Chapter One

-Wednesday-

Tap, tap, tap.

The heels of Shoko's shoes clicked a steady rhythm against the sidewalk, and she breathed in the fresh air with appreciation. She did not walk often - was often afraid to, even - but today was beautiful and quiet and she felt peaceful for the first time in a while.

So she walked, and listened to the birds and the whisper of grass and the creak of quietly swaying trees. She watched the clouds drift loftily overhead, taking in the vast blue sky with pleasure. She allowed the day's lovely simplicity to draw her into it's calm spell, putting to sleep her always-racing nerves for a change. She loved days like these. The fact that they were few and far between perhaps made them all the more precious. She never failed to enjoy them, and was always sad to see them go.

Abruptly, the spell released her, and she realized someone was calling her

"Shoko-chan! Hello!" Shoko felt her face heat as Kahoko slowed from her half-run, breathing a little harder than she would have if Shoko hadn't been stupidly lost in a dream world.

"Ah, Kaho-senpai, I'm sorry . . . um, I wasn't paying attention, I didn't mean to make you run," Shoko bowed in apology, and wondered at her ability to cause trouble even as she tried to fade into the background. That was irony for you.

"No, no, it's okay - I do that all the time, too," Kahoko waved her hand dismissively and smiled, tucking a piece of red hair behind her ear. "It's been a while since we talked . . . I miss everyone from the concourse a lot sometimes. How have you been?"

Miserable. She had the strangest urge to tell the older girl all about her bizarre, painful emotions as of late, to ask her advice on what to do about it. Shoko certainly didn't know; Shoko didn't know anything but fading into the background and living through her clarinet.

She didn't dare, however. She could never burden Kaho-senpai with her silly problems. The confident, compassionate redhead would probably gladly listen, but Shoko didn't feel comfortable enough to confide all of the craziness going on within. Not to mention how Kahoko might react to it . . . What if . . .

"I'm really well. Thank you, Kaho-senpai . . . I'm glad to talk to you again," she said instead, which was the truth. Just being near Kahoko made her - and probably everyone else - feel more at peace and content. Nonetheless, the usual red tint crept into her cheeks, and she couldn't find the will to look anywhere but her feet as she said it. In her head it had sounded acceptable, but out loud, she was sure it made her sound like she'd been starving for human companionship.

Shoko almost sighed aloud. She'd never had a way with words. For that matter, except for her clarinet, she'd never had a way with anything. But Kaho-senpai just smiled in that genuinely happy way that made one feel not quite so worthless, and the tide of embarrassment slowly receded.

"Me too. It's been a little lonely since it ended . . . Ah, I do have my Gen Ed friends, and I love them, but I felt like everyone in the concourse was really starting to connect. Or maybe it was just me being sentimental," she laughed, but the glow in her eyes held. "Music is amazing like that . . . it can bring people who are so different onto the same wavelength . . . except, maybe, for Tsuchiura-kun and Tsukimori-kun," she finished, her brow wrinkling a little as she recalled their inability to get along well.

Shoko, however, shivered, and not from the breeze. 'How was that fair?' she wondered. The sound of his name, from anyone's lips, for any reason, seemed to send chills tickling across her skin. Irrational. It was almost as bad as the warmth that followed along with his image.

"Are you alright, Shoko-chan? You looked cold for a second . . . and you're flushed, even though it's so pleasant. You're not catching a cold, are you?" Kahoko glanced at her, concern shadowing her eyes as she observed Shoko's flushed cheeks and the hazy, distracted look in her eyes.

"Something like that," she mumbled.

"Sorry, what?" Kahoko looked at her expectantly, and Shoko smiled guiltily, fiddling with her clarinet case.

"I'm so sorry, Kaho-senpai. I haven't been feeling well lately . . . I was going to go home and take a nap, to see if it will help me feel better," she said.

"That's terrible - colds are the worst, especially when the weather is so nice. Ah, would you like me to walk home with you? Is there anything I can help you with?"

