Chapter 5 - Chapter 5

Yuki came into the room, holding the phone, “Kuro, it's Hatori-san, he wants to talk to you.”



“Oh, ok. Thanks,” I took the phone from Yuki's hand and took it back into the hallway, “Hi…Yes…shoot…she's ok?…good…yup…ok…no…I won't tell him…no…ok…yes…I'll be right there.” I put the phone down, and returned to the lounge. “I've got to go.”



“What's wrong?” Shigure asked, looking concerned, “is it Akito-san?”



He looked so worried I almost laughed. Why was he always so concerned for Akito? “No, no. Akito is fine. I just have to go. I'll come again soon, say goodbye to the others for me.” And before he could say another word, I left the house, running through the woods, and towards my scooter. As I climbed onto my small vehicle I again remembered how Shigure's first though had been of Akito. He did not seem to think it might have been his own sister, Nari-chan.



I pulled into the Sohma household just as Hatori walked out of his own house, “I though you weren't riding that any more, he asked?”



“Well, I am. Just don't tell Shigure. Where is she?”



“Who?”



“For shoot's sake, be serious, Where is she? Where's Nari?”



“Nari? I presume she's at home. Why?” Tori-chan looked confused.



“You told me she was seeing things again. You called me. Told me to come straight over. Remember? Didn't you?” I was beginning to wonder after my own sanity.



“No, I didn't.”



“Then why did you come out, as if to greet me?”



“Because Akito-san said you should be home soon.”



“How the hell does he kn…the bastard.”



I stormed off, letting my scooter, that I had still been holding up, fall to the ground, with a resounding crash. As I strode towards my house, I fumed, and rolled my eyes, shaking my head in sheer anger at the way my brother managed to simply pull my strings, and summon me so easily. I sometimes forgot that I was the older sibling, because he treated me like such a child.



I pushed the front door open with a great force, surprised it didn't break, and I then slammed it after me, kicking it with my back foot. This time, it did break, and as the door, its frame, and part of the wall fell down onto the porch outside, several people came running, Akito and Hatori included. I couldn't bear to talk to anyone, so I simply walked into my bedroom, again slamming the door, just with much less force this time.



I emerged the next morning in a shoot mood, thanks to a slight hangover after drinking myself stupid with quite a lot of French wine. My brother hated me drinking, so that's why I got drunk, to spite him.



My head thumping, I plodded into the bathroom, and took some aspirin, as well as my medicine. As I stumbled back to my room, bleary-eyed from both drink and no glasses, I saw a faint outline sitting on my sofa, asleep. I mooched over and poked the sleeping form. As it slithered into consciousness, I realised it was me dear cousin, Ayame. To hasten his awakening, I sat on him.



“Good morrow, fair cousin,” he greeted me.



“Ill met by moonlight, I mean dawn-light, proud Aaya,” I replied.



“And now we stop speaking Shakespearean,” Ayame giggled.



As we sat on the sofa and talked, the sun slowly rose, lighting the room with soft and iridescent glows. I finally noticed the time, and decided it was time for breakfast. I reached over to grab my glasses off the coffee table, and as I put them on, I asked Ayame if he wanted any breakfast, “I'm making waffles.” He agreed straight away, and as I made waffles, scenting the house with warm cream, syrup, and vanilla, he made jasmine tea, my favourite.



We dined in my small lounge, eating around the coffee table. I watched as Aaya delicately picked at his waffle, trying to keep himself as clean as possible. I laughed softly to myself, feeling my happiness riding inside me. If only there were more people like Aaya-chan in the world.



Later that day I decided it was time to start concentrating on my music again. As I walked into what should be a spare room, I spooked at the amount of dust everywhere. I walked slowly over to my piano, and as I ran my hand down its side, I cleaned off a little of the dust. I went over to the stool and sat down, slowly lifting the lid of the piano at the same time. My fingers gently stroked the keys, caressing the grooves that I had worked into them over the years. I quickly started playing one of my favourite pieces, `Pavane pour une Infante Defunte' by Ravel. As the notes poured from my heart, so did they sound on the piano, filling my house with gently flowing tones and undulation. I did not know at the time, that as time stopped for me whilst I played, so did it stop for most of the Sohma household, and the melancholy tune I played reached them, they stopped in their work, pausing to listen.



I played the final chords, and it felt as if the whole world sighed, letting their worries fly from them. My next piece was a happier one and I smiled as the notes skittered over the keyboard, forming an arrangement of the much-loved `The Pianist' by Saient-Sans. The notes played and ended, and I kept playing piece after piece, feeling the energy of the music flow out of me.

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