HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO OUR FAVORITE DORKY BUTCH.

My initial plan for this fic was to try and reconcile her manga/myu piano playing with my version of her. I ended up doing the opposite (and also borrowed some of Doc’s headcanons).

But here we go,
How She Plays
~1000 words, on AO3 and below.

Nana pulled Haruka onto her lap and put her hands over hers. “You’ve just got to think about the hops, see?” Their fingers moved together on the piano keys one by one. “Hop over the black key, and again. Now there isn’t anything to hop over. Hear how it doesn’t jump as high?”

Haruka nodded, but she wasn’t so sure. It was all sound to her, not like when Nana played by herself. That was music.

“Now we’ve played a whole scale!” Nana hugged her arms around Haruka’s shoulders, and Haruka felt proud even though she hadn’t done anything. “You’re going to be quite the little musician.”

“Can we play a real song, Nana?”

“Of course.”

Their hands moved together again. Haruka’s weren’t big enough to reach across all the notes, but even though it sounded emptier than Nana’s version, she recognized the tune. She kicked her feet out in delight, careful not to hit Nana’s knees. Her fingers stuttered on a key. Nana assured her it was okay. “If you keep going, the mistake is just part of the song.”

—

She’d meant to just go to the bathroom. Splash some water on her face, steel herself again for the rest of dinner. But the Kaioh house was large, and she was a little lost. And now, there was a piano.

It shouldn’t have surprised her. There were probably twenty seven pianos tucked into the nooks and crannies of the mansion, rich people always had pianos, even without musicians in the family.

The polish on the black body shone in the light that came through the windows. It was a much sleeker affair than the one Haruka’s mother had sold in the wake of Nana’s death, but she felt nostalgic all the same. As she lifted the cover off the keys, she could feel Nana’s hands on hers again. The smell of her perfume, tinged with tobacco and a little sweetness from whatever she had last cooked. Haruka’s fingers found the starting notes on their own. She hit some wrong keys, her fingers were much longer than they once were, but she kept playing.

Haruka forgot where she was until, at the end of the song, someone came up behind her. “Clair de Lune.”

She jumped. Mrs. Kaioh did not smile or reassure her. “I was not aware you played.” She was much smaller than Haruka, but she carried herself like a battle commander, cold and unyielding in her black evening gown.

Haruka swallowed. “I don’t. Or, I haven’t, not since I was very young.” She would not tell this woman she’d begged her mother to let her keep the piano, that her mother had sold it and used the money for things Haruka did not want to know about. “My grandmother taught me.”

Mrs. Kaioh raised an eyebrow, yet remained utterly unreasonable. “No formal training then. I see.”

Haruka was torn between running and standing to defend Nana. Mrs. Kaioh cut her off from either.

“Would you like formal training, Haruka?”

“What?”

Mrs. Kaioh sat down on the piano bench, crossing her ankles the same way Michiru always did. “We would be happy to fund your art. You are perhaps not untalented, merely untrained.” She adjusted her necklace with the pads of her fingers. “It is possible you could become an excellent partner for my daughter. Musically.”

It might not have hit her, if she hadn’t known Michiru so well. Without knowing how her family had cultivated her skills for show, she might have thought this was a genuine truce. But she did know. Haruka could see it now—Kaioh’s latest charity: Poor girl becomes piano prodigy.Michiru said sometimes that she was naïve, but she was not this naïve. “That’s alright. No thanks.”

“I see.” Mrs. Kaioh’s eyes seared into her. “You might consider, though, that without something to contribute, my daughter will bore of you soon.”

It was a thought that stuck on Haruka sometimes, but it seemed absurd next to how disappointed Michiru would be if Haruka sold out to her parents. “I, um, piano was something special between my grandmother and me, so I… it wouldn’t feel right.”

“Personal loyalty does have its charms. But they will only get you so far.”

“Mother.” Michiru appeared in the doorway, one hand on the frame. It struck Haruka sometimes that she could channel all the power and presence of Neptune while untransformed, and yet Mrs. Kaioh seemed unfazed.

“We are merely having a little talk, dear.”

“And now you’re done. Haruka and I are leaving.”

“Dinner is not over.”

“Something has come up.” She walked over and linked her arm with Haruka’s. “I have our car waiting for us.”

Haruka let herself be led away, but she felt Mrs. Kaioh’s eyes stay on her.

—

She had almost forgotten the incident when the truck arrived on her birthday. The delivery men wheeled a large box to their porch. Haruka knew immediately what it was. “There’s been a mistake. I didn’t order this.”

The man looked at his clipboard. “Are you Haruka Tennoh?”

“Yes, but—“

“I’ll sign for it,” Michiru said from behind her.

“Michi—“

She did not stop. Soon there was a piano in their living room. It was smaller and less grand than Haruka had expected. Though it was newer and likely better made, it was the same boxy shape as Nana’s.

“It’s not from my parents.” Michiru wrapped her arms around Haruka’s middle. “After what you said, I thought you might like to play sometimes. Just for yourself, and maybe for me.”

Haruka smiled. “I’m not any good, Michi.”

“I’ll be the judge of that. I am classically trained, after all.”

They sat together on the little bench. Haruka though too much, made more mistakes than she had on the Kaioh’s piano, but after, Michiru leaned her head on her shoulder. “I like the way you play. It’s not the way I play.”

Haruka gave a shaky laugh. “The way you play is good.”

“Technically. But there’s something very genuine in your style.” She closed her eyes. “I’m glad you aren’t taking lessons. Play more?”

Haruka did not know many songs, and remembered even fewer, but Michiru listened all the same. She felt sure, somehow, that this would have made Nana smile.