An evening stride [Open]

[Akiyama Sukoto]

Date: June 2, 2003
Time: 5:00 P.M. 

---

It's dark.


Oddly enough, as Akiyama Sukoto made his way home from a local art gallery, it was only these two words that repeated in his mind. And the reason why? It was dark, and he was preoccupied, not a delightful combination in the least. Of course it wasn't really that dark. It was bright enough for people to still roam around the place avidly, at least. The only reason that Akiyama was under the illusion of darkness was because the sun had been hidden behind a few low drifting clouds. Subconsciously, Akiyama hated those clouds. Not any cloud, only those in particular that decided to blot out the sun. Also thought was how fragmented his mind seemed to be at the moment.

Do you fear the dark?

He rolled his eyes. Twice. That stupid train of thought again, appearing in his mind. He could deal with it, but...

It isn't the dark that you should be afraid of.

All of this spawned from a stupid letter. It wasn't even that good, but that stupid conversation. It planted itself in his mind so frequently...He couldn't seem to keep it out at some points. It was just...it certainly sounded familiar, for some reason. Kind of like a dream. And perhaps it was a dream, that seemed to be most likely.

It is only you who can drag yourself further into the pits of oblivion.

And, as any fleeting moment does, it disappeared and he was tired once more. Though...not really. Not now. The night, by what his wristwatch said, was still young. Many other art galleries awaited him. And so, he walked.

And he walked.

And he kept walking until, at some point, he passed two manors. One his own, the other unidentified (And slightly larger.). And then he was back in the crowd, wondering if he'd run into a classmate or something. It'd be awkward, for him at least. But he couldn't say he would mind it, should it happen. Eventually, the time for food called, and he stopped at a convenience store. Why, because...well, it was convenient of course! He also didn't actually carry enough money with him to go to a restaurant. Or, at least, not when he planned to go to an art gallery.

After purchasing a packaged milk (He didn't much like the bitter coffee sold there.) and a rice patty, he walked out of the convenience store and back into the night. It wasn't however, before he ran directly into someone entering the store. And, like he imagined, he encountered someone in an awkward way. Much too awkward for his tastes. Thankfully, the milk stayed safe, though it was his rice patty that sacrificed itself. Ah well, he didn't really like rice patties anyway.

And that is something that can be impossible to accept.    

[Mikazuki Soichiro]

Coincidences didn't exist. Or at the very least, this was the very essence of what Mikazuki had been thinking. It was so laughably simple. Ironically enough, he had left the art gallery much later than other people because a major photographer (and bug lover) had her work up for viewing a floor higher than the exhibit Akiyama had visited. He had admired the photographs she had taken of various butterfly species, knowing she traveled all over the world to get them. Little did he know that a lowerclassman was but a floor below him: except, now it didn't apply anymore now that Sukoto had left, also unbeknownst to the pianist. In fact, the two had never even encountered each other once.

That would come to change, though.

The museum's closing hours were steadily encroaching on top of Mikazuki; the security guards glowered wearily.

Their harsh gazes, however, were fixated on none other than --

-- the clock. Tick tock. Tick tock. Tick tock. Time went on without abandon, and Soichiro couldn't blame anyone for it, but hopefully, he could come back to see Viola's works tomorrow. For now though, it was simply a shame he would have to bid farewell to the exhibit, filled with pocketfuls of the natural world's vibrancy.

Perhaps, such pieces of art were a popular kind of photography. He could see that.

But the one thing that set it apart was that it was art immortalized, natural art truer than anything but reality itself. One could bring sections of the world that provincial eyes would never once see again. Art was forever yet just a moment.

Such a sublime dream that bright eyes had held before, with their million shades of earthy browns blended into one with flecks of other colors as well, had disappeared. Time to get a move on, Soichiro supposed. Like many other things, it was a disappointment, but nothing to get sad or disheartened over. In fact, since the world managed to endure such a slow transition, it was a good time for food. The only problem was that he didn't really have any food at his grandparents' place. Between the three kids and their grandmother and grandfather, voracious and careful appetites alike had removed any vestiges of proper food aside from bread and butter, instant noodles, and condiments.

