Some Nights

     Some nights when there are no boys around and my
friends are nowhere to be found, I wander.  Ohtori
does not have many lights, but I like its dark, vast
halls.  The shadows conceal me, leaving me free to
think my private thoughts out privately.  I love the
openness of the buildings; the atmosphere swirls with
delicious night air.  It is fresh and cool, making my
stomach tingle as if something exciting were about to
happen.
     On those nights, when I roam, I hear that small,
precise tune of a piano.  Its song hypnotizes me and I
often find myself standing in the school's music
corridor.  There are many rooms and studios there,
housing instruments and sheets of music itching to
become existing and to please the ear.  Their owners
dream of being masters of their forms, or being able
to pass their next lesson.  During the day, dozens of
hopefuls sing their songs, all meshing into one
continuous din of clashing sounds at night, when they
rest, the air becomes still and silent, save for one
lone piano.
     Amidst all these rooms I automatically lean against
the wall that hides its mystery player.  Perfect notes
fly easily from the open door; they hint of nostalgia
and desire.  I imagine slender fingers racing, gliding
over bone white ivory keys, but never the face.   Over
and over, the song stops and starts over.  Measures
and phrases are repeated endlessly.  They have no
flaws, but to him, the music is stagnant and dull.  It
lacks.  I know he spends the night hours digging
deeper through the music and past the notes, turning
every measure over methodically like a stone.  He
looks for the meaning and the secrets that will put
him at ease and let him play the way he wants.  But he
knows the answer doesn't lie in the music; he only
does not want to admit it.
     Of all the times I stand there and listen to his
futile search, I have never entered the room to aid
him.  I do not want him to know of my presence and
that I feel his silent disappointment.  It is not
because I am selfish.  I was alone and he had promised
that I wouldn't be.   The humiliation that would come
with the exposure of our so called "genius" talent was
unbearable.   I was determined that I would never fall
into the same situation again after that night.  He
failed me then and lost my faith in him. 
     When I hear the defeated clamp of the closing of the
piano, I hide.  It will always be out into the hours
of night where no one but he and I are still awake
with the stars.  There is nothing for him to do but go
back home.  When I hear his soft footsteps fade away,
I walk into the studio.  The bench will still be warm,
and the keys still aching to be played.  And slowly, a
choppy song will fill the room, without finesse and
skill.  I still remember how to play, even though I
vowed so many years ago against it.  I don't know  why
I do it; maybe it is my hope that he'll be able to
hear it in the morning and be a step closer to his
futile dream.   Or maybe I'm just as stupid and naïve
as the little girl who placed her trust in his hands
completely.
 
     Sometimes, we don't understand the things we do.

--------------
Written by the Circuit Beavers, 
Miya and Sparkling Mello

Shades of Blue: Kaoru Miki
http://www.welcome.to/ohtori 
OR
http://www.geocities.com/tokyo/bridge/2937

Shoujo Kakumei Utena and all its characters belongs
to us! ha ha.  They actually belong to Be-papas and
are copyrighted...

Some notes from Mello:
We thought that there wasn't enough Miki or Kozue
fanfiction hanging around, so we decided, hey, let's
get off our bums and write one and we did.  But Miya
did most of it.  ^-^ No one else may know it, but we
are big fans of Dreiser's Elevator Series they're
ggrreat!  Also, Scott Johnson, the author of "Namely,
Miracles". I love Juri fanfics! And Ten'jou Utena's
fanfics, too. The Alternity series are fantstic!  And
we can't spell!!  Hats off to them for inspiration.
^-^