Hiya! This is a La Corda D'oro fanfiction of mine for Len Tsukimori, the incredibly cool violinist. Originally, I had wanted to start with a RyoxKaho fanfic story that happens in their third year of Seisou Academy (now you know who I support, hehehe!) but I was scared of being killed by the LenxKaho mob (waaah, all of you are so many?!).

So instead, its for Seisou University, first-years and a whole new year of musical challenges! What happens to the rest of the guys after Kahoko had chosen her right man? What have the Crescendo guys learned about finding their true love? Can Kahoko help them win these five young girls over? And without screwing up?

Starting with Len Tsukimori...

Timeline: April-June
Summary: Len Tsukimori knows where the winds of his music lies, yet something was missing somewhere that stopped him from pursuing his immortal dream. What was it and why? Kumiko Yukigawa lived everyday as if it was her last because she knows that she only has one day that's her last...
The virtuoso and the ballerina each have their own mission to fulfill; Len to play his violin and Kumiko to dance her ballet. When these two collide in a web of secrets, would Len's new gentle heart be enough to heal Kumiko's long-hardened soul?

Il Suono D'Oro: Some Fan-story Details

Len Tsukimori (first-year Seisou University student; violin major. Also concertmaster in the violin concerto)
Lamenting on lost opportunities, Len took part in the Kamiya Project and became the concertmaster for its violin concerto. It will be his entry, his debut into international circles he craved.

Kumiko Yukigawa (third-year Seisou Academy high school; GE student. Also ballerina of the Jones's School of Ballet)
Emerging from a tragic past, Kumiko is determined to win the lead female role in the Tchaikovesky ballet, Swan Lake. It all goes successfully, it would be her last performance.

Kahoko Hino (first-year Seisou University student; violin major)
Matured from the incidents from the previous year, Len sensed that Kahoko has an agenda of her own in taking part of the Kamiya Project of which she had discolsed to no-one for some reason.

Ryotaro Tsuchiura (first-year Seisou University student; piano major. Also guest musician in the Kamiya Team)
With a new focus in life, Ryotaro is now more serious than ever before in his music studies. Len noticed that this disheartens his relationship with Kahoko.

Arnie Alby (Conductor in the Kamiya Team. Also concertmaster in the Swan Lake ballet orchestra)
Old friend of Kumiko. Slightly strict, he trains Len on finding the spirit of the Kamiya's violin composition.

Miss Miya Jones (ballet instructor in the Jones's School of Ballet)
Old friend and confidant of Kumiko's. She is willing to do anything to make sure Kumiko wins the ballet.

Kojima (mysterious stranger; drug lord)
His identity is uncertain but Kumiko knows him well. A secret drug lord battling new competiton with the emergences of new drug cartel in his area.

Kamiya Project
Lead by conductor Alby, it is an orchestra team comprises entirely of both university and high school students for six concertoes composed by renowned violinist Kamiya for one recording album on behalf of Seisou Academy. The lead soloists for the compositions are a violin, a cello, a trumpet, a flute, a viola and a piano respectively. Currently, Len Tsukimori is the concertmaster.

Tchaikovsky's Swan Lake
Organized by Tokyo's Association of Culture and Dance, it is the first in a trio of ballets that year. The Association comprises of several dance schools of which the Jones's School of Ballet is a member. Students were sent to audition and perform for a professional-level status as ballerinas. Currently, Kumiko is trying to audition for the role of Odette, the Swan Queen.


Il Suono D'oro

Chapter 01: A Tchaikovsky Morning

Len Tsukimori was practicing a Tchaikovsky's solo piece when he finally noted the morning sunlight sweeping through the windows of his private practice room, tinged white gold by the colour of the draped curtains. He did not realize that he had practiced all night. If Kahoko knew, she would have been furious. As he thought of her, his eyes turned to the gold-framed photograph on the mantelpiece, the only ornament in the sparely fitted room.

The picture it held had been taken on his high school graduation from Seisou Academy. It was the group photo of him and his friends, wearing their graduation best and smiling faces. Kazuki, Azuma and Ousaki were in it as well. They all had attended the ceremony, not to miss what the school headmaster had declared as one of their best year yet.

Shimizu and Shouko were wearing school uniforms, cheering for their seniors; himself, Kahoko, Tsuchiura, Kaji and Nami were wearing their robes while their old seniors had worn semi-formal clothes. Kanazawa was in the photo too. He even looked presentable.

The photo was taken just after they had taken their certificates, prior to the final concerto of their year. His eyes strayed at Kahoko and Tsuhiura and the place where their hands were held tightly together. Her face showed nothing but pure joy of the occasion. Tsuchiura's expression, though subtle as it was, betrayed something even more.