Therefore, it was only rational, logical and sensible to go into the convenience store to buy the bare essentials: skim milk, Grade A brown eggs, and ingredients for lunch and dinner. It all fit in like an elegantly simple equation. A conclusion like this had made him think of things much more positively and earnestly. That too could be plugged in. Or so, that was what he had imagined when he stepped inside that convenience store. However, the large glass windows of the shop could not let Mikazuki see what was coming next.

Soon his steady but casual gait was thrown off, and he tumbled into a younger boy with milk and a tasty rice patty. They, entangled like gossamer, found themselves too close for comfort in a way that strangers should have not been touching each other. Quickly, he removed himself from such a position and dusted himself off. Before it was too late, long and nimble fingers grasped onto the rice patty before it hit the floor. Not making eye contact with Akiyama, Mikazuki then handed him the rice patty. Thankfully, the milk was safe to begin with.

"Sorry about all of that, but are you alright?" he asked concisely with polite concern, hoping to get by quickly without wasting both of their time.

[Akiyama Sukoto]

As Akiyama collided with the unknown being, he was wracked with both surprise and the overwhelming instinct to lung backwards into a defensive position. His mental alarms were doing little more than blaring, and it took all he could give not to actually go into a defensive stance because he knew the situation didn't warrant it. 

It was because of this that he did not react to the rice patty taken hold by gravity, else he would have grasped it. However, thanks to this stranger, who either had the rough hands of a sportsman, the bloodied hands of a martial artist, or the graceful hands of a musician, he did not have to worry about such things. So, after both his and the stranger's spectacle had ended, he finally looked with clear eyes, no longer clouded by primal thought, and saw someone who he did not recognize, and yet did. He did not know his name or face, but it seemed like his mind was fighting to tell him that he did. It was a common occupancy with meeting strangers, but never this strong. It finally dawned on him after a few moments that he was a classmate, no, more than that. He was an upperclassman. And, though he did not treat his sempai from a few days earlier as kindly, he frowned and looked at him, took the rice patty graciously from his hands, and nodded, managing a smile to replace his frown. (This was awkward as well.) "Don't worry about me, I'm fine. It was my fault anyway, so don't apologize." He then thought of something else, a thought so irrelevant that he did not speak it.

Wasn't he at the gallery as well?

He didn't suppose it really mattered, though, because this was a passing meeting and saying that out of the blue would surely not be something to introduce himself with. And even an introduction was not yet of proper place, that would come later, should this meeting be less fleeting than most. He looked around, trying to find something to thank him, before looking down at the rice patty he had, thinking of how odd it would be to offer it to him, and opening its packaging to take a small few grains of it into his mouth. Then, after doing this, he looked up and narrowed his eyes, recognition dawning in them.

"Hey...don't you play the piano?" He'd heard music coming from one of the art rooms a few days earlier, and it'd been too good to simply walk past, so he'd stopped to listen. When it had ended and the player walk out of the room, Akiyama hadn't really gotten his face, but now that he thought about it, the two seemed quite similar.

And then he realized that he and the stranger had been blocking the entrance, and there were people pooling around them, each one not looking very happy. So, gaining a small hunt of red to his cheeks, he walked further into the store, and motioned for the unknown upperclassman to follow. "C'mon. If we don't move, I'm afraid that they'll beat us."

[Mikazuki Soichiro]

To be honest, the fact that Akiyama was on guard was easy to see, not that Mikazuki could blame him. Although technically not an assault, it could be startling if not a bit scary to bump into someone else, even if the collision was minor. Regardless, the experience wasn't exactly pleasant and the two did fall back in surprise.

