L'Oiseau Bleu: Part 1
Re-uploaded due to request (I know - I can't believe people actually read this either!). It comes across pretty quickly, but since this is inspired by the D song, the character of Tsubari is based on Asagi. Part 2 is on its way.
Part 1
Snap.
I froze as something crackled beneath my foot. A small sigh of relief escaped my lips, however, when my eyes fell upon a thin branch, split in two under my heel. To the right, chunks of rubble lay strewn in front of a collapsed section of wall, and holding everything together were vines, hundreds of ivy tendrils that entwined around anything they could take hold of: stone pieces, leaves and fragments of semi-decayed twigs blown in from the balcony outside. It seemed this place had once been magnificent; now, though, it was just a ruin, abused by time, neglected and forgotten.
As I continued through each decaying room, a light noise reached my ears. It started out very faintly, but after a few minutes it had grown in volume to the point where I was able to make out what it was - music. I paused for a moment. Music, in this place? Was it a figment of my imagination? No, I finally decided - as strange as it seemed, there was no mistaking that it was real; and not only that, but its source seemed near.
Slowly, I proceeded through more rooms, passing the occasional crumbling sofa or rusted lamp. It was clear to me now that I was heading in the right direction: each step I took brought me closer to the music that seemed to become louder and more beautiful the longer I listened. I had to find where it was coming from - the idea was now more of a need than a want.
Finally, I reached a room with a set of stairs snaking upwards in a tight spiral. There was no hesitation in my step as I headed up it, running my hand lightly along the black bars of the railings as I did so. So close… I could feel my heartbeat in my throat. What if I was walking straight into danger? Now that I thought about it, something seemed a little off about this whole place. Clearly, it had once been inhabited, yet now only the ivy remained, engulfing everything in its path like deadly fingers. The scene reminded me like the setting of a fairytale - one whose time for telling had long since passed.
The room at the top of the staircase appeared to be bigger than most of the others I'd come across, but that was probably due to the fact that one of its walls had been knocked through onto a small balcony. A stone statue of an angel lay on the floor by the opening, its weathered face split in two from jaw to ear. Needless to say, it had been swallowed by the same tendrils that covered the walls and floor in an intricate net, though unlike the other rooms, this had been invaded by another type of plant that lay scattered amongst the web - roses.
The thing that intrigued me the most, however, was the piano in the middle of the room, not to mention the one who sat in front of it. His fingers glided over the keys as though the action were second nature to him, and his face was hidden.
Then, all of a sudden, the music stopped.
“Can I help you?”
I froze when I heard the man speak. Slowly, he pulled his hands back from the piano and repositioned himself on the stool so that he was facing in my direction.
“Do your parents know you're here? Don't you think they'd be worried about you?” he asked, looking straight at me.
All I could do was stutter a reply. “N-no. I'm thirteen - I can look after myself…”
There was something oddly enchanting about him: in all my life, I was unable to remember setting eyes upon someone so beautiful, regardless of gender or age. Skin pale as the stone of the broken angel was framed by black hair that cascaded over one eye and flowed past his chin. At first glance, it looked as though he was wearing a kimono, but now that I looked closer, I could see that it was more of a thin and complicated cloak-like garment, falling in folds and highlighted by deep blue and silver embellishments.
“Thirteen… I remember when I was thirteen,” he said with a soft chuckle. “My hair was shorter then.” His words were slow, lethargic, and his one visible eye was darkened by faint bags, leading me to wonder whether he had ever stuck to a regular sleeping pattern. “Would you like to sit down?”
“Um…” My eyes encircled the room before falling on the small section of stool beside him, just large enough to seat someone of my size. I shot him an uncertain glance, reasoning with myself whether or not it was safe to go near this person, but in the end, curiosity overran my gut instinct, and I took a seat.
The man was warm next to me, a sharp contrast to the cold that was beginning to prickle all over my skin. Once I was comfortable, I looked up to see him staring down at the piano with a vacant look in his eye, as if he were already running his hands over the keys in his mind.
“Was that you playing earlier?” I asked for lack of anything else to say. “It was beautiful.”
“Thank you,” he replied, smiling slightly. “I was just improvising - it's nowhere near perfect yet.”
I simply nodded and looked down at my hands in my lap. They were trembling slightly - was it the temperature? Perhaps it was the nervousness I could feel… What was this place? Why was I here? And most of all, who was this strange person? There were so many questions flooding my mind that I didn't notice the man moving until his arm was nestled around my shoulders.
“You look cold,” he said.
Black material draped over my back and side, warm with body heat; normally, I would have rejected such advances from a stranger, but it seemed that he was being careful not to get too close - as if he could sense my unease.
“What's your name?” I asked.
“Hmm? Oh, it's Tsubari.”
I paused, waiting to see if he was going to ask mine in return, but he didn't. My eyes fell to the worn keys of the piano in front of me: most were chipped and cracked so much it was difficult to imagine that someone could actually force a tune from them.
“Do you want to learn how to play?”
I looked up to see Tsubari staring at me.
