The piano notes drifted through the air.
Touma Kazusa stared at the keys beneath her fingers, her mood unusually gloomy.
Still can't catch up...
At that thought, Touma clenched her teeth.
Under Fang Zheng's guidance, Touma could feel her technique improving at an astonishing pace, far more than she had gained from shutting herself away to practice ten hours a day. But precisely because of that, she became ever more keenly aware of just how vast the gap between herself and Fang Zheng truly was.
Before, she had only vaguely sensed that the difference between them was far from small. But now, Touma could clearly feel that they were worlds apart. It was as if she stood at the foot of a mountain while Fang Zheng sat atop its peak like a king, looking down upon her.
This had nothing to do with technique. Technique was only related to talent and practice; as long as one possessed sufficient talent and trained hard enough, even if they could not catch up, the gap would not be too great. Yet what troubled Touma was not that objectively existing difference, but something deeply subjective—presence.
That was right. The very same piece, when performed by Fang Zheng, felt utterly and completely brought to life. Even inside the music room, it gave people the impression that he was commanding everything from Vienna's Golden Hall, his overwhelming presence intimidating all who stood before him. Yet no matter how Touma imitated him, she could not achieve that.
It was like an emperor and someone who had never been emperor. No matter how the latter imitated the emperor, he could never possess an emperor's bearing.
Touma could more or less guess why. It was like the difference between a battle-hardened champion and a rookie contestant. But the problem