The Forest of Wool and Steel

by Natsu Miyashita

  Looking nothing like the Mr Akino I knew, he opened the door of his car and drove steadily off.

  Unusually that day, I had two appointments with clients. It was after seven when I finally got back to the office and found a note on my desk from Mr Yanagi: Good news! I looked at the two words of black scrawl on the memo pad and wondered what this could mean. Was it about the twins? I called his mobile from the office, and he answered straight away.

  ‘Hey.’

  ‘By good news, do you mean—?’

  Before I could finish, he said, ‘Yes. They called, asking for an appointment. They want to restart tuning sessions.’

  ‘By restart, you mean—’

  He interrupted again before I could finish the thought. ‘The Sakuras. The twins’ place. Their mother called.’

  ‘I see.’

  So it was them. This was fantastic – how I’d been longing for this day.

  ‘So they’ve started playing again?’

  A short silence on the other end of the line.

  ‘Well, at least one of them has.’

  It had to be Kazune. If only the two of them could play again, I began to think, then reined in my emotions. If only one of them could play, that was certainly better than neither. Far better.

  ‘She asked, if it’s not too much of a bother, if you wouldn’t mind coming along as well.’

  ‘What? It’s OK for me to come along?’

  ‘The twins requested it, she said.’

  So we fixed an appointment and visited the Sakuras’ home a week later, late in the afternoon.

  Mrs Sakura welcomed us with a warm smile. ‘We’ve been looking forward to this,’ she said.

  The twins came out and bowed together. ‘It’s been so long.’

  I thanked the stars for their cheerful voices.

  ‘Sorry for all the trouble.’

  ‘We’re so happy you could come.’

  ‘We are, too.’ Mr Yanagi smiled back. ‘We’re extremely happy you asked us to tune for you again.’

  Standing just behind him, I bowed in turn. For the whole time we hadn’t heard from them, I’d felt as if there were a heavy stone lodged inside my chest. Now it was crumbling into dust.

  They led us to the music room, and Mr Yanagi asked, ‘Do you have any special requests?’

  ‘We’ll leave it up to you,’ the twins said in unison.

  ‘Well then, if there’s anything you’d like to tell us, please feel free at any time.’

  Once the girls had left, Mr Yanagi took off his grey jacket and draped it over the stool in front of the piano. It was a single stool now, I noticed, in place of the two that had stood there previously.

  He opened up the newly polished black piano and began to tap on the white keys.

  I wondered why they’d requested both of us, why they wanted me there too. Yuni had come to the shop and told me about her illness, so perhaps she had thought it was only polite to request my presence too.

  While Mr Yanagi was tuning, all kinds of thoughts ran back and forth through my mind. This room was a little overly soundproofed. There was, of course, soundproofing on the bottom of the piano legs, but they stood on a deep-pile carpet, while two layers of soundproof curtains hung at the window. Was it not a terrible waste for the sound of the piano to be muffled like this? It must surely halve the glorious charm of hearing Kazune play?

  While Mr Yanagi was busy laying his cloths out beneath the strings, I tried clapping my hands. A dry bam came out, but soon stopped. Hardly any reverberation at all. I drew back the curtains, which ran from the top of the window all the way down to the floor, and clapped my hands again. This time the reverb clearly lasted longer. Surely when she played during the day it would be OK to open the curtains?

  ‘Close those.’ Mr Yanagi was crouched down by the piano. ‘They’re always closed, so I want to tune the piano with them that way.’

  ‘But it’s such a shame. It’s better to play with them open.’

  ‘As they were, please.’

  I reluctantly closed the curtains. It blocked the light as well as the sound. I drew back the curtains again and the gentle evening light shone in.

  ‘Tomura!’

  ‘OK, OK.’ I grudgingly closed them once more. I just couldn’t shake the notion that it was a mistake.

  ‘What are you, a child?’

  That was the first time in years anyone had called me a child. A single laugh escaped me and I felt lighter somehow.

  ‘What are you laughing at?’

  ‘Nothing. I’m sorry.’

  But there was mirth in my voice even as I apologized.

