A thick, cartoonish black line appeared over Haruya's head.
Was he being underestimated?
Did she really think he only knew that piece?
Tsumugi, on the other hand, couldn't help but burst out laughing, a loud, clear sound that filled the room. She was practically doubled over.
Hiroko looked at them, completely confused. "Did I say anything wrong? Didn't you say he was a beginner?"
Tsumugi shook her head, trying to compose herself. "It's my fault for not clarifying better, Hiroko-sensei. Onii-chan's talent is on a completely different level. He doesn't really seem like a beginner at all."
Haruya didn't bother to explain any further.
He simply walked to the piano and sat down on the bench.
He took a deep breath, and with a soft, confident touch, the first notes of Chopin's Nocturne Op. 9 No. 2, in E Flat Major, filled the room.
His playing was not a storm like Takeshi's, nor a tempest of emotion like Emi's.
It was a new world entirely.
It was royal and elegant, a gentle, regal melody that felt like a king's lament.
The notes flowed from his fingers with a graceful precision that felt both practiced and effortlessly natural.
The melody was a whisper in the moonlight, a secret told to the stars.
His touch was light and delicate, his fingers dancing across the keys as if they were floating in the air, creating a soft, silvery sound that felt like it was woven from threads of pure moonlight.
As he played, Hiroko's eyes widened, and a vision filled her mind.
She saw a magnificent grand hall, bathed in the gentle glow of the moonlight that streamed through the huge windows.
The walls were made of white marble, the columns were tall and majestic, and in the center of the hall, a throne sat, bathed in the gentle glow of the moon.
Haruya sat on that throne, his face serene, his hands moving across the keys with an almost divine grace.
The music swelled, a gentle, elegant crescendo that filled the hall, and then faded back to a soft, ethereal melody.
He wasn't just playing the piano; he was commanding it.
He was telling a story, a tale of a lonely king, a king who found solace not in his kingdom, but in the beauty of the night sky.
Koharu, who had been shyly watching from the side, was now completely mesmerized.
Her dark eyes, like two little beads, seemed to gleam as she stared at Haruya, a look of pure wonder on her face.
She took a step closer, as if to get a better look at the boy who was creating such a magical sound.
As Haruya continued to play, he neared the end of the piece.
The music swelled one last time, a gentle crescendo of feeling, and then slowly began to fade, a soft, graceful whisper of a final note.
Hiroko, still lost in the vision, turned to her student Tsumugi, her voice barely a whisper, filled with a sense of wonder. "How long did you say he's been playing?"
Tsumugi thought for a moment before answering, her voice equally soft. "A bit less than two weeks. He also knows other pieces, like Chopin's Ballade No. 1, that I used in the competition. He helped me practice it."
"Impossible!" Hiroko was shocked.
She could only stare at Tsumugi in disbelief.
She had never heard of anyone, not even the most talented prodigies, learning Nocturne Op. 9 No. 2, let alone something as complex as Chopin's Ballade No. 1, in less than two weeks.
With such a unique playing style and technique?
It was completely unheard of.
Even describing Haruya as a musical prodigy would not be enough.
This was more than a monster.
She was right; being a pianist was not just about memorization.
It was about technique, melody, dynamics, mastering pedaling, and a lot of other complex matters.
If what Tsumugi said was true, then it meant that Haruya had a perfect photographic memory, a unique style that he had developed on his own, and an internal musicality that showed a deep, emotional connection to the music.
The way he had executed rubato, the slight fluctuation of tempo for expressive effect, was flawless.
He had also internalized all the nuances of the piece, the subtle shifts in dynamics, the gentle swells, and the delicate diminuendos.
It all sounded very sci-fi to her. Like a neurological anomaly!
But she knew that her student wouldn't lie to her just for the sake of bragging.
She stared at Haruya's back in shock, her mind racing. "Even Kousei's talent couldn't possibly match this..." she murmured, barely audible.
The name left her lips, filled with a sad, mournful tone.
Hearing her teacher's words, Tsumugi glanced at her from the side worriedly.
She knew who Hiroko was talking about.
Kousei Arima.
The son of Japan's deceased best pianist, Saki Arima.
A world-renowned prodigy who had vanished from the music scene ever since his mother's death last year.
She also knew about the close relationship between her teacher and Saki Arima.
Tsumugi moved closer to her teacher silently, without saying anything else, just as a show of support.
Hiroko noticed this and patted her student's head, a small, sad smile on her face.
Her memories of Saki were a mix of happiness and sorrow, and the thought of her son, a boy who had been a child prodigy, now unable to play, filled her with a profound sense of sadness.
Perhaps things wouldn't have been the way they are now if she hadn't told Saki to turn her son into a pianist.
Her daughter, Koharu, who had been watching Haruya this entire time, was oblivious to the conversation between the two, her black eyes shining with a sense of pure wonder.
Haruya finally finished his piece.
The last note hung in the air for a moment, a beautiful, haunting sound, and then the room was silent.
He turned on the piano bench and looked back at the three of them, a little confused by the strange, sad atmosphere.
"Is everything alright?" he asked.
Hiroko snapped back to reality, her professional mask settling on her face once more.
She took a deep breath, trying to process the impossible talent she had just witnessed. "Haruya-kun, that was... magnificent," she said, her voice filled with sincere awe. "I've never seen someone as talented as you before. I would be honored to have you under my tutelage if you would still want that."
Haruya smiled brightly. "Of course, Hiroko-sensei. I'd be happy to. But I should warn you, I might not have enough time to visit you all the time. I'm busy with other things, too."
"What other things?" Hiroko asked, a little curious now. She couldn't imagine what could possibly occupy the time of someone with this much talent.
"Cooking," Haruya said simply. "I'm also training my skills in cooking. I go to visit a friend of our family, renowned for cooking. You can say I'm training with them."
Tsumugi nodded enthusiastically. "You wouldn't believe it, Hiroko-sensei. His cooking is on a whole different level! He can cook anything! It's delicious."
Hiroko looked at Haruya again, her eyes filled with a new level of awe.
A prodigy in multiple fields? This boy was a true anomaly.
She gave, a soft, amused smile. "That's perfectly fine. I understand that you have other passions. As long as you don't slack in your piano training, I don't see a problem."
"Of course!" Haruya said, his smile as bright as the morning sun.
He was relieved that she understood.
He loved the piano, but his first love had always been cooking, and he didn't want to give it up.
Hiroko glanced at the clock on the wall, and a mischievous glint appeared in her eyes. "Well, since there's a talented chef in my home, it would be a shame to let that talent go to waste. As my new student, you should cook for your teacher, right?"
Haruya laughed, feeling completely at ease. He loved a good challenge, and this was one he was more than happy to accept. "Of course. It would be my honor."
The tension in the room dissipated, replaced by a light, easygoing atmosphere.