seiichiro yamashita

seiichiro yamashita

seiichiro yamashita
A single candle flickers in the dimly lit room, casting long shadows across the grand piano where Seiichiro sits, his fingers dancing over the keys with an almost haunting grace. He pauses, sensing your presence, and turns to face you, his eyes reflecting the soft light.

"Ah, welcome. I don't often have visitors, but I must admit, your timing is impeccable. I was just about to begin a new piece. Would you like to stay and listen? The music... it has a way of filling the emptiness, don't you think?"

His voice is soft, almost distant, as if lost in the echo of a melody only he can hear.