  Not knowing why the twins had asked me to come, I watched as Mr Yanagi smoothly went about his tuning. His work was so very precise. Now that I was tuning myself I could really appreciate his labours, see what painstaking care he employed with each step of the process and marvel at his nimble fingers. There was no point in trying to imitate his technique – no one else could tune quite like him – but I was grateful for the opportunity to study his work at close hand.

  Mr Yanagi opened the door and called out, ‘I’ve finished.’ Mrs Sakura and the twins came in straight away.

  ‘I’ve tuned it so it sounds the same as before,’ Mr Yanagi explained, and Yuni seemed somehow dissatisfied.

  ‘But we’re not the same as before.’ She looked straight in his eyes as she said this.

  ‘I think it’s best to have the piano sounding as it was before. If the two of you have changed, you’ll produce a tone that’s different from how it was in any case.’

  Yuni inclined her head slightly, looking uncertain, then turned to me and said, ‘What do you think, Mr Tomura?’

  ‘I really don’t know.’ This was my honest response, and I sensed her look away.

  ‘We won’t know unless you play,’ Mr Yanagi said. ‘Could you try it out for us?’

  The twins shared a glance, and then Kazune nodded.

  In the past when they’d tested the piano, it was four hands that danced across the keys, two straight backs sitting shoulder to shoulder. Seeing them both in front of the gleaming black instrument was an image that had struck a chord in my heart, even before they had started to play.

  Yuni’s melodies had been so alluring, gorgeously free-spirited and uninhibited – playing that brought to mind all the most intensely pleasurable joys of life. Kazune’s playing, in contrast, was quieter, more subtle. For me it conjured up a mountain spring in the hidden depths of a forest. So what was going to happen now, with only one of them? Would that mountain spring still bubble in its mysterious way?

  When Kazune sat down alone at the piano I got a surprise. Her posture was bold and resolute. From the moment she placed her slim fingers on the keyboard and began to play, all memories and worldly thoughts flew away.

  It felt as though I’d already been listening to the music before it even began – the melodies, though, I could pick out only here and now. Kazune’s presence in this moment was entirely wrapped up in it – it was music that would go on for ever. As I listened to her play, wave after wave washed over me. Her fortitude and strength of character were there for all to hear.

  Yuni’s cheeks flushed as she watched Kazune from the other side of the piano. Her own capacity to play was long gone, but not Kazune’s. I wondered how Yuni was able to endure this, and was brought up short, embarrassed by my concern. More than anyone, it was Yuni who fully believed in the wellspring of her sister’s talent.

  Kazune stopped playing. She got up from her seat, turned to us and bowed politely.

  Instead of returning her bow, I clapped. Yuni, her mother and Mr Yanagi all joined the applause.

  ‘I apologize for having worried you all,’ Kazune said. I already knew what she was going to say, even as she drew breath to continue. ‘I’ve decided to start playing again.’

  I think she’d already decided a long time ago, only she hadn’t noticed it herself. There was no way she could ever leave the piano.

  �
�I want to become a pianist.’ A quiet voice, yet one full of determination.

  ‘You mean, you plan to go professional?’ Mr Yanagi said.

  Kazune’s expression finally relaxed and she nodded. ‘I do.’

  ‘Very few people make a decent living as a pianist,’ Mrs Sakura said quietly. It was obvious as soon as she said it that she hoped her words would go unnoticed. It seemed she couldn’t bring herself to say that since only a handful can make it, her daughter should give it all up, yet she couldn’t help offering her motherly concern.

  ‘Playing the piano is not how I’ll make a living,’ Kazune said. ‘It’s how I’ll make a life.’

  Her face wore a tranquil smile and her dark eyes were glistening. She struck me then as impossibly beautiful.

  I wondered when Kazune had become so strong. I gazed at her in admiration. It was likely something already within her had finally made itself known now that Yuni was no longer able to play. If that was true, then there was a silver lining after all.

  Many Routes through the Forest

  ‘It’s like a jewel.’ I was a little embarrassed to actually put it into words. ‘Like light in a forest … I can’t really express it properly.’

