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Post by NAKAMORI TAKUMI on May 28, 2010 19:14:31 GMT -5
Nakamori Takumi never did like buying sheet music for his students. It wasn't as if it were particularly his responsibility--but he'd decided long ago that musical amateurs weren't to be trusted with the task of buying scores. One way or another, they'd always, always, always manage to buy the wrong book, the wrong sheets, the wrong scores.
He did admit, however, that it was mildly amusing.
The music store was quiet as he entered--Music is so unappreciated, he thought--and with a halfhearted wave to the shopkeeper, he approached the sheet music collections.
One glance and he could tell that someone had screwed up the alphabetization. Because Debussy's Beau Soir was nowhere near Brahms's Sonata; and what in the world was a violoncello piece doing there? Takumi spent the next few minutes reorganizing the scores; and admittedly took a great deal of pleasure in doing so.
Bach, Brahms, Beethoven---he skipped past the B's and headed straight for Paganini. He figured his student was good enough to handle La Campanella, judging by her last performance--or maybe he was overestimating her.
"New student?" the shopkeeper asked. "Another violinist, eh?"
"Yes," he replied succinctly. "Her vibrato needs work."
"Then maybe you shouldn't give her La Campanella just yet. She might mess it up."
He pondered that for a while, then put it back and chose a simplified version of Pachelbel's Canon instead. Always better to underestimate someone, he decided. Less room for disappointment.
The scores were paid for without hassle, and he prepared to leave. Visiting the music shop always did put him in a fairly good mood. It was a ritual of sorts--walk in, find the scores, pay for the scores, leave. Once a day, five days a week; six days on a good week. School was the ultimate limiting factor.
"No school next week," he murmured to himself. "How quaint."
[/justify] |
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Post by KUROSAWA JUNKO on May 28, 2010 20:42:59 GMT -5
Despite her outward appearance - a vaguely childish aura, a slight hesitancy in her movements - Junko was well-trained. Her mother had taught her politeness and grace, about stars and words and music. Her mother had taught her how to play her first instruments and how to read notes, make sense out of all the small dark symbols, turn it into sound. Her mother had taught her everything a mother should, everything a mother was expected to pass on.
Her mother had taught her how to lie, too.
Nevertheless, Junko could not help thinking of her mother as she walked down the block, humming a short melody over and over. She had never managed to master the lessons she was given; she had been an adequate pianist, but one who never played what was truly difficult. A skilled singer, but one who never joined the choir. A decent composer, but one who never wrote harmonies to melodies.
She was, in short, the kind of person who had talent but never managed to cultivate it very well. Junko didn't really mind. Inadequacy was to be expected. It was better to jot down what you could contribute, what you could remember. You could work out what you didn't want to work on later.
Which was why it was important to get a composition notebook.
Right now, before she forgot what she was humming.
It was unfortunate that she wasn't carrying any paper on her to begin with, but writing it on regular paper didn't seem right somehow anyway. She quickened her pace a little. Half a block to the music store. Thirty steps. Fifteen. Ten. Five. Humming, all the while.
She opened the door -
(It is important to note that Kurosawa Junko was by default a very unlucky person. Nothing had ever gone entirely as planned in her life. It would be better to say 'horribly unlucky,' but that would also be exaggerating.)
- straight into the slim frame of a young man.
Oh.
Well.
Shit.
"I.. I'm sorry, are you alright?"
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tag: whyhellotheretakumi
comments: pointless five paragraphs are pointless [/left] |
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Post by NAKAMORI TAKUMI on May 30, 2010 19:54:03 GMT -5
 Alas, sad awakening from dreams
I call you, O night, give me back your lies,
Return, return radiant,
Return, O mysterious nightThere were scores scattered all over the floor, but Takumi was too busy massaging his temple to notice. Some girl was nervously apologizing, and the shopkeeper was exclaiming frantically. He ignored both of them and focused on steadying himself.
He supposed it served him right for not looking where he was going; but then, people didn't usually wake up in the morning and think, "I'm going to avoid getting hit in the head today."
