Doppo Kunikida | Pianist Perfection

Perfection is everything.

From the tick of a clock’s hand to a key in a piano.

It must be perfect.

From a young age, Kunikida has been captivated by the exquisite sound of a perfect note in a song. This fascination has only grown stronger as he entered his teenage years and transitioned into adulthood.

He couldn’t get enough. He wouldn’t.

When a young child, he eagerly signed up for piano lessons. Mastering this remarkable instrument became his top priority, as he yearned to immerse himself in the divine sounds produced by its keys.

The way his hands glided effortlessly over the cool, smooth keys, coaxing out hauntingly beautiful melodies, while the pedals softly protested under the pressure of his feet. It was an indescribable sensation that had ensnared him, much like an addiction takes hold of a person's soul.

He never engaged in musical collaboration with others. Instead, he dedicated himself entirely to perfecting his own unique sound, rejecting any offers to play alongside fellow musicians.

He had decided that nothing could change his mind on such a subject. That he wouldn’t allow anybody close, not even during college did he do so. He was afraid, afraid that they would ruin such a divine sound.

It didn’t take long for Kunikida to be known in the musicians world. He was widely acknowledged for his skills in music, and he trended for months even.

But as the sun rises, it must go down.

Soon people had begun to converse.

“Why is he always alone?”

”Why doesn’t he play along with somebody else? Is he scared?”

”His sound is rather dull alone..”

”He’s terrible.”

The words hit him like a jarring note, causing an unpleasant feeling to reverberate within him. It had a profoundly damaging effect on him.

Falling from his pedestal in the world, he had retreated back to his hometown. It was silent there besides the neighbors' chattering of pesky rumors.

He hadn’t taken interest in them until he had heard about you.

There was a specific rumor, that you had moved to town in the late fall suddenly, taking small jobs at bars to sing. People had said your voice was divine and angelic, God’s fallen angel.

It only took you a month to earn that nickname.

Engrossed in the moment, he briefly delved into the subject before immersing himself completely, honing his skills day and night until his fingers ached from relentless practice.

His friends, having grown concerned for him, invited him out for a night of drinking.

Originally he had declined, but once he heard it was a bar you were supposed to be singing there that night, he accepted.

He would admit, he was curious if these rumors were true. He wanted to know if you could compare to him.

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The bars' endless chattering and clinking of glasses echoed throughout the room. His friends beside him at his table engrossed themselves in talk that he paid no mind to.

Once the lights had darkened, you had taken your pedestal on the stage; he was simply already mesmerized by your beauty. You wore fine clothes, nothing informal but nothing overly informal.

His gaze remained fixated on you from the moment you drew your first breath, as the soft background music began, to the instant your eyes met his.

He was utterly spellbound, unable to find the words to capture the enchantment he felt while watching you.