A pang of jealousy, now that he no longer denied what it was, made a heavy lump in his heart. But the passing of time, six weeks since that graduation, have coloured the emotion more with melancholy than with envy. It was not from the time he had once coveted Kahoko himself. That had been resolved ages ago; deep friendship had taken place where fragile love would have been formed. Intimate trust and intimate fellow feeling between themselves as violinists.

He never thought he would have had anything like that kind of trust with anyone, until Kahoko entered his life. Her kindness, her heart, her magic, so to speak, finally made him realize what was it that made the united melody between his parents so beautifully expressed.

The music of passionate love.

Aye and there it was, the risk he could not take. The risk that Ryoutarou Tsuchiura had taken, albeit not without consequences, on certain chains of events since the beginning of their final year in Seisou. Only time will reveal the true fruits of his old rival's proverbial leap of faith. Still, if he so much so hurt Kahoko in anyway, Len would be the first in line to beat the hell out of Tsuchiura and when he was done, the rest of the guys would have little left to scrape over between them.

It was not that Len could not give the same kind of love; his sincerity for empathy toward Romantic classical music proves that. He had seen love, the beauty it can bring; witness his mother's and father's music. It was that thing, being what it was; the thing his father had tried to tell him for years of which beyond good skills can give. A heart opened to the greatest music in creation.

He couldn't do it.

What was the wellspring of passion for music? Specifically to say, what drives his music? Was it separate from the same source as the passion that fuels love? Or were they linked? And if they were linked, would it kill his musical passion if he strived for passionate love? How could he tell? How high were the risks?

All these things, he does not know. Music had always been the ideal to him. His violin was his life; he lived in the world of composition and orchestral performance. He strove for masterpieces, new standards and the precarious balance between modern and classical music. He aims for the future beyond his lifespan, into the records that had immortalized Bach, Mozart, Paganini and yes, Tchaikovsky.

To achieve that, his concentration should never be focused half-heartedly. Distractedly.

Yet, why was he stuck here instead of playing in Vienna?

Len placed the bow of his faithful violin into its case. He checked the surface of his instrument, looking for any signs of wear or deformities. Maintenance was crucial; he treated his violin with more zeal than soldiers in the battlefield treat their guns. His fingers ached, his neck and shoulder even more, but he cherished the minor discomforts.

In the past, he would have ignored them, or taken a more serious precaution. But the effects of his long practice felt more like life to him. Cramps and stiffness, they tell him to stop before he overdoes it and after they face, it was time for him to be ready to play again. Though not for that moment, not for now. There will more time, today, tomorrow, and the open future, to create his golden sound.

The sound Kahoko Hino had helped him create.

Shaking his head to rid the miasma of his fanciful thoughts, Len placed his violin into the case and closed the lid with a definite click. But the one thing he could not get rid of was the image of a dream, of a blessed angel casting a magical spell. A spell that had softened his hardened heart and evoked a new world of music.

And the monkeys that just had to live in it.

"LEEEEEENN TSUUKIIMOOOOOUURIIIIE!!"

That cry, a nightmare since his second year in high school, rang as loud as a church bell from outside his room's window, from the front gates of his house. The voice that contained such exuberance could only belong to one trumpet master whose lung capacity was exceeded only by the size of his stomach.

"Hey Tsukimori!! Are you home? Come out, come out if you're in!!"

The guy was going to piss every sleeper in the high-class neighbourhood. Doesn't he know that it was half-past six in the morning?

Reluctant as he was to acknowledge the caller's presence, Len had had plans to meet up with Kazuki Hihara and the others early that day for a certain discussion of great interest to him. But he did not think Hihara would be in the neighbourhood, much less in front of his house. He turned to the window and pushed aside the curtains.

"Hey, there you are!" cried Hihara with undiminished energy, upon sighting Len's outline from one of the windows. As always, he waved his arm enthusiastically from outside the iron gates. Len was thankful enough that he was not climbing the gates. He noticed that Hihara was not alone and upon identifying the extra company, he could not tell either to inwardly groan or outwardly wince.

There were three of them, to count the lot. Next to Hihara was the tallest one of the group, an athletic build topped with short, dark green hair. Even with his face turned away from the house, Len had long been familiar with Tsuchiura's gruff demeanor and could tell that the man was probably clenching his teeth. He seemed to be doing his best to ignore Hihara's cheerful liveliness and at the same time, holding on to Hihara's back collar, to stop him from possibly, say, climb up the iron gates.

The third man was a