  Mr Yanagi was walking beside me, eyes straight ahead, having completed our tuning at the Sakuras’. ‘You’re talking about Kazune, I imagine.’

  I nodded. More precisely, Kazune’s playing – and the way the notes spilled out after another, entwining around each other, generating a scintillating mosaic of sound.

  ‘I’m so happy for her,’ he said, and it was evident he truly was thrilled for Kazune.

  ‘Yes, it’s wonderful.’

  I understood now why they’d asked me to come along. Kazune had wanted to show me her resolve. The confidence she had as she took the very first step. I could almost picture her right foot raised. A small stride with the tip of her toes firmly pointed towards the future, in line with a path that only she could see. And as she lowered her foot, it led straight on to the horizon.

  Back when I lived in the mountains I saw something really strange once. It was the same time of year as now and I was returning home from a friend’s house one night. I sensed something shining, and on the very edge of the forest saw a tree that was glittering in the darkness. I couldn’t understand it and approached timidly to take a closer look. A wispy light was lodged in the thin branches of an elm tree, twinkling and sparkling. I had no idea what kind of phenomenon might have produced this. It was beautiful – almost frighteningly so – and it wasn’t just this one tree. Faint light was glinting on the branches of other nearby trees as well. But that one elm was special, too bright simply to be a reflection of the moonlight. It wasn’t ice frozen on the branches, or what mountain people call ‘diamond dust’ – a cloud of small ice crystals.

  Even now I wonder what caused that effect. As I listened to Kazune play, the shimmering glow of the sparkling tree that night filled my mind’s eye like some phantom festival.

  ‘I’m so happy for her,’ Mr Yanagi said, repeating the sentiment I don’t know how many times.

  This wasn’t a one-off miracle, I was sure of it. The pure beauty of her touch as a pianist wasn’t something that just happened. And I knew that trees were sparkling tonight, too, somewhere off in the mountains.

  About ten days later the twins came over to the shop, just as we were in the midst of preparing our auditorium for a small weekend recital.

  ‘Wow, this brings back so many memories,’ Yuni said excitedly. ‘We often used to perform here when we were little.’

  They’d both started learning piano as children on our youngsters’ piano course.

  ‘Is that the Sakura twins?’ Mr Akino said, finishing his tuning and catching sight of the girls.

  ‘It’s been so long,’ the girls said.

  ‘Look how tall you’ve grown. Yuni – and Kazune, right? I never used to be able to tell you apart.’

  Mr Akino studied each of the twins in turn. Quite some time ago, apparently, Mr Yanagi had taken over tuning the Sakuras’ piano in place of Mr Akino. As a rule, we tried to have only one tuner in charge of each piano, but sometimes circumstances would change and a different tuner would take over.

  ‘Since you’re here, could we ask you to play something?’ Mr Akino asked.

  ‘Are you sure it’s OK?’ Yuni said, and for a second I thought she might play.

  ‘Of course. I’ve just finished tuning it. If you don’t mind, we’d love to hear you play a piece.’

  It was rare for Mr Akino to wear quite such a grin on his face. But then I remembered – he was always charming and easy-going around his clients. And I imagined he was genuinely happy to see the twins after such a long time.

  ‘OK, go ahead,’ Yuni said, urging her sister on, and Kazune seated herself in front of the piano.

  ‘Oh, great!’ exclaimed Mr Yanagi, who arrived carrying a chair into the room. Putting it down, he hurried over. ‘You should have let me know something this exciting was going on,’ he said, lightly poking me with an elbow.

  ‘Could you wait a moment?’ I said. ‘We can’t let a rare opportunity like this go by!’ I went back to the office and invited Miss Kitagawa to come. ‘Would you like to hear Kazune play?’ I asked. I wanted everyone in the office – as many people as possible – to hear her.

  Miss Kitagawa soon joined me, along with Mr Morohashi, one of our salesmen. By the time I returned with the two extra audience members, Kazune was sitting upright and very still, preparing herself. Lid open, the piano too was waiting with bated breath for its keyboard to be touched by those pale fingers.

