Chapter Text
The violin section is soaring, crescendoing into a hurried swell in Vivaldi’s Four Seasons, specifically concerto No. 2 in G minor, Summer movement 3: Presto. Truth be told, Aizawa hates the Four Seasons. It’s overdone. Overexposed. Boring! He can play the entire thing in his sleep. When his student excitedly announced he’s going to be playing it for their school spring concert, Shouta had to check himself before making a visceral reaction.
And yet here he is on this cold January morning, jogging through Ueno Park with said classical abomination blasting in his ears. His breath comes out in haggard puffs of steam as he dodges another slow walker, most likely a tourist, not minding where they’re strolling.
He takes a left turn, going over a short bridge overlooking a perfectly landscaped pond when the music cuts out and his phone’s standard manufactured ringtone alerts him of an incoming call through his earbuds. Pausing, he pulls out his phone from his jacket pocket and sighs seeing it’s Kayama Nemuri, best friend and no. 1 public menace calling.
“Hey.” He pants out, slowing down to find a spot to pause his workout and answer. Other walkers and runners zip past him mildly inconvenienced with his action as he stands just off the sidewalk in the grass.
“Shouta! …Why do you sound like you’re panting? OH MY GOD!” Her voice lowers in an attempt to whisper, “Are you in the middle of having sex right now?”
“I’m jogging in the park, Nem!” He realizes he’s much louder than he should be and offers quick bows in apology for his rudeness to some passerbyers. “Besides, who does that — y’know what, don’t answer that.”
“Oh kitten, the things I’ve seen and done.” She giggles in glee, knowing she’s most likely flustering him.
“Why are you calling me?” Shouta sighs heavily, hoping to get through this conversation quickly as he pinches the bridge of his nose in irritation. He needs this conversation to not be long given the morning chill is threatening to set in from the sweat he’s worked up if he stays still long enough.
He doesn’t have practice today, only some student lessons, and for once he wanted to take time this morning to himself. It is a rare thing given he’s concertmaster of UA Symphony Orchestra, one of the many divisions of prestigious orchestras located in Tokyo, but quickly rising to the top spot among them. They perform concerts around the capital along with outreach programs in smaller cities and rural communities to foster interest in the arts, as well as sharing duties of performing for the operas and theater. Shouta, being concertmaster and having far too much on his plate to begin with, didn’t have to participate in all their outreach programs, but tended to anyway. The short story: he’s a workaholic. The long story: his social and love life are dismal and he’s still trying to move on from a rocky relationship that ended a year ago that brought on a divided friend circle.
“We know Yagi-san is retiring, right? That even though our beloved chief conductor has many principal conductors to choose from to take over his title, he still hasn’t picked one, right?”
“This is all old news, why are you recapping it for me?” As if he isn’t in the middle of all this debate. Shouta honestly tries to stay out of the politics of the orchestra world, but sometimes he can’t avoid it. It doesn’t help that the organization president, Nezu, has seen him as something of a confidant, and often fills him in on discussions happening behind closed doors. Worse yet, he’s sometimes sitting in on the discussion when it really doesn’t involve him directly.
“Yeah well, there’s rumors, Shou! Rumors that a certain someone from Europe will be joining you as a guest.”
“There’s a lot of Europeans, Nem, you need to be a little more specific than that. There’s at least 8 names being thrown around.” He shivers from a gust of wind and silently begs to whatever god that may be listening to get him off this forsaken phone.
“Fine, I’ll be blunt since you’re clearly not in the mood to play. Does the name Yamada Hizashi ring a bell for you?” Her sing-song voice takes on a serious tone, one of which Shouta is certain out of disappointment since he seems to be in a curt mood at the moment. It is cold outside, after all.
“Yes.” He really wants this to hurry along.
“Well, he’s in the top 3 choices annnnnd he should be arriving in Tokyo in a few hours!”
“Who’ve you been talking to, Nemuri?” Shouta glances around him to make sure no one of importance might be around, which is a slim chance given the time and location.
