Spring Sonata
“What do you think, Haruhi-kun?”
Numbers sprawled out on the paper before her, equations galore. Her head spun at the initial sight of them, and she attempted unsuccessfully to break it down into smaller, more approachable bits. She chewed on a pencil to pass the time between thinking and writing, as if answers would sprout from such an absentminded action. She felt a cold sweat coming on when she swore her answer nothing but completely and utterly wrong.
“Haruhi-kun!”
She dropped the pencil, and turned quickly to the distressed distraction standing behind her. “Oh, I’m really sorry, Michiko-san. What were you saying?”
“Honestly, you’ve been so distracted lately. I know this semester’s finals are coming up, but you should really relax once in a while.” Her voice came out as a high-pitched lilt as she reined in her impatience, grating and overbearing, but still very concerned. “Won’t you please come have some sakura tea with Hanako-chan and I? We’ve been waiting.”
“I apologize sincerely again, but I really have to focus. Problems like this really aren’t my strong point, and I have to figure them all out by next week. Could I possibly join up with you two later?” she asked, flashing the huffy guest her best and most sparkling smile, trying to ward her off so she could return and delve back into division.
Michiko stamped her foot lightly, her coquettish facade dissolving as quickly as it appeared. “The Host Club closes in an hour, though.”
As if out of thin air Mori appeared, wrapped his arm around Michiko’s shoulders, and mumbled a very deep, “Let me join you instead.”
The girl blushed, because secretly she harbored a crush for the Club’s quietest member, and caved in as if her proposal to Haruhi never even existed. “Well, only since you insist.”
After Haruhi murmured her appreciation to Mori, the two walked away and left her to drown again in arithmetic.
An hour passed and still she refused to budge, as if glued to her homework. It seemed like nothing could pull her away, not even the distant chatter and titter of the patrons, nor the clanking of very expensive silverware.
As the Host Club dispersed for the day, silence swelled all around her and she fell gratefully into it. She took a quick breather to clear her head and peeked around the sunset-soaked room, admiring how the foundations of it glistened like ochre in the dying light. Pink and crimson streaks drizzled onto the floor, creating a very warm environment to lean back in amid her building stress.
“Haruhi, are you still here?”
Cinnamon met amethyst as their gazes connected from opposite ends of the eventide-coated room, and for a moment, neither one spoke, fumbling for words.
“Yes, Tamaki-senpai,” she answered at last, her voice betraying her deepening inner turmoil.
He placed his books carefully on top of the piano and sat on the bench, preparing to play in a desperate attempt to alleviate her current discomfort. “Do you have a moment? I just recently composed a song and I absolutely want you to be the first to hear it. I think you’ll like it. Plus, it seems like you’re really stressed and need a nice break.” He smiled, his long fingers hovering over a few keys.
She wanted nothing more. Haruhi plopped down on the couch behind the piano, closed her eyes and willed herself to listen with all her remaining fragments of strength. “Sure. Thank you.”
The song pleasantly drifted through the large room, soothed and comforted her mild despair, and reached a place in her heart she considered previously untouched by reality. She sank earnestly into the melody, as if wanting to become a part of it.
After a few minutes, it ended. He turned around and asked, “What do you think?”
Haruhi simpered, and replied, “It’s really beautiful. Do you have a name for it?”
“Actually, yes.”
She waited, and he took a deep breath, as if steadying himself before a plunge.
He paused again, trying to hold back a rising blush. “It’s called ‘Spring Day.’”
She considered this a moment. “That sort of sounds like…”
He beamed at her realization. “Your name.”
The pieces fell into place, and she suddenly felt shy. “I see. It’s really nice. It must have taken a lot of hard work.”
“Not really. Just a bit of inspiration.”
At his words, they both looked away from each other and reddened.
Tamaki eventually rose from his seat, scrambling for words to fill the awkward quiet settling between the two of them. “I guess I should let you continue your homework now,” he said, clearing his throat.
“R-right.”
Before he departed he put his hand on top of her head and lightly ruffled her hair. “Good luck, though I’m sure you’ll be just fine. You’re smart. In fact, the smartest commoner I know!” he teased, and they both laughed. “See you tomorrow, Haruhi.”
“Thanks, senpai.” She went back to her homework, though her mind clung not to numbers but to the pulse of his bittersweet song and her own raging heartbeat. Inspiration, huh. I wonder if he meant my name itself or…me? “No, can’t be,” she muttered before checking her answers.
Even with all her homework done, she still couldn’t figure out this one stubborn equation, and this answer couldn’t be checked, just guessed, just assumed, a very dangerous thing to do.
Why don’t we learn about problems like this in school? she wondered briefly as she walked home.