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Post by KUROSAWA JUNKO on Jun 17, 2010 21:13:02 GMT -5
Junko didn't hate losing, exactly. She was, if anything, one of the most passive kind of loser to ever walk the earth - in more ways than one, but nevertheless, Junko never really thought much about losing. Even if she'd been just a hair's breadth from victory, it just didn't matter in the most important sense; no, it didn't matter at all, losing.
There was just the bit where she didn't really want to accept such a random gift out of the blue - but she was too tired to protest anymore.
"Congratulations," she said - but it felt more like a gasp, and she had to wipe some sweat off her brow with the back of her hand.
That last bit wasn't fair - he'd played dirty, tiring her out until she just couldn't play anymore. She was tempted to simply collapse onto the ground, but it was a fairly hard court and she wasn't sure that would be very good for her bones.
"Well, then." Junko pushed her bangs out of her eyes; she was sure she looked like a mess. Nakamori looked equally exhausted. "I guess I have to forget about paying you back then," she grumbled, not at all happy with the outcome.
She still felt like she owed him something - it didn't seem right, accepting a gift out of the blue, and she was totally sure it was out of her budget. Not out of his, perhaps, but all the same, it just wasn't right.
It went against her morals.
She wasn't even aware she had morals.
And God, her shoulders were aching. "I wasn't expecting that last shot," she continued, still breathing heavily. "Ahh, I need to do this more often, I shouldn't be this out of breath..."
She glanced at him - he seemed about as tired as she was, and was probably feeling about the same, too.
"Is there anywhere we can get a drink?"
She would have liked a cool shower, too, but that was probably too much to hope for.
[/justify] - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - words: 300, sorry, short post tag: takumi the... prince of tennis?! comments: junko fails at endurance tests [/left]
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Post by NAKAMORI TAKUMI on Jun 18, 2010 9:33:50 GMT -5
It's 3 A.M. in the mornin' [/b] Put my key[/b] in the door an' Bodies laying all over the floor[/b] an' I don't remember[/b] how they got there but I guess I must have killed 'em[/b][/font] ~~~[/center] She didn't seem at all happy about losing--which, he supposed, was understandable. "You're very good,"
[/b] he told her. "But your volleys need work."It'd been a while since he'd had such an invigorating match; his face was still flushed from all the exercise. Admittedly, it wasn't very nice of him to make Kurosawa run around like that--but it was strategy. That made up for it, to some extent. Right? She was saying something about that last move he made. "The drop shot? Thank you," he said. It was a move he'd learned back in middle school. His coach had been such a tennis fanatic, and he'd had to put up with lessons until ninth grade. His coach was a strange one, too. ("The element of surprise, Takumi! It's everything! You gotta pull off something unexpected if you wanna be the best of the best, you know what I'm saying?") A strange one. "In any case--where would you like to get a drink?" He usually just brought a bottle of water with him--but it was lukewarm. That normally didn't matter much, since the most of the time, his opponents were incompetent. But at the moment, lukewarm water didn't seem very appealing. He knew of a few places; some were formal, some so casual that it was distasteful. "A smoothie, maybe?" He wanted an orange smoothie, himself. Or lemonade--anything cold. And citrus. "I know a place, fairly close to here," he decided, and glanced at her attire. "The tennis clothes will do. It's too hot to wear that leather jacket of yours."He exhaled and pushed his bangs back. It was times like these he wished he had longer hair--so he could tie it back into a ponytail. Or, if he had shorter hair, so it wouldn't be so inconvenient. But medium, just grazing his neck--he couldn't even pull it back. "It's too warm out."[/font][/blockquote][/justify] ~~~ words: 320, so short tag: junko, who's not so bad at tennis either! comments: I seriously laughed when I read your tag (taku, the prince of tennis!)[/size]
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Post by KUROSAWA JUNKO on Jun 19, 2010 0:39:14 GMT -5
"I just don't play very often," she admitted, flexing her wrist experimentally as they put their racquets back. "That was the first time I played since my last year of high school."
She forgot that she was older than him a lot of the time - not by much, she knew, but it was still a distinction that most people would make. It seemed odd, Nakamori still being in high school. He certainly didn't act like a high schooler; in fact, in some ways he was more mature than she was.