“Oh, y’know, someone!”
“Nem—!”
“I gotta go, Shocchan! But I’d get home and dressed if I were you, sounds like you have a busy few days ahead of you!”
The line cuts out and he sighs heavily once again. Knowing Nemuri, she most likely slept with someone who knows someone and got some insider information as she climaxed for the third time. Honestly she really overshares, so he’s surprised she’s keeping the name hidden from him at this moment. Maybe she actually likes the person…
Shouta looks at his watch and sees it’s almost 9am. He needs to get back home anyway to help with a few family responsibilities before heading off to host violin lessons to a few students. He pulls the hair tie out of his hair to fix the unruly raven curls that have fallen out as he was running just now and begins heading towards the train station.
***
Freshly showered, he steps out of the bathroom with a towel tightly wrapped around his waist to find his phone blowing up with texts from President Nezu.
Nezu: So sorry this is late notice, Aizawa-kun! I request your attendance for a meeting this afternoon! Perhaps at 1?
Nezu: Can I entice you with free coffee?
Nezu: I know you have lessons today, Aizawa-kun, I’ll pay you for the lost income as I don’t know how long these meetings will go.
Well, that certainly is a perk given Shouta wasn’t even aware of these texts until this very moment. Sometimes it paid off to not immediately respond.
Nezu: Yagi-san would really appreciate your attendance too!
There’s a few more texts and Shouta can’t help but chuckle at the panic that must’ve been going through the president’s mind as he received no reply. Honestly, he wasn’t in the shower that long. However, glancing at the timestamps, all of these came in within the last 30 minutes. Someone must be desperate.
Aizawa: I will be there at 1.
He gets dressed in a solid black wool sweater with denim jeans, and moves downstairs. He currently resides in a loft above a bookstore. His father’s bookstore, more specifically, in Jinbōchō. He comes from a modest family, living in a small 2 bedroom apartment not far from here where his father is a bookseller specializing in anything music-related. There’s various books containing sheet music, probably their most popular product, along with music history and theory textbooks. Shelves are lined with books, new and old, in various languages. There’s both western and eastern theory and history, a few composer and player bibliographies, old vintage program manuals and posters. Shouta has flipped through most of the collection while growing up while a vinyl record player behind the cashier desk played some sort of symphony. Once Shouta settled in as a junior member of the UA symphony orchestra in his early 20s after university, his father offered this loft to him in exchange of opening the shop for him for the first couple hours. Even at the age of 30 and in an established career of his own, he continues the responsibility most days.
The clock ticks over to 10am, where Shouta unlocks the front wooden door, opens some window blinds, and sits at the register on a rickety old stool that no one seems to be in a hurry to replace. He’s leaning forward on an elbow looking at his phone and scrolling through a search for Yamada Hizashi.
He knows this name. Anyone who knew anything about the classical music world did. He’s a popular conductor in Europe, specifically London, and currently residing there after having spent significant time bouncing around France, Germany, and Austria. Born to a Japanese father and British mother, he was a child prodigy when it came to piano, competing internationally as young as 6 years old, and it was discovered he had an interest in composing and conducting. He competed in that too, being one of the youngest conductors to win competitions around the world starting at the age of 20. His repertoire of knowledge is extensive, having attended the Royal College of Music, and award after award seem to follow his every step. Shouta wonders if that’s a result of demanding parents placing pressure, or own personal ego.
He pulls up a video clip of him conducting a symphony in an original piece he scored. A violin concerto composed by him 5 years ago. Shouta closes his eyes, listening to the violin vibrato sing a sullen tune followed by the low strings and brass sections. Eventually it builds and builds until crescendoing into a full out delightful melody. Hm, it isn’t anything special, but it’s well received and the audience goes wild.