Not him, anyway.
"I'm... fine," Takumi replied slowly, grimaced, and stepped aside briskly (or as briskly as one with a near-concussion could). "Please do watch where you're going, next time."He thought he heard another apology--but with the way his head was throbbing, he couldn't be sure. "Stop apologizing. You're giving me a headache."
Without another thought, he walked out of the store. He had a student to attend to in two hours, and could only imagine her reaction to seeing him with a spectacularly colorful bruise on his forehead.
He held his hand to his head the entire way home. It was only a ten minute walk, but it felt like hours. The sun was glaringly bright, and Scherzo Tarantella was stuck on repeat in his head, worsening the headache. I couldn't have happened to be thinking of a nocturne when I got slammed in the face. What a way to start off the day, he thought dryly, and fumbled for his penthouse keys.
The penthouse was in the middle of the city: he could see everyone, everything. To top it off, it was soundproof, light flowing in from all directions, roomy--good for practicing violin and oboe. He loved it, even if it was less than extravagant compared to the mansions and maisonettes of his family.
He almost smiled as he collapsed on the sofa, taking a deep breath and pushing his hair back. Home, he decided, was a lovely thing.
And then he realized he'd left the sheet music at the music store.
[/justify] |
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Post by KUROSAWA JUNKO on Jun 5, 2010 14:20:51 GMT -5
 and who, and who, and who can tell the truth, that truth?
no one, no one, no one, no one, no one
and honestly, your heart is broken, broken when they're
done, they're done, they're done, they're done, they're done - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Today was not her day. Few days were, anyway, but now the damn cashier was yelling at her. "Hey, watch where you're going next time!"
Isn't there something about being respectful to all customers? she wondered, but shrugged it off. She figured it had something to do with the boy she'd injured being a frequent customer, whereas she hadn't even stepped into the store before, or something - but she wasn't in the mood for filing complaints about customer service, and impassively excused herself again to the shopkeeper.
"Ah, look what you've done, Nakamori's forgotten his sheets," the man muttered. "Hey, at least go and deliver them to him or something. I think he keeps his address on the back of that folder? I'm sure you can at least make yourself that useful and spare him the trouble of coming here again."
"Absolutely." Her tone was about as cold as she could possibly make it; her body language stiffly reserved, carefully scandalized. She knelt, gathering up the papers on the floor. "But I don't think I'll be coming here again," was all she said, and she slammed the door on the way out.
It wasn't really as cool an exit as she'd have liked.
Life was like that a lot of the time.
If she'd had the guts, she would have just stormed out at the shopkeeper's biased behavior, leaving the kid's (why was she calling him a kid, she was most certainly older than him, but still) papers on the floor and that stupid man to pick them up for his precious customer himself, but Junko was used to deferring.
It probably wasn't a great habit.
So. There was the matter of getting these to Mr. Musician now. What a pain. Oh well. Then again, she had opened that door with a great deal of force, so it had probably hurt a lot. She owed him this much; there was obligation to think of.
People didn't really think a lot about obligations nowadays, after all - so Junko checked the address. Nakamori Takumi. It wasn't that far; it would take her maybe eight or nine minutes, walking.
La la la lu la la.
Thankfully she hadn't forgotten what she was humming before she crashed into that boy. Or, well, the door crashed into him. To be precise.
Her feet were starting to hurt a little.
And suddenly Junko was at the apartment complex, pushing open the steel doors to feel a relieving wave of cool air pass by her. It was soon followed by the not-so-relieving sight of steel doors - presumably locked. Damn security systems, she thought, typing what she assumed to be the apartment number into a touchscreen on the wall.
She hadn't really wanted to talk to the musician kid, had hoped to just slip it under his door and forget about him - but it couldn't be helped. Few things could.
She waited for the intercom system to turn on.
"Excuse me," she said, careful to make her tone businesslike, unapologetic. "Is this Nakamori Takumi? You left your sheet music - your purchases - at the music store. If you'd allow me to come up and give them to you..."
