saw something in a store she wanted.
“Let’s go in there.”
Saturday was spent by everyone doing school work. It was a busy time of the term and no one could afford to put it off. Hotaru wanted to finish her review and preparation sheets for Monday’s lessons, so that Sunday’s shopping and leisure time would also allow her time to think about the riddle. Setsuna had a new angle she wanted to work into her term paper and would have to spend most of the day on it. Even Haruka and Michiru had to put aside the appearance of being independently wealthy, devil-may-care socialites, hunker down and get some school work done now and then. Michiru also had to squeeze in some practice time, and if they were going to notch another yet absence from school on Monday, both of them would even have to work ahead. It was a lousy way to spend a lovely fall Saturday, but Hotaru found herself enjoying it. It was nice that everyone was together doing the same thing, whatever it was. The day waxed and waned with everyone whiling away at their tasks, all to the sound of Hotaru happily humming in the background.
On Sunday morning, Hotaru came down to breakfast, yawning. Setsuna was serving breakfast to Haruka, and Michiru was just coming in as well.
“Good morning, Hotaru,” Haruka said as she sipped coffee.
“Good morning, Haruka-poppa, Setsuna-momma.”
“You seem cheerful today, Hotaru,” said Setsuna.
Hotaru smiled a self satisfied smile. “Hmm, yes. By the way, when we go shopping today, can I get new bathing suit? I want one that matches the color of dolphins.”
“You figured out the riddle?” asked Haruka, as Michiru took note of the “oh, damn!” look on Haruka’s face.
“Yes, when I woke up in the middle of the night to get a drink. It’s all in the wording.”
“I figured it out Friday night,” Haruka said nonchalantly.
“Really?” asked Michiru.
“Yeah, it’s easy. I just thought about it in terms of auto-racing.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” asked Michiru.
“Because Friday night, you were doing all the talking,” said Haruka playfully. “I didn’t know you were thinking about it, too.”
“Well, I was and … auto racing, huh?” she said, thinking hard.
“Just substitute race car for horse.”
Michiru looked thoughtful as Setsuna brought her some coffee. She had just taken a sip when her face lit up.
“Hmmm, oh, how silly. The wise man told them to …”
“Wait, Michiru,” interrupted Haruka, as Setsuna, who was setting a plate in front of Michiru, looked up too, “I want Hotaru to prove she really knows before you say it.”
“Oh?” said Hotaru with indignation. “How do I know that you two actually don’t have the answer and are conspiring to trick me into giving it to you?”
“Princess, would we do that to you?”
Hotaru looked defiant, though amused.
“Okay then, here’s what we’ll do,” Haruka said, leaning back in the chair, and reaching behind her. She took a sheet of note paper and tore it into four sections. “Here are four slips of paper. We’ll each write down the answer, and then fold it up and pass it to the person on our left.”
The three of them began writing immediately and then folded the paper to pass it to the person on their left. But Michiru held up. Setsuna had not started writing yet, prompting her to ask slyly, “Setsuna, you already know the answer, don’t you?”
All three of them looked at her, smiling.
“No,” she finally had to admit.
“Really?” Hotaru asked, looking very surprised. “Setsuna-momma, I figured you’d heard the answer to every riddle in the world.”
Moderately icy stare.
“Sorry, Setsuna-momma, I didn’t mean it that way. It just that you’re … so wise …”
“Great save, Hotaru,” said Haruka who was really smiling now. “Okay, then, just the three of us.”
Michiru reached across the table to hand her slip to Hotaru; Hotaru’s went to Haruka, and Haruka’s to Michiru. All three of them looked and nodded. Each of them had written the same two words. Haruka then collected the papers, and said, “Good work, Hotaru. I’ll just keep these safe in my pocket until Setsuna gets up to speed.”
Setsuna pretended to ignore everyone as they finished breakfast. Then, Hotaru went upstairs to get ready for the shopping expedition.
“You know, she is really happy these days,” said Haruka.
“Yes,” said Michiru. “In fact, she has never seemed happier.”
Then she looked directly at Haruka and mouthed the words ‘we’re going.’