He scrolls through to another video, a holiday-themed concert, and Hizashi is dressed in a vibrant yellow suit jacket with ribbons of various colors tied in his long blonde locks secured by a tight braid down just past his shoulders. Now that Shouta thinks about it, he doesn’t seem like a conventional conductor in appearance. There’s various articles translated from English and German criticizing his professionalism, that he has exaggerated gestures when he conducts, completely over the top as if he’s an actor in a play rather than someone more elegant, mature, or sophisticated helming an orchestra. He’s apparently loud and boisterous in person, perhaps making it the reason he’s one of the most wildly interviewed conductors and composers of this time in the classical music world. One interviewer even labeled him as a rock star more than a conventional conductor and Shouta can’t roll his eyes hard enough.
The classical world can be full of older generations not welcome to change. Even Shouta’s own long hair and stubbled beard are criticized in his own circle, but he doesn’t care. It’s just hair, after all, and his isn’t that long, just to his shoulder similar to Hizashi’s length if he’s being honest. But Hizashi seems completely eccentric. He’s out of the norm for expected prim and proper etiquette in the music world, where professionalism and modesty reigns supreme. He’s the complete opposite of what one would expect and Shouta has to agree he feels he’s the wrong fit for a guest residency at their symphony. There’s no way his antics will be well received or President Nezu open to the idea of potential mayhem and unwanted attention on their orchestra. He and Yagi-san have spent years curating their growth and repertoire.
Shouta sighs and clicks through a few interviews from the man, mostly in English, but he does manage to find one in Japanese. Apparently it’s from his personal social media account, where Hizashi must’ve been in his younger 20s or late teens, judging by the short length of his hair, rambling excitedly about visiting Japan for the first time in years.
Hm, his grasp of Japanese is decent, at least.
He’s just noticing the man has really green eyes when the bell above the door rings, indicating someone has walked in. It startles him back to reality and he clicks off his phone. “Welcome.” He drones dully, greeting the customer. “If you need help with something, let me know.”
***
Of course when President Nezu offered him free coffee, Shouta didn’t realize that meant he would be the one picking up said coffee order. His hands are full with the freshly brewed coffee in its own neatly packaged carrier. He’s precariously balancing a bag full of cups and other supplies on one shoulder, and his violin in its carrying case on the other. When this task was finally communicated to him, he had already started his commute to Tokyo Bunka Kaikan and it was too late to protest.
Another frustrated sigh as he slowly walks up the short amount of steps leading to the building entrance. He nudges the door open with his hip and makes his way to the offices on the second floor to the assigned meeting room. President Nezu, a mousy-looking petite man in stature, greets him from the head of a table with Maestro Yagi on his right side. Opposite of him is Todoroki Enji, a principle conductor who has been vying for Yagi’s position for years. He’s a beast of a man, bulky with square broad shoulders and is intimidating in person with a conducting style that can be considered aggressive. Shouta doesn’t particularly like working alongside him, but they have a cordial working relationship.
Shouta’s eyes pan across a few other people and zeros in on Kayama Nemuri at the end of the table. She’s leaning on an elbow and waves at him when they make eye contact. She didn’t tell me she was coming! Now he really wonders who she is trading information with…. And body fluids.
He clears his throat and quietly sets down the coffee carrier and supplies on an empty table off to the side. Without hesitation, he pours his own cup, places his violin against the wall behind him, and settles next to Nemuri as discussions continue.
“What have I missed?” He whispers, leaning towards her.
“Nothing much. Todoroki-san’s pick for the guest spot is Takami Keigo, so he’s pushing for that.” Nemuri reaches over and steals Shouta’s cup, blowing on it before taking a sip. Red lipstick leaves a print on the paper rim, causing Shouta to frown.
“Get your own cup!” He whispers harshly.
“Aw, don’t be like that.” She teases a finger down his arm with a pout. His frown deepens.
“Surely they aren’t going to pick Yamada.” Shouta spins the cup to a clear edge and takes his own sip of coffee.
“I dunno, I think the jury is still out. He might be able to win over the board here in a bit.” She adjusts her sweater dress, as if on purpose of making her bust more prominent, despite being fully covered.