“I'm fine,” I replied without really considering the question. Instead, my mind was in other places. Wave upon wave of uncertainties flooded my head - it was hard to pinpoint any one emotion. And yet, strangely enough, the thought of being alone with a complete stranger wasn't as frightening as I might have thought. The material around my shoulders was warm, and I couldn't sense any feelings of hostility or anger in the man. It was as though I wanted to feel at ease, but a small part was determined to hold be back, no matter what.
“I've always preferred the piano over other instruments,” Tsubari said. His voice never crept far beyond a whisper. “It's the only instrument where you can just close your eyes and allow your hands to play out what you're feeling. That is once you get accustomed to the keys, of course.”
“Like singing, then?” I allowed myself to play along as a distraction.
“Singing?” He chuckled softly. “Why, do you sing?”
“No…” I felt myself grow red. “I took lessons, but stopped a few months ago.”
“Oh? How long did they last?”
“Just over two years,” I mumbled.
Tsubari smiled, a little energy finally lighting his face. “Well, why not do a duet? You can sing whilst I play along.”
“No, I'm terrible, honestly. Please…” My heart was sprinting. I knew that all this was a huge overreaction, but I'd never had any confidence when it came to my voice, and the thought of having to use it in front of someone else - a stranger at that - was unnerving.
“How can you be terrible if you sang for two years? If you were that bad, you would have stopped lessons long ago. Now come on, I'll play something to start you off…”
At once, his hand left my shoulder and flew towards the piano. Once it was reunited with the other, it began to waltz in a slow but complex tune, with small flicks of the wrist marking out grace notes and turns that gave the piece an almost elegant depth, as if had been written for aristocrats.
I stared at his hands, trying to work out whether his skin was paler against the ivory or vice versa. However, my eyes flicked downwards when I realised that I was being watched; clearly, he was expecting something.
It was twenty full seconds before Tsubari finally retracted. He breathed out and ran his fingers through the fringe that obscured one eye before letting it fall back into place. “I'm sorry - that was wrong of me.”
“It's fine,” I assured him, and to my surprise, I realised I was telling the truth. There was no anger within me, no resentment towards the man for putting me under such pressure; rather, I felt a little guilty for reacting in such a way.
He twisted his whole body round to face me on the stool. “Are you cold? You look a little pale.”
“Not as pale as you,” I replied lightly, but stopped when I saw the seriousness of his expression.
“I was born like this, but you at least had some colour when you arrived. Now turn around.”
His voice carried the subtle authority of a schoolteacher. It took me back somewhat. Carefully, I moved so that my back was resting against him on the stool - there was just enough room for me to cross my legs as well. When Tsubari put his arms around me this time, however, I didn't feel nearly as uncomfortable as I had done earlier. I leaned back and pulled the feathery material around my shoulders like a blanket, shielding myself from the icy chill that was just starting to gnaw away at me.
A lingering silence hung between us. I was half-expecting Tsubari to say something, but when no words came, I decided to break it myself. “Was that an improvisation as well?”
“Hmm?” It was strange to hear the man's voice so close - it almost took on a richer depth. “Oh, no, it was actually one I wrote for my wife a few years back as a duet. I suppose I got overexcited and lost myself…”
“It's fine,” I repeated, then added, “You have a wife?”
“'Had',” he corrected. “She left me.”
“Oh, I'm sorry.”
“Don't worry about it.”
I didn't have to turn around to sense the sadness that was arising within Tsubari. My friends at school usually came to me if they were upset about something, so I was used to consoling people, but this was something completely different. What was I supposed to do? Tell him it was all okay and that things would get better? It was a strange feeling, but somehow I could feel a deep, lingering helplessness for the person I had only known twenty minutes at the most.
“I'm not trying to push my problems onto you,” he said, as if he could read what I was thinking. “It was too long ago to care about, anyway.”
I moved back an inch or so, finally feeling the warmth reach my frozen limbs. “You can tell me if you want. She seems nice.”
Tsubari sighed quietly. “She was. And beautiful - more so than anyone I've ever seen before.” His speech had fallen to a more relaxed pace, as if he were remembering something, but then he snapped back to normal again. “But I have no intention of boring you with my life story, though.”
“I promise I won't get bored. Please tell me,” I urged. I was genuinely interested now. This man clearly had secrets, and although I was sure he wasn't prepared to tell me them all, I guessed that I'd be able to understand him better if I knew a little about his past.
All around us, roses littered the floor, as fresh as if they had been cut within the hour. I noticed they were on the man's clothes too, tiny blue flowers embellished into the hems and running along his sleeves. It made him seem more like a part of the furniture than an actual living being.
Tsubari sighed, his whole body heaving behind me. “I haven't really spoken about it to anyone before…”
“I wouldn't tell anyone.”
There was a pause. “All right, then.”
I couldn't help but grin at my victory, and waited patiently for him to start.