Shoko ducked her head in embarrassment at Kahoko's show of concern. Kahoko-senpai was so kind. Could offer to help, and would even be able to. Not like Shoko. Shoko wouldn't dare extend assistance, for she'd only make things difficult.

"No . . . that's alright, Kaho-senpai. Um, thank you, though! I . . . it's so nice of you," Shoko struggled with the words. She probably sounded ungrateful, when she was more grateful to Kahoko than she could ever say. She just didn't know how to handle things like this. Didn't know what to do, didn't know what to say. Typical Shoko. "But I think I'll be able to get home okay, I'm not really sick, I just haven't been . . . I'm not at my best lately," she finished, her words quieting toward the end. A flicker of something indecipherable in Kahoko's eyes, then an understanding smile.

"I know, I have times like that, too. Well, I turn here, so if you're sure you'll be okay, then I guess I should get home. Maybe, though, we should do something sometime," Kahoko shifted, her hand going to the back of her head in that way of hers when she was feeling awkward, but the crooked half-smile/half-laugh that followed let on that she did feel uncomfortable, but reacted towards it with a playful self-deprecation that left Shoko green with envy. Kahoko was unashamed of her shame, whereas Shoko's just built and built until her insides felt sick and torn and she wanted to disappear with resenting herself for being this way.

"Um, if you aren't too busy, then if it isn't trouble, I would like that very much . . . ah, but I don't know what we'd do," Shoko realized, her ignorance of Kahoko's interests dawning on her. Well done, she congratulated herself miserably. 'Here is a person you admire so much, and sometimes tentatively dare to call a friend, yet you don't even know what she likes.'

"Oh - I guess the usual stuff. I hadn't really thought about it. But whatever you want to do, Shoko-chan - the point is to spend time with people you like, so I think it doesn't matter," she said thoughtfully, her index finger resting on her chin as she considered it. "If you're with a friend, things you don't usually enjoy will be way more fun."

'Take this for example,' Shoko thought wryly - 'conversation.' She wouldn't call it fun yet, but Kahoko being the one she was talking to certainly made it better. She smiled.

"I guess you're right . . . then, if you wouldn't mind, I hope we can," she said honestly. Honesty. A precious thing. To find the words you mean to say, and to say them. Not just stumbling along with the easiest, expected course. Another thing that Kahoko, unconsciously honest Kahoko, had taught her, but that Shoko had failed to learn, too afraid to abandon the person she'd come to believe herself to be, even if it was one she constantly found fault with. It was still her. It wasn't an easy thing to just throw that away and try something new. More often than not, it didn't work and you were left somewhere in the middle, suddenly unaware of who you were. And that was a feeling Shoko had begun to know, and one she knew she needed to avoid.

Her smile weakened even as Kahoko returned it, looking relieved and happy.

"Actually, if you're not going to be practicing or doing schoolwork, on Friday, I've had a little bit of a sweet tooth lately. There's a great cake shop that I've been to a couple of times with my other friends, and it would be fun to go with you. Ah, if you like sweets, that is," she added, smiling warmly. Friday. It seemed too soon, almost. Shoko tried to remember the last time she'd been out with another person. She couldn't, and a wave of panic came over here. For all that Kahoko might find Shoko to be nice, it didn't change the fact that the younger girl didn't have much to say and was never much fun, no matter the company. She should say no, lest Friday come and Kahoko lose interest in ever talking to her again. Infrequent as they were, Shoko treasured these little chats, soaking up Kahoko's kindness like a wilted plant did water.

She hesitated, unsure. There was the usual fear, yes. Daunting as always. But a little bit of anticipation. Hope that it would go well. That maybe, if Kahoko was there, Shoko could do this.

Kahoko waited.

"O-okay," Shoko said. "Friday sounds fine . . . it's been a while since I've had cake." The words were out, and it was too late to change her mind. Still, in spite of the dread, that thread of excitement remained. A cake shop, with a friend. An involuntary smile went across her face.