And as if on cue, the door opens and Yamada Hizashi is shown through. He’s dressed professionally, like a salary man donned in a solid black business suit that is perfectly tailored with a muted ocean blue tie with little embellishment. His hair is pulled back in a loose half up/half down style and he wears simple black-framed glasses. He honestly appears the complete opposite of the persona he displays online and elsewhere. There’s another man following him, later introduced as a supportive translator.
Shouta presses his lips into a flat line after he stands and offers a bow in polite greeting, taking note they’re nearly identical in height, a superfluous detail at best, then sitting stiffly in his chair with arms crossed over his chest. Hizashi is guided to a seat opposite of him. He glances over his audience, as President Nezu introduces each member at the table. An expression of genuine interest flashes in his pale freckled features as he takes in everyone’s presence in the room.
“…Kayama Nemuri is the musical director at the Tokyo Takarazuka Theater and occasional guest soprano to our orchestra,” Nezu points her out who gives Hizashi a to-die-for smile and wink, then motions to Shouta, “Aizawa Shouta, our concertmaster for the last three years.” Shouta nods in greeting when they make brief eye contact, followed by the introduction of another orchestra member and some of the assistant conductors.
Once the introductions are complete, Hizashi claps his hands in excitement in an overzealous display of enthusiasm often not expressed. “Wonderful! I’m happy to meet everyone here!”
He pauses his clapping and stands abruptly, almost startling everyone. “I’m Yamada Hizashi and I very much would like to, uh,” he stammers for a moment, as if searching for the correct word, “Oh! Lead UA Symphony Orchestra as your guest conductor for the next year! I think I can help renew interest in our musical presentations along with breathing new life into your music catalogue.” He ends the introduction by laughing nervously and smiles. “I’ve been practicing that statement the entire flight here!”
Shouta taps his index finger with irritation as he surveys the audience around him and discovers he matches Enji’s posture. There’s a squeeze to his thigh under the table, belonging to Nemuri, as a silent reminder that his resting bitch face is probably a little too strong at the moment. Forcing his shoulders to relax and unclenching his jaw, he reaches out for another sip of coffee.
“What are some pieces you’re thinking of?” Toshinori finally speaks, a genuine smile upon his gaunt features is present. He always has a way of speaking to someone as if they’re the most interesting person in his life at that very moment. It’s a talent Shouta wishes he possessed.
“I was thinking of concerts revolving around themes, perhaps featuring more contemporary pieces, Japanese composers, recreation of movie or TV scores that are popular…” Hizashi rambles the next ten minutes only intermittently pausing to clarify a word or two with the interpreter, but otherwise filling the entire time on his own.
This guy talks a lot. Shouta sighs, but he’ll give him credit that his grasp of the language is far better than he expected. Once finishing what feels totally like a sales pitch, President Nezu and Maestro Yagi offer to show Hizashi around the Hall afterwards, one of their venues, and leave the others behind.
“Well!?” Enji is the first to speak once all alone.
“I like him.” Nemuri stands to finally pour herself her own cup of coffee, sprinkling some powdered creamer and mixes. “I think he can liven up this snoozefest.”
There’s a giggle from Kurose Anan, one of the oboe players, “I think some will take offense to that statement, senpai.” They glance over to Shouta and he rolls his eyes.
“Our orchestra doesn’t need to become the butt end of jokes in Japan! It’s an insult!” Enji protests in his booming baritone voice. “I don’t even know why we offered him to come here!”
“I think having someone a bit unconventional can bring in some more crowds; our numbers have been trending down lately.” Iida Tensei, speaks at the end of the table as he pushes up the frames of glasses further up the bridge of his nose. He has been silent for the majority of this meeting, his presence almost going amiss. He’s from the business office and often works in the background crunching numbers and data of the orchestra and arts, rarely seen by others except for actual meetings such as this very one.
Shouta watches all the silent body language happening around him and glimpses Nemuri’s features soften looking over to the man and suddenly the realization strikes when he discovers who her informant must be. Interesting… He’ll save the questioning for later.