Then she let the sentence fall there, regretting her choice of words - because saying that would be appreciated or some such nonsense would have been a complete lie.
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tag: Nakamori Takumi.
comments: Why is Junko such a doormat? [/left] |
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Post by NAKAMORI TAKUMI on Jun 5, 2010 21:08:34 GMT -5
The sheet music was probably still at the shop. It probably would've been a good idea to retrieve it; he had to leave soon, anyway, and his student needed those scores.
But lying on the chair with his head tossed back was really much more appealing.
He had to leave in... ten minutes. Maybe. He probably could get away with being a few minutes (hours?) late; he was reasonably well-liked, and nobody could really blame him if he said he had a severe injury. Although, in all honesty, the hit in the head hadn't been all that awful; it'd faded away a while ago, and all that was left was a faint throbbing. So no, the head injury wasn't the issue.
He just... really didn't feel like moving.
Then the intercom rang. And that usually meant that he had to move. Using what little willpower he had left, he pushed himself up from the chair (albeit sluggishly), and trudged to the camera.
A girl's voice came through, saying something about having brought his sheet music. She sounded familiar--and, raising an eyebrow, he realized that she was the girl who'd whacked him in the face earlier that morning.
She brought my sheet music, he thought. Kind of her.
It'd occurred to him that the shopkeeper might've been the one to force her here (he'd always been fond of Takumi), but he was feeling charitable at the moment. From the tone of her voice, she didn't seem too pleased to be here.
Well, good. He hadn't been too pleased to get hit in the face, either.
"Thank you," he said into the microphone, carefully neutral, perfectly monotonous. "I assume you have my apartment number. Do bring it up; the door is unlocked."
There was a mumbled reply, and the intercom shut off.
He moved back to the chair at a ridiculously slow pace, and tried with minuscule effort to sit up straight. The girl would either mistake him for being lazy (which, at the moment, wasn't completely false) or think he was dying on the spot (which really wasn't a far stretch, either).
I wonder what the cashier said to get her so irritated, he wondered absentmindedly. He could've just kept the sheet music for me instead of sending a stranger to my home. My head hurts. I'm probably going to fall asleep sometime in the next two minutes, and then the girl's going to panic.
In retrospect, he probably should've tried harder to stay awake. Being curled up in a chair with a massive bruise on one's forehead didn't tend to leave a good first impression.
~~~ words: 400 plus. tags: hullo junko; no worries, you're not a doormat comments: fallout boy craze today[/size] |
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Post by KUROSAWA JUNKO on Jun 6, 2010 10:31:12 GMT -5
"Then I'll come up now."
He didn't sound quite as annoyed as she'd expected; a little tired, but otherwise fine. But then, maybe he was just as good a liar as she was. Or maybe he was just a drama queen, and the injury hadn't really been that bad. That was probably it.
The thing was, Junko really hated apartments.
It wasn't really the idea of living next to so many people, or not having privacy, or really anything like that - but the hallways. So many doors, so little space; Junko experienced a slight sense of discomfort, maybe even claustrophobia, as she walked through the hall to get to the elevators.
The floors were clean and she could see her reflection in the glass as she waited for the elevator, but it was still unnerving all the same. The walls seemed ready to suffocate her. But the problem was mostly that if anyone was walking in the halls, they would undoubtedly glance at her. It was only natural.
Junko didn't really like being stared at.
I'm never living here no matter how nice it is.
It was awfully nice though.
She stepped into the elevator. There was the uncomfortable starting lurch, and in a few seconds she was at the door of the penthouse. "Should I knock?" she muttered to herself, before realizing he'd said that the door was open.
Should have remembered that.
So she stepped into the apartment - only to find the boy flopped into a chair, a dark bruise staining his temple, seemingly asleep.
She had to do a double-take.
"Wait, what - ?!"
