What? Somehow, Miss Satomi had switched from Axxiom to The NetherTale.
Katrina had explained that in The NetherTale was a Hell where one did not have to kill. She remembered telling Miss Satomi how one encountered demons and damned souls and infernal beings, and could reach out to them, even befriend them. She had told Miss Satomi that was how one got the best ending.
But Miss Satomi was choosing a different route.
It was long ago, at a Thanksgiving with his mother’s family.
The boy had been with his cousins in the yard—they were playing in Spanish, calling him a name and laughing because he didn’t know what it meant.
His mother burst outside with a horrified expression on her face. She shouted something at his cousins, pulled him inside the house, then soon after shoved him into their car.
It was long ago, after returning from a Thanksgiving with his mother’s family.
His mother was arguing with her sister over the phone. His father was raging, yelling that in his house, he would understand every word spoken, and that they would never go over there again.
The boy was in his room, practicing his violin, trying not to be afraid of the loud voices, trying to send his parents every good thing that his music teacher had said about his playing.
And then, the boy’s father kicked his door open. He lunged toward the boy, and reached for his violin— Katrina looked up. Miss Satomi was in front of her, leading and alone.
Yes, Katrina had promised to follow—but this was not right.
Katrina asked Martha to play a little stronger, then stronger still.
Yes, there were two violins, but they were playing the same music. And Miss Satomi should not go through what Katrina knew what was about to come next.
Shizuka Satomi was backstage, somewhere. Wait, she was in West Berlin? Yes! This was in the Philharmonie. She smelled fresh rosin harmonizing with the gathering scents of cigarettes and perfumes. Outside, she heard the rustle and chatter of her audience—eagerly waiting for her to appear.
For now, at long last, she could finally meet them onstage. She cradled her violin in her arms. And, in her hand— Wait—what was in her hand?
And what was she was hearing now?
This was not the music that she was intending to play. This was not how it was supposed to be at all! Yes, the place, the time, was hers.
But this was a music intruding from somewhere else.
And yet, the sound felt neither malicious nor threatening. More than anything, it seemed frightened, almost familiar—trying to reach her, pleading with her to please turn around, please don’t do this. Please believe me.
“Please, Miss Satomi, there has to be a better way!”
The music stopped.
Katrina saw her teacher’s expression.
“I’m sorry!” she said at once.
“Nothing to be sorry about,” her teacher said absently. “Nothing to be sorry about at all.”
“When you’re trans, you’re always looking and listening,” Katrina explained later. “It’s following, but it’s more than that. You need to see what might be coming, hear the next danger ahead.”
Shizuka nodded. So it wasn’t merely follow—it was follow and predict. Perhaps even follow and perceive.
This was an entirely different level of skill.
Furthermore, this girl had actually tried to challenge her? To save her?
Which of her previous students would have dared? Which of them would have tried?
Shizuka had believed that this student might be special. If only Shizuka could connect with her. If only she could grow.
But now? This was no longer if. It was what.
What could she achieve? What could she accomplish?
Shizuka assessed her new student’s capabilities. Her gifts were not just musical, but physical. For example, Katrina’s hands were magnificent. Her right hand was sure and supple upon the bow. And her left?
“See this?” Shizuka stretched her pinky from E flat to A. “I’ve always had trouble with this interval.”
Katrina noticed her own fingers easily spread to cover the fingerboard.
“I had to train my hand for almost a year to reach that interval. But you play it with no problem.”
“So my hands are big,” Katrina muttered.
“Yes! And they’ll do amazing things for you, especially as you shift up and down between positions.”
Shizuka expected Katrina to smile, but instead, Katrina looked at the floor.
“Please stop…”
“But your hands,” Shizuka said again. “They are so powerful and strong.”
“Stop saying that!”