***
The Tokyo Bunka Kaikan is mostly used for the ballet and theater, though there’s breakout quartets and smaller, more intimate, concerts from the orchestra. Many of its members help participate in setting up practices for the performances and random workshops for local musicians and students. The building itself has beautiful architecture with large open spaces and natural lighting flooding the halls and main entryway. It’s fairly modern in comparison to some performance centers Hizashi has been in before across Europe.
He looks around, taking it all in as President Nezu discusses more details of the role UA Symphony Orchestra has within the many orchestras offered in Tokyo and how theirs differs. Honestly, Hizashi is barely listening, nodding along as the petite man speaks while in reality he’s in his own head, thinking of some ideas for a composition he’s been working on in his spare time. Looking towards the skylights, he imagines the clarinets singing a cheerful melody to tie into what he has already scored for the violins and his fingers of his right hand tap against his thigh in counting of the beat, silently telling the section to enter in on the downbeat to match the violins. Don’t rush through it, he chastises, then blinks back into reality when he has a nagging question that needs to be asked.
“How do you feel about original scores from your conductors?” It is asked without regard to the current topic of discussion or with any warning.
“Oh! Um, well, I’d say we’re open to the suggestion. It hasn’t been done before!” Nezu cheerfully replies, clearly being caught off guard and unprepared for such questioning.
“Really?! Never?” He looks over to Maestro Yagi who nods with honest humility.
“I’m afraid I haven’t even tried, though I’ve dabbled with quartets.” He ends the statement with a nervous laugh.
“Perhaps in your retirement, you can compose something for us, Yagi-san!” Hizashi offers excitedly, though rapidly adding, “Only if you’re interested, that is, but I’d love to hear it.”
“I appreciate the offer, Yamada-san. Are you currently composing a piece?”
“It’s rare that I’m not.” He offers quietly, almost spoken as an afterthought under his breath as they walk through the halls to another office to finish the day’s discussion.
It’s late afternoon when Hizashi leaves the building, Yamamoto Yuto by his side, a man 3 years his junior that had been assigned to him as his interpreter. He hurriedly follows alongside Hizashi, unable to walk as fast as him, before Hizashi stops. “You don’t have to keep following me for the day, Yamamoto-san. We can meet tomorrow morning again!”
“Are you sure, Yamada-san!? I want to help make your visit as smooth as possible! Your agency—“
Hizashi laughs, “It’s fine! You’ve barely said a peep today, anyway. I think I’ll manage.” He waves him off, watching the shorter man quickly bow and dismiss himself to walk a different path away from the building.
Hizashi checks his phone to make sure he’s headed in the correct direction of the train station, but perks up when a dark figure walks past him. “Oh! Aizawa-san!?” He calls out after him.
Shouta pauses and looks over his shoulder in question. His expression is neutral, but Hizashi couldn’t help to notice a look of irritation permanently displayed upon his face during the meeting earlier. “Are you in a rush?” He asks.
Shouta thinks for a moment, then shakes his head, “Not today. This meeting canceled my student lessons.”
“Do you happen to know a suggestion of where to eat some kushikatsu or perhaps karaage? I’ve been craving some for the longest time!” There are some locations around London, but it just isn’t the same! He’s in the motherland so to speak, though it’s been at least 2-3 years since he’s last been to Japan.
Hizashi takes the few steps needed to bridge the gap between himself and Shouta, offering him a brilliant cheeky smile. “You’re welcome to join if you want!”
“Almost any bar serves karaage.” Shouta replies flatly, then adds almost in an afterthought, “but I’ve heard Karaage Kei is popular. It’s a bit far from here, though.”
“Ah, would you like to join me, then!?”
“No.” It’s spoken abruptly without infliction that Hizashi is nearly taken aback.
Hizashi watches as the man continues walking without another statement spoken. And… Wow! He vaguely wonders how far up his ass that metaphorical stick reaches. The concertmaster nearly has icicles dropping off his limbs, that’s how cold his demeanor came off as.
