Some people deserve good things. Some people do not.
You must be better than the rest.
Do not give them a single opportunity to call you hysterical.
She is now considering a fourth:
Misa Amane cannot fucking play the violin.
"What's wrong, Kiyomi?" Misa bats her eyes at her, leaning against the door of the music practice room. Kiyomi can hear Mendelssohn wailing in agony from the other room as his Violin Concerto in E Minor is methodically butchered by some auditioning first-year. (They have thin walls here.)
"You can't fucking play the violin," Kiyomi informs her.
"That's weird," Misa says, hefting her case in one hand. "Because I could swear I could!"
"No you can't." Is it Opposite Day? Is reality playing a cruel trick on Kiyomi as karma from a past life? "You're a singer. You do vocals. You've never touched a string instrument in your life."
Misa smiles at her, eyes creasing into half-moons. "Oh, silly Kiyomi. I've been taking violin lessons since I was a kid! And piano too!"
"Play something, then," Kiyomi challenges, sounding remarkably calm if she does say so herself.
Misa pretends to consider it, casting her eyes up to the ceiling. Then she smiles again. It's somehow wider this time. "Hmm… Nope! I'll leave it a surprise."
"I swear to God—"
"Girls!" Ms. Kitamura pokes her head in from the larger music classroom. "Keep it down!"
"Yeah, Kiyomi," Misa says, eyes widening in faux-concern. "Keep it down."
Kiyomi Takada is not a violent person. Misa just inspires violent instincts within everyone, surely.
"I would've expected this from Amane, but not from you, Takada," Ms. Kitamura says, looking between Misa (grinning like the Cheshire Cat) and Kiyomi (who immediately schools her expression back to assured calm). "But I'm sure it's just nerves."
It's an out. A humiliating one, but regardless. "Yes, I'm sorry," Kiyomi says. "I suppose I am a little nervous."
Ms. Kitamura's smile is sympathetic. "We all have our off days. But I'm sure you'll get that first chair position!"
Kiyomi Takada does not have off days. She can't afford them; see list item #3 on her four fundamental truths. But she puts on her best polite-and-slightly-abashed smile, and nods.
"Hang on," Misa says with a frown. "Kiyomi-chan! You didn't tell me you were aiming for first chair!"
Of course she's aiming for first chair. What else would she aim for? (Also, Kiyomi-chan?) "It's only a goal," Kiyomi lies. "I'd just be happy for the chance to play."
"Oh, good!" Misa's frown turns into a beatific smile. "Because I'd like first chair too."
"You what?"
"Oh, Amane," Ms. Kitamura says in blissful ignorance to Kiyomi's ongoing crisis, "I didn't know you played the violin."
"THAT'S WHAT I—" Kiyomi coughs. "Apologies. I meant, I was surprised too."
"I'm a woman of many surprises," Misa says, and shoots Kiyomi a finger-gun. "Ehe!"
"Well, good luck to both of you!" Ms. Kitamura smiles at them both warmly. "May the best player win, am I right?"
"Absolutely!" And Misa honest-to-God winks.
"Thank you," Kiyomi manages before Ms. Kitamura is gone and she can slump against the wall in relative peace.
It lasts about three seconds. "By the way," Misa pipes up, "I'm going right before you."
"Are you now," Kiyomi says.
Misa's eyes widen again. "Ooh, is that some hostility I detect, Kiyo-chan?"
Yes, because Misa is exhaustingly bright and boundlessly annoying and the only person alive who somehow manages to see through Kiyomi's facade like it's air. Kiyomi feels — dangerous around her, for some reason. Like any chirped hello or swished pigtail could set off a chemical reaction within Kiyomi that would level all of Tokyo if she let it. Like if Misa ever jumped off a bridge, Kiyomi would do it too just to show her she could do it better. Like —
Misa makes Kiyomi feel alive.
God, Kiyomi hates her.
"I'm sure you're imagining things, Amane-san," she says at last, tilting her head up to look at the ceiling. The fan spins round and round. "Why would I have any hostility towards you?"
"I don't know," Misa says, putting a finger on her cheek. "But that's why you're interesting."
Kiyomi blinks.
"I'm interesting?"
"Well, duh," Misa says, rolling her eyes. "Don't play humble, Miss Refined To-Oh."
"Shut up," Kiyomi says without thinking.
Misa grins. "See? That's when you're interesting."
Kiyomi — doesn't know how to reply to that, at all. She fumbles for a safe topic.
"Aren't you going to practice?"
Misa looks down at her case as though seeing it for the first time. Then shakes her head. "I think I'm better spontaneous. Don't you?"
"I don't know," Kiyomi says. "You don't fucking play the violin."
Misa laughs. "You're funny, Kiyo."
"W-well," Kiyomi says, her face heating despite her best efforts to keep her heartbeat stable: "I'm going to practice."
"Yay!" Misa claps her hands together.
"…I was going to tell you to leave," Kiyomi says.
"But I came in here just to listen to you play," Misa pouts.
"You what?!"
"I mean," Misa says, "you sound really, really pretty considering you're someone who hates me."
"Oh," Kiyomi says weakly. At some point in this conversation she retrieved her violin and bow from her case despite having no memory of doing so. "Er. Thank you?"
Misa beams. "You're welcome!"
The Mendelssohn has quieted by now. Some pathetic fool who took the "you can play anything!" tip from the audition poster literally is now playing "Happy Birthday" next door.
"I'm not particularly good," Kiyomi says, as she rests her bow upon the strings.
"Oh, don't lie, Kiyo," Misa says. Her smile is sharp. "You think you're brilliant."