She hadn't quite outgrown those teenage years yet.
Nineteen's too young to be worrying about things like this.
"A smoothie is just fine by me. Whatever you recommend works." Junko hadn't had anything to drink at all during the many-hours-long 'trip' she'd taken before coming across the tennis club, and she was sure she was severely dehydrated now.
Perhaps it wasn't an entirely sound medical conclusion, but it was good enough for her.
She would have protested about the jacket - she really did like that particular jacket - but it was hot, after all. A bicycler flew past in shorts and a tanktop; the sun seemed to tear through the air. It wasn't like that before, she knew - it wasn't like that before, and she decided the fault lay with tennis, in the end. Better to not blame others; better to not be bitter.
"It really is too warm out."
A statement. Agreement. She usually used these things - like weapons, or defense, against others; she worked hard to be in everyone's good books, she tried not to be disgusted. With Nakamori, it was a little different. Junko didn't have to try.
She assumed he'd take the lead in walking to the smoothie store, or wherever he was thinking of.
Nineteen, born in winter.
"When's your birthday?" she asked abruptly.
[/justify] - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - words: 300, but again, I thought it was so much longer, haha tag: takumiiiii comments: tried something different with the writing this time [/left]
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Post by NAKAMORI TAKUMI on Jun 19, 2010 16:40:27 GMT -5
Down the hatchet the feelin' you can't match it [/b] I rap-tap-tap on your door[/b] with a damn ratchet Ata-ta-tackin' a whore with a damn hatchet[/b] A knapsack packed with like 40[/b] some Xanax's[/font] ~~~[/center] Whatever he recommended, hm? He doubted she'd have the same tastes as he did. With music, the arts-- he was very liberal. But foods...
It couldn't be too sweet, too salty, too bland, too bitter. If it looked unappetizing or too flashy, he'd refuse to eat it--the only thing he didn't mind in excess was citrus, and sour fruits in general. It was an odd taste, he knew--and he was potentially the pickiest eater in the family.
But they knew better than to deny him his orange smoothies.
"Maybe a watermelon smoothie,"
[/b] he offered. It wasn't what he'd prefer, but it was popular--and it didn't taste too badly. "The peach smoothie isn't awful, either, but it's too sweet for my tastes."He felt sort of odd, walking down the street in his tennis clothes. It wasn't uncomfortable (quite the contrary) but he wasn't used to walking around in public, in such casual clothing. The only times he ever wore polos and shorts were when he was on the courts. Even at home, he wore a dress shirt or sweater. Now that it was summer, though, things were a little harder for him. There weren't exactly... formal shorts. The cafe they were going to was a fairly casual place; a very homely atmosphere. It was barely a block away; he pushed open the doors, basking in the cool air. There were already a few people inside; it was a popular cafe, but small. Sometimes there weren't even any seats available. He held the door open for Kurosawa, and wondered if she'd mind if he paid for the drinks. She lost the match, he decided. She can deal with it."I was born in April," he told her. "A Taurus, by two days." He didn't think about their age difference often--especially since he was taller than her. It probably would've been more awkward if he were shorter, he knew. But he wasn't. And he didn't want to dwell on that. (Because really, he didn't like acting the part of "cute little boy" with girls--with anyone, really. Even though they sometimes did so. Especially his cousin, who had no reason to do so, since he wasn't older than him and wasn't taller than him and wasn't more mature than him and--) He claimed a table for two near the front, and went up to the counter. "What would you like?"[/b] he called back.[/font][/blockquote][/justify] ~~~ words: 406 tag: juuuuuunko. you cool december-born, you. comments: thought I'd try something kinda different(ish), since you did... not really. taku rants a little. barely a difference; I'm gonna go cry in a corner[/size]
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Post by KUROSAWA JUNKO on Jun 19, 2010 17:34:20 GMT -5
Well.
She did like this cafe.
It was precisely what she'd imagine a cafe to be like - it was small, yet it had enough customers for Junko to conclude that it was a profitable business venture for the owners. It was always somewhat painful to walk into a completely empty store; she'd wonder if everything was alright, but she wasn't the sort to believe that a single customer could change anything, and never questioned it.
Thankfully, it had air conditioning.
"Peaches are always unusually sweet by default, I think," she said, voicing her opinions aloud.