He was just fine a little while ago... perhaps he really was tired? No, maybe the injury had finally gotten to him? Junko's thoughts jumped to a murder mystery she'd read a few days ago, but if that were the case there'd be blood. And a weapon, like a bottle or something.
No, Mr. Nakamori Takumi looked perfectly healthy. Just... sleeping.
And kind of slumped over like he was dead, but that was beside the point. It was a lot more endearing than the annoyed tone he'd taken with her a few minutes before.
"How the hell do you fall asleep waiting for someone...?" she mumbled sheepishly, even more quietly than before.
She was sort of tempted to poke him.
She set the folder of sheet music down on a side table, trying to tiptoe quietly without waking him up. Maybe she wouldn't have to talk to him after all. That'd be a good thing.
He stirred in his sleep.
Junko jumped.
...Scared the shit out of me, she thought, after a few seconds had passed, turning again to leave.
But Kurosawa Junko was not a lucky person.
So when she turned, it was entirely chance, or clumsiness, or fate, or something, that caused her hand to bump into a stack of books that were lying neatly on another desk closer to the entrance. It was entirely destiny, or just the product of incredible idiocy, that made these books fall onto the floor with an incredible bang!
"Ow!"
On her foot, no less.
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tag: t-takumiiii yes she is
comments: trying not to like this song but it's not working [/left] |
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Post by NAKAMORI TAKUMI on Jun 6, 2010 11:37:54 GMT -5
The sun was too bright. He blinked a few times to clear the haziness from his eyes, to no avail. What time was it? Had he missed his class?
Takumi had a tendency to be groggy when he first woke up. That was probably why it took him a while to realize why he was curled up on a chair, and why there was a girl in his apartment.
He stifled a yawn. "Hello," he greeted sleepily. "Are you the one who caused such a ruckus?" The girl was staring at the mess of papers and books on the floor; he followed her gaze. Those were the novels he'd just bought--along with the textbooks he'd planned on studying from. What are they doing on the floor? he wondered drowsily. Weren't they on the table?
Ah. That was why he'd heard a loud bang before.
Immediately he checked to make sure his violin was fine; his oboe usually resided in the practice room, but he'd taken out the violin earlier that day, in preparation for his lessons. The case sat safely beside a bookshelf, away from the mini-disaster.
Unfortunate that the same can't be said about the scores, he thought dryly.
The scores were a mess; some of them were crinkled between books, all over the place--and as far as he knew, they weren't numbered. He'd bought three different pieces; and now they were all in disarray. Pachelbel's Canon was a fairly long piece, too. "I assume those are my scores," he said slowly. He looked up at her.
So this was the girl who'd hit him in the face, jolted him out of his sleep, and messed up his sheet music.
A lesser person might've run away by then. Takumi surveyed the damage, and contemplated this for a few moments before coming to a decision.
He smiled politely. "Thank you for retrieving my scores. Would you you like to stay for tea?"
[/justify] ~~~ words: 324 tag: gooood morning junko comments: this is so short... very guilt-inducing[/size] |
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Post by KUROSAWA JUNKO on Jun 6, 2010 14:40:38 GMT -5
Of all the things.
The first impression she gave off was that of a klutz who would open doors straight into peoples' faces. The second was that of a klutz who would knock over someone else's belongings straight onto her own feet.
It hurt a lot.
Junko was not, by any means, a klutz. Clumsiness wasn't in her nature. If someone tripped before her, she could catch them and their belongings before they hit the ground. She was relatively athletic; she didn't exactly have a lack of physical prowess. But today - of all days - her reputation as a klutz had probably been cemented forever.
Somewhere, someone was laughing at her. She could feel the pain. It kind of burned.
"Tea," she repeated, in utter disbelief. "That, um..."
Maybe he was trying to poison her.
"That would be lovely."
She shifted her weight onto her injured foot gingerly, wincing slightly when it proved to be more painful than she'd expected. Why were textbooks so heavy, anyway? Thick, perhaps, but heavy...
Her toes ached at the very thought.
