L o v i n g S R i v a l r y

 

Part One: The First Year I

September 2002

 

“Kagome!” Ms. Higurashi called, looking herself over in her full-length mirror.

 

“Yes?” her daughter answered, walking into her mother’s room while brushing out her silky black hair.

 

“It’s time to go!” her mother rushed, brushing past Kagome as she quickly descended the stairs.

 

“Okay,” said her daughter calmly, throwing the brush onto the bed as exited the room.

 

Today was the day of the music contest, a day long awaited by Ms. Higurashi Hanako, a day silently dreaded by Kagome.  Yes, she had practiced hard, but her voice still was rusty, she thought, and she had not yet met the accompanist.  Her mother had told her that her best friend’s son played the piano splendidly and that she would have nothing to worry about.  Still, she fretted over everything.  She was self-assured that she would do horribly.  Her voice, to her, was ugly and hideous.  In fact, she didn’t want to take voice lessons, but her mother insisted.  ‘It will make you a refined young lady!’ she had said.  Sighing, Kagome quickly descended the steps after her mother, trying to straighten out her sleeveless black dress.  I look like I’m going to a funeral.  Humorously, she looked down at her outfit.  She was basically clad in all black except for her pale arms, one of which adorned a watch and silver chain bracelet.  A silver chain necklace rested on her collar, a single light blue sapphire hanging from the center, sparkling like her blue-gray eyes.  Slipping on her strapping black heels, she followed her mother out the door and into the car.

 

Soon, they were off, Kagome’s mother chattering absently about how great she looked and how pleased she’ll be to finally meet Sesshoumaru.  So that’s his name, huh?  Kagome pondered about the boy she had only heard simple pieces of information about.  Truthfully, she had known about him for three or four years.  It was only this year, when the Hamada family had moved to Tokyo again, that she would actually meet this fabled son of Hamada Miyako, her mother’s best friend.  Kagome was amazed that the two women could remain best friends even when living for so long so far.

 

“I really think you’ll like him, Kagome,” Hanako said, eyes twinkling.  “I’ve heard from a couple people that he’s beautiful.”

 

Kagome started a bit at her mother’s comment.  “Beautiful?” she questioned, her eyebrows furrowing together in confusion, “Isn’t beautiful used to describe a girl?”

 

“It’s only what I heard, dear,” her mother replied, glancing at her from the driver’s seat.

 

Then, Ms. Higurashi smiled.  “I’m sure you’ll like him fine,” she said warmly, pausing slightly, “Although I have heard that he’s quite…calm.”

 

“So?  What’s wrong with being calm?” Kagome asked, curious as to what this boy was like.

 

“You’ll see,” said Hanako uncertainly, turning into a parking lot.

 

Kagome breathed out a sigh of relief, some of her nervousness having gone away during the brief car ride.  Perhaps she WOULD do well?  Kagome stepped out of the car, swinging the door shut behind her.

 

“Hanako!” she heard someone call.

 

Kagome swiveled in the direction of the voice, as did her mother, and her vision was greeted by a tall woman striding gracefully towards them.  Wow…  The woman was absolutely gorgeous.  Black hair fell to her shoulders, cascading just below them and brilliant green eyes laughed with a never-ending mirth.  Her lips were upturned in a friendly smile as she approached Hanako and Kagome.  Hearing her mother gasp, she turned towards her, a questioning look on her face.  The two women hugged and laughed cheerfully, chattering amiably about anything and everything.  She must be Hamada Miyako.  Kagome’s mother stopped talking as she glanced over at Kagome.

 

“Oh!” she exclaimed, walking over to her daughter, “Miyako!  This is my daughter Kagome.”

 

“Wow,” said Miyako, walking over to her, “She really has grown from last I saw her!”

 

Kagome refrained from rolling her eyes.  Adults.

 

“And what of your son?” Hanako asked curiously, her eyes sparkling, “Sesshoumaru, was it?”

 

“Yes,” Miyako answered, smiling widely, “He’ll be along shortly.”  She glanced up behind Kagome.  “In fact, here he is now.”

 

Kagome knew better than to turn around so eagerly, but she did.  Her jaw almost dropped to the ground.  Mom was right.  He is gorgeous.  A tall figure was striding gracefully towards them.  He looks a lot like his mom.  Kagome thought, recalling both their tall build and graceful stride.  This boy, however, had long, flowing, silvery-white hair instead of black.  Though it was quite unnatural, it really did suit him.  Nothing would go better with his bright golden eyes, dulled slightly with a look of boredom.  The boy seemed in a class all his own, like he was above humans.  Kagome shook her head softly, shaking away the prejudiced thoughts.  It’s true, though, probably.  The way he carries himself says it all.

 

“Hanako and Kagome, this is Sesshoumaru,” Miyako said warmly, gesturing towards her son, who now stood beside Kagome.  “Sesshoumaru, this is Hanako and Kagome.”

 

Both the females bowed to him, and he bowed in return.  “Nice to meet you,” he said curtly, his long silver hair falling over his shoulder.