He’s ran across quite a few entitled violinists in his time, but they never keep that façade for long, either finally opening up to him and having a decent relationship, or they leave. If officially offered this position, he wonders which direction Shouta will go.
“Ah… Thanks for the suggestion!” He stammers and watches as Shouta only waves a hand as acknowledgment.
Suddenly, there’s a soft feminine chuckle behind him and Hizashi spins to find Nemuri walking in his direction. “Don’t mind him, Yamada-san. He’s really a softie at heart under that gruff exterior.” She slides a hand past his bicep, and loops her arm around his, “How about we go for a drink and some of that karaage you’re craving?”
“Ah, you’re a lifesaver!” Hizashi feels his cheeks flush, though he’s genuinely relieved he can relax again with her at his side. “Eating alone isn’t very fun.”
“No it isn’t,” Nemuri raises her voice, “unless you’re miserable like Shouta-kun!” She giggles as she receives a glare in her direction from him as he turns to face them.
“What are you saying about me?”
“That you’re boring, dear! Come eat with us. Show Yamada-san some hospitality!”
Nemuri apparently has a way with words and Yamada’s smile only grows at the affection displayed. “Have you two been friends for a long time?”
“Oh yes! Ever since we were teenagers. He just can’t get enough of me, I suppose.” She laughs as Shouta rolls his eyes once they’re together walking in the same direction.
“More like the other way around.” He informs Hizashi, shrugging his violin case further up his shoulder.
“If it weren’t for me, Shouta wouldn’t have any friends.”
Hizashi isn’t sure of her tone of voice. Is she serious? Is it a simple jest? He glances back and forth trying to gauge the tone between the two, but sees a faint smile upon Shouta’s face, an uptick at the corners of his lips and slight crack of skin around his eyes.
“I have friends,” he reassures Hizashi, glancing in his direction briefly, “I’m just particular who I keep company with.”
“Ah, well, I would appreciate it if you would join us, Aizawa!” Hizashi offers enthusiastically. “Unless you truly prefer to eat alone?”
Shouta sighs as if the offer is such an inconvenience, but relents, “Fine.”
They eventually end up at a yakitori restaurant not far from where they’re located, taking a taxi a few blocks to the east. Grilled chicken skewers are placed neatly upon small plates scattered before them on their table, and Hizashi gets his karaage as requested. Three mugs of beer are graciously poured by a waiter before leaving them alone.
“Are you jet lagged at all, Yamada-san?” Nemuri asks, breaking the ice between the men. She leans on an elbow holding the mug of amber beer in her hand towards his direction, ever so curious.
Shouta, on the other hand, is silent. He takes a skewer and bites a piece off and chews slowly and methodically. Apparently, he must be a man of few words, though there may be a hint of curiosity in his eyes waiting for Hizashi to reply.
“A little! I think if I was left alone, I’d be asleep already.” Hizashi replies, taking a sip of from his mug, “I did manage to sleep on the plane, but my excitement was really strong, making it difficult.”
“I can never sleep on an airplane.” Nemuri laments, “It’s so uncomfortable! But Shouta can sleep anywhere! I bet you he’d sleep here if we’d let him.”
“Some say it’s my superpower.” Shouta replies without much inflection to his statement, yet Nemuri laughs.
“Ah, then I’d say my super power is to always be awake!” Hizashi laughs boisterously, almost dominating the room in its volume. “I’m always busy,” he clarifies, “thinking of a music score, or something to add to my composition I’m working on. Or practicing for an upcoming performance. I wish there were more hours in the day for all the things I want to do!”
“What’s your current composition project?” Shouta asks, taking a healthy drink from his mug, polishing at least a quarter of it off before reaching over and snagging more food.
“A violin concerto, actually. I think it’s maybe half written, but I can’t decide on the melody for the next movement,” he shrugs, “I’m stuck.” He realizes that he has barely eaten and happily takes a bite of the karaage he’s been craving for the last few days. The meat is tender, juicy, and just the right flavoring in the batter. This definitely hits the spot!