Taking a moment to recollect himself, the third year thought about the rice patty. He wasn't even thinking about it; his body had just moved. Really, it was a simple favor. Any self-respecting Japanese citizen would have done it if they could because it would be a total waste if the world had lost one delicious rice patty. Even though it wasn't a trait particular to the older boy, he could understand the disappointment that came from losing a decent piece of food when it could have been avoided. Now, however, Sukoto and Soichiro needed to move on. The latter had no place treating the rice patty as if it had fallen in the first place. Instead, he decided to make eye contact with the other boy, who seemed to be in thought. What Akiyama had been thinking about was something Mikazuki wouldn't know; however, when the two tried to register each other's faces, there was a hint of recognition. While the pair of strangers didn't know each other at all, there was a hint of familiarity. There was no one that each bore semblance to aside from themselves, though. Secondly, they had the same uniform. Therefore, they must have attended school together. For the most part, Mikazuki and Akiyama had fallen into the middle stage of the process that was the very same procedure one went into when trying to recall people they passed by on the streets or in the school's corridors or perhaps at events. Unfortunately, the two never tried to get to know each other better or even sneak a glimpse at one another so while the younger managed to find a straw to grasp at, the older had no such luck.

"It's good to see you're alright, but we'd better be more careful the next time around. It'd be terrible manners to run into you again the same way."

Chuckling at the thought of such a thing, he then shook his head and tried for a smile, one a little less awkward than the second year's. Mikazuki, while not impatient, began to try and draw conclusions of how they had met. Briefly, he had recalled that a boy with brown hair had left the museum exhibit before him. Was this the boy? If so, then this coincidence was incredibly ironic. No... They must have met somehow else. Maybe Soichiro was remembering wrong, but he was sure that if they went to the same school, the circumstances of their first encounter would be less brusque than this one.

"Yes, I do. Have we met before when I was playing a piece?" Eyes widening at the mention of playing a piano, he raised a brow, using it as a piece of evidence and a clue as to how they met. Somehow, Akiyama fit into this mysterious equation of acquaintanceship, and the pianist had to find out as to why. Maybe before or after he had played that piece -- a sonata -- they met. Such a moment went too fast to tell who passerby's were.

Just as quickly as the collision happened, however, the high school students found themselves blocking the entrance. Surely, it hadn't been that quick? Unfortunately, they might have and not everyone was nice, even though the convenience store they were at was pretty reputable. Like a violin playing to the motions of the conductor, Mikazuki followed Akiyama's lead and fled, wondering just what was going on and what they were thinking, having built up an instance of immediate trust. 

When the two were in a safer area, the upperclassman debated over what to tell the younger boy. "I wasn't so sure whether they wanted to beat us up, but I apologize for keeping you at the entrance for so long," he said, very grateful for his kouhai's noble intentions.

[Akiyama Sukoto]

As the events ensued, Akiyama still got the feeling of familiarity, thought it was soon weakening. He soon came to believe that he hat only seen him on that day that he'd heard the music. Still, he couldn't help but to find it strange.

 He'd nodded at his words, but hesitated at his second ones. Sure, he'd blurted out the fact about the piano and such, but now he had to create a plausible story about how he'd heard it. And, for some reason, he didn't think that just saying flat out that he'd eavesdropped would've been the best course of actions. Instead, he shook his head and said his tale. "No, we didn't. I was just dropping off something to a room near your's when I heard. You left soon after and I saw you then. And I have to say, you're pretty good!" The last part wasn't a lie, he'd actually thought that his music was good.

As the two made their way to the section of space where Akiyama had gotten his, still unopened, milk, he could' to help but to think of the oddness of the last few seconds. And, for that matter, the oddness of the last few weeks. It seemed that they had been out of place in his frivolous life. He couldn't say he minded it though.


As they finally arrived, Akiyama nodded. "It's not problem. I'm just glad we didn't get hurt." He was slightly disappointed that the stranger didn't share his odd sense of morbid humor.

Then, not knowing where the conversation, he said something that he'd been wondering ever sense he'd run into him. "I'm sorry...Have we met before? I mean, before the piano incident." When he said this, he sounded quite...lost. As if he was dreaming...But he was soon enough cured of this. 