Watermelon? Hm. Well, she had no objections in the end; water had always been something of a good summer fruit, and while summer was not yet in full swing, the temperature certainly seemed to match the season.
"Watermelon sounds good," she called, and took a seat. She almost reached for her wallet inside her jacket (which, in turn, was inside the bag she was holding) when she suddenly realized that she hadn't brought it - again, the only things in her jacket pockets were her motorcycle license and her house keys.
Damn it.
As she waited for him to return, she thought again how odd this was - she usually didn't go out to do much of anything with her friends, either from college or high school, and yet here she was at a cafe with a boy she'd met all of three times.
And played tennis, of all things.
Junko thought it was strange that he actually knew his astrological sign; she was dimly aware that she was a Capricorn, being born a day after Christmas, but she'd found that only more feminine girls were really interested in it - at least, in her experience.
Oh well. It didn't really matter.
When he returned to their seats, she blinked, trying not to look at Nakamori out of sheer embarrassment. "Um, I didn't bring my wallet today..."
[/justify] - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - words: 320ish tag: takumi the bull (silly, silly taurus) comments: junko is a goat/ram/sheep thing, why am I laughing [/left]
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Post by NAKAMORI TAKUMI on Jun 19, 2010 18:26:55 GMT -5
Nuts they go, macadamia; they go so ballistic, [/b] whoa We can make them[/b] look like Boso’s He’s wondering if he should spit this slow[/b] F-ck no! Go for broke; his cup just runneth over,[/b] oh no[/font] ~~~[/center] "A watermelon smoothie and an orange smoothie,"
[/b] Takumi said. "Thanks."He waited at the counter; the service at this cafe wasn't bad at all; it took barely two minutes for his order. He took a sip from his orange smoothie, taking a set of napkins with him as he made his way back to the table. Kurosawa was avoiding his gaze, and finally mumbled something about not having brought her wallet. She looked so embarrassed about it; he almost laughed. "You lost the match," he reminded her. "I'm paying for everything." Maybe she'd thought that had only applied to the tennis clothes--now that he thought about it... Whatever. Besides, what kind of man would make the girl pay for--well, anything? Tauruses were supposed to be gentlemen, to an extent. (He didn't remember how he learned all this astrology--all he recalled was his mother constantly reading his horoscope. It'd become second nature, after a while. It occurred to him that knowing astrology, as a boy, was kind of odd, but there wasn't much to be done about it.) He handed her the watermelon smoothie. It was a pale pink, and he eyed it warily. Pink usually indicated sweetness. His smoothie was pale orange--a mix of oranges and lemons, he assumed. Maybe some limes, if he was lucky. He took another long sip. It was a pleasant mix of sweet and sour. "I've always wanted to make my own smoothie," he said absentmindedly. "But I don't have a blender." And he'd probably kill himself doing so. He understood the basics of cooking, and he knew a few basic dishes. Those dishes had been worked and reworked to perfection (in his opinion, at least), and he practically lived off of them. He'd decided to be brave one day, and tried out a new recipe. It'd been a disaster--and now that he thought back to it, he was fairly certain the recipe was for apple pie. He still didn't know how it happened--all he was supposed to do was put flour and apples together, right? And bake, of course. So how exactly did the pie explode? Alright, so it didn't so much explode as... burst quietly. But it took a smoke detector for him to realize what had happened, and by then, the oven was a disaster. "Can you cook?" he asked suddenly. He really couldn't guess--most people who rode motorcycles and had leather jackets generally didn't cook that well. But she was also a pianist, a lover of classical music. It was a refreshing combination.[/font][/blockquote][/justify] ~~~ words: 429 tag: junko the... ram? goat? pretty vicious for a doormat (which you aren't, junko) comments: and taku's pretty docile for a bull, haha[/size]
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Post by KUROSAWA JUNKO on Jun 20, 2010 11:40:06 GMT -5
She nodded and sipped at her drink.
Not that she really wanted him to pay for everything, or anything of that sort - Kurosawa Junko believed quite firmly in the equality of the sexes, and somewhat more so in the concept of everyone paying for their own share - but it couldn't be helped, after all. She made a mental note to never leave her wallet at home again.
You never knew what extra expenses you'd have to make.