FILL: TEAM ACE ATTORNEY
There are three truths Kiyomi knows in life:
She is now considering a fourth:
"What's wrong, Kiyomi?" Misa bats her eyes at her, leaning against the door of the music practice room. Kiyomi can hear Mendelssohn wailing in agony from the other room as his Violin Concerto in E Minor is methodically butchered by some auditioning first-year. (They have thin walls here.)
"You can't fucking play the violin," Kiyomi informs her.
"That's weird," Misa says, hefting her case in one hand. "Because I could swear I could!"
"No you can't." Is it Opposite Day? Is reality playing a cruel trick on Kiyomi as karma from a past life? "You're a singer. You do vocals. You've never touched a string instrument in your life."
Misa smiles at her, eyes creasing into half-moons. "Oh, silly Kiyomi. I've been taking violin lessons since I was a kid! And piano too!"
"Play something, then," Kiyomi challenges, sounding remarkably calm if she does say so herself.
Misa pretends to consider it, casting her eyes up to the ceiling. Then she smiles again. It's somehow wider this time. "Hmm… Nope! I'll leave it a surprise."
"I swear to God—"
"Girls!" Ms. Kitamura pokes her head in from the larger music classroom. "Keep it down!"
"Yeah, Kiyomi," Misa says, eyes widening in faux-concern. "Keep it down."
Kiyomi Takada is not a violent person. Misa just inspires violent instincts within everyone, surely.
"I would've expected this from Amane, but not from you, Takada," Ms. Kitamura says, looking between Misa (grinning like the Cheshire Cat) and Kiyomi (who immediately schools her expression back to assured calm). "But I'm sure it's just nerves."
It's an out. A humiliating one, but regardless. "Yes, I'm sorry," Kiyomi says. "I suppose I am a little nervous."
Ms. Kitamura's smile is sympathetic. "We all have our off days. But I'm sure you'll get that first chair position!"
Kiyomi Takada does not have off days. She can't afford them; see list item #3 on her four fundamental truths. But she puts on her best polite-and-slightly-abashed smile, and nods.
"Hang on," Misa says with a frown. "Kiyomi-chan! You didn't tell me you were aiming for first chair!"
Of course she's aiming for first chair. What else would she aim for? (Also, Kiyomi-chan?) "It's only a goal," Kiyomi lies. "I'd just be happy for the chance to play."
"Oh, good!" Misa's frown turns into a beatific smile. "Because I'd like first chair too."
"You what?"
"Oh, Amane," Ms. Kitamura says in blissful ignorance to Kiyomi's ongoing crisis, "I didn't know you played the violin."
"THAT'S WHAT I—" Kiyomi coughs. "Apologies. I meant, I was surprised too."
"I'm a woman of many surprises," Misa says, and shoots Kiyomi a finger-gun. "Ehe!"
"Well, good luck to both of you!" Ms. Kitamura smiles at them both warmly. "May the best player win, am I right?"
"Absolutely!" And Misa honest-to-God winks.
"Thank you," Kiyomi manages before Ms. Kitamura is gone and she can slump against the wall in relative peace.
It lasts about three seconds. "By the way," Misa pipes up, "I'm going right before you."
"Are you now," Kiyomi says.
Misa's eyes widen again. "Ooh, is that some hostility I detect, Kiyo-chan?"
Yes, because Misa is exhaustingly bright and boundlessly annoying and the only person alive who somehow manages to see through Kiyomi's facade like it's air. Kiyomi feels — dangerous around her, for some reason. Like any chirped hello or swished pigtail could set off a chemical reaction within Kiyomi that would level all of Tokyo if she let it. Like if Misa ever jumped off a bridge, Kiyomi would do it too just to show her she could do it better. Like —
Misa makes Kiyomi feel alive.
God, Kiyomi hates her.
"I'm sure you're imagining things, Amane-san," she says at last, tilting her head up to look at the ceiling. The fan spins round and round. "Why would I have any hostility towards you?"
"I don't know," Misa says, putting a finger on her cheek. "But that's why you're interesting."
Kiyomi blinks.
"I'm interesting?"
"Well, duh," Misa says, rolling her eyes. "Don't play humble, Miss Refined To-Oh."
"Shut up," Kiyomi says without thinking.
Misa grins. "See? That's when you're interesting."
Kiyomi — doesn't know how to reply to that, at all. She fumbles for a safe topic.
"Aren't you going to practice?"
Misa looks down at her case as though seeing it for the first time. Then shakes her head. "I think I'm better spontaneous. Don't you?"
"I don't know," Kiyomi says. "You don't fucking play the violin."
Misa laughs. "You're funny, Kiyo."
"W-well," Kiyomi says, her face heating despite her best efforts to keep her heartbeat stable: "I'm going to practice."
"Yay!" Misa claps her hands together.
"…I was going to tell you to leave," Kiyomi says.
"But I came in here just to listen to you play," Misa pouts.
"You what?!"
"I mean," Misa says, "you sound really, really pretty considering you're someone who hates me."
"Oh," Kiyomi says weakly. At some point in this conversation she retrieved her violin and bow from her case despite having no memory of doing so. "Er. Thank you?"
Misa beams. "You're welcome!"
The Mendelssohn has quieted by now. Some pathetic fool who took the "you can play anything!" tip from the audition poster literally is now playing "Happy Birthday" next door.
"I'm not particularly good," Kiyomi says, as she rests her bow upon the strings.
"Oh, don't lie, Kiyo," Misa says. Her smile is sharp. "You think you're brilliant."
Kiyomi, for once, doesn't deny it.
She just closes her eyes and starts playing.