Eclipsed: Echoes of a Forgotten Melody

Chapter Four: The Shadows of the Past

The melody of Canon in D still echoed in Ishikawa's mind days after that fateful night at the piano. The haunting resonance of each note lingered like a distant memory, one he couldn't shake no matter how much he tried to distract himself. Ishikawa, once comfortable in his introversion, now felt pulled by something beyond him, something ancient and unresolved.

It wasn't just the music that had stuck with him. It was the image of Seito, the man whose death had always been more rumor than fact. That piano was no ordinary instrument, and the more Ishikawa tried to rationalize what had happened, the more he realized there was no logical explanation for it. His hands had moved as though possessed, playing music he had never learned, never even considered playing. It was as if the notes had existed within him all along, waiting for the right moment to be released.

His days at the university now took on a dreamlike quality. Everything felt sharper, more alive, as though he were viewing the world through someone else's eyes. His friends—Takumi, Mai, and Seiichi—noticed the change. Takumi would tease him about it, but with an undercurrent of concern. Mai would offer kind words, asking if he was okay, her dark eyes filled with unspoken worry. Seiichi, as usual, said little but watched from the sidelines, his quiet presence a constant in the group.

But even they couldn't fill the growing void in Ishikawa's heart. Every night, he found himself returning to the piano, unable to stay away. He would sit on the bench beneath the Sakura tree, staring at the crimson surface of the piano, covered in years of dust, a silent witness to decades of forgotten memories. He wanted to play, but something held him back. It was as though the instrument itself was waiting—waiting for him to unravel the mystery of Seito, the man whose ghost still lingered in every note.

One evening, unable to shake his obsession, Ishikawa decided to search for answers. The university was old, and its history was scattered across countless records. There had to be something, somewhere, that would explain what had happened to Seito. Ishikawa was no stranger to libraries—he had spent many nights buried in the stacks, escaping his mundane life by diving into books and articles—but this search felt different. Urgent. Necessary.

The library was empty when he arrived, the only sound the quiet hum of fluorescent lights overhead. He approached the desk, where the librarian—a severe-looking woman with thin glasses and a sharp gaze—eyed him warily.

"Can I help you?" she asked, her voice clipped and businesslike.

Ishikawa hesitated. How could he explain what he was looking for without sounding insane? "I'm... I'm researching an old music instructor," he finally said, his voice barely above a whisper. "Seito Saito. Do you have any records on him?"

The librarian's eyes narrowed slightly, and for a moment, Ishikawa thought she would turn him away. But then she nodded and gestured for him to follow her to the back of the library, where the oldest records were kept. The air grew cooler as they walked, and the musty smell of old books filled the space around them.

"He was a quiet man," she said as she rifled through a filing cabinet. "Didn't have many friends. There's not much on him, I'm afraid."

After a few minutes, she handed Ishikawa a file. It was thin, its edges frayed from age, and Ishikawa's heart sank as he realized how little information there was.

"You can look through it here," she said before walking away, leaving Ishikawa alone with the file and the overwhelming weight of expectation.

He opened the file carefully, the brittle pages threatening to tear under his fingers. There were a few photographs of Seito—one from a recital, where he stood next to a grand piano, his expression solemn and intense. Another of him with a group of students, all smiling except for Seito, whose gaze seemed to be directed elsewhere. There were performance reviews, class schedules, and an official notice of his death, but no mention of what had led to his demise. No mention of the piano, or the haunting.

But then, buried at the bottom of the file, Ishikawa found something that made his pulse quicken—a letter. It was dated just three days before Seito's death. The handwriting was delicate, almost trembling, as though written in a moment of great distress.

Dearest Reiko, it began.

Ishikawa's heart skipped a beat. This was the first time he had seen the name. The letter was brief, filled with vague but emotional pleas. Seito was begging for something—forgiveness, perhaps. He asked to meet one last time, though the reasons were unclear. There was no response attached to the letter, no indication of what had happened between them.

Reiko—this was the woman Ishikawa had seen in his dreams, the one standing beside Seito at the piano. Who was she? And why had she disappeared after his death?

Ishikawa's hands trembled as he folded the letter and slipped it into his bag. He needed answers, and this letter was the only clue he had.

That night, Ishikawa returned to the piano, unable to stay away. The moon hung low in the sky, casting a silvery glow over the Sakura tree, its petals swaying gently in the evening breeze. The piano sat in silence, waiting.

As soon as he sat down, his fingers hovered over the keys, and he felt it—the pull. The music. It was like a current, flowing through him, guiding his hands to play once more. The melody that spilled forth was not his own, yet it was so familiar, so perfect.

And then he saw them again—Seito and the woman, standing together beneath the moonlit sky. Their faces were obscured by shadow, but their emotions were clear. Grief. Longing. A love that had been lost to time.

The woman's name echoed in Ishikawa's mind—Reiko. He whispered it aloud, and the music grew darker, more intense. The woman in the vision reached for Seito, but just as her fingers brushed his, she began to fade, disappearing into the night.

The music stopped. Ishikawa sat frozen at thepiano, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He knew, deep in his heart, that hehad to find Reiko. She was the key to understanding Seito's tragic fate—and thereason his ghost could not find peace.