October 17 was the anniversary of Chopin’s death.

The announcement came in the morning. Yuzuki would be participating in the finals. Immediately after the announcement, I watched from afar as Yuzuki was flocked by the press. 

We truly were living in a different world.

I had no doubt of Yuzuki’s victory. She would be fighting on the same stage with the best, it was the battle she had been preparing for her entire life. Many people will hear her performance… So she has come this far…

We attended the Chopin Requiem Mozart held at the Holy Cross Church. At 8:00 p.m flowers were placed on the pillar where Chopin’s heart was kept. Chopin never returned to his homeland, after his death, only his heart was secretly brought back by his sister. During World War II, Chopin’s heart was evacuated and protected by the people. The Church itself was also destroyed during the Warsaw Uprising and rebuilt later.

The pillar is inscribed with the words from Matthew 6:19 to 6:21, “For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also. Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moths and vermin destroy, and where thieves break in and steal. But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where moths and vermin do not destroy, and where thieves do not break in and steal.”

In that sense, his heart was truly in heaven, in his beloved homeland.  It was said that at the time of his death, he willed that Mozart’s Requiem should be played at his funeral.

Mozart’s Requiem echoed through the high ceiling of the Church.

We listened to the beautiful service from our not-so-great seats. Yuzuki was adamant in not taking better seats than the Polish audience. Afterall, this was a Polish ceremony, she had said.

The sad and solemn chorus and music touched our hearts.

That day was full of tears,

 　 When all will rise from the ashes

 　 When all men will rise from the ashes and be judged for their sins,

 　 O God, have mercy on us

 　 O merciful Jesus, our Lord,

 　 grant us eternal rest. Amen.

The orchestra playing in front of the altar is brightly illuminated by chandeliers and lights. The audience behind them was dimly lit. The faces of the people with downcast eyes and even tears streaking. It was a scenery cut out from a Rembrandt painting.

Yuzuki also kept her gaze down and offered a silent prayer.

　　　13

The finals of the competition began on October 18.

Yuzuki would often come to listen to the performances with me when she was free from her practice. The pieces performed were “Piano Concerto No. 1, Op. 11” and “Piano Concerto No. 2, Op. 21” The orchestra was done by Warsaw State Philharmonic Orchestra with Jacek Kaspszykas the conductor. Most of the finalists chose No. 1 Op.11, so we had to listen to the same piece over and over again. However, as one would expect from the finalists, they were all excellent, and I was able to listen to each of their 40-minute performances with rapt attention.

I happened to run into Martha Argerich in the hall and was able to get her autograph.

“Thank you.” I managed.

She smiled at me and went on her way.

Yuzuki spent most of the time alone, concentrating on her upcoming performance.

Finally, on October 20, at 7:50 p.m. – the final day, the last performer was Yuzuki.

She appeared in a red dress. Applause filled the room as usual. She shook hands with the concertmaster, bowed to the audience, and sat down in front of the piano.

She took a deep breath.

Her gaze locked with the conductor and they nodded.

It began.

She too, played No.1 Op.11—the presentation part was played by the orchestra, and the piano will join later. The junction between the two was the trickiest part of this piece. 

Yuzuki kept her eyes down and stared at the keyboard. I was almost nervous myself. After about four and a half minutes, the first note of the piano finally sounded.

—A brilliant fortissimo chord.

From that point on, it was Yuzuki’s world. The lush bass notes and the glassy treble tones beautifully depicted Chopin’s poetic sentiment. Her facial expressions, finger movements, pedal strokes, and every move were a sight to behold. It was as though the orchestra had stepped back into the background, letting Yuzuki shine.

—The melody tasted sweet. The piano was singing.

She and the piano were one and the same, inseparable entity.

A music straight from a blissful dream.

Like fate itself calling out.

The same as—No, even more strongly than when I first met her. Tears welled up involuntarily. It was beautiful. There was no doubt in my mind that she was going to win. I was certain.

It was about four minutes before the end of the first movement.

It was when a dramatic and beautiful passage was being played, like running down from a high hill, like a stack of dominoes collapsing, the moment of pure satisfaction.

—The piano silenced.

There was a murmur. A scream was heard. The orchestra stumbled to a halt.

I opened my closed eyes.

Yuzuki’s eyes were shot wide open, her stared fixated at her hand.

The ring finger of her left hand.

Between the first and the second joint had snapped off. The piece had fallen off and lied innocuously on the keyboard.

She had a look of pure confusion. It wasn’t long before the realization dawned on her. Her mouth trembled, her face paled, her eyes shot even wider. Her beautiful face began to distort and then cracked.

She let out a terrible scream. The conductor moved. He put her finger that had fallen on the keyboard in his breast pocket, held Yuzuki by the shoulders, and retreated offstage.

Great confusion and commotion followed. Some people were covering their mouths and crying. I sat there, stunned and deflated, forgetting to even blink.

For that brief moment, I saw the cross section of Yuzuki’s ring finger.

It was completely white.

I knew what it meant. Better than anyone.

The Chloride Blight. Yuzuki was dying.