[Mikazuki Soichiro]

After listening to the second year's story, he gave a solemn nod. He didn't question its credibility, though whether it was true or not didn't have too much of a value to him at this point of time. Although, equally, Mikazuki was never the type of guy to mind if someone was watching or listening to him play the piano. While he was not performing then, it was not some kind of secret act. Even if he knew someone was observing him, it wouldn't matter because he wasn't ashamed of playing the piano.

Smiling in response to Akiyama's tale, the third year replied, "Thank you. I'm glad to hear I'm good at something I really enjoy. When did you hear me?" The senior played the piano because he simply loved to, and for no other reason other than that. It would be obvious that he took some pride in his art. Thus, he liked to hear what other people had to say about his pieces.

Before he would receive his answer, however, Mikazuki thought better of things and quietly let his companion be alone with his thoughts. The feeling of familiarity still lingered but was quickly fleeting away due to its insignificance beyond their first yet mysterious encounter.

In all honesty, Soichiro was not that good with humor at all. Thus, he couldn't even tell his companion was slightly disappointed that the he did not understand or get the joke fully. Still, once the bout of silence had grown ripe, he took the time to answer Akiyama's inquiry.

"Maybe we've met before? I don't really know, but I'm a third year so we might not have the same classes." So then, how else could the pair of boys meet before now? C'mon, think! Unfortunately, the pianist was still bewildered by the whole incident, since if he had tutored Sukoto prior, he would have remembered.

[Akiyama Sukoto]

Akyama was disappointed in himself after lying, but he thought it to be one of the few things good to do in his situation. He'd always been somewhat of an eavesdropper, and it had always gotten him into...unsavory situations. He didn't really want that with an upperclassman that he'd just met (He thought he just met him, at least. His soul did not, though, and it irked Akiyama.) and, unknowing if the man's qualms, he'd just lied to preserve the situation.

When the situation moved on to the music itself, Akiyama brightened internally. Even though his outer appearance didn't change in any way, he enjoyed such types of music greatly, and would be able to have an intense conversation with someone if he actually knew how to have an in depth conversation with anyone. "I think you were about halfway through the song. It was a sonata, right?" He'd long since learned the varying types of pieces and how they were played. "It wasn't one I've heard before, either. Was it an original?" On the possibility that it was, Akiyama was astonished. Playing and composing great prices such as the one he'd heard at such an age showed either great dedication or exemplary talent. Possibly both.

Akiyama was slightly confused why he was disappointed that the stranger didn't get his joke. It wasn't even really a joke, as saying 'or they'll beat us.' was actually much more of a solemn suggestion than anything. Still, his morbid saying was something he was slightly glad had gone unnoticed. 

Akiyama honestly had no idea if they'd met before. There was just this feeling persistently clawing at him, and it gave him an alternate form of déjà-vú. "I don't really know. Maybe we've just seen each other in the halls."

[Mikazuki Soichiro]

Mikazuki Soichiro gave a calm and demure smile, carefully at thought and trying to hold a proper conversation with one of the very few classmates he chose to converse with. He wasn't too social, preferring to hang out with his family; however, he always participated fully in his religious activities and in community service projects (though most projects didn't truly allow for much social interaction). Music was a special category in which everyone was connected, so his social skills improved considerably when regarding that; thus, he wouldn't even mind if Akiyama listened.

Ah, music, it was the love of this boy's life, even if it was an unusual hobby for someone like him. Pleasantly surprised by Akiyama's knowledge on the subject, he replied, "Yes, you're close but it's actually two sonatas." He could even recall which one he played. Then suddenly, Soichiro's mood dropped, sparkling brown eyes losing their shine, even if it were for just one moment. His eyes dropped down before he came up with what he deemed an appropriate answer to the second question. Just as quickly as his mood plummeted, Mikazuki plucked his mood back up determinedly before giving his most honest answer: "They're not original nor are they not too famous in Japan. The sonatas are collectively known as the Leichte Sonaten, having been made by Beethoven to be played to his family and friends."

