Katrina laughed and listened, and though Miss Satomi’s body now showed its true age, her life seemed to be rekindling before Katrina’s eyes.

“Why did you save me?”

“You honestly don’t know?”

Katrina shook her head.

“One day, you’ll have a student, and I think you’ll understand.”

And then Astrid brought her Shizuka her violin.

“Miss Satomi? It’s time.”

Lan helped her up. They walked to the fishpond, to the backyard overlooking Monterey Park.

When Shizuka had told Astrid she would like to play one last time, Astrid had placed seats in the yard, and a little stage, backlit by the glow of lights below.

And as she adjusted her violin, her Katarina Guarneria felt—warm?

Welcome home, child, it seemed to say.

Shizuka looked up to see Katrina and Lan, Astrid—and Shirley?

“Is everything ready?” Katrina asked.

Shirley nodded and stretched her hands outward. For an instant, the holographic projector glowed more brightly. Then Shizuka saw nothing but blackness.

No, wait—this was not darkness at all. She was bathed in light.

What? Stage lights? This was … West Berlin? The Philharmonie?

The lights were the same, the air was the same, even her heart felt the same. She looked behind her. An orchestra?

She looked down, and she was wearing the same gown she had that night, forty-nine years ago.

Beneath the projection, she was no longer so young. Her body hurt. Her neck hurt, her hip hurt, and yes, her heart hurt. But her bow was eager in hand, her violin sleek and steady beneath her chin.

“Miss Satomi, we’re finally ready for your Bartók,” Katrina said.

But Shizuka shook her head. “No, no. You’ve already played Bartók for me. Besides, there is a piece that is closer to my heart.”

From the stage, she looked out into the darkness. The darkness she missed. The darkness she loved, loved so much. And as everyone watched, with the lights of the city behind her, Shizuka Satomi began the song that she had arranged in a single night, a song that called her home.

And it began with The NetherTale. As she played, she listened, and as she listened, her arrangement began to speak:

Shizuka Satomi, did you not know that you wrote me for yourself? From the moment you heard parts of me, the moment you heard Katrina playing Schradieck, you began to write.

You wrote me the first time you looked into a donut lady’s eyes. When you heard that hum on your way to the donut shop bathroom. When you heard chickens outside your window. And when you realized, how every time you needed her, Astrid was there.