"I can cook," she affirmed. "Well, I mean, I think my cooking is edible, anyway. Others may beg to differ. But I can make a... decent variety of dishes."
She'd never cooked for anyone else before - but the things she made were reasonably delectable. Surely other people would think the same? "But I have a problem with numbers," she said. "I'm always making too much or too little... can't get the sizes right."
There was the time she'd made pancakes, and somehow wound up with a stack about as tall as the average child. She'd had to eat them for breakfast every day for an entire week, and she hadn't had pancakes since.
There was another time she'd made curry rice, but ended up with a fraction of what would be considered a tiny serving - although she didn't really enjoy the taste to begin with, so perhaps that was for the better.
Another sip. The smoothie was a little sweeter than she'd expected, but that was just fine; she wasn't particularly in the mood for any type of bland drink.
"Is a blender that hard to come by?" Junko raised a brow. "But I guess I don't really use my own, either."
She was sure it was simply gathering dust somewhere in the confines of her kitchen cabinets.
She considered it a little while longer. "Actually, you strike me as the type of person who would be able to cook. Do you?"
[/justify] - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - words: 320ish again tag: takumi the failure of a chef comments: ahhh finally got around to this, I'm sorry these are all so short haha [/left]
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Post by NAKAMORI TAKUMI on Jun 22, 2010 11:29:10 GMT -5
I could run circles around you [/i] so fast your f*ckin’ head’ll spin, dog I split your cabbage and your lettuce and olives[/i] I’ll f*ckin’ pick the world up[/i][/font] ~~~[/center] It took him a while to come up with a response. "I'm decent,"
[/b] he said at last, "with a few dishes." And not nearly so good at others. It wasn't really his fault, he thought; it wasn't as if he never put in the effort. He did--he read the recipe and followed them meticulously. He supposed the kitchen utensils just... didn't like him. So he truck her as the type who'd be able to cook? The assumption wasn't completely unfounded; but he chose not to mention the fact that almost any other dish he cooked had a tendency to be--inedible. "Ah, and it's not that blenders are difficult to come by," he continued, taking another sip of his smoothie. He'd read somewhere that it was unhealthy to drink something cold immediately after exercising, but he didn't care much. "I never get around to buying one, that's all." He really ought to; it would be more convenient than running to a cafe every time he wanted a smoothie. "But one has to know how to cook if one lives by oneself," he pointed out. Unless, of course, he chose to go to restaurants to eat every day--which really wouldn't be an awful idea. He visited his family a few times each month; his older sister had chosen to live near their parents, and his older brother was still staying with them. Among the three, Takumi was the one who'd drifted farthest away--but they always reeled him back. It'd become almost a tradition of sorts to visit every other week. He didn't mind, really. Especially since his mother was an astounding cook. (Speaking of which, he really had to ask her for cooking advice the next time he saw her.) "Do you go by the recipe?" he asked. "That's what I do, but it doesn't always resolve well."That was a severe understatement. He checked the time. It was around two PM--and he really had nothing much to do. His smoothie was still half-full, but he almost never finished his drinks, anyway. "If you're ever free, would you play piano for me, sometime?"[/b] It was a random request, he knew.[/blockquote][/justify][/font] ~~~ words: 363 tag: junko the awesome pianist comments: sorry this took so long, I got super distracted[/size]
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Post by KUROSAWA JUNKO on Jun 22, 2010 18:49:23 GMT -5
That seemed like an awfully strange question to ask.
"Isn't it natural to follow the recipe?" She was under the impression that most of the horrible chefs in the world simply did not follow the recipe - unless of course they were just horribly clumsy.
She took another sip of her drink. "I mean," she said, after swallowing, "I suppose if you're an incredibly good chef, you can add something innovative." She herself often attempted strange additions - Junko was fond of experimenting with fruit in savory dishes - but she didn't consider it terribly impressive, or any form of overhaul on the old recipe.
But then, even she realized it would probably not work out if one were to attempt inserting savory things into a sweet dish. Cooking was all about common sense, in the end - at least, at its very core. Ingenuity was involved in the higher end of the scale, but Junko did not consider herself an incredibly talented chef. Creativity in food seemed to be something she shouldn't attempt.
He seemed a little obsessed with blenders. Junko wasn't sure why it really mattered. Unless, of course, he just really liked smoothies.