The day’s shopping, normally something Hotaru looked forward to, ended up being quite tedious. She found a suitable bathing suit for Monday’s excursion in the first store they went into. She spent the rest of the time watching any clock she could see, waiting for the hour of the program to arrive. Sony Channel Server, the first Japanese TiVo-type service was the easiest thing in the world to program. You could do it from a remote website, or even your cell phone, if your plans had changed and you suddenly found weren’t going to be home when you thought. Still, she worried that she’d gotten it wrong. The afternoon was spent with Hotaru distracted and itching to get home, while her guardians casually shopped, sipped coffee and tea, and, in a couple of stores, had Hotaru try on different fall and winter clothes as she had grown a bit since last year. When they got home, Hotaru ran upstairs to put everything away, and then rushed back down to watch the concert she recorded. Sure enough, it was indeed her tutor who walked out onto the stage and sat down at the piano, looking very sharp in black tails, with a silky white tie and vest.
‘Well, this will be interesting,’ she thought. She would finally get a chance to see a little of those ‘fun things he did to keep busy.’ Michiru joined her and did a sort of running commentary. As the piece progressed, Michiru thought he might have been a bit anxious.
“Now look,” said Michiru, “see how he’s watching the conductor? You can tell he’s only had the one rehearsal. He has to keep checking for the tempi.”
“It’s neat that he doesn’t even have to look at the piano.”
“Nothing unusual about that,” said Michiru, “you don’t have to look at your fingerboard anymore. When you are that at one with the instrument, that’s when the real music making begins … ah, now there, they must have switched to the Saturday night performance.”
“Oh, I see it, yes. He has on a black tie and vest now. There was a second performance?”
“Yes. If we’d had tickets, I would have mentioned it sooner, but we didn’t, and besides we all really needed to get some school work done.”
“It’s okay, Michiru-momma. I would probably have fallen asleep through most of it. Those things are always so late at night. He’s playing a lot by himself now. It is a cadenza?”
“No, that’s just the way the composer wrote it.”
“Does that give a soloist more freedom?”
“Yes and no,” said Michiru. “There is a certain amount of give and take, but the performer still has a responsibility to play it within the constraints of the overall performance. That’s why the conductor is so important. The conductor is the boss, and the best conductors are those who can allow for a maximum of expression on the part of all the performers whenever possible. But the conductor sets the tenor of the performance.”
“I like this piece,” said Hotaru.
“It does have its appeal,” Michiru replied. “Certainly requires virtuosity. I wonder if he knows any Rachmaninoff or Scriabin?”
Hotaru was slightly distracted from the rest of the performance because about midway through, she noticed a reflection in the TV screen. Setsuna was well caught up on her course work, and decided to spend the rest of the day working on a white dress that, once she had finalized the design, required some elaborate and tedious embroidery. It was taxing even her legendary patience, but she was close to finishing it. She needed only a bit more fabric to complete the sleeves. However, as Hotaru now noticed, she was surreptitiously watching the performance from the dining area, the dress sitting inert beneath her hands on the dinner table. Setsuna’s ‘dislike’ of music was not visceral. It merely depended on mood or her purpose at a given moment. There were times when she obviously and positively enjoyed music, so it was hard for Hotaru to judge how many checked off boxes this was worth, if any. Setsuna watched the entire performance, and, Hotaru realized, this put to rest the idea that “Kuryakin as a threat” had anything to do with the Senshi. ‘If she really is thinking of him that way, it must be that she sees him as a bit of a personal threat,’ she thought. ‘It might complicate things badly, if he ever tries …' In the end, Hotaru decided to tick off one box, because even though she knew how tedious the work on the dress had become for Setsuna, and that she might welcome a brief distraction from it, she also knew Setsuna was utterly determined to finish it. The performance ended with enthusiastic applause from the audience as Kuryakin shook hands with the conductor and the concert master, and then bowed appreciatively to the orchestra, and then warmly to the audience.
“He is tall, isn’t he?”
“Yes,” said Michiru. “I don’t recognize the conductor. Boy, he is young. Normally, Kashkenorzy conducts them, and that not his assistant conductor, Ahranova, either.”
“Well, that was neat,” said Hotaru. “I’ll have to ask him about it tomorrow.”
Michiru smiled. “Okay, let’s go help with dinner. Did you enjoy that, Setsuna?”
“Oh, I was working on the dress. I was not really watching,” she said.
‘Two boxes,’ thought Hotaru, as she also began to think hard about possible ways to soften Setsuna-momma up, should it end up her tutor really did like her, and tried to ask her out.
Later that evening, Kuryakin called to find out if Hotaru could answer the riddle. Setsuna was busy upstairs and did not realize who had called, a shame really. Hotaru gladly took it ...
(Word Limit Reached)
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