Tsukasa rests his fingers on the keys as well, though for a moment, despite Pinocchio setting the tempo, he's content to just listen.
Perhaps piano music isn't so different across world. This sounds familiar to the sorts of things he would play in middle school, back when he used to compete.
That makes it easier for Tsukasa to begin to play with Pinocchio with greater confidence; a cautious counterpoint at first, trying to avoid interrupting the melody that P is stringing together so wonderfully.
Pinocchio is ready to accompany Tsukasa, but this time, Tsukasa is the one ready to support him in the spotlight.]
[Indeed, what comes is not Tsukasa taking the lead with a new melody–and Pinocchio certainly would not have minded that at all—but rather a gentle undercurrent that complements it. Bolstering it, giving it a new layer. A fuller and more complete piece.
(He has distant memories of Carlo playing with Lea and Romeo. They are so remote that they may not even qualify as memories — but rather, feather-light touches of feeling, of knowing what it was like to create music with someone else. How it touched the heart, those fragments of happiness, now so fleeting in the present.
All three of them are gone now. But in moments like these, they exist again, even if their remembrances are as faded as a watercolor painting left out in the sun.)
The improvised piece continues, line by line. At some point, however, unknowingly even to P, he is so moved—yet ironically feeling so far removed from this point in time, enveloped only by music—that the corners of his eyes prickle with tears.]
[Tsukasa can't possibly know what Pinocchio is thinking about, of course. There is only so much that he can parse out from the music itself, and his eyes only move to Pinocchio's face once, processing the distant look on his face, before he moves them back to the keys. It feels, after all, like perhaps he's seeing something private that he wasn't necessarily meant to see.
Thoughtfully. Contemplative.
The song Pinocchio is putting together is so melancholic, he can't help but think. A long distant memory, a sense of loneliness. It's a little startling, honestly, so much so that Tsukasa has to take a moment to make sure he didn't accidentally take over the song in some way.
Because that's how he feels as well when he plays the piano. The melancholy, the distant memories, the wistfulness for something he knew he couldn't have. But in this... he supposes their experiences in some ways overlap.
It makes his heart ache for Pinocchio, who plays such beautiful music, and yet has been through so much--just to be shoved towards "being more human", when he can't think of anything more human than this. But even so, he wants to see this through to the end with him.]
[That's the wonderful thing about music, P would say, no matter how cliche it might sound. It transcends circumstance and explanation, delving right into the heart of human emotion. It speaks to each person differently, but it moves them all the same.
He is lost in the pull of a memory that isn't really his, but brought back by Tsukasa's own addition to the song, overlaying across his melodies to entwine into one. This isn't just the manifestation of one person's heart and feelings — it's both of theirs, combined.
And there's something beautiful about that, too.
The song stretches on until it finally comes to a close at the end of a coda, and P lets the notes linger, even as he pulls his hands back. It's only then does he seem to notice the blurring in his vision-]
[He wipes the burgeoning tears away and exhales gently. Tsukasa's presence is a comfort, his touch even more so in this moment. He just nods and places one hand atop his, a grateful squeeze following.]
Of course. Songs like that... they really bring back memories, don't they? And you're pretty good, too, Tsukasa.
[Like, musicianship-wise. Not that he ever doubted it!]
[Of course, he'll take that compliment without hesitation, smiling, though his expression is not quite as boldly arrogant as usual.]
It is... more of a hobby for me now than it used to be, but... mm, it was fun to play again. And you're right that playing like this has brought back memories.
Just as he saw something in Pinocchio, Pinocchio saw the same in him.]
... No, not those memories.
[He smiles still, but a little wistfully.]
But my sister was... very ill for much of our childhood. I was determined to learn to play so I could teach her even better when she was able to! But...
[Well.
It wasn't as often as he would've liked.]
I suppose the wistfulness of your song reminded me of those days too.
[Pinocchio sees the consequences of illness nearly every day in Krat, for reasons he's already explained to Tsukasa. He knows the ambient pain of watching someone close to you suffer from serious ailments, especially if they're chronic ones. It isn't easy.
But... at least his sister got better? He's glad to hear that, or at least assume it, even if some of those days must have been harder than others.]
It must have been hard for you back then. Especially as an older brother... [His only family is Geppetto, and despite everything, Pinocchio would be heartbroken if he had gotten sick with Petrification Disease, if he had... If he had...
What a strange ache. He shakes his head.] But she's made a full recovery in the present, right? Completely healthy?
[He shakes his head immediately at that display of sympathy, smiling ruefully, and almost self-deprecatingly (strange on Tsukasa's face, and truly just a little).]
She's the one who went through something so difficult, and she's the one who is so incredibly strong to push through it.