The thought was somewhat amusing.
"And, um, I'd be happy to play piano for you - if I ever happen to come across one when I'm with you. It's fine," she said, smiling slightly - almost imperceptibly. "The problem with playing piano is that you can only play where one already stands. Can't move it."
She was pointing out the obvious, of course, but it was really something that had always bothered her - had probably always bothered all keyboardists. Save for those who really didn't enjoy playing to begin with.
Junko wondered if he had any musical preferences. What would she even play if the time came? It was a bit of a mystery.
Probably whatever pop song she'd heard that morning.
Or maybe something less modern? It was difficult to decide.
"Come to think of it, Nakamori." She set her drink down on the table. "If this isn't too personal, why do you live alone to begin with?"
He didn't seem like the type to be on bad terms with his family.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - words: approximately 370 once more tag: takumi the smoothie master comments: ...blenders. just. just blenders. [/left]
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Post by NAKAMORI TAKUMI on Jun 26, 2010 17:30:25 GMT -5
[/i] to do this tonight We don't wanna fight,[/i] we don't want no one feeling uptight Cause we came here to do this tonight[/i] Till the morning light hope that everyone's feeling alright[/b][/font] ~~~[/center] "I suppose I'm not good with recipes,"
[/b] Takumi said at last. That wasn't entirely true, since the recipes his family had taught him worked perfectly fine. But it was a simple response; to be honest, he didn't know why his cooking could be decent at times and completely atrocious at others. He smiled a little. "I'd invite you back to the music shop," he began, " "but I don't think you're very fond of it, are you?" That was a bit of a brash assumption, he supposed. He'd gone back to the music shop many times afterward--still a daily ritual, after all--and had been rather amused to hear the shopkeeper speak so vehemently of Kurosawa. ("That girl, having the temerity to take such a tone with me! Right after she injured you, too. She's that type of person, I guess. A bevy of them would be like hell in a bottle.") He wasn't terribly fond of the shopkeeper, himself. He liked the store, no doubt, and the shopkeeper quite liked him. (Or so he assumed.) But there had always been something about the shopkeeper that was terribly fake. Even the praise he was given seemed like ersatz compliments. The only reason he was treated so well, he guessed, was because he was a steadfast customer. In fact, he was probably the most well-paying customer the store had. The reason was trite, but perfectly valid. In any case, it wasn't something deserving of such gravitas, so he never bothered himself with the reasons. He was usually laconic in his visits to the music store, anyway. He never eyed the shopkeeper askance, was never vitriolic. Life, he'd decided, was all about restraining the histrionics. It wasn't really his family's modus operandi, but he'd adopted it as his own a long time ago. It took him a while to realize Kurosawa was saying something. "Why I live alone?" He thought for a while. There wasn't any dramatic reason he'd decided to move out; no truculent argument had ensued, no gratuitous angst. He just... wanted to move out. It'd been a series of small events that had finally prompted him to buy a place of his own. No big deal. He replied perfunctorily, "I live alone because it's more peaceful that way." There was some truth in it. He had a tendency to wake up in the middle of the night, and in such cases, as capricious as it was, liked to practice violin or oboe until dawn. "My family couldn't really keep up with my sporadic practice schedule."That and the fact that living with his older siblings had been a rather incongruous arrangement. They weren't estranged, or anything like that. He loved them dearly. But there was the issue that he was always expected to hold himself back a little around them. And while there wasn't necessarily much to hold back, it was a little... uncomfortable. He made no intimations toward that, however, and said, "I would've moved out eventually, anyway. It wasn't crossing the Rubicon, or something like that."He didn't feel it was necessary to give away his whole life story, but he wondered if Kurosawa would realize that he hadn't told the whole truth. Probably not, he decided. It wasn't like she had any family issues of her own, did she? Although he did recall something... Well. It wasn't as if his "problems" were legitimate issues, anyway.[/font][/blockquote][/justify] ~~~ words: 569 tag: junko who also has family issues but may or may not be better at hiding them comments: I can't believe I just wrote like that (the reply, I mean); it's awful, but god that was fun to write; I think I've exhausted half my vocabulary, haha[/size]
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Post by KUROSAWA JUNKO on Jun 26, 2010 23:22:55 GMT -5
Junko shook her head so fast she was sure it must have blurred.