"Sorry about the scores. I didn't mean to wake you up," she apologized, again.
She knelt to pick up what she'd messed up: first the textbooks, then the novels. Hardcover on the bottom, paperback on top, all the while stealing surreptitious glances of the boy as he made tea. What the hell was he thinking? A normal person would have yelled at her, or told her to get out.
Maybe he was trying to guilt her into fixing her own mess. Which she was. He had something going on there.
After gathering all the papers into one stack and beginning the tedious process of organizing them all out again - it wasn't that terrible, mostly it was matching key signatures and time signatures - Junko could not stand the silence.
"Why are you making me tea?"
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tag: good morning, sir takumi; your breakfast is served, would you like your black or white suit for the day, or would the young master prefer casual clothing?
comments: aaaahhhh school sucks [/left] |
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Post by NAKAMORI TAKUMI on Jun 6, 2010 15:11:10 GMT -5
Takumi was secretly amused. The girl looked completely confused--with reason to, of course. He smiled faintly and reached for the teapot, still warm.
It was a ritual of his to prepare tea every morning, although most of the time, he never drank it. So inviting the girl in for tea wasn't really trouble, or any sort of inconvenience at all. In any case, he figured he owed her some sort of consolation for all the trouble she'd gone through.
"Do you dislike tea?"
[/color] he replied. "It's not a custom of mine to serve tea to strangers, if that's what you're thinking."[/color] He knew that didn't really answer the question, but he wasn't quite sure of the answer himself. He was in a good mood--but that was an enigma in itself, as getting hit in the head didn't usually put people in a particularly great mood. It's probably safer not to think about it, he decided. For now, at least. He opened the cupboard and pulled out a pair of teacups. They were still new, never used. He loved the smell of tea, black tea especially. It accentuated the silvery teacups he had nicely. "Any preferences?"[/color] he called. He walked out of the kitchen and back into the main room, leaning against the door frame. "You don't have to gather the scores. I'll do it myself; you'd probably mess up the order. It's a very complicated piece."[/color] She looked like one of those girls who knew very little about music; one of those people who went to music shops because they liked admiring the instruments. People who weren't serious about music. But somehow, he didn't think she was. He watched her for a few moments, then gave another amused little smile. The girl was probably older than him, too. "I appreciate the gesture, but it's not necessary. Unless, of course, you like doing these things. Do you enjoy tidying other people's homes?"[/color] Oops. He hadn't intended for it to come out so mockingly.[/font][/blockquote][/justify] ~~~ words: 300ish tag: oh god i'm so sorry junko comments: aww, she's not that much of a doormat, give her some credit; takumi's being a jerk.[/size] |
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Post by KUROSAWA JUNKO on Jun 6, 2010 18:56:28 GMT -5
Junko wondered, briefly, whether or not he was teasing her. It didn't seem like a particularly serious question; it was probably rhetorical, but she was never quite sure with people she'd just met.
More importantly, Junko wondered how she'd gotten herself into such a situation. "I... no, tea's just fine. I don't have any preferences as far as my tea goes, but I'm sure it's fine however you like it," she said, bewildered, as she took a seat on the couch.
If it's not your custom, why are you doing it?
"And it isn't my custom to clean for others, I assure you," she added crossly, setting Pachelbel's Canon in its correct order to the side.
There was just the two other pieces to organize.
The whole thing was completely absurd; surreal, even. Here sat Kurosawa Junko, in a ridiculously spacious apartment (which must have been pricey considering this particular neighborhood), on a sofa that was probably more expensive than her motorcycle, calmly arranging music sheets. While waiting for her tea to arrive, no less.
Absurd.
Absolutely absurd.
She blinked at him for a moment before looking back at the music sheets again. "Anyway," she began, in an almost arrogant drawl - before suddenly remembering herself and correcting her tone. "I'd appreciate it if you didn't assume that I - ...I mean, this isn't difficult, and it was my fault to begin with. I can manage; I've played this before, anyway."
Junko could not shake off the sense that the whole thing was ridiculous.
