The calendar flipped its pages — fast and steady — like wind brushing through the quiet corners of time.
Each day passed in its rhythm.
Papa went to work, Mama moved gracefully through her chores...
And I?
I began learning the piano.
I never really knew why I wanted to learn it at first.
Maybe it was because every Sunday, Papa would sit at the piano after a long week — and somehow, just playing a few notes would make him smile again.
Maybe it was because Mama, hearing those melodies from the kitchen, would start humming along — her voice soft like sunlight — and suddenly the chores didn't seem so tiring to her.
Or maybe it was because of that one birthday afternoon.
That day when Yui came.And i made a song together with Papa...
A moment stitched into my heart like music written in stars.
Even now, I still don't know the exact reason why I started.
I just did.
Like my hands knew before my head did.
But there's one thing I remember clearly:
Papa once told me...
"Piano is just an instrument, Hideki.
But it lets your heart speak.
Through your fingers.
To tell your feeling."
And maybe...
Just maybe...
That's why I kept playing.
So I started learning from the very beginning.
From the basics.
Papa sat beside me, calm and patient.
He showed me where my fingers go.
Which key makes what sound.
How to sit still, how to breathe easy.
He said:
"You need to know the basics, buddy.
It's like learning how to walk before you dance."
I nodded — even if I didn't understand all of it yet.
Papa smiled, tapping a few keys gently.
"After that," he said, "you just start sewing the keys together —
one note after another.
Like stitching a quiet story."
He played a small tune. Simple, but pretty.
Then he looked at me and said:
"And once you find the harmony...
you add a little color. A little melody.
And then... you let your heart guide you.
Let the piano become your canvas of feeling."
His voice was soft.
But the way he said it —
It stayed in me.
Like a bookmark in my memory.
That was how I began.
Key by key.
Step by step.
Like drawing with sound.
I didn't know where the music would take me...
But I knew one thing:
It felt like home.
And it felt like Yui is listening to my music.
Days after days,
Month after month,
Even the seasons began to change — the air cooler, the wind softer, like the world was turning its page.
Keys through keys,
One octave to another,
My little hands danced slowly, sometimes clumsily, across the piano.
I spent more and more time there — sitting quietly, just playing.
Not because someone told me to.
Not because it was homework.
But because... something in me wanted to.
And as the calendar crept forward,
And the pages flipped one by one,
I knew something special was coming.
New Year's Eve.
People say it's special because we made it through a whole year.
Because it's a time for new dreams, new wishes, new resolutions.
But for me?
It's always been special...
Because it's Yui's birthday.
That day wasn't about fireworks or countdowns.
It was about her.
And deep down, I think...
I was learning piano for that day.
For her.
Because Yui —
my best friend —
was the only reason I was looking forward to it at all.
Then, just a few days before Yui's birthday came...
I tugged on Mama's hand and looked up at her with a spark in my chest.
"Mamaaa... can you record Hideki?"
I held my hands together.
"I want to play and sing for Yui..."
Mama blinked at me, then smiled — that soft, warm kind of smile that always made me feel like I did something right.
"Okay, sweetheart," she said gently.
She picked up her phone and tapped the record button.
I stood beside the piano, facing the camera. My heart was beating fast — but in a good way.
"Hiiii Yuiii~" I said with the biggest smile I could make.
"This is my present to you, from Hideki.
I hope you like it."
I waddled over to the piano bench — still a little too tall for me.
I tried to climb up.
Once. Twice...
I slipped a little, but then—
I made it.
I sat up straight, then opened the piano lid slowly.
The keys looked shiny — like they were waiting for me.
I turned back toward the camera and gave a little wave, like Yui was really there watching me.
Then I placed my fingers on the keys...
Gently. Carefully.
I pressed one. Then another.
And then — the music started.
Slow at first. Steady.
I didn't want to mess up.
Then the notes began to sound familiar —
A tune Yui knew.
The birthday song.
I closed my eyes and imagined her —
Her cheeks pink, her smile wide, hugging Bunny tight as she listened.
And I sang:
Happy birthday to you...
Happy birthday to you...
Happy birthday dear Yuiii...
Happy birthday to you...
But I didn't stop there.
My fingers danced a little more —
adding new notes, gentle melodies just for her.
Then I sang again — words just from me:
This is Hideki...
The one and only...
I'm singing while playing...
This piano for Yuiii...
I swayed with the rhythm — not too much, just enough to feel it in my chest.
I hope that someday...
Our wishes are granted...
To live and to play...
With our full heart...
I played a few more notes — soft and sparkly like stars in a quiet sky.
Then I let the last note linger...
And lifted my eyes — still closed — imagining her right in front of me, clapping, laughing.
Mama clapped softly from behind.
"Sugoiii, Hideki..." she whispered.
I blinked and looked toward the camera.
It was still recording.
I smiled again and waved big with both hands.
"Byeeee Yuiii! Happy birthday!
From your best friend... Hideki!!"
And then — click
Mama stopped the recording.
But the memory?
Still playing inside my heart.
Like a song made just for her.