Ryu sat at the piano, his fingers hovering over the ivory keys, a mix of excitement and nervousness coursing through him. The events of the previous day still lingered in his mind—the unexpected discovery, the emotional connection, and the promise of new beginnings.
The workshop, once a cluttered space filled with forgotten tools and trinkets, now hummed with new life. The old piano, rescued from years of neglect, stood proudly in the centre of the room. Its polished surface gleamed, though a few scratches remained, telling the story of its long history.
Dan entered the room, carrying two steaming cups of tea. The aroma of jasmine filled the air, mingling with the scent of wood and metal that permeated the workshop. "Thought we could use some refreshment," he said, placing one cup near Ryu and keeping the other for himself.
Ryu smiled, inhaling the soothing scent. "Thanks, Grandpa. Ready for your first lesson?"
Dan chuckled as he settled into a chair beside the piano. The old wood creaked under his weight, a familiar sound that spoke of comfort and home. "As ready as I'll ever be. It's been years since I touched these keys. Let's see if these old fingers remember anything."
Ryu began explaining the basics, feeling a strange mix of excitement and irony. Here he was, teaching his grandfather an instrument he had never formally learnt himself. "Let's start with the C major scale," he suggested, demonstrating the simple progression of notes. His fingers moved with a grace and confidence that belied his lack of formal training. "It's the foundation of a lot of melodies. Good place to begin."
Dan watched intently, his eyes following Ryu's fingers as they danced across the keys. The simple scale filled the room, each note clear and precise. When it was Dan's turn, he hesitantly placed his hands on the piano. His first few attempts were clumsy, his fingers stiff from years of disuse. The notes came out uneven, some too loud, others barely audible.
"Don't worry, Grandpa," Ryu encouraged, his voice gentle. "It'll come back to you. Just let your fingers remember."
As they continued practicing, Dan's movements became more fluid. The halting notes gradually smoothed into a coherent melody. Memories of long-gone lessons with his sister, Tsuki, began to surface, and with them came a bittersweet smile.
"You know, Ryu," Dan said during a short break, his fingers absently tracing the wood grain of the piano, "watching you play... it was like seeing Tsuki again. She had the same look of concentration, the same way of tilting her head when she was really into a piece. It's uncanny."
Ryu felt warmth spread through his chest at the comparison. He had always felt a connection to the grandmother he had never known, but this tangible link through music made her feel more real than ever. "I wish I could've known her," he said softly, his voice tinged with a longing for a past he could never experience.
Dan nodded, his eyes distant, lost in memories. "She would've loved you, Ryu. Your curiosity, your quick mind—you remind me of her in so many ways. She always had this sparkle in her eye when she discovered something new, just like you do."
As they resumed their practice, Ryu guided Dan through a simple melody.
"Look at that!" Ryu exclaimed, his face lighting up with genuine joy. "You're a natural, Grandpa! Your fingers remember more than you thought."
Dan laughed, the sound full of joy and nostalgia. His fingers moved more confidently now, finding the right keys almost instinctively. "It feels like I'm playing alongside Tsuki again. She used to teach me just like this, you know. She'd sit right where you are, guiding my hands, encouraging me even when I hit all the wrong notes."
As they played together, the simple tune evolved into a duet. Ryu felt a deep sense of connection—not just to his grandfather, but to the grandmother he had never known. It was as if, through the music, he could reach across time and touch a part of his family's history. The melody they created seemed to bridge the gap between past and present, weaving together the threads of their shared legacy.
After a while, Dan's curiosity got the better of him. With his fingers still lightly tapping the keys to create a gentle background for their conversation, he said, "Ryu. Who taught you to play like this? I don't remember the orphanage having a piano."
Ryu's hands stilled for a moment, the last note hanging in the air between them. He couldn't reveal the truth about his reincarnation, but he also didn't want to lie to his grandfather. "Actually, Grandpa," he said carefully, "no one taught me."
Dan's eyebrows rose in surprise. "No one? But how is that possible? You play like you've had years of training."
Ryu took a deep breath, choosing his words with precision. "It's... my memory, I think," he began. "I played each key and remembered the sound it made. From there, I could recreate melodies I've heard and even make new ones. It's like putting together a puzzle. Once I understood how the pieces fit, I could see the whole picture from miles away."
Dan's eyes widened in amazement. "Your memory is even more impressive than I thought. It's not just about remembering facts, is it? You can apply it to real-life skills too."
Ryu nodded, a small smile playing on his lips. "It's not just memorising—it's understanding patterns and how things connect."
Dan leaned forward, his eyes alight with curiosity. "Does that mean you could play any instrument? If you saw and heard it being played, could you replicate it?"
Ryu considered the question for a moment before nodding. "Theoretically, yes. If I can hear it and see how it's played, I should be able to replicate it. Of course, I'd need to practice to build up the physical skills, but understanding how to play would come quickly."
"You know, if this whole ninja thing doesn't work out, we could always start a band: 'The Ninja Hummers.' I'm sure it would be a hit at the next village festival." Dan grinned, clearly pleased with his joke.
Ryu chuckled, shaking his head. "Thanks, Grandpa. But I think I'll stick to being a ninja."
Dan laughed, but his expression soon turned thoughtful. "Sharp memory is one thing, but creativity? That's rare. More than your memory, it's your ability to innovate that stands out."
As they continued to play, Dan's mind raced with the implications of Ryu's ability. The piano filled the room with a gentle melody as he spoke, his words weaving through the music. "You know," he said thoughtfully, "this talent of yours could be incredibly useful in your ninja training, especially for more complex disciplines."
Ryu's ears perked up, his fingers never missing a note. "Really? How so, Grandpa?"
Dan's eyes lit up with enthusiasm. "Take fuinjutsu, for example. The art of sealing techniques. It's all about precise, patterns and sequences, much like music. With your memory and ability to recreate complex sequences, you could grasp concepts that take others years to master."
Ryu felt a surge of excitement. Fuinjutsu had always fascinated him, with its intricate designs and powerful effects. "Do you think you could teach me some basics, Grandpa?"
Dan nodded, a proud smile on his face. "When you enter the academy, I'll teach you fuinjutsu. For now, focus on improving where you're lacking. You will not be accepted into the academy right now with that physique, so start by getting healthier first."
As they finished their impromptu piano lesson, Ryu couldn't help but feel a sense of anticipation for what lay ahead. The piano had not only brought him closer to his family's past but had also opened up new avenues for his future. The possibilities seemed endless, stretching out before him like an unwritten melody.
Later that evening, as Ryu practiced alone after completing his routine and meditation, he found himself lost in thought. The soft hum of the piano still echoed in his mind as he drifted off to sleep, the harmonies of the past and present blending into his dreams.
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I am grateful for the support I received on Patreon from HE, Ben Hurley, Jacob More, Mohammed Alshamsl, Monkey D. Murda, Alexis Chalifour, Chris, and Tobias Sinkewicius.
Chapter was boring, right? I thought so too. First, I was thinking about deleting this chapter and moving on to the next chapter with more substance and a bit of spice. But then I thought about it and decided against it. The stories need emotions and bonding. If not, just tell me how Sharingan would evolve into Mangekyo Sharingan without emotions and bondings.
That simply goes to show how crucial these kinds of experiences are for developing characters and stories. I rarely write such chapters for the arc I am writing right now, but I am at a loss for what to do with the ones I have already published. So I decided to keep it.
This chapter, while perhaps less thrilling, is still a necessary component of the overall story. To make up to the fans for creating a dull one, I uploaded two chapters today.
You can also become a member on Patreon, where all free members get 5 more chapters for free! patreon. com/PageTurnerPJ
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