Nimble and gentle fingers tapped lightly against the side of his leg as if the third year's body was recalling it in the most physical way possible. The movements were calculated but quick and intricate. It had been quite an agony to memorize this piece, yet it was rather simple for a sonata of such a caliber.

The feeling of familiarity settled into Mikazuki's mind awkwardly. Not too sure what to think of it, he simply gave an unsure shrug. But it didn't matter too much so he tried to not dwell on it. "That could be the case, but whatever it is, we'll find out eventually." Maybe.

[Akiyama Sukoto]

Akiyama was relieved that his smile seemed to go believed by the stranger. He didn't feel in the necessary mood to try and writhe his way out of such a predicament. Either way, he dropped the matter entirely, having needed to if he wished to further progress the conversation beyond its current point. He didn't know that the stranger would not mind, so he only further spoke to protect his statement. 

Akiyama then nodded when the other spoke. It did make sense after all, he'd probably dropped in during the latter half of the final one, which would leave the other to go unheard by him. For some reason, he felt kinda'... disappointed that he hadn't. Probably because the other had played so well. When the origin of the song had been revealed, Akiyama was surprised to say that he hadn't heard of the Beethoven song. Of course, he didn't prioritize the older songs as he did the newer ones, Beethoven was a pretty impossible guy to miss. And for someone like Akiyama, it was near impossible that he didn't know the names of said songs."I guess I haven't heard them before. Still, you played them pretty good."

The tapping did not go unnoticed, but Akiyama said nothing about it, knowing it would only further disrutpt the calm mood he wished to preserve. Still, it was impossible to do so when that feeling was still faintly wailing at him, though it had started to disappear at an agonizingly slow pace. Honestly, Akiyama no longer thought that he had seen the stranger- no known the stranger before, but it seemed that his mind- no, more than that- his soul was saying otherwise. It was starting to become quaintly annoying. "I hope we do, at least." He wished that the feeling would go away soon and the situation would resolve itself. But...he knew better than that.

[Mikazuki Soichiro]

Tag ; Akiyama Sukoto

Quite naive, Soichiro was inclined to believe in all smiles, in all facades, as the only true pain he had become accustomed to was distant empathy, disappointment, and worst of all: loneliness. It was one thing to be in solitude; another to be solitary. The distance between himself and all the people he once shared warmth with was so very cold -- the past winter itself had been exceptionally harsh -- it was no wonder Furukawa-senpai had fell especially ill that current year; hence he was unable to apply for the Drama Club yet again, but the pianist ignored the reminder carefully.

"I am more than honored to hear such feedback," he quietly replied, "but the pieces I had played were nothing but obscure. Do not fret that you have not heard it. It was, ah... shall I say, a personal set of sonatas for its composer and for the people who know of it." Truth be told, after spending nearly all of his life learning and playing the piano, Mikazuki felt like he kind of deserved this rarity as a gift after his last rehearsal. On the other hand, there were so many other deserving people too. After all, many people started piano lessons from the moment they entered preschool, and this third year was not an exception. Regardless, his entire family was music-oriented to begin with; it was only natural they acquired this rare but simple piece as a gift or a respite for all of his hard work. There was always something rewarding about learning something new yet getting the chance to relax.

The tapping slowly become louder and louder but more attuned to a proper beat: steady, calm and always moving onward. His gentle fingers positioned themselves as if they were atop a bubble, casual yet poised enough to leave before it could pop, and once more it felt like he was in a silent concert. Already, here he was broadcasting his presence to a stranger, no matter how understated the whole affair had been. Yet as slow as it ever was, time was moving onward, and there was enough time for Mikazuki to search for one answer to the dilemma he shared with the younger boy. "If it helps, we could introduce ourselves. My name is Mikazuki Soichiro. It's very nice to see you again." The solution was simple, almost too much, but it was all he could really come up with. Shrugging sheepishly, he fought away the temptation to soothe the quiet itch with a hand on the shoulder. Nonetheless, if he had anything to say about the matter, the one year distance apart between them was not enough to make the pianist someone to admire and lean on at first glance.