"Please." Her voice came out strained, almost comically so. In fact, she was sure the entire situation was comedic to a certain extent. "Anywhere but that music store."
The shopkeeper had seemed like the argumentative sort, and the last thing she wanted was to be snared into an endless loop of retort after retort. Junko could be quite witty at times, but that didn't mean that she enjoyed it. Arguments were ridiculous; she was usually left feeling that she was the one at fault even if she wasn't.
Not that she would ever say it out loud - somehow, she'd always felt that she didn't really have the right - but it usually wasn't.
She never had gotten around to buying the composition book she'd needed that time, and for that matter she'd also forgotten about the reason she needed it. Junko was also pretty sure that it wouldn't be right to blame anyone but herself, but Nakamori was pleasant company and it wasn't really the shopkeeper's fault either, prickly though the man might have been.
Junko took another relieving sip of her drink - the sweet taste fading away on her tongue as she swallowed and said, "Sporadic? Can't be that bad." She stirred the bottom of the smoothie with her straw absentmindedly, staring out the window of the shop. A good-looking teenage couple - the boy handsome and tall, the girl in trendy, revealing attire - had gotten into an argument with each other, and the entire scene was playing out very much like a cliched movie.
"That doesn't really seem like a reason anyone would leave," she muttered - almost a whisper, even, because she wasn't really sure she wanted to challenge the supposed truth of what Nakamori was saying.
Outside, the girl burst into frustrated tears, and the boy looked very much on the verge of crying himself.
"I guess most people have to move out eventually," she said to herself, wondering if Nakamori even heard.
(She hadn't really wanted to move out of her parents' home, not really, but even she didn't need it said to her that staying any longer than she had would have just been awkward, and besides, they had at least done her the courtesy of preparing the old house for her, hadn't they?
Or was that just their way of telling her that she needed to leave sooner?)
"Parents can be fickle, after all."
[/justify] - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - words: around 400 tag: takumi who knows good smoothie spots comments: hahahaha, oh god, that was a hilarious read - I was about to do it myself but I changed my mind [/left]
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Post by NAKAMORI TAKUMI on Jun 27, 2010 17:47:44 GMT -5
[/b] to take a stand Everybody, come take my hand[/b] We'll walk this road together,[/b] through the storm Whatever weather, cold or warm[/b][/font] ~~~[/center] Takumi almost laughed at her reaction to his suggestion. "I wouldn't force you back there,"
[/b] he assured, amused. First impressions, to many people, were everything--and he had to admit, Kurosawa's first impression probably hadn't been a good one. "There are other music shops we can go to, if you'd like." A thought occurred to him, and he added, "There's a program in the United States at the moment; I'm not quite sure what it's called. But the program has scattered several pianos across New York City. Public pianos that anyone can play. It's supposed to be an international program, but they haven't gotten to Japan yet, it seems."He paused. "Still, that'd be very convenient, wouldn't it?"He rather liked the idea of public pianos; there were a few in Japan, probably, but not many. And he wasn't much of a pianist, anyway. But it'd be nice to play the violin or the oboe there, with a pianist to accompany him. While his pieces were satisfactory without an accompaniment, he had no doubt that they'd sound infinitely more beautiful with one. In any case, he knew a few basic pieces on the piano. He needed sheet music if he wanted to play something particularly salient, but he figured anybody could play with sheet music. It took a true pianist to play by heart, interpret it, without having to read a set of directions. "My schedule was sporadic," he assured. "I wake up in the middle of the night, sometimes, and practice. When I finally check the time, it's usually morning already." His family did have a practice room, but it wasn't as soundproof as the one he had now. And in any case, his parents probably didn't like the fact that he almost never got enough sleep. Yes, that was why he moved out--more freedom. He smiled a little when she questioned his answer. "It was part of the reason why I left," he said. He wondered if it would be saying too much, then asked, "Have you any siblings?" Even if she did, though, he doubted she'd understand what it was like. Not all parents were as traditional as his. In that aspect, anyway. It took him a while to notice that she was staring past him, through the window, and he turned around. There was a young couple, the girl crying, and the boy looking distressed. Takumi didn't understand why people had to make such a fuss in public; what could possibly have been horrible enough to require such histrionics? He refrained from commenting on it. "Parents can be fickle," he agreed. "They can have the most elaborate plans for you one day, and change them the next." His parents had done that many times; business school, no, law school, no, medical school, no-- They were probably still deciding. (He knew that probably wasn't what Kurosawa had meant.) "But they're consistent, I suppose, in that they love their children, regardless."[/b] Right?[/font][/blockquote][/justify] ~~~ words: 495 tag: junko whose family sucks; even I hate them comments: haha, histrionics.[/size]
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Post by KUROSAWA JUNKO on Jun 30, 2010 21:23:49 GMT -5
"You like music an awful lot, don't you, Nakamori?" Junko was reaching the bottom of her drink now. "To keep track of something like that, I mean. Most people wouldn't research music-related news outside of Japan."