She also sort of wished he would stop looking so terribly amused, as if Exhibit A: Kurosawa Junko the Pauper was the most fascinating thing he'd seen in years, and he was just waiting for her to do something silly again so he could laugh. Or feed her some peanuts. Or maybe both.
"Oh, that's right." She blinked. "I should probably introduce myself, right? I'm Kurosawa Junko. You know - 'jun' as in 'order.' And you're - well, I know. But it's a pleasure to meet you."
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - words: like 300 or 400 or something
tag: it's okay, takumi
comments: an alternate meaning of 'jun' is 'to obey,' and I kind of laughed [/left] |
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Post by NAKAMORI TAKUMI on Jun 7, 2010 14:41:28 GMT -5
[/color] of us just like me Who cuss like me; who just don't give a -- like me Who dress like me; walk, talk and act like me And just might be the next best thing but not quite me![/font] ~~~[/center] He could hear the mild indignation in her voice. It only amused him more. Kurosawa Junko, he thought. Then he whispered it aloud, to see how the name sounded. It rolled on his tongue, sort of.
"I drink my tea plain," he said. On the occasions I do drink it, anyway. She was still organizing the scores, he knew. He really did think it was kind of her--and he really did think it was unnecessary. Still, the girl (Kurosawa Junko, he corrected) had some sort of musical ability. For her to have played either Pachelbel, Brahms, or Paganini--that was an accomplishment. "And no, I didn't think it was your custom to clean for others--although it'd certainly explain your actions now."
Honestly, he was surprised she'd actually agreed to staying for tea. The surprise must've gotten to her, but really. For all she knew, he could've been trying to poison her.
He walked into the room carrying a tray, with two little teacups and a tiny dish of peanuts. "Do you like peanuts?" he asked offhandedly. "My cousin brought a bag of these over the last time he visited, and I don't know what to do with them." He set down the trays and took one peanut, turning it over in his hand before dropping it back down. His tea remained untouched.
Kurosawa had a set of scores in her hand, and was organizing them rather meticulously. He glanced at them, and nodded briefly. "Brahm's Violin Sonata No. 1 in G Major," he recited. "Vivace ma non troppo. Have you played that before?"
It always pleased him to meet a fellow violinist; oboists were harder to come by, so he didn't expect much in that department. Admittedly, he didn't like children much--but child musicians! Even if their playing was horrible (which it usually was), he'd listen. He loved giving them tips, advice--it was why he'd decided to become a part-time music teacher.
Which reminded him...
He was probably really, really late.
But the owner of the school liked him. She'd deal with it; it wasn't often he was late, anyway.
He smiled a slow smile. "It's a beautiful sonata."
[/justify] ~~~ words: exactly 356 (: tag: i was this close to making him call junko a doormat comments: no offense to junko, of course. haha, peanuts[/size] |
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Post by KUROSAWA JUNKO on Jun 9, 2010 20:25:24 GMT -5
Peanuts?
Seriously? Peanuts?!
What - no! She hadn't been mumbling to herself, or voiced her opinion at all - she was - she hadn't - how did he - surely this was coincidence? A trick of... of fate, somehow? More importantly, when did she start thinking about fate so much? No, this couldn't be right!
No, no, she had to calm down.
Cough twice if you can read my mind.
...Actually, no, just say it.
"That works," Junko said calmly, referring to the tea. "Peanuts are... um... they're okay."
The truth was that she only drunk tea when it was offered to her, and not only did she have no preferences about it, she had no preference for it at all. Still, it wasn't something that would leave her retching, and if he wanted to drink tea, then why not drink tea?
She still wasn't drinking it until he'd had a sip first. Not that it really mattered; if he was trying to drug her it would have been in her cup alone, but she could at least say that she'd took whatever precautions there were, in the end. Not that he seemed like anyone who would be into human trafficking, and surely a rich boy like him wouldn't be so incredibly desperate for female companionship that he'd kidnap her of all people - no, she was thinking too hard.