[He drags in a slow breath, and lets it out, lifting his hands to rest them on the keys. What he plays is this, very simply, almost by instinct more than anything, he's played it so many times.
And he smiles, warmer, brighter, eyes on the keys.]
She has! She is truly living life exactly the way she's always wanted to. And while she occasionally pushes herself more than I would like, as her older brother, I couldn't be prouder of her!
[Twinkle, twinkle, little star. How can anyone not recognize that?
Pinoccho doesn't watch his fingers, though. Only his expression, showing nothing but a fondness for old memories—even if some of them were difficult—and a clear, vibrant love for his sister.]
She's lucky to have you as someone who'll always support her through thick and thin.
[And not that he thinks Tsukasa is trying to put on a brave face or anything, because he does believe him to be sincere, but it was hard not to miss that strange, faint look of ruefulness on his expression prior, and he has to add:]
But it's okay for you to feel tired or sad sometimes, too.
[Leans a little lightheartedly against him, as though to say that he needn't apologize for anything, really.]
I believe you. And I think you've a strong enough heart not to need it that often, but even so. Sometimes even princes are allowed to not always be a bright ray of light.
[Hmm. Pinocchio is not always the most expressive young man, the stoicism inherent in a puppet never really having completely faded away, though he also doesn't often hide his true emotions. He wears his heart on his sleeve, so to speak, even if that heart is generally the calm sort that takes things in stride the best he can.
So, he sincerely wonders why it's difficult for Tsukasa, never having felt that way himself.]
Is it a Troupe Leader thing? [Always wanting to express positivity.]
[Ah. He wonders what might've happened, but he doesn't think right now is the time to pursue that wonder. Instead, P is quietly grateful that at least his troupe sounds like they're there to support him.
So, it loops back to family.]
I don't think it would be the end of the world if she saw you not smiling. She probably knows her brother well enough by now to realize he has a whole range of human emotions.
[But no, this must be a Big Brother Thing, instead.]
[Well. He doesn't think this is something he'd change Tsukasa's mind on.
Nor would he really want to.
It is simply a part of who he is, and if he must remain a certain way with his sister, at least he can show a bit more of his other side with his troupe, or other friends.]
Right... of course. Duty is important, too. But with me, at least, don't feel like you have to be only one thing.
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Tsukasa rests his fingers on the keys as well, though for a moment, despite Pinocchio setting the tempo, he's content to just listen.
Perhaps piano music isn't so different across world. This sounds familiar to the sorts of things he would play in middle school, back when he used to compete.
That makes it easier for Tsukasa to begin to play with Pinocchio with greater confidence; a cautious counterpoint at first, trying to avoid interrupting the melody that P is stringing together so wonderfully.
Pinocchio is ready to accompany Tsukasa, but this time, Tsukasa is the one ready to support him in the spotlight.]
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(He has distant memories of Carlo playing with Lea and Romeo. They are so remote that they may not even qualify as memories — but rather, feather-light touches of feeling, of knowing what it was like to create music with someone else. How it touched the heart, those fragments of happiness, now so fleeting in the present.
All three of them are gone now. But in moments like these, they exist again, even if their remembrances are as faded as a watercolor painting left out in the sun.)
The improvised piece continues, line by line. At some point, however, unknowingly even to P, he is so moved—yet ironically feeling so far removed from this point in time, enveloped only by music—that the corners of his eyes prickle with tears.]
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Thoughtfully. Contemplative.
The song Pinocchio is putting together is so melancholic, he can't help but think. A long distant memory, a sense of loneliness. It's a little startling, honestly, so much so that Tsukasa has to take a moment to make sure he didn't accidentally take over the song in some way.
Because that's how he feels as well when he plays the piano. The melancholy, the distant memories, the wistfulness for something he knew he couldn't have. But in this... he supposes their experiences in some ways overlap.
It makes his heart ache for Pinocchio, who plays such beautiful music, and yet has been through so much--just to be shoved towards "being more human", when he can't think of anything more human than this. But even so, he wants to see this through to the end with him.]
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He is lost in the pull of a memory that isn't really his, but brought back by Tsukasa's own addition to the song, overlaying across his melodies to entwine into one. This isn't just the manifestation of one person's heart and feelings — it's both of theirs, combined.
And there's something beautiful about that, too.
The song stretches on until it finally comes to a close at the end of a coda, and P lets the notes linger, even as he pulls his hands back. It's only then does he seem to notice the blurring in his vision-]
Ah...? [Rubs at his eyes a little.] Sorry.
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There's no need to apologize. It was a truly beautiful song, Pinocchio! Thank you for playing with me!
[Tears, melancholy or not... it was wonderful.