Tsubari was hesitant, as if considering the best way to begin. “You want to know about my wife… Well, she was beautiful, and gentle - I probably couldn't have created a better person if I'd designed her myself. My parents would have disowned me if they'd found out about our relationship. You see, I come from a family where everyone is expected to marry their relatives in order to continue the bloodline. We prize ourselves very highly, selecting the ones who we believe will make strong children and pairing them together. For me, it was my elder sister, Onika, who was chosen.” His hand tightened into a fist. “It's disgusting, like factory breeding…
He shook his head. “I'd grown up with Onika all my life. She was my best friend through my childhoof years - I even considered her my mother at times.” A forced chuckle. “The age difference was only four years, but I looked up to her like a child looks up to their parents.”
“I have a friend like that,” I said. “Well, technically, he's my cousin. Niko. He lives a while away, but I see him most weekends.”
“Well, what if you were suddenly told that you had to marry Niko in a few years' time?”
I didn't even have to consider that to be filled with disgust at the very mention of such a thing.
Tsubari continued. “The day I reached eighteen, I was informed of the news: I was to wed Onika. What's more, the two of us were expected to produce a healthy child within the first year. I begged my parents to withdraw their decision, but it was useless - they were adamant. It wasn't as though I disliked my sister, or even found her unattractive. There was just something very, very wrong about the whole situation, and I knew that if I went ahead, I would live out the remainder of my life in misery.
“So a few days after finding out, I decided to leave home. It wasn't permanent, of course - I just needed some time to calm down and reconsider everything carefully. I headed to an inn that I would usually visit with friends. I knew its owners quite well, so when I told them I needed some time alone, they completely understood.”
I could have been wrong, but the whole thing appeared to be taking on the plot of a fairytale, and the way Tsubari told it sounded like he was reading straight from the pages.
“You met your wife there, didn't you?”
Again, the man chuckled and wrapped his arms tighter around me. “Clever. Yes, I first saw her there that day… And she was absolutely beautiful.”
“What, prettier than you?” I said with a smile.
“I'm not pretty, or beautiful,” he replied in a dangerously low tone. “Please don't ever say that again.”
I frowned. I'd come to realise in my life when people were being modest and simply denying compliments out of politeness, but Tsubari appeared to be absolutely serious. What's more, his words came out almost like a warning.
Or a threat.
“Sorry,” I muttered.
“I'm not beautiful.” His moody tone reminded me of an awkward child.
A fresh tension hung in the air. Behind me, the man was unmoving - I couldn't even feel him breathing anymore.
“Tsubari?” I whispered.
Silence. Then after a few seconds, a reply came. “Yes?”
“Are you okay? You spaced out.”
“Oh, sorry,” he mumbled. “I started thinking and completely forgot you were here.”
I blinked and shook my head. “It's fine. You were talking about the girl…”
“Of course.” Once again, Tsubari shifted on the chair, brushing a strand of black from his eyes before replacing his hand against me. “She was sitting alone at one of the tables. At first, I simply ignored her, too wrapped up in my own thoughts to care about anyone else. She'd obviously been watching me, as she approached soon after, and from there we began to talk. I hate to use the words 'love at first sight' but, well, that was certainly how it seemed. The days passed, and I began to visit her, perhaps two or three times a week. When I was at home, all I did was think about her - at one point I even started to wonder if this was the feeling people labelled as 'obsession'. My family suspected nothing. Before, I'd usually leave home for a few days and then return, so this was no different to them.” He sighed, then added bitterly, “I suppose they were too busy preparing for the wedding to notice anyway.
“Three months passed, and my visits become more frequent. I was now spending as much time with her as I was at my own home - sometimes I even stayed over for days at a time. I simply couldn't help it: I loved her more than anything else, even more than the very life I had been blessed with. If she'd asked me, I probably would have been ready to throw away everything I knew if it meant I could stay with her.
“Meanwhile, Onika became ever more interested in me and my personal life. Dangerously interested… It wasn't as if I didn't love my sister still. In fact, I felt horrible for deceiving her and my family. But this was my life, and I wasn't going to let them shackle me down any longer. Each day I turned further away from them, leaving the house as often as I could and confining myself to my room when I wasn't able to. Every day was just a case of trying to forge happiness in front of the others, until the moment when I could take the opportunity and run away for good.
“And then one evening…”
The words faded into silence again, though this time the pause only lasted for a few seconds. Tsubari's voice returned in a much quieter, controlled tone, as if he were selecting each word very carefully.
“One evening, I came home to find Onika sitting on my bedroom floor. At first, I thought that she'd been injured in some horrific way: blood drenched her clothes and stained her skin a nauseating red. When I looked closer, however, I noticed that there were… Things scattered across the ground - vile things, coloured in the same red. It didn't take long for me to work out that they were body pieces, barely recognisable due to the careless fashion in which they'd been hacked from one another.
