Track 5 - “—49”

I found myself at a cemetery, not knowing where he was buried.

I brought flowers.

I held them in a cheap prosthetic hand, which I still wasn’t very used to using.

The flowers I had were white. To match the color of the snow on his eyelashes the last time I saw him.

…Because I never found out his favorite color.

There was a stranger crying in front of Frederick’s grave.

“Who is that…?” I thought, absentmindedly.

“You played Liszt well… Could it be… are you Kuguri?” A man wiped away his tears and asked me that upon seeing me.

He said he was a close friend of Frederick’s. A medical student that usually talked to him on the phone.

I had a sudden thought.

Was it you over the phone that had Frederick smiling so softly in the cafeteria that day?

When he saw the flowers I brought, he said “Oh, how nice.”

“White was Frederick’s second favorite color. Thank you.”

Why… are you thanking me?

I felt a sudden pang in my chest.

“So you got caught in that accident too…”

The man glanced at my prosthetics as he spoke. He placed the flowers on the grave, frowning with a pained look.

I stood there like an idiot. I didn’t know how to pray. The gravestone was so cold, I couldn’t believe he was there.

“Playing the piano with those prosthetics must be difficult. I’m using a bionic one. If you want, I can get you in contact with a more advanced technician. Eventually, you could be able to play the piano just like before…”

“Oh… if only Frederick was still alive.” The man added to himself quietly.

“…I hate God. If only Frederick hadn’t played the piano. He wouldn’t have died this awful way.”

一Did the hero Mazeppa ever feel like this?

Like a melody that started with intense anger.

And just like that, a storm raged within my heart.

Fury welled up in me.

I saw red.

“…Don’t look down on me.”

Before I knew it, I was muttering. The man turned around, his eyes wide. I felt like something within my body was going to explode.

“The eighteen years of my life… and his life… don’t you dare look down on them.”

I don’t know how firmly I spoke those words. Whatever I’d been holding back inside me finally burst.

The piano keys chased, the point that was reached, the sounds that should have been heard. Something precious that had been built and rebuilt, over and over again, was demolished and gone in seconds.

I wanted to listen more.

I wanted to play more.

We could’ve gone higher, towards sounds that were out of reach.

We should have made it.

If only God hadn’t gotten in the way.

There wasn’t a name for this feeling.

“…I’m sorry. I was thoughtless.”

The man was apologizing.

What did I say back?

I faded in and out of consciousness, in a nightmare deeper and darker than Mazeppa’s dream.

Resentment and frustration.

…Despair.

Some sort of feeling like that…

Consumed me.

Before I knew it, the sun had set and night had fallen.

My body was aching all over, but I didn’t care.

It was interesting that I could feel it everywhere but my arms.

I got surrounded by some strange guys while drinking at a bar, was dragged out into an alleyway, and had all my money stolen. I was beaten, too. My right prosthetic arm was ripped off and tossed somewhere into the alleyway. I probably looked like some puny little rich kid to them.

But what did it matter?

I laid there collapsed in the alley, too drained to move, and gazed up at the filthy night sky illuminated by neon lights.

“Hey! Just where do you think you are? I can’t have you sleeping in front of the place like this, sir.”

A server stepped out of the bar, stood in front of me, and helped me to my feet. Then, they blinked as if they were thinking “Oya?”.

Through my bleary vision, I saw chestnut hair and blue eyes. It was Solomon.

“What are you doing here, Tadzio? Weren’t you in the hospital after some sort of accident?”

Solomon noticed my prosthetic arm lying on the ground and picked it up. Then he chuckled and let out a knowing hum.

He casually refastened my prosthetic arm, as if it was no big deal. When I saw his fingers, I thought of Frederick.

But none of that even mattered anymore.

“…rce them.” A hoarse voice croaked.

“What?” Solomon said, raising an eyebrow with a curious look.

“…My ears. Pierce them.”

I was the one who spoke those words. Solomon was silent for a few moments, squinting.

“Sure thing. Follow me, Kuguri.”

He spoke my name, and smiled.