Like days gone by of playing with Saki, teaching her the keys, and watching her face light up as she played.]
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Of course. Songs like that... they really bring back memories, don't they? And you're pretty good, too, Tsukasa.
[Like, musicianship-wise. Not that he ever doubted it!]
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[Of course, he'll take that compliment without hesitation, smiling, though his expression is not quite as boldly arrogant as usual.]
It is... more of a hobby for me now than it used to be, but... mm, it was fun to play again. And you're right that playing like this has brought back memories.
Playing together is especially fun, I think.
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[Yes, it was fun. Pinocchio hums in consideration and takes his free hand to place upon the keys again, playing an idle chord.]
What does playing remind you of?
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My younger sister and I used to play together! I spent whatever time I could teaching her, and those memories are very dear to me.
[He grins then, all bright enthusiasm.]
But! She is much more skilled than I am now! She's truly surpassed me in every single way!
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Does it make you feel sad to think back on them, though?
[Because, beautiful as it was, the song was underpinned by melancholy. Something bittersweet.]
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He supposes he shouldn't be surprised.
Just as he saw something in Pinocchio, Pinocchio saw the same in him.]
... No, not those memories.
[He smiles still, but a little wistfully.]
But my sister was... very ill for much of our childhood. I was determined to learn to play so I could teach her even better when she was able to! But...
[Well.
It wasn't as often as he would've liked.]
I suppose the wistfulness of your song reminded me of those days too.
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But... at least his sister got better? He's glad to hear that, or at least assume it, even if some of those days must have been harder than others.]
It must have been hard for you back then. Especially as an older brother... [His only family is Geppetto, and despite everything, Pinocchio would be heartbroken if he had gotten sick with Petrification Disease, if he had... If he had...
What a strange ache. He shakes his head.] But she's made a full recovery in the present, right? Completely healthy?
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She's the one who went through something so difficult, and she's the one who is so incredibly strong to push through it.
[He drags in a slow breath, and lets it out, lifting his hands to rest them on the keys. What he plays is this, very simply, almost by instinct more than anything, he's played it so many times.
And he smiles, warmer, brighter, eyes on the keys.]
She has! She is truly living life exactly the way she's always wanted to. And while she occasionally pushes herself more than I would like, as her older brother, I couldn't be prouder of her!
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Pinoccho doesn't watch his fingers, though. Only his expression, showing nothing but a fondness for old memories—even if some of them were difficult—and a clear, vibrant love for his sister.]
She's lucky to have you as someone who'll always support her through thick and thin.
[And not that he thinks Tsukasa is trying to put on a brave face or anything, because he does believe him to be sincere, but it was hard not to miss that strange, faint look of ruefulness on his expression prior, and he has to add:]
But it's okay for you to feel tired or sad sometimes, too.
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But at Pinocchio's addition, he smiles even more ruefully.]
Is it that obvious?
I apologize for worrying you. Really, I am perfectly fine now that she is.
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[Leans a little lightheartedly against him, as though to say that he needn't apologize for anything, really.]
I believe you. And I think you've a strong enough heart not to need it that often, but even so. Sometimes even princes are allowed to not always be a bright ray of light.
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It's one thing to know Pinocchio is right, and another entirely to shake off that need to always be the one who's smiling.]
... Right. You're correct, of course!
[... Mmm...]
Still, it isn't always... very easy to put into practice.
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So, he sincerely wonders why it's difficult for Tsukasa, never having felt that way himself.]
Is it a Troupe Leader thing? [Always wanting to express positivity.]
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[A beat, and he admits somewhat sheepishly:]
I suppose they've seen me at my lowest, in general.
[He doesn't have much to hide from them anymore, which is Good For Him.]
I'm afraid it goes back to Saki again. I've always wanted nothing more than to make her smile, even when things were their hardest!
[And how can he make her smile if he isn't smiling himself?]
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So, it loops back to family.]
I don't think it would be the end of the world if she saw you not smiling. She probably knows her brother well enough by now to realize he has a whole range of human emotions.
[But no, this must be a Big Brother Thing, instead.]
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Because immediately, he shakes his head.]
Even so! Even so, as her reliable older brother, it is my duty to smile for her!
[Even if he knows Pinocchio is right.
Saki certainly knows more than she lets on, and more than he would probably like for her to.]
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Nor would he really want to.
It is simply a part of who he is, and if he must remain a certain way with his sister, at least he can show a bit more of his other side with his troupe, or other friends.]
Right... of course. Duty is important, too. But with me, at least, don't feel like you have to be only one thing.
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He blinks at that--and then smiles a little in response, nodding.]
Right, of course. Well! You're already capable of seeing right through me as it is, it seems, so! What could I possibly hide?
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