Unless, of course, he was a musician on the international level. Then things were slightly different, after all - but he couldn't possibly play that well, if he wasn't even in college yet. Or could he? Junko was not one to speculate on things that were so wildly absurd - and yet she found her mind wandering to the topic anyway.
She was tempted to ask.
Of course, she didn't. It was impossible, anyway, and she'd only look like a naive fool for thinking it was.
"It would be really convenient to have more pianos for public use, though," she admitted.
She'd always thought about how nice it would be to have a portable piano, though. There were plenty of roll-up models out on the market, though, but she seriously doubted their quality, nor had she ever actually seen one in retail.
"That said, going to another music shop might be okay. If you're sure they wouldn't mind having their pianos used, anyway."
She tilted her head quizzically at his statements regarding practice - instantly regretting it afterward. It was something only her most bubbly friends had done, and she'd picked up the motion after many long hours with them, but she always felt ridiculous doing it.
Nevertheless, she did tilt her head. "Are you sure you're getting enough sleep?" she asked. "If you're waking up in the middle of the night to practice, you probably aren't..."
She brushed a lock of stray hair out of her face, still watching the young couple outside - the girl was stalking off after throwing what appeared to be a childish tantrum, and the boy was looking equal parts upset and relieved. Junko couldn't imagine being in such a strenuous relationship; she couldn't understand any girl who would do something like that to begin with.
But perhaps the boy was at fault as well. It wasn't her place to judge.
More importantly, she was reaching the bottom of her smoothie cup. This was highly distressing. An emergency. An error. Warning warning warning.
Junko tore her eyes away from the window.
"And no, I don't have any siblings. One child was enough for my parents, evidently."
She tried a smile in response to his. "Well, everyone has the right to be a little fickle. It's not necessarily a bad trait. It's a little better than rushing headlong into situations, if you ask me."
"My parents, well..." She found it difficult to explain. "They changed their minds a lot."
[/justify] - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - words: 450 tag: takumi whose family is... well, going by kazuma, a little weird comments: I should expand my vocabulary a little too, huh? [/left]
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Post by NAKAMORI TAKUMI on Jul 1, 2010 19:29:53 GMT -5
See honey... there's a place called heaven [/b] and a place called hell[/b] A place called prison[/b] and a place called jail[/b] And da-da's probably on his way[/b] to all of 'em Except one[/b][/font] ~~~[/center] "Music means very much to me,"
[/b] Takumi agreed, and although that was a bit of an understatement, he didn't bother elaborating. He'd been born to music, brought up with music. To an extent, however cliched it sounded, music was his life--or at least a significant portion of it. He couldn't imagine life without it. That, of course, wasn't necessarily a positive thing. Regardless, he did want to pursue music. It only made sense--if music took up such a major part of his life, why not devote the rest of his life to it? He'd gotten several offers from very prestigious orchestras, but he wasn't interested in anything if it wasn't first chair. The fact of the matter was, however, that people were reluctant to offer first chairs to eighteen year old students, not even in college. He didn't mind. He wanted to be a soloist, anyway. "Yes,"[/b] he agreed. "It's a wonderful idea--but I don't know when the program will reach Japan."[/b] Thinking about performing with an accompaniment in public put him in a significantly better mood. His performances would be so much more meritorious if he had an accompaniment--while Paganini did have some pieces for solo violin, there weren't many pieces for solo oboe. And most of the pieces he played had orchestral accompaniments, anyway. Wouldn't it be lovely if portable orchestras existed? he thought. An orchestra that'd follow one around wherever one went.Those would probably be called slaves. He decided against the portable orchestra idea. "No, the music stores wouldn't mind,"[/b] he assured. "Most of them know me, in any case."[/b] He must have been to every music store in Tokyo, and visited almost all of them at least monthly. He almost smiled when she tilted her head. It was a cute gesture--although cute really wasn't the word for it. What, then? Bubbly? Childish? He settled for amusing, however condescending it sounded. "More or less,"[/b] he replied. "I get eleven hours straight on a good day."