Finding Sanctuary

Chapter 14

Note: I don't own Haikyuu and stuff.

Shohei manages to get through the discussion part somehow with the school provided walking translator present much to his disdain, he tries not to throw the man a dirty look as he yet again doesn't tell them what he said exactly as he said it like he's supposed to. It's his job to say it exactly how Shohei does, not add his own opinions. He hates having an interpreter for any reason, he can manage just fine.

Luckily, they get the message after Fukunaga huffs again, this time rather loudly, and types on his phone before passing it to them determinedly. He simply asks for his work to speak for him rather than the fool next to him who needs to choose a new career field (though in a much more polite manner). Thankfully, they agree and are quick to dismiss the young man who leaves with a frown, but Fukunaga can't care. They're heading to a room that holds his instrument of choice for his minor.

He's going for a major in Art (painting mostly) with a minor in Music (piano) though it's an odd combination according to them. He didn't think it was when he applied.

He stares in awe at the beautifully carved grand piano in front of him, old finished wood with careful designs. It's not the typical white or black. It's an almost soft medium-dark brown wood with lighter swirls in the grains, smooth and polished without a single chip in the ivories. Gorgeous. I get to play... on this? I can't wait!

With an appreciative sigh he sets himself gently on the edge of the matching bench, trying to contain his excitement. His eyes close and he gently presses one of perfectly tuned key down, relishing in the clarity of the note as it resounds.

Returning his hands to his lap, blue look over to adults present. The university's dean, the head of the arts and the director for the music department. They're glancing through the relevant part of his file, not seeming impressed. When he receives a nod after they settle in, he takes a deep breath and centers himself.

He has one piece to play for this part of the process to get in so he needs it to be perfect. He's only allowed the one. He's put in the hours upon hours of practice to get here, he just has to play the way he always has and always will. Trust himself.

He's never been formally trained which a lot of people frown on, he taught himself on the baby grand in the study at his house thanks to the internet, obsession, and a middle school music teacher patiently answering all his questions. It must've been for show or something. His father keeps it properly tuned and demands it stay clean along with his son's other chores, but he never touches it or allows others to do so except for tuning. Other than cleaning it, Sho's forbidden to touch the piano.

Once, when he was very young, Shohei risked asking why his dad didn't play because he didn't know it was bad yet. He wasn't prepared. Touma (correctly written as winter grind) smacked his son upside the head and said in a clipped icy tone that of course he didn't know how to do something as ridiculous as play the piano, scoffed at the mere idea of it as Fukunaga picked his tiny self up off the ground with tears in his eyes. Touma claimed music's a waste of time and money, a waste of one's life that you can never get back. He'll never forget Touma saying in such a soft voice that hearing a piano makes his ears bleed and this one was the worst, eyes trained on the instrument. It was such a strange expression with his eyes shiny like he wanted to cry yet face as hard as stone in anger, but it's one of the earliest times he remembers fearing his father or being hit by him. It must be for looks then Sho figured despite the lack of company allowed over. He claims he can't throw it out too, Shohei doesn't understand. What Fuku doesn't get still is when his father looks at it to this day, it's either immense disgust or bittersweet fondness. Never anything else, no in between. Sometimes one, sometimes the other. Never both.