The music.
Oh, the music!
Listening to Nanami's music has always been an erotic experience for me. It fills me, it permeates me, it becomes one with me.
Nanami's music is my lover.
Sounds become colors. Large swaths of thick and vibrant oil paint, filling the canvas of my soul, taking over my body and my spirit. Fire and passion and meaning erupt forth when she plays.
The dynamic colors of her music, in constant motion, dance before my eyes, beckoning me to join them in a celestial waltz.
The colors become words, the words become feelings, experience, emotions. Understanding.
How a girl at the tender age of twelve could produce such a sensual and profound collection of notes is beyond me. I know I must be missing something. Nanami is a study in intensity. Her brow furrows with concentration as she continues to play.
My gaze moves from the keyboard to her face. I don't know whether to watch her slender, petite body or her mesmerizing fingers moving across the keys. Or perhaps her face, still so very young, should be more captivating than any instrument. She looks like a doll that has been posed for a painting. Her lips are slightly parted, revealing her pouting teeth. Gapped teeth, a delicate space between the two fronts. The look on her face is both innocent and sensual.
Her cheeks are spattered with freckles, which only add to her angelic quality. Her long eyelashes sweep down over her big, brown eyes. That sandy, little-girl hair of hers, a soft and dirty shade of blonde, is caught in a ponytail. Her skin is smooth and porcelain white. I would never think of comparing her to the other girls I tutor. She is definitely different.
Nanami is clearly not of Japanese origin, despite her name. I suspect she may have come from somewhere else. She is so far removed from my expectations of what a "Japanese" girl should look like. From what I've gleaned in my time as her tutor, her mother and father are from Europe. She was born in Japan, moving back to her motherland when she was five years old.
There is something strange about her. Most young girls are simple; they lack the sophistication of an adult. I can sense a kind of innocence hidden behind her thick, dark lashes. But there is also a strength and poise to her.
It is strange that I, a grown man, can nearly view Nanami as an equal, despite the fact that she isn't even a teenager yet. She's just a little girl. And yet, there is something in her that draws me.
A woman, a mature woman, comes to mind. That Nanami is an advanced student is undeniable. Her first teacher praised her highly. But still, it all feels so unreal.
I see her more like a friend than a student. Often, I assign a new pianist some very simple, or very well known pieces. They're a good means to gauge how practiced the player is, where I should be setting the bar for my understudy based on their skills. Nanami saw the selection of sheet music I had laid out for her the day we met, and she immediately took charge of the lesson. It was obvious she was used to being in charge of things.
Her playing, at the basic level, was not only flawless, but also remarkably fast and powerful. It made me think of what a young prodigy might sound like. Her hands move with such fluidity and grace.
"My god, Nanami," I remember gasping. "That was magnificent. That was great!"
She looked up at me, and I noticed she was blushing slightly. A momentary chip in her elegant armor. "Thank you." She was so refined, much more so than a girl of her age should be.
We were discussing her advanced piano lessons, and I was trying to give her some advice on improving her technique. It was very taxing to tutor someone so close to my own skill, perhaps even better than me in some areas. That a girl her age could keep pace with a concerto player was, to be sure, remarkable.
"You know," I said, "you need to pay more attention to the fingering. Now, believe me, what you do with your fingers already is magic. What I'm saying is that I want to hear more of that. Your fingers have an impact on the music. It's like you're living in a world of your own, and it's all coming from you. I want the piece you play to show me Nanami. Not some composer's idea of how the music should sound, but rather what Nanami herself thinks of the piece. I want to experience the way she hears it."
I wanted to see Nanami's soul. So young and tender, but yet so very mature.
"Nanami, you are a very talented pianist. I think you have a lot to learn, but you're already a great pianist. I'm not just saying that because you're... Well, a little girl whose parents are paying me to tutor her. I've come to understand what you're capable of, and I want to see that through."
She smiled at me, and I saw in her eyes a kind of respect. Nanami was so young, and yet she had something to teach me. I felt as if I could somehow let myself get swept away by her music.
"What would you like to play?" I asked.
"I'll start with something easy," she said. "A Chopin piece. Let's see... I'll start with Op. 25 No. 2, 'Piano Sonata No. 1.' That's a very popular piece, isn't it?"
I nodded gently. "Ah, a good choice for you to put your own, special touch on it. You know, that's what I like about you, Nanami. You're so different from the others. You're