Opera Nihon

I slipped into the class as quietly as I could, but Madam had already spotted me sneaking in.

“Nice of you to join us, dear.”

I muttered a vague response but she wouldn’t let me go.

“You will pair with Niko on the duet. Perhaps you can do the chorus.”

Niko took pity on me and pushed a sheet of paper in front of my nose. She tapped the chorus paragraph for me, and she began the first verse in a slow but deliberate manner for me to catch up.

I knew the music. I knew the story of it. I knew it was a glorious piece. Much as I tried to remember it when I was jarred awake with the blaring of the alarm, I knew it was a beautiful piece.

An opera-tic Japanese duet. What I wouldn’t give to know it in real life?