[/b] Of course, good days came rarely and far in between. He didn't always wake up in the middle of the night--he wasn't an insomniac--but when he did, he only slept for two or three hours. (Although, he did also have a tendency to make up for the missed hours of sleep during his music lessons. It's also occurred to him that that won't cut it if he were to become a performer.) Kurosawa was still watching the couple outside, but Takumi didn't bother turning around. They were probably still arguing, breaking up. A couple that dramatic shouldn't have gotten together in the first place. Why make the commitment if neither of them are going to take it seriously? What was left of his smoothie was melting, and the outside of the cup was covered in water droplets. He looked askance at it and wondered whether or not he ought to buy another one. "My parents aren't always reliable, either,"[/b] he said dryly. "They still haven't decided what I'm to major in."[/b] He frowned, then added, "Is their fickleness why you don't live with them anymore?"[/b][/font][/blockquote][/justify] ~~~ words: 521 tag: junko who needs to start eating more slowly and start talking more about herself comments: the nakamoris are nutcases, muahaha[/size]
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Post by KUROSAWA JUNKO on Jul 3, 2010 13:52:22 GMT -5
It was an admirable attitude.
Not to say that Kurosawa Junko was jealous. Kurosawa Junko was not born for emotions like envy or resentment - she had outgrown these feelings since she was a child, these feelings that, to anyone else, were completely normal. It was not difficult for her to appreciate the efforts of another without feeling as though she could do better.
Believing that she could not do better was normal, for her.
Believing that she could not do better did not require conscious effort.
She could not understand feeling as though anything were a crucial part of her life. Her parents, her friends, the grades she had earned in school - these were all things that slowly slipped away as she let them. In fact, she had no particular reason for aspiring to be a translator except that she was simply good at doing it.
Junko could not call herself a pianist in any sense of the word.
But she did not say these things - she couldn't, because they probably didn't even occur to her. "I hadn't even heard of it before now, so I can't really offer my opinion on that. If it originated in America, then countries from Europe are probably next," she mused. "But Japan does have very good classical music programs, doesn't it?"
Junko looked again out the window.
"Actually, I often wonder if I would be far more interested in music, professionally, if I had learned using the Suzuki method instead. It seems like it would suit me more. At least from what I've read." It was a method of teaching music that revolved more around teaching the appreciation of music (and by association, the world) than around the cultivation of musical prodigies, and as Junko had no personal reason compelling her to become an exceptional musician, it seemed only natural that she would be interested in such a form of musical education.
Unfortunately, she was far beyond the age where it would really be appropriate to be taking such classes.
"Well, I guess it doesn't really matter. I mean, I'm not the type of performer who enjoys playing solo very much."
She was essentially stating that she was no good as a musician.
Junko tore her eyes away from the figure of the boy, now walking off with a depressed air, and turned back toward Nakamori. He was still looking at her, waiting for her reply about her parents.
She realized that it was becoming clear that her family was fairly dysfunctional.
(Not that she hadn't realized it before, but it had never really occurred to her in the first place. She had understood, as a child, that parents usually did not neglect their children, but she had never actually been told that it was absolutely wrong.)
She fiddled with her straw, poking gently at the ice at the bottom. "Well, they were the ones who really suggested that I move out," she said slowly. "So I guess that is part of being fickle. It wouldn't surprise me at all if they asked me to move in again sometime, but for now it seems that they're enjoying themselves."
She didn't sound entirely sure.
[/justify] - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - words: 534, though I thought it was much longer tag: takumi who probably already knows what the Suzuki method is comments: tried a slightly different style - it's a bit more in-depth but makes her seem kind of emo [/left]
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