Chapter 7 Section VII

I don't know when Chiori started calling me "Jing Papa". My name is Keisuke Kisaragi, maybe some music lovers still remember my name, but I just ask them to forget this name as soon as possible.I sincerely pray for this, because a pianist without fingers is more hopeless than a composer with ears. ——Eight years ago, when I was studying in Austria, I lost the finger from the first joint to the fingertip of my left ring finger.What was taken away from me at that time was not only fragments of bone and flesh. I started playing the piano because of the wish of my mother, who is a well-known vocalist in the vocal world.Almost every parent wants their children to follow the same path as themselves, and she is no exception.But sometimes I feel, is her approach a little too much for a child?Anyway, before I started learning hiragana, I started learning to read music scores.My childhood memories are only black and white with an even color scheme, and there is always only a bright single color in front of my eyes.When I got home from school until I went to bed, I had to face the piano except for meals. Therefore, I can count the memories of saying goodbye to my classmates and watching the sunset with one hand.For now, it can probably be described as Glen plaid!This is what I was eight years ago, everything I had.

Then, this kind of life day after day finally paid off, and my hands successfully produced results that exceeded my mother's expectations.At the age of ten, I won the third place in the national competition for the first time. Since then, I have been highly rated, and for a period of time, I have won the first place in each competition for more than three years in a row.Perhaps because of the joy of being recognized by everyone, these exercises are nothing to me, and I gradually have the idea that my life is the piano.I only had the piano—or rather, only I could do it, and that confidence became my motivation.

During the period from late middle school to high school, I was successively instructed by several well-known professors in China, and my mother's mentor was also one of the teachers who guided me during this period.Because of his introduction, I have met with foreign performers many times, and even got the opportunity to perform on European and American stages—although it was only a small recital.It was also at this time that the first music CD was recorded. I still remember that although the record company preferred the Sonata, I strongly insisted that my first CD must be a collection of piano sketches, and the other party finally accepted my waywardness.

Looking back on the past, I can't help but feel that I was really young and frivolous at that time. My school days were called adolescence, but what I remember most vividly is that I was surrounded by older people, friends with whom I spent second only to the piano—I couldn’t be sure if I liked them or not. It's the same existence—in my impression, somehow, they are all objects that cannot be relied on.Although I still somewhat remember the conductor who recorded the CD for me, and the face of the conductor exiled from Russia who was enthusiastic and highly appreciative of me, but as for my classmates, even if I open the address book, I can’t quite remember theirs. The name is compared with the length.This is really a sad thing, but at this point, I can't change anything.In other words, my youth is over.In my world, apart from the piano, it is still the piano, the piano, the piano, the piano, from the beginning to the end, and even the end.

On the eve of graduating from high school, my mother’s professor took the initiative to help me find a place to study abroad without my request. There was also a pianist living in Austria—I met him once under the introduction of this professor noodle.The other party said that I can live in his house temporarily, or I can just live there and take classes from his house. If necessary, he is also willing to write a recommendation letter for me to the local school.My father was somewhat hesitant when he first heard it, but with the insistence of my mother and I, he reluctantly nodded in agreement.

My first impression of this foreign country that I visited for the first time was the natural street scene that was different from Japan. This is the only impression I have never denied.In addition, all memories are pain that cannot be erased.Stone roads, gunshots, blood splattered from fingertips, and a crying girl beside her.I can't help myself from thinking, if there wasn't that night, no, if there was never that moment... ——It happened when I was preparing for the cold season of my third New Year in the local area. That night, my teacher, my wife and I went out for dinner.Christmas was approaching at that time, and on this street that probably hadn't changed since Mozart's time, flashing neon lights and pure white snowflakes intertwined into a dreamy scene.The heroic or crisp laughter of men and women around you, the "Silent Night" broadcast from the loudspeakers in the store, other hymns, and popular Christmas music, etc., all mixed together and turned into an extremely incongruous The music rushed into the eardrums, but I only felt it was slightly harsh. Maybe I was also infected by this happy atmosphere of the festival!

I remember the teacher asked me if I would miss Japan.I answered that I was not very good, and he then suggested that I should find time to travel around Europe, and said that the children of the former nobles must travel to various countries before they become adults.I answered him, a little tipsy from the aftertaste of the wine, that was enviable.I still remember that my wife seemed to tell me that I should think about what I want to eat on Christmas Eve. at this time-- Suddenly there was a loud noise behind us.It was the voice of a woman screaming.She was calling for help, not in German, but in Japanese.At that moment, I was the only one who could react.

About 50 meters behind me, there were several figures twisted together as they pulled their purses.I later found out that in addition to passports and other documents, there was an unbelievably large amount of cash in that purse.These are indeed very important things, but I kept thinking, what would happen if they handed over the purse obediently?But I can't stop thinking like this, it's strange!In short, they even lost their lives because of this. The robbers in a group of two targeted a family of three Japanese tourists. They started to rob them as soon as the crowd thinned, but the target resisted tenaciously.Just as the two of them wrestled into a ball, I also happened to rush forward.One of the men, who tried his best to tear the purse off the victim's wrist, did not hesitate to shoot the husband who was clutching his foot.

The wife screamed, and the little girl, terrified by the gunfire, turned and ran in my direction, and I was running quickly towards them.The husband writhed in pain on the ground, moaning as he was dying, and then the same gun shot at the wife who was kneeling beside him. Her mournful cry resounded through the air again, driving the robbers even more crazy, and aimed their guns at the little girl.The girl rushed to my feet, as if she felt that I was the only savior, and leaned all her weight on it.I was knocked to the ground by her strong force, and the moment I realized that the man's goal was the little girl, I immediately squatted down to protect the young body, and put my left hand on the stone road.

The third shot rang out. I felt the coldness of the snow in the palm of my left hand, but it was replaced by a burning sensation in an instant.I looked up at the figures running around, they were chasing the robbers, and the little girl I was protecting was crying.At this moment, someone asked me in German, "Are you all right?" The burning heat turned into pain. I replied "I don't know", straightened my upper body, and knelt on the ground, only then did I notice the abnormality of my left hand.The snow was still falling, and I stretched out my left hand towards the white street lamp. The backlit palm faced me, forming a distorted oval shape, like an ugly monster twisted and crying.

Hands are full of blood.Blood flowed from the tip of my ring finger to my wrist, and the entire cuff was covered in blood.This is not my hand, the fingers are of different lengths.Perhaps because I didn't want to recognize the facts, I couldn't understand what happened for a while.I stared at my left hand for maybe three minutes, maybe less.However, at that moment, time seemed to last forever. The bullet hit my finger, and the severed finger bounced off the stone road to the window beside me, smashing it into pieces. When I realized the truth, my throat overflowed with a loud roar that I should never have in this life.The girl who was still lying on my lap was startled by the sound and cried again.Instead of returning to her dead parents, she just clutched at my clothes and kept crying.She probably didn't know that the voice that frightened her again came from the person she was holding on to desperately!She was stiff and seemed to think that only my arms were the safe place. I knew how scared she was, but I didn't even have the strength to comfort her. There was an unfamiliar shrill siren in the distance, and I later realized that it was an Austrian ambulance.When the paramedics arrived, they confirmed the couple were dead and put me in the ambulance, dazed and dazed.According to them, the girl has been refusing to let go, and they had no choice but to let her board the ambulance together. That's right, that little girl is Chiori.