After finally rearranging all the scores and setting them down, Junko ate a peanut.
Somehow, she felt as though she'd lost something incredibly important. Something resembling dignity, perhaps.
"Ah... actually, violin isn't my main instrument, I'm afraid. Piano is. My talents as a violinist are... lacking," she admitted sheepishly. "I only played in my high school orchestra."
She sort of wished he would sit.
"Unfortunately, there are far too many pianists in the world. It isn't very... special." She sighed, absentmindedly sipping at the tea despite what she'd resolved only thirty seconds earlier. "I should have learned to play a slightly less common instrument, like the clarinet, or harp, or something of that nature. But then, I enjoy playing piano for its versatility..."
Junko put her teacup down. "But at the least, I played the piano accompaniment of this sonata for a girl in the orchestra. It really is a wonderful piece."
Why was she talking so much?
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tag: pick on her, takumi, she's so easily bullied
comments: oh god I laughed so hard [/left] |
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Post by NAKAMORI TAKUMI on Jun 9, 2010 21:13:03 GMT -5
 So everybody just follow me
'Cause we need a little controversy,[/b] 'Cause it feels so empty[/b] without me[/font] ~~~[/center] Takumi wondered if she thought he was trying to poison her.
She seemed hesitant to drink the tea until he took a sip first, and even then, eyed the peanuts warily. She'd said she was fine with it, but... He smiled when she ate the peanut.
"I have other foods, if you like," he offered. "Fruits, for instance." Maybe she was one of those people who were really picky when it came to food. His cousin was something like that--actually, he was, too. That was mostly the reason the peanuts had stayed untouched for a week.
"Piano," he murmured. "It's a very common instrument. Beautiful, but common." He knew at least ten people who played the piano. Most of them were mediocre at best.
He only knew the basics, himself; most violinists knew how to play the piano, simply because it was essential that violinists have perfect pitch. Playing the piano was entertaining, and he did enjoy it--but it never attracted him the same way the violin or the oboe did. Although, the violin was a fairly common instrument itself. "If you know how to play the violin," he said offhandedly, "you could probably learn the viola easily. It's much more rare. I know the basics. There's hardly a difference."
Kurosawa did seem like the type of person who'd play the piano. She was shorter than him, but her fingers were long--he could imagine her playing, light notes, in rapid succession. It'd been a while since he'd heard somebody play piano. "If I had a piano, I could listen to you play," he mused. He could ask her to go back to the music shop and play something--but that'd be too much trouble, and he highly doubted she'd want to go back, anyway. "How long have you played piano?"
He wondered if she knew how to play any other instruments, and studied her for a moment. Not a winds instrument, he decided. She'd never manage it--Kurosawa was a strings player, only.
Did she like winds instruments?
Most girls didn't--winds instruments were, in their opinions, inelegant. But music wasn't about being elegant, being pretty. Music was... music.
Kurosawa seemed like the sort of person who'd understand that.
"Have you ever seen an oboe before?"
[/b][/font][/blockquote][/justify] ~~~ words: 379 tags: don't worry junko, taku's not that evil... comments: ...for now muahaha[/size] |
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Post by KUROSAWA JUNKO on Jun 10, 2010 1:10:58 GMT -5
"...Well, yes," she replied, resisting the urge to raise a brow. "I don't think you'd find many musicians who haven't seen an oboe."
I wouldn't really think they were musicians if they didn't know their basic concert instruments.
She smiled, if only to return his. "I've always had a certain amount of respect for winds players - breathing seems so difficult. And then there's circular breathing to learn for some pieces... but I'm sorry to say I've never actually heard an oboe on its own." She took another sip of tea, considering the question. "Why the oboe? Do you play?"
Nakamori, Junko decided, was being entirely too nice to her. Suspiciously nice. Whatever happened to being angry about smashing a door into him? The bruise on his head was clear and dark, and looked like it would remain for a few days. She wouldn't be terribly bothered if it had happened to her, but then, other people always seemed to get angry when they were injured.