“I couldn't take in the sight. I just stood there, trying to stop myself from vomiting. Perhaps if it had been someone else - a completely unrelated person pulled off the road, perhaps - then I wouldn't have reacted so violently; but I recognised the shape of the hands, the colour of the skin peeking through… I…”
My eyes widened, and I felt my senses filling up with a sickening horror. To think that something like that had actually happened… In my mind, I could picture everything in vivid, nauseating detail, and the way Tsubari described it only made it worse. His body was trembling behind me, though I managed to collect myself enough to place a hand on top of his, to offer him at least a little comfort. “I'm sorry,” I muttered softly. “I'm really, really sorry…”
He shook his head, and I felt his shaking hand close into a fist. “Two people died that day.” His voice was quivered with each word. “I… I took hold of my sister's hair, dragged her to the bed and held her down in the pillow… I was so angry. I wanted to hurt her, but I didn't mean… I didn't…”
Tsubari's words melted into sobs as he clutched me like a pillow and cried into my hair. It was shocking - disturbing, almost - to see how much it affected him, even now. Though I could understand: no matter how hard I tried, I simply could not force from my head the images that kept replaying over and over again, like a broken film reel. I could tell the same went for Tsubari. He'd tried to drown out the memories, but every time he came close, they would just spring back again and he'd end up breaking down, locked with a scene he was unable to escape from.
If everything was true - and I didn't believe for one moment that I was being lied to - then I was sitting alone with a murderer. I should have been scared, yet instead I felt a burning sadness for the man I hadn't even known for an hour. I wanted to do something to help, anything… But how? Everything had already happened - I couldn't turn back time and change what had passed. Of course, that led to so many more complications. Were the police after Tsubari? Taking someone's life was punishable by a life sentence, sometimes even death, and if word escaped, there was no doubt he would be blamed for both killings. Was that the reason why he was hiding here, in this isolated house?
“Tsubari. If you don't mind me asking, how long ago was this?”
He sniffed and said, “A while ago. God, I'm so stupid for still acting like this...”
“You're not stupid,” I said firmly. “I think you're brave for being able to withstand all your family's pressure for so long. I'd never be able to do something like that.”
When Tsubari spoke again, there was a slight hysteric edge to his voice. “I am stupid. I shouldn't have told you so much... God, what have I done?”
At that, I broke away from his arms with little resistance and turned around to face him. Even when fully standing, I fell an inch or two short of his height. A sudden wave of emotion rose within me and I allowed it out in a huge catharsis that even I was not aware I was capable of.
“Tsubari! You are not stupid - get it out of your head! What happened to you was horrible, yes, but you act so hard done-by and put yourself down again and again. If you think that's bad... If that's so bad, then what about me? Both my parents died when I was a baby - I grew up with no brothers or sisters, not to mention a mum and dad to love me. But I still enjoy myself. I don't think my life is a ruin. So just pull yourself together and stop being so... Stop being so stupid!”
My fists were almost white with the pressure of being clasped together so hard. Never in my life had I shouted so loud at someone; but then again, never before had I felt so utterly furious at a single person. Weren't adults supposed to be people that children like me could look up to? When someone called themselves stupid, they were denouncing every piece of worth attached to them, and Tsubari clearly wasn't useless. The way he constantly put himself down constantly was just... Wrong.
Perhaps I was overreacting, but I hated the word more than any other. I could remember a few instances when I'd been labelled so: my uncle, who had taken me on following my parents' deaths, seemed to love the word - nowadays wasn't as bad, but growing up with a drunk meant I'd gained many new nicknames, many of which I didn't even understand until I was older. I didn't mention that to Tsubari, though.
The man was still, his hair casting shadows upon his face so that only the straight set of his mouth was visible. The blue that seemed to shine from his clothes in the light was still present, but some had fallen away to reveal what looked like a tattoo etched into his skin in black ink. It was difficult to tell exactly what design it was, since most of it was hidden, though at one point I thought I could spot the edge of a rose leaf and flower.
Minutes passed as I calmed down and cleared my mind, but still Tsubari didn't move. Panic worked its way into my head - had I gone too far in shouting? Regardless of how mature I deemed myself, the grim reality still remained: I was a fourteen year-old facing up to a man of more than twice my age. If he'd wanted to, he could have done anything to me, and I would have been utterly helpless to stop him. All this time, I'd lured myself into a sense of security, but now I could feel those original feelings of wariness and uncertainty returning.
“I... I know,” he said finally. “I know about your parents.”
“What?”
He raised his head and wiped his eye with his thumb. “I know that your mum died in childbirth and your dad of cancer a few months later - that's the reason you live with your uncle now.”
My whole body was rigid. “H-how could you know something like that?” Could he read my mind? Perhaps he was a stalker; because no matter how perceptive a person was, it was impossible to guess such precise facts. Something was very wrong.
Tsubari continued: “I know you attend the Ogawa Academy in Nagasaki and intend to major in English when you move into your exams. It's because your dream is to work in translation for a national newspaper. You love rice dishes, especially onigiri, but hate taro. Your favourite colour is pink. As for pets, you have a hamster called Donna and a cat named Tiggy-”
“Stop! H-how...” But I was too shocked to finish the sentence. I allowed myself to take a step back, towards the door. There was something wrong here, something unnatural. How could I have been so stupid as to trust him? I'd been told about these kinds of people - adults who followed children and watched them as they travelled to and from school, sometimes even spying on them in their own home. Of course, I'd always dismissed the idea that such people lived in my area, yet now I found myself staring upon just that. Anyone who knew so much about a child they'd never met had to be some kind of stalker.
