The Life You Live

Chapter 15

He would rise on time, perform his morning ritual, and head to class as Sensei Iehiro, wearing that through the week until thursday came when tutoring returned.

The normalcy had done enough to smooth him but his personality took on a more withdrawn, enigmatic touch. Not necessarily the brooding type but one whose eyes were always watching; a calm, steady eye of the storm that Kaya might not have seen until she’d discovered Bunji’s true nature. And it was in his subtle actions that gave it away; things that people otherwise missed.

People took him as neat and purposeful but the reality was that Bunji was counting how many times he chewed, was counting how many times he breathed, measuring the way that his shoulders rose and fell; not too high but not too hard-to-read. The way he smiled in certain situations and the things he said to smoothly bypass the jokes from the other teachers about the grace of his vitality. The way he made it a point to sometimes eat where someone could see him and to excuse himself to the bathroom.

It was in the way that he covered up the flashes of hunger when someone particularly appealed to his sense of food and how he put distance between him and student admirers without them realizing what he’d done, his words elegant enough to distract them. And the way that when he composed something unique, it was but a snapshot of his immortal soul and interpreted into sound because he had much to say and no words to say them…

Up until Thursday, Bunji would be a fleeting sight, awake during the day and during the night, either asleep or moving through Tokyo with doubled efforts; every moment of every day, filled with thoughts of Kaya and how he needed to protect her more than ever. To make sure that her life was as peaceful as others because he knew that with him, she might eventually wither and become unhappy. So the least he could do was make it safe for her, away from him, to be able to realize that even though they might part…

That life awaited, he, her fleeting protector. At least, when he wasn’t at school with her or with her on the weekends which he had every intention of making a tradition because there was still that selfish need within him.

Bunji was wearing black slacks and a white shirt with an indigo tie and would retreat to the music room after Ensemble finished, waiting for Kaya to mentor her on the harp. The first solo was coming soon and he had to equip her with a different piece than the one he’d assigned her—which he would work with her to perfect over the year—so that she could have something neatly wrapped and presentable for potential talent and occupation scouts; both for universities and future employment.

So he was shuffling through sheet music around the time she was supposed to pull back and meet him, sitting at his desk, with a stoic gaze.

. . . .

The following school week went like every other. She kept to herself in homeroom classes, P.E. class, shower, eat lunch, and the best part instrumental ensemble, ensemble club for the first three days of the week. Thursday was a highlight being that she had tutoring to look forward to after club.

She transferred the harp back into the music room and took a restroom break before returning for her tutoring lesson. School uniforms had switched over to the autumn/winter style. Leaving her in a long length pleated violet skirt, long sleeved sailor fuku top with violet tie, and black vest. She wore her hair in its typical fashion of a gentle wave down her back.

Class solo performance was coming up and she was eager to see what Sensei Iehiro desired her to play for such event. She re entered and approached his desk with a warm smile. "Greetings Sensei Iehiro! Have you find anything suitable for the upcoming occasion?" She asked curious.

. . . .

“I do,” he replied simply, indigo eyes sifting from the papers in hand up to her. “Please have a seat and I will play it for you.” Then, back down to the sheet music he was handling. After clipping pieces together, he removed just one and stood up, walking over to the harp. It was there he sat and tuned it before his hands floated toward the strings and lay against them, quieting the resonant sound, satisfied with it. Resting there.