 

Yup, Kagome thought sarcastically, he’s a snob.  With that in mind, she remained silent as they all strolled toward the building, where the judging and performance would take place.  I just hope he’s a good pianist, like everyone says…

 

 

Part Two: The First Year II

November 2002

 

I could already tell I was going to have a hard time with this guy.  He seemed to answer every question that came his way with a don’t-ever-talk-to-me-again, an I’m-better-than-you-are, or a do-you-think-I-care look.  Either that, or it would be a curt nod or blank stare that would eventually ward to off with his amazing capability to hold a murderous glare for more than fifteen seconds.  And if you didn’t run off, he would bluntly ignore you.  Jeez!  It seemed like the guy had some sort of mind-reading capability or…or…something that would pierce through you when he looked your way.  AND THIS GUY WAS MY ACCOMPANIST?!  I really couldn’t believe my bad luck.  That is, until we got to the practice room…

 

          “Did your mom drag you into this?” I asked conversationally, removing my jacket.

 

          There it was, the blank stare for at least five seconds before ‘his highness’ decided to grace me with his oh-so-royal answer.  “No.”

 

          Wow, he even has a nice voice.  “No?” I arched an eyebrow.

 

          “I came willingly after being asked once,” said he, the Great One.

 

          Even a limited sense of humor.  Smiling amiably, I gestured toward the sleek black grand piano in the center of the room, which was fairly large considering it was only a practice room.  “Shall we give it a try?”

 

Not answering, he made his way (gracefully) to the piano and tapped out a few keys before sitting down at the bench.  He looked at me blankly.  He didn’t bring his music, huh?  He must be pretty damn good.

 

          “Let’s start from the beginning, then.  Okay with you?” I suggested.  Thank God our parents were outside.

 

As soon as his slender fingers touched the keys, I was amazed by the sheer grace and fluency of his movements and music.  He was good…better than I had ever imagined.  I wonder if he practices a lot?  It would only seem logical for one so perfect to be a natural, therefore not needing much practice at all.  But then again, I could always be wrong, and it seemed that I always was.  Hearing the arpeggio that trickled softly as my cue, I made a silent wish to the Fates that I would not mess up and seem so utterly mal-practiced to my accompanist.  I would’ve been absolutely horrified had I made a mistake in my singing.  Taking a deep, quiet breath, I started in with a soft, yet projecting, voice.

 

Closing my eyes, I sang on, paying scant attention to anything around me.  Everything except the lilt of the piano and my own voice dissipated into nothingness as my focus wavered between the serene silence of it all and the words of the song.  Before I had realized it, the song was finished as was I, and Sesshoumaru was staring at me questioningly.

 

          Blushing slightly, I closed my mouth before mumbling, “How’d I do?  I wasn’t really paying attention.”  After all, focus on only the music or nothing at all.  If you let your mind stay, you’ll screw up.

 

          “Well enough,” he answered curtly.

 

          “Meaning I need improvement?” I bit back scornfully.

 

          Sending me an effortless glare he answered, “There is always room for improvement.  Perfection does not exist.”

 

          Wise for someone so young…  “And what, pray tell, do you think I need improvement on?”

 

          “Expression.”

 

          I hadn’t thought about that…I guess that would be a problem with my eyes closed, now wouldn’t it?  “Do you have any suggestions?”

 

          “It is a sad song, is it not?” he said monotonously, “A sad, perhaps wistful, expression would be cause for effect.”

 

          Damn.  He says it so professionally, like I’m dumb or something.  I couldn’t help but shoot a chaste, disdainful glare at him before continuing.  “The beginning again, please.”

 

~*~*~*~*~

 

Sesshoumaru held the door open for me as we left the performance room.  Hell, the guy almost had to push me out the door, I was so frozen with anxiety.  Needless to say, his performance was flawless, what I heard of it anyways, but I wasn’t so sure about mine.  Then again, I’m never sure about anything?  So what the hell.  I went to stand next to my mother against the wall as we awaited the judges to produce the results.  WHAT TAKES THEM SO LONG?!  Glancing over at the other wall, where Miyako was, Sesshoumaru stood calmly, coat draped over one arm as he, with his usual cool façade, stared at the doors to the room from whence we had come.  This guy is just too funny.

 

          “How’d you do?” Mother-dear asked.

 

          “Fine,” I answered, like every other answer I had given going to contests.

 

          “Good!” she exclaimed, smiling.  “As long as you tried your best!”

 

          And got a perfect score!  Really, who does she think she’s kidding?  I nodded silently.

 

The wooden door next to us opened suddenly, and one of the judges walked out.  A nameplate titled, “Hello!  My name’s Yuki,” was pinned onto her sweater.  Smiling warmly, she handed the rubric to me.

 

          “We all really enjoyed your performance.  You’ve got a beautiful voice and a wonderful accompanist!  You can go out to the front, there,” she said, pointing to a desk down the hall, “to sign out and record your score.  Thank you!”

 

With that, she disappeared back into the room, and another person was called up.  Blinking, I turned the sheet so I could read it.  Fives were circled all down the columns, and at the bottom, the score read 50/50.  Wow…perfect…  Looking up to Sesshoumaru, I flashed him a rare smile.  I guess some things are more perfect than others in this world, Sesshoumaru.

 

[To Be Continued…]

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