The Promise

She had known him since he was a little kid. He hadn't particularly stood out in the crowd. He was small for his age, and he cried a lot, and Tsubaki knew that if it weren't for the fact that his house was right next to hers, they might not have become friends in the first place. He was a terrible introvert. He seldom voiced what he wanted to say, and even when he did, it would only be to agree to what the people around him were saying.

Arima Kousei was not special. He was not particularly good-looking. He did not have any talents when it came to sports. And he was a momma's boy. When Tsubaki had first met him, she thought him to be quite annoying.

But that was until she got to know him.

Sit Arima Kousei behind a grand piano, and he was just… amazing.

That was probably one of the reasons why she felt drawn to him. Tsubaki had grown up to Kousei's playing, listening to it from her room when she was studying. Or trying to study. He had played the piano until the wee hours of the night, pausing only for a few minutes for Tsubaki could only assume to be his toilet breaks or maybe a drink of water. She knew his mother, and how much of a slave driver she could be when it came to playing according to the score. And all those times, Kousei had never – not even once – complained about it.

Tsubaki had wondered many times why Kousei never got to hate his mother. She had seen the bruises on Kousei's tiny arms ever since they were kids. He had numerous welts from the hits of the cane his mother carried along with her. Tsubaki knew it better than to question their relationship. Her own mother and father had told her to mind her own business, and Tsubaki had always kept her word that she wouldn't bother with the Arima household unless they asked for help themselves.

Deep down inside, Tsubaki hated it. Music had always stolen Kousei from her. He had little to no time to play with her, and for a child's mind, that had been very, very hard to digest. Other kids were running around in the park, making mud balls and jumping into rivers as a test of courage. And Kousei… Kousei was playing his piano while getting beaten up by a wooden cane whenever he fell out of rhythm. It just didn't seem fair.

But then again, life was seldom fair.

They were twelve when his mother died, and Arima Kousei had never been the same. He had started a love-hate relationship with his piano, and he loved and hated himself for it. He fell off the face of the classical music world, and a part of Tsubaki was rejoicing because of it. Because finally, music had forsaken Kousei, and in return Kousei had forsaken music.

But that was until she came into the picture.

She used to wear dark-rimmed glasses and kept her long hair in pigtails. Miyazono Kaori had always been a quiet girl in their middle school. Tsubaki had never really been that close with her aside from the fact that they shared the same classes. By their third year in middle school, however, she had undergone a change that Tsubaki couldn't quite put her finger on. Kaori had shed her glasses and pigtails, and then out of the blue asked her if she would introduce her to Watari Ryouta. It had been nothing new to her. Girls from other classes had asked her the same thing many times, though most of those requests were turned down by Tsubaki because she knew that Watari could be quite frivolous when it came to women.

The only reason why she accepted the request – well, part of it, really – was because Kaori played the violin.

If she would look back at everything, she could easily say that everything started because of that incident. She should have seen the signs. She should have caught onto it before it got out of hand.

And it did.

And now everything was just a mess.

Tsubaki looked up from the bouquet of flowers she had lain in front of the Miyazono family grave and frowned at the small characters on the lower epitaph. Miyazono Kaori, 14. Kousei had loved her. She, in the end, loved him too. It could have been beautiful if she had lived. It was just too soon.

Or maybe it was just too late.

She had seen the letter Kaori had left for Kousei. She didn't want to read it, not because she didn't want to know what Kaori's last thoughts were. But because a part of her already knew what would be written on it. There had been subtle hints here and there. Hints that she should have recognized the moment she introduced Kaori to Watari.

It had been Kousei's hand she had reached out for when they had first met. It was Kousei's opinion she wanted to know after her performance that day. There had been more times she had seen them alone together, and all the while she had thought it was because of their love for music. She had been wrong. It was probably the feelings they had for each other that had kept them together. No one just thought of summing it up like it, because it was easier to think that Kaori liked Watari, and Kousei was just Kousei.

But Tsubaki knew. She had that feeling. It was the small, annoying feeling that started from her gut, and it would bubble up to her chest, then her throat, every time she would see the look in Kaori's eyes whenever she would watch Kousei perform on stage. Or the lingering glances Kousei casted towards Kaori's way before bowing after such performances. At first she thought that she was just feeling left out.

But that had been before she had finally admitted to herself that she loved Arima Kousei more than just a little brother.

So, maybe it really had been too late.

She wished she could hate Kaori for it. She had stolen her best friend away from her with a single violin performance, and she should have just written it off then and there. They were musicians. And Tsubaki, she didn't even know how to read a score.

But that had been the biggest problem. She could never hate Kaori. Not after this. Not when Kaori's ashes were lying in a jar inside their family grave. Not when Tsubaki knew that it had been because of Kaori that Kousei had come to love music again.

But even though she couldn't hate Kaori, Tsubaki knew that she would hate the situation Kaori had left them for the rest of her life.

Tsubaki sighed and swiped her finger over Kaori's name. "You're cruel, Kao-chan. Kousei could live to a hundred and fifty, and not a single girl would be good enough for him, because you arbitrarily decided to die at fourteen."

This statement was uncalled for, Tsubaki knew. She knew that Kaori did not 'arbitrarily decide' to die. She had her whole life ahead of her. She had Kousei perform with her but once, and she had been looking forward to playing with him more.

And now she was gone.

And Tsubaki was left with the guilt of loving Kousei, when Kaori was no longer with them.

But Tsubaki was a fighter. And she hated losing. She did not want to lose now.

Because she owed Kaori this much.

"I'm going to a high school that's a ten minute walk away from Kousei's, Kao-chan. I worked my ass off to get the grades, and I'm going to stay by his side, because he's just insufferable without me," Tsubaki said under her breath, surprising herself at how unwavering her voice was. "I'm going to do good. I'll keep him in check, and I'll make sure that he keeps playing the piano, because that's what he's meant to do for the rest of his life."

Tsubaki pushed herself to a standing position. She needed to get out of there before the nerves got the best of her again. She was not about to get jealous over a memory of a dead girl. She was not going to start now.

"I know how you feel about him, and I know that there had been times when I know that you'd have beaten me in this game because you're just so damn compatible with him. You've done a lot of things for him, so much that I couldn't compete with you. But I guess there's just one thing that I can promise that I would never do to Kousei." Tsubaki smiled before turning away from the grave.

"I will never lie to him."

A/N: I just read the last chapter of Shigatsu wa Kimi no Uso. And I will probably be in withdrawal for a few days starting now. I'm just so sad. *cries*