Fifty Words for Rain(82)

She brushed a hint of lipstick across her lips and squinted into the mirror.

It could be worse, she thought bleakly.

She could hear the front door opening and closing repeatedly downstairs along with the sounds of laughter, the kind of pretentious laughter that belonged to people with too much money and too much free time.

She sat on the edge of the bed and sighed. There was no point in praying for strength.

There was a tap on the door.

“Just a moment.”

It opened anyway.

And it was Akira.

He was dressed in his concert suit, with a red rose pinned to his lapel and his hair slicked back with pomade.

He raised an eyebrow at her shocked face.

“Ah, come now, Nori. You didn’t really think I’d let you embarrass me.”

She flung herself into his arms. “Oniichan!”

“I thought I’d surprise you,” he said warmly. “Aren’t you always complaining that I’m too serious?”

“But . . . but you’re in Vienna!”

“I flew back. I nearly didn’t make it. I just got in a few hours ago and I can’t stay long. I’m going back in three days.”

She looked up at him, and she was hard-pressed not to weep tears of joy. “Oh, thank God. You can play in my place now.”

He chuckled. “Not a chance. I will be your pianist for the evening, sister. But the rest is up to you.”

She dug her nails into his wrists. “Oh, please don’t make me do this. You would do a much better job.”

He snorted. “Well, naturally. But I want you to do it.”

“But I’m nobody!” she burst out. Her sleep-deprived brain was struggling to keep up with all that was happening, and she could not help but wish herself back to her own bedroom, curled up with a mug of hot tea.

He tapped her on the nose. “You’re not nobody.”

She glared at him, unconvinced.

“Look,” he said. “You know I never do anything without cause. So you’re going to have to trust me.”

Nori held back her tears. There was no time for them. The relief of having Akira by her side again outweighed everything else. If she was to go down in flames, at least he’d be there to . . . well, at least he’d be there.

She took hold of his hand and squeezed it tight.

“Happy birthday.”

He shrugged. “No ceremony.”

“I have questions,” she teased him. “Many questions. This is most unlike you, Oniichan.”

He smirked. “Maybe later. Now, let’s go.”



* * *





Don’t look at them.

It was the only way. After searching the crowd for Hiromoto and not being able to find him amidst the throng of people in black suits, she had given up and was now staring firmly at the floor.

Akira was sitting at the piano, after being warmly embraced by the conductor and half the players in the orchestra.

It was obvious that he belonged here and she did not. But here she was.

Someone she didn’t recognize came up to the stage and said a few words, thanked the guests on behalf of Hiromoto for attending tonight. He introduced tonight’s soloist as Miss Noriko Kamiza, and she could hear the crowd erupt in murmurs.

Nori had never wanted to be somewhere else so badly. And that was saying quite a bit.

The gown was itchy. Her hands were sweaty. She should’ve worn her hair differently. The strings on her violin were strung too tightly.

Akira’s gaze was the only thing holding her steady.

He believes in you.

She took a deep breath and did not release it until the conductor nodded at her that it was time to begin.

Now.

Off she flew. With the first bravura of ascending notes, she claimed the piece as her own.

Perfect.

She could almost feel Akira’s hands on hers, guiding her. Over the sound of the orchestra, she could hear his voice in her head.

Good. Not too fast, now. Slow down for this part . . . it’s like a caress. It’s sensual almost.

Just like that.

Now, higher. Don’t go sharp.

Faster. Faster. Faster.

She was breathless. Her face was hot, but her hands were steady. She would not be humiliated. Not today.

The orchestra slipped away from her, and she hastened to catch them. The sound of the flute pierced her to the heart.

Is this what it feels like?

Is this what Akira always feels like?

To be in the middle of such a sound?

She opened her eyes. There was a different sound now, entirely unfamiliar.

It was applause. Thunderous applause.

Nori swayed. It did not stop for a full three minutes.

Her chest heaved up and down.

“Encore! Bravo!” someone shouted.

“Yes, more!”

Akira looked at her out of the corner of his eye. It was traditional to take a small reprieve between pieces.

Nori was already out of breath, but she nodded that she was ready to continue. This next one was her song.

The “Ave Maria” went perfectly as, deep down, she had always known it would. It was an extension of herself and therefore impossible to forget.

She heard someone crying.

And then the roaring began again. This crowd was insatiable, apparently.