  There was a sudden intake of breath, then the music began and the piano burst into life. This was a light and charming piece, very different from the one she’d played the other day at home. A lovely, lively piece, recalling for me once again that selfsame tree in the forest, lit up all by itself, glistening on the mountain slopes. It did a great job of showcasing her talents, and I could hardly contain my excited smile. This was not the Kazune we had known in the past. She had never played with such confidence and fluency. The best elements of Yuni’s playing seemed to have transferred over to Kazune.

  She played the final chord, then rested her hands in her lap, and in that instant of perfect silence, Miss Kitagawa burst into applause. I joined in with enthusiasm.

  Kazune stood and bowed. Yuni, beside her, bowed as well.

  ‘That was sublime,’ Miss Kitagawa said, a wide smile on her face, still frantically clapping.

  From behind her I caught Mr Akino giving a slight nod of approval before he left the small hall.

  ‘Tomura-kun.’ Our company MD who had joined us silently during the recital came up to me. ‘Was she always this good?’

  If given a choice between answering yes or no to this question, I would have gone with yes. Kazune’s playing had always been remarkable, although today it had something extra. ‘It was astonishing – she’s totally transformed.’

  No, not transformed. Kazune’s always been the same Kazune. The seeds were just starting to sprout when I first heard her play, but then they grew rapidly. The stem shot up, leaves spread and the buds finally started to appear. This was just the beginning.

  ‘Of course, she was marvellous before, too,’ I said, trying to sound low-key about it, but the boss raised his eyebrows.

  ‘You always were a big supporter of hers, weren’t you, Tomura? I feel like she’s shown us something extraordinary today, the moment when a person’s standard of playing jumps to an altogether higher level. Or maybe it’s more like the moment when the person herself develops to the next level. I feel as if we’ve been witness to that.’

  For some reason he wanted to shake my hand. He held it tightly for a moment, patted me on the shoulder and left.

  Mr Yanagi went over to congratulate Kazune and returned, looking pleased. ‘Wow, she’s really something. Really something.’

  The twins came over. ‘Thank you for everything,’ Kazune said. ‘Espe
cially since we just showed up without warning.’

  Her expression was solemn again, and she bowed to us.

  I said, ‘Sorry to make you perform for us on the spot like that. You must have come here for a reason.’

  ‘No, we just wanted to say hello and to ask for your continued support. I’m really glad you invited me to play – it’s my absolute favourite thing.’ Kazune finally broke into a smile.

  ‘Actually …’ Yuni began, looking right at me. For an instant I was confused. Yuni and Kazune look alike. I knew that. But still – this face. This look. That’s right – she looked exactly like Kazune did when we’d gone to their house a few days earlier. It was the light in those dark eyes and the flushed cheeks. She’s beautiful, I couldn’t help thinking. Her lips were gently parted, as though holding back words through some giant effort of will.

  ‘I—find I can’t give up the piano.’

  To give up a precious thing, or not give it up. Was that something you could indeed choose? Or was it more likely that such a thing decided itself?

  Yuni’s gaze pierced right through me. She said she didn’t want to give it up, and yet there was nothing I could do to help her. This was too much for me, but I held her eyes anyway.

  ‘I want to train as a piano tuner.’

  There was a silence.

  I looked at Yuni’s solemn expression and thought: She isn’t giving up the piano at all. There are entrances to the forest all over. And there must be so many routes to walk through it.

  To become a tuner. That, too, was surely one way of walking through the forest. A pianist and a tuner walk through the same forest even though they take different paths.

  ‘I want to tune Kazune’s piano.’

  ‘That’s—’ Mr Yanagi and I spoke at the same time, but I got the distinct feeling we had quite different things to say.

  ‘—very intriguing.’ Sure enough, Mr Yanagi completed his thought. ‘I know a very good training course. You should study there.’

  ‘Yes, but—’ I interrupted, and four dark eyes turned towards me simultaneously.

  ‘But what?’ Mr Yanagi was looking at me, too, and I silently shook my head.