"It's settled then," Kahoko said happily. "Friday after school . . . we'll meet by the gate and walk there, unless you have something you need to do right after?"

"No, I don't need to do anything . . . um, the gate is fine," she agreed.

"Alright, I should get home then. I hope you feel better. I'll see you later, Shoko-chan!" she waved cheerily, then headed off down the opposite street toward her house. Shoko watched her retreating form, a knot of warmth and anxiety tying in her stomach.

'It's okay,' she told herself. 'It's Kaho-senpai. It'll be alright. She understands.'

Shoko turned in the direction of her own home to finish her walk, but the peace of the day did not quite return and envelop her in it's spell.

-Thursday Afternoon-

"Just look at him. He's so gorgeous . . ." The dreamy exclamation came from a girl standing about two feet away from Shoko with her cluster of friends. Around them, people filtered through the crowded hallway, most of the initial after-school rush having gotten their things and headed out. Shoko took her time, however, both to avoid that crowd and because she had nowhere else to be.

She tensed at this, though, and hoped they were talking about any one of the gorgeous music school guys that surely lurked through the school, and not the particular one that she knew of.

'Don't turn around, don't turn around,'she chanted to herself. 'Either way, you don't care or want to see.'

"Or he might be if he weren't so cold to everyone."

Shoko's heart sank, and against her better judgment, she carefully turned her head. There it was, that neat mop of blue steadily weaving it's way through the crowd of students, a slightly impatient quirk to his brow. Too tall, she thought. She shouldn't be able to see his face. She wished she couldn't see his face, if the fact that she suddenly felt feverish was any indication to go by. Involuntarily, she turned a little more that way, stepping sideways as she did so.

"Who cares if he's cold? Maybe he just needs someone to warm him up," one of the girls said, followed by a round of shocked gasps and giggles.

"Yuka-chan, you're terrible!" the first voice exclaimed, despite the fact that they'd all heard and said worse.

Shoko's face burned, but the corners of her eye kept determined watch over his progress. He was almost right across from her when someone abruptly plowed straight into her. Distracted as she was, she went sprawling into Len's path like wayward tumbleweed.

'Oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no!' The panicked words ran through her head as the toes of his polished, neatly laced shoes halted but inches away from her face. She felt like hyperventilating, and she was sure her face had never been so red if the heat she felt crawling through it was any indication. She scrambled back from him, and too late realized she hadn't collected her case and the books she'd been holding. Her face flaming, and still on her knees, she inched around him towards her things, snatching them back towards her as fast as she could.

"S-s-s-sorry, Ts-tsukimori-senpai, I, um, s-someone pushed me, I-I," her teeth chattered, her hands shook, and her brain was not working. 'Run away!' were the only coherent instructions coming from her mind. Len sent her a disinterested look of puzzlement, and almost as an afterthought, leaned down to pick up one of her things. She grabbed it and yanked it toward her before he could. "N-no, that's okay, um, I have it, thank you, s-sorry, again, I didn't mean to," she choked out as she stood with the last of her things. She gave a hasty, flustered bow of apology, and he nodded. After all, she reflected, this was typical Shoko behavior. The realization made her glad her face couldn't get any redder. She felt faint. If she stood here a minute longer, she was sure she'd pass out.

"It's fine," he said, and Shoko accepted the two words gratefully, spun around, and hurried in the opposite direction, wherever it led to, as fast as she could without breaking into a full-on run. The sounds of the hallway were only a distant hum against the pounding of her ears, and she wasn't sure how long she'd been walking when she finally slowed down and leaned against a wall to catch her breath. Clutching the handle of her clarinet case in her trembling grip, she huddled into herself, finally understanding why it was so important to stay away from him. Because now that her head had cleared and she'd managed to calm down a little, she wanted to go back and crash into him all over again.

'Rule of three', she reminded herself. 'Don't ever forget it.'

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