I liked that, being a curious seven-year-old.

At that young age, when my mother pressed the piano keys with her fingertips, the piano strings vibrated in response, and when my father composed and played the guitar, I loved the sound the plucked strings made.

I fell for it too, and picked up the guitar myself.
My perfect pitch never failed me, and because of that, I was always at the top in music.
But you were the one who broke that unspoken rule I had set for myself.

I still remember it.
My name listed next to the 'Second Place' title, and your name next to 'First Place' on the university entrance roster.
I couldn't believe it, so I immediately enlisted, only to find out you had also returned to school when I came back.

That made me a little happy. I kept thinking about it, even in the military—those fingers of yours that handled the instrument.

As freshmen lined the campus, admiring the cherry blossoms and each other, I watched your fingertips gripping the instrument. The sound that came out was impossibly beautiful.

Thank you for becoming my rival.