Hizashi catches Nemuri pausing mid-bite looking between the two of them. “Ah, maybe this will be a perfect match for you! Perhaps Shouta can help!”
“I don’t know much about composition, Nem.” He protests, though Hizashi’s gaze once again is darting back and forth between the established friends as he chews his food.
Nemuri scoffs, “That’s not true! You’ve made those recordings—“
“I don’t want to talk about it.” Shouta stops her.
Hizashi squirms nervously in his seat, quickly tossing his hands up with palms extended outwards in an attempt to diffuse the situation. “It’s OK! Thank you for the offer! We’ll see how things go.” He nudges the plate of karaage towards them, “Please eat some! I can’t eat all of this myself!” Hopefully changing the topic can save this meal!
After another hour or two of chatting, they leave the bar and Hizashi dramatically stretches with a yawn. “I think it’s time for me to settle into bed!” He’s tired of being in this overly starched business suit anyway. He had pulled the jacket off during dinner, rolled up the sleeves of the white button down shirt and removed the tie, stuffing it in a pocket. It’s only back on due to the cold winter night’s air.
It’s silly, he has various suits in this closet in almost every shade, but he’d still prefer movement and unrestricted freedom. Or at least not be forced to wear one literally all day. Admittedly, he does like to match colors to themes of concerts and will spend a good hour or two fixing his hair and even dabbling in some make up, depending on the situation. Although he’s not sure how well-received that would be here in Japan. Only time will tell. He doesn’t even know if he’s been offered the job just yet. Positive vibes only, and all that!
Nemuri and Shouta had split the bill in a polite gesture to Hizashi before stepping outside alongside him. He watches Shouta’s nimble fingers button up his gray peacoat as if made perfectly for his measurements as he walks steadily alongside Hizashi. The night’s air is brisk with the sun long gone from the horizon, though the nice light buzz from the alcohol helps warm him, even under false pretenses.
“Thank you guys for tonight. This was nice.” Hizashi dashes a few steps ahead of them, dramatically spins to face them and promptly bends forward at the waist in a bow. “Thank you for your hospitality!”
“Oh honey, no need to be so formal,” Nemuri waves at him, “I hope we get to work with you in the future!”
“The board should be making their decision in the next few days.” Shouta replies, only blinking with a blank expression on his face. Almost as an afterthought he adds gently while relaxing his shoulders, “Get some rest, maestro.”
Shouta’s words ended up being more true than he probably thought. The next day in the late morning, not even the sun shining through the thick hotel curtains woke him up. No, it’s his mobile phone buzzing nonstop next to his pillow that stirs him back to the waking world. Hizashi sits upright frantically searching for his phone hidden in the thick comforter of his hotel bed. He’s scrambling to find it, hand searching around his pillow where he hears and feels the vibrations followed by a soft thud of it falling onto the floor. It’s probably on its last ring when he answers in English, momentarily forgetting where he’s located in his sleepy haze.
“Yamada-san?” It’s the voice of President Nezu.
“Ah! Yes, hello! Good morning!” He scrambles to sit up on the side of the bed. “How can I help you?” His legs are still entangled in the bedsheets and he nearly topples out of the bed in his imbalance.
There’s a hearty laugh and Nezu finally replies, “I think it’s more of how can I help you? We’d like to extend you the offer to be a part of UA Symphony Orchestra for the year long guest residency. You don’t have to answer right now. This is a big decision, but please consider how much it would mean for us to have you performing alongside us.”
Hizashi pulls away to silently cheer, pumping his fist in the air before bringing the phone back to his ear. “Oh! I accept the offer!” He should be more formal, but the words escape his brain so shortly after abruptly waking.
There’s a hearty laugh and Nezu replies, “Please feel free to think it over, Yamada-san!”
“I wouldn’t have interviewed if my heart wasn’t already made up. Thank you President Nezu! And Maestro Yagi for his generosity!”
This is going to be a very fun year, for sure! There’s repeated professional pleasantries before Hizashi tears away the comforter to officially jump up and down and cheer in place.
Looks like he’s moving to Japan!