She crossed one leg over the other, feeling slightly more comfortable. "I've played piano for ten or eleven years now, I think. Maybe twelve, but I'm no virtuoso. It really is common, though," she muttered.
...Maybe Nakamori really was trying to poison her.
But the salty peanuts had whetted her appetite, and she suddenly found herself wondering if she was eating too much. It was generally rude, she knew, to consume everything one was offered - but then, wasn't it even ruder to refuse it?
Besides, she was hungry.
Junko tried not to think about zoo animals.
Plus, she realized, as she took yet another sip, she was almost done with her tea. Junko started rationing it out, mentally, so as to not run out of it awkwardly - but any way she looked at it, she would do so before the conversation was over.
She was starting to feel like a glutton.
She didn't really want to look like a glutton in front of him.
"I never really thought about playing the viola," she admitted, the teacup bright silver against her skin, "but I suppose that's a possibility. I never had much of a problem reading with alto clef, but I know a lot of people do."
She watched him for a moment, blinking at his lithe build. He was certainly very passionate about - well, probably not his work, considering his age, but at the least about music in general.
Perhaps it was his work?
Then she considered the peanuts once more.
"And, um, fruit with tea would be a little strange," she pointed out, smiling again.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - words: could have sworn this was really long, but it's 400ish again
tag: when is the poison going to set in, takumi?
comments: so amused by the fact that we're using eminem lyrics while discussing classical music. [/left] |
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Post by NAKAMORI TAKUMI on Jun 10, 2010 10:46:21 GMT -5
[/b] memorize every line[/b] I spit it once, refuel, re-energize[/b] and rewind I give sight to the blind,[/b] my insight through the mind[/b] I exercise my right to express[/b] when I feel it's time[/font] ~~~[/center] His smile widened at her answer. He rather liked her--it was hard to come by people like that. She played two instruments, she really wasn't annoying at all. And although he'd never heard her play, he respected her as a musician.
She was modest, too.
"You'd be surprised," he said. "I've met my share of musically clueless people." He sat in the seat across from her and poured some more tea in her cup. She must like peanuts, he mused. She'd eaten half the peanuts on the tray already. He considered giving her the entire bag of peanuts to take home.
It might embarrass her, he decided.
(Secretly, he was almost glad she didn't want fruit. He probably wouldn't have been nice enough to offer her a bag of oranges or lemons.)
"Not everybody is a virtuoso," he pointed out. "There are perfectly talented, non-virtuosic musicians." He remembered as a child how fervently he'd wanted to be a virtuoso. Maybe he wasn't a child prodigy--but fourteen years of music counted for something.
He noticed that she was staring at his forehead, and touched it gently. "It's very unsightly," he murmured. How to hide it? It'd be so much easier if he were a girl--just get makeup and cover it. There was makeup for everything. As it was, though, he'd have to settle for a visor or cap. He really didn't like hats. The bruise had been a light red when he got home, but it was probably a rainbow of blues and greens by now.
It'd match his hair.
He tuned back in to what she was saying. "The alto clef? If you can read it, then you really should take up the viola. I could find you a teacher."
He wondered if she knew that he was a music teacher. Probably not; he was only eighteen, and looked young, anyway. But most people who met him assumed that he had some sort of music career--how could anyone so obsessed with music do anything otherwise?
He settled for: "I believe one of my students is also learning the viola."
She--Kurosawa--had never heard an oboe before, had she? His oboe was sitting somewhere in his practice room, among the piles of sheet music scattered on the floor. He had twenty-two reeds, all placed in a satin-lined box. It'd been a while since he'd played the oboe in front of somebody.
Takumi leaned back a little and added, "I do play the oboe--for twelve years now. Would you like to hear it?" His words were half wry, half amused. "I'm quite good, I promise."
[/b][/font][/blockquote][/justify] ~~~ words: 400ish tag: junko's not dying anytime soon, haha comments: taku's being nice![/size] |
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