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’re the one that 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 commented on how nice it was.

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

Why… was he 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 in this awful way.”

Did the hero Mazeppa ever feel like this…?

That fierce opening theme… it had been rage.

And now, the same kind of storm roared in 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 harshly I spoke those words.

Whatever I’d been holding back inside me finally burst.

The piano keys I chased, the heights that I had reached, the sounds that I should have heard.

Those precious that I’d 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…

All of those feelings… 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 in surprise.

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.

“…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.