I had to get out of here - now.
Next Chapter→
Part 1
Snap.
I froze as something crackled beneath my foot. A small sigh of relief escaped my lips, however, when my eyes fell upon a thin branch, split in two under my heel. To the right, chunks of rubble lay strewn in front of a collapsed section of wall, and holding everything together were vines, hundreds of ivy tendrils that entwined around anything they could take hold of: stone pieces, leaves and fragments of semi-decayed twigs blown in from the balcony outside. It seemed this place had once been magnificent; now, though, it was just a ruin, abused by time, neglected and forgotten.
As I continued through each decaying room, a light noise reached my ears. It started out very faintly, but after a few minutes it had grown in volume to the point where I was able to make out what it was - music. I paused for a moment. Music, in this place? Was it a figment of my imagination? No, I finally decided - as strange as it seemed, there was no mistaking that it was real; and not only that, but its source seemed near.
Slowly, I proceeded through more rooms, passing the occasional crumbling sofa or rusted lamp. It was clear to me now that I was heading in the right direction: each step I took brought me closer to the music that seemed to become louder and more beautiful the longer I listened. I had to find where it was coming from - the idea was now more of a need than a want.
Finally, I reached a room with a set of stairs snaking upwards in a tight spiral. There was no hesitation in my step as I headed up it, running my hand lightly along the black bars of the railings as I did so. So close… I could feel my heartbeat in my throat. What if I was walking straight into danger? Now that I thought about it, something seemed a little off about this whole place. Clearly, it had once been inhabited, yet now only the ivy remained, engulfing everything in its path like deadly fingers. The scene reminded me like the setting of a fairytale - one whose time for telling had long since passed.
The room at the top of the staircase appeared to be bigger than most of the others I'd come across, but that was probably due to the fact that one of its walls had been knocked through onto a small balcony. A stone statue of an angel lay on the floor by the opening, its weathered face split in two from jaw to ear. Needless to say, it had been swallowed by the same tendrils that covered the walls and floor in an intricate net, though unlike the other rooms, this had been invaded by another type of plant that lay scattered amongst the web - roses.
The thing that intrigued me the most, however, was the piano in the middle of the room, not to mention the one who sat in front of it. His fingers glided over the keys as though the action were second nature to him, and his face was hidden.
Then, all of a sudden, the music stopped.
“Can I help you?”
I froze when I heard the man speak. Slowly, he pulled his hands back from the piano and repositioned himself on the stool so that he was facing in my direction.
“Do your parents know you're here? Don't you think they'd be worried about you?” he asked, looking straight at me.
All I could do was stutter a reply. “N-no. I'm thirteen - I can look after myself…”
There was something oddly enchanting about him: in all my life, I was unable to remember setting eyes upon someone so beautiful, regardless of gender or age. Skin pale as the stone of the broken angel was framed by black hair that cascaded over one eye and flowed past his chin. At first glance, it looked as though he was wearing a kimono, but now that I looked closer, I could see that it was more of a thin and complicated cloak-like garment, falling in folds and highlighted by deep blue and silver embellishments.
“Thirteen… I remember when I was thirteen,” he said with a soft chuckle. “My hair was shorter then.” His words were slow, lethargic, and his one visible eye was darkened by faint bags, leading me to wonder whether he had ever stuck to a regular sleeping pattern. “Would you like to sit down?”
“Um…” My eyes encircled the room before falling on the small section of stool beside him, just large enough to seat someone of my size. I shot him an uncertain glance, reasoning with myself whether or not it was safe to go near this person, but in the end, curiosity overran my gut instinct, and I took a seat.
The man was warm next to me, a sharp contrast to the cold that was beginning to prickle all over my skin. Once I was comfortable, I looked up to see him staring down at the piano with a vacant look in his eye, as if he were already running his hands over the keys in his mind.
“Was that you playing earlier?” I asked for lack of anything else to say. “It was beautiful.”
“Thank you,” he replied, smiling slightly. “I was just improvising - it's nowhere near perfect yet.”
I simply nodded and looked down at my hands in my lap. They were trembling slightly - was it the temperature? Perhaps it was the nervousness I could feel… What was this place? Why was I here? And most of all, who was this strange person? There were so many questions flooding my mind that I didn't notice the man moving until his arm was nestled around my shoulders.
“You look cold,” he said.
Black material draped over my back and side, warm with body heat; normally, I would have rejected such advances from a stranger, but it seemed that he was being careful not to get too close - as if he could sense my unease.
“What's your name?” I asked.
“Hmm? Oh, it's Tsubari.”
I paused, waiting to see if he was going to ask mine in return, but he didn't. My eyes fell to the worn keys of the piano in front of me: most were chipped and cracked so much it was difficult to imagine that someone could actually force a tune from them.
“Do you want to learn how to play?”
I looked up to see Tsubari staring at me.
“I'm fine,” I replied without really considering the question. Instead, my mind was in other places. Wave upon wave of uncertainties flooded my head - it was hard to pinpoint any one emotion. And yet, strangely enough, the thought of being alone with a complete stranger wasn't as frightening as I might have thought. The material around my shoulders was warm, and I couldn't sense any feelings of hostility or anger in the man. It was as though I wanted to feel at ease, but a small part was determined to hold be back, no matter what.
“I've always preferred the piano over other instruments,” Tsubari said. His voice never crept far beyond a whisper. “It's the only instrument where you can just close your eyes and allow your hands to play out what you're feeling. That is once you get accustomed to the keys, of course.”
“Like singing, then?” I allowed myself to play along as a distraction.
“Singing?” He chuckled softly. “Why, do you sing?”
“No…” I felt myself grow red. “I took lessons, but stopped a few months ago.”
“Oh? How long did they last?”
“Just over two years,” I mumbled.
Tsubari smiled, a little energy finally lighting his face. “Well, why not do a duet? You can sing whilst I play along.”
“No, I'm terrible, honestly. Please…” My heart was sprinting. I knew that all this was a huge overreaction, but I'd never had any confidence when it came to my voice, and the thought of having to use it in front of someone else - a stranger at that - was unnerving.
“How can you be terrible if you sang for two years? If you were that bad, you would have stopped lessons long ago. Now come on, I'll play something to start you off…”
At once, his hand left my shoulder and flew towards the piano. Once it was reunited with the other, it began to waltz in a slow but complex tune, with small flicks of the wrist marking out grace notes and turns that gave the piece an almost elegant depth, as if had been written for aristocrats.
I stared at his hands, trying to work out whether his skin was paler against the ivory or vice versa. However, my eyes flicked downwards when I realised that I was being watched; clearly, he was expecting something.
It was twenty full seconds before Tsubari finally retracted. He breathed out and ran his fingers through the fringe that obscured one eye before letting it fall back into place. “I'm sorry - that was wrong of me.”
“It's fine,” I assured him, and to my surprise, I realised I was telling the truth. There was no anger within me, no resentment towards the man for putting me under such pressure; rather, I felt a little guilty for reacting in such a way.
He twisted his whole body round to face me on the stool. “Are you cold? You look a little pale.”
“Not as pale as you,” I replied lightly, but stopped when I saw the seriousness of his expression.
“I was born like this, but you at least had some colour when you arrived. Now turn around.”
His voice carried the subtle authority of a schoolteacher. It took me back somewhat. Carefully, I moved so that my back was resting against him on the stool - there was just enough room for me to cross my legs as well. When Tsubari put his arms around me this time, however, I didn't feel nearly as uncomfortable as I had done earlier. I leaned back and pulled the feathery material around my shoulders like a blanket, shielding myself from the icy chill that was just starting to gnaw away at me.
A lingering silence hung between us. I was half-expecting Tsubari to say something, but when no words came, I decided to break it myself. “Was that an improvisation as well?”
“Hmm?” It was strange to hear the man's voice so close - it almost took on a richer depth. “Oh, no, it was actually one I wrote for my wife a few years back as a duet. I suppose I got overexcited and lost myself…”
“It's fine,” I repeated, then added, “You have a wife?”
“'Had',” he corrected. “She left me.”
“Oh, I'm sorry.”
“Don't worry about it.”
I didn't have to turn around to sense the sadness that was arising within Tsubari. My friends at school usually came to me if they were upset about something, so I was used to consoling people, but this was something completely different. What was I supposed to do? Tell him it was all okay and that things would get better? It was a strange feeling, but somehow I could feel a deep, lingering helplessness for the person I had only known twenty minutes at the most.
“I'm not trying to push my problems onto you,” he said, as if he could read what I was thinking. “It was too long ago to care about, anyway.”
I moved back an inch or so, finally feeling the warmth reach my frozen limbs. “You can tell me if you want. She seems nice.”
Tsubari sighed quietly. “She was. And beautiful - more so than anyone I've ever seen before.” His speech had fallen to a more relaxed pace, as if he were remembering something, but then he snapped back to normal again. “But I have no intention of boring you with my life story, though.”
“I promise I won't get bored. Please tell me,” I urged. I was genuinely interested now. This man clearly had secrets, and although I was sure he wasn't prepared to tell me them all, I guessed that I'd be able to understand him better if I knew a little about his past.
All around us, roses littered the floor, as fresh as if they had been cut within the hour. I noticed they were on the man's clothes too, tiny blue flowers embellished into the hems and running along his sleeves. It made him seem more like a part of the furniture than an actual living being.
Tsubari sighed, his whole body heaving behind me. “I haven't really spoken about it to anyone before…”
“I wouldn't tell anyone.”
There was a pause. “All right, then.”
I couldn't help but grin at my victory, and waited patiently for him to start.
Tsubari was hesitant, as if considering the best way to begin. “You want to know about my wife… Well, she was beautiful, and gentle - I probably couldn't have created a better person if I'd designed her myself. My parents would have disowned me if they'd found out about our relationship. You see, I come from a family where everyone is expected to marry their relatives in order to continue the bloodline. We prize ourselves very highly, selecting the ones who we believe will make strong children and pairing them together. For me, it was my elder sister, Onika, who was chosen.” His hand tightened into a fist. “It's disgusting, like factory breeding…
He shook his head. “I'd grown up with Onika all my life. She was my best friend through my childhoof years - I even considered her my mother at times.” A forced chuckle. “The age difference was only four years, but I looked up to her like a child looks up to their parents.”
“I have a friend like that,” I said. “Well, technically, he's my cousin. Niko. He lives a while away, but I see him most weekends.”
“Well, what if you were suddenly told that you had to marry Niko in a few years' time?”
I didn't even have to consider that to be filled with disgust at the very mention of such a thing.
Tsubari continued. “The day I reached eighteen, I was informed of the news: I was to wed Onika. What's more, the two of us were expected to produce a healthy child within the first year. I begged my parents to withdraw their decision, but it was useless - they were adamant. It wasn't as though I disliked my sister, or even found her unattractive. There was just something very, very wrong about the whole situation, and I knew that if I went ahead, I would live out the remainder of my life in misery.
“So a few days after finding out, I decided to leave home. It wasn't permanent, of course - I just needed some time to calm down and reconsider everything carefully. I headed to an inn that I would usually visit with friends. I knew its owners quite well, so when I told them I needed some time alone, they completely understood.”
I could have been wrong, but the whole thing appeared to be taking on the plot of a fairytale, and the way Tsubari told it sounded like he was reading straight from the pages.
“You met your wife there, didn't you?”
Again, the man chuckled and wrapped his arms tighter around me. “Clever. Yes, I first saw her there that day… And she was absolutely beautiful.”
“What, prettier than you?” I said with a smile.
“I'm not pretty, or beautiful,” he replied in a dangerously low tone. “Please don't ever say that again.”
I frowned. I'd come to realise in my life when people were being modest and simply denying compliments out of politeness, but Tsubari appeared to be absolutely serious. What's more, his words came out almost like a warning.
Or a threat.
“Sorry,” I muttered.
“I'm not beautiful.” His moody tone reminded me of an awkward child.
A fresh tension hung in the air. Behind me, the man was unmoving - I couldn't even feel him breathing anymore.
“Tsubari?” I whispered.
Silence. Then after a few seconds, a reply came. “Yes?”
“Are you okay? You spaced out.”
“Oh, sorry,” he mumbled. “I started thinking and completely forgot you were here.”
I blinked and shook my head. “It's fine. You were talking about the girl…”
“Of course.” Once again, Tsubari shifted on the chair, brushing a strand of black from his eyes before replacing his hand against me. “She was sitting alone at one of the tables. At first, I simply ignored her, too wrapped up in my own thoughts to care about anyone else. She'd obviously been watching me, as she approached soon after, and from there we began to talk. I hate to use the words 'love at first sight' but, well, that was certainly how it seemed. The days passed, and I began to visit her, perhaps two or three times a week. When I was at home, all I did was think about her - at one point I even started to wonder if this was the feeling people labelled as 'obsession'. My family suspected nothing. Before, I'd usually leave home for a few days and then return, so this was no different to them.” He sighed, then added bitterly, “I suppose they were too busy preparing for the wedding to notice anyway.
“Three months passed, and my visits become more frequent. I was now spending as much time with her as I was at my own home - sometimes I even stayed over for days at a time. I simply couldn't help it: I loved her more than anything else, even more than the very life I had been blessed with. If she'd asked me, I probably would have been ready to throw away everything I knew if it meant I could stay with her.
“Meanwhile, Onika became ever more interested in me and my personal life. Dangerously interested… It wasn't as if I didn't love my sister still. In fact, I felt horrible for deceiving her and my family. But this was my life, and I wasn't going to let them shackle me down any longer. Each day I turned further away from them, leaving the house as often as I could and confining myself to my room when I wasn't able to. Every day was just a case of trying to forge happiness in front of the others, until the moment when I could take the opportunity and run away for good.
“And then one evening…”
The words faded into silence again, though this time the pause only lasted for a few seconds. Tsubari's voice returned in a much quieter, controlled tone, as if he were selecting each word very carefully.
“One evening, I came home to find Onika sitting on my bedroom floor. At first, I thought that she'd been injured in some horrific way: blood drenched her clothes and stained her skin a nauseating red. When I looked closer, however, I noticed that there were… Things scattered across the ground - vile things, coloured in the same red. It didn't take long for me to work out that they were body pieces, barely recognisable due to the careless fashion in which they'd been hacked from one another.
“I couldn't take in the sight. I just stood there, trying to stop myself from vomiting. Perhaps if it had been someone else - a completely unrelated person pulled off the road, perhaps - then I wouldn't have reacted so violently; but I recognised the shape of the hands, the colour of the skin peeking through… I…”
My eyes widened, and I felt my senses filling up with a sickening horror. To think that something like that had actually happened… In my mind, I could picture everything in vivid, nauseating detail, and the way Tsubari described it only made it worse. His body was trembling behind me, though I managed to collect myself enough to place a hand on top of his, to offer him at least a little comfort. “I'm sorry,” I muttered softly. “I'm really, really sorry…”
He shook his head, and I felt his shaking hand close into a fist. “Two people died that day.” His voice was quivered with each word. “I… I took hold of my sister's hair, dragged her to the bed and held her down in the pillow… I was so angry. I wanted to hurt her, but I didn't mean… I didn't…”
Tsubari's words melted into sobs as he clutched me like a pillow and cried into my hair. It was shocking - disturbing, almost - to see how much it affected him, even now. Though I could understand: no matter how hard I tried, I simply could not force from my head the images that kept replaying over and over again, like a broken film reel. I could tell the same went for Tsubari. He'd tried to drown out the memories, but every time he came close, they would just spring back again and he'd end up breaking down, locked with a scene he was unable to escape from.
If everything was true - and I didn't believe for one moment that I was being lied to - then I was sitting alone with a murderer. I should have been scared, yet instead I felt a burning sadness for the man I hadn't even known for an hour. I wanted to do something to help, anything… But how? Everything had already happened - I couldn't turn back time and change what had passed. Of course, that led to so many more complications. Were the police after Tsubari? Taking someone's life was punishable by a life sentence, sometimes even death, and if word escaped, there was no doubt he would be blamed for both killings. Was that the reason why he was hiding here, in this isolated house?
“Tsubari. If you don't mind me asking, how long ago was this?”
He sniffed and said, “A while ago. God, I'm so stupid for still acting like this...”
“You're not stupid,” I said firmly. “I think you're brave for being able to withstand all your family's pressure for so long. I'd never be able to do something like that.”
When Tsubari spoke again, there was a slight hysteric edge to his voice. “I am stupid. I shouldn't have told you so much... God, what have I done?”
At that, I broke away from his arms with little resistance and turned around to face him. Even when fully standing, I fell an inch or two short of his height. A sudden wave of emotion rose within me and I allowed it out in a huge catharsis that even I was not aware I was capable of.
“Tsubari! You are not stupid - get it out of your head! What happened to you was horrible, yes, but you act so hard done-by and put yourself down again and again. If you think that's bad... If that's so bad, then what about me? Both my parents died when I was a baby - I grew up with no brothers or sisters, not to mention a mum and dad to love me. But I still enjoy myself. I don't think my life is a ruin. So just pull yourself together and stop being so... Stop being so stupid!”
My fists were almost white with the pressure of being clasped together so hard. Never in my life had I shouted so loud at someone; but then again, never before had I felt so utterly furious at a single person. Weren't adults supposed to be people that children like me could look up to? When someone called themselves stupid, they were denouncing every piece of worth attached to them, and Tsubari clearly wasn't useless. The way he constantly put himself down constantly was just... Wrong.
Perhaps I was overreacting, but I hated the word more than any other. I could remember a few instances when I'd been labelled so: my uncle, who had taken me on following my parents' deaths, seemed to love the word - nowadays wasn't as bad, but growing up with a drunk meant I'd gained many new nicknames, many of which I didn't even understand until I was older. I didn't mention that to Tsubari, though.
The man was still, his hair casting shadows upon his face so that only the straight set of his mouth was visible. The blue that seemed to shine from his clothes in the light was still present, but some had fallen away to reveal what looked like a tattoo etched into his skin in black ink. It was difficult to tell exactly what design it was, since most of it was hidden, though at one point I thought I could spot the edge of a rose leaf and flower.
Minutes passed as I calmed down and cleared my mind, but still Tsubari didn't move. Panic worked its way into my head - had I gone too far in shouting? Regardless of how mature I deemed myself, the grim reality still remained: I was a fourteen year-old facing up to a man of more than twice my age. If he'd wanted to, he could have done anything to me, and I would have been utterly helpless to stop him. All this time, I'd lured myself into a sense of security, but now I could feel those original feelings of wariness and uncertainty returning.
“I... I know,” he said finally. “I know about your parents.”
“What?”
He raised his head and wiped his eye with his thumb. “I know that your mum died in childbirth and your dad of cancer a few months later - that's the reason you live with your uncle now.”
My whole body was rigid. “H-how could you know something like that?” Could he read my mind? Perhaps he was a stalker; because no matter how perceptive a person was, it was impossible to guess such precise facts. Something was very wrong.
Tsubari continued: “I know you attend the Ogawa Academy in Nagasaki and intend to major in English when you move into your exams. It's because your dream is to work in translation for a national newspaper. You love rice dishes, especially onigiri, but hate taro. Your favourite colour is pink. As for pets, you have a hamster called Donna and a cat named Tiggy-”
“Stop! H-how...” But I was too shocked to finish the sentence. I allowed myself to take a step back, towards the door. There was something wrong here, something unnatural. How could I have been so stupid as to trust him? I'd been told about these kinds of people - adults who followed children and watched them as they travelled to and from school, sometimes even spying on them in their own home. Of course, I'd always dismissed the idea that such people lived in my area, yet now I found myself staring upon just that. Anyone who knew so much about a child they'd never met had to be some kind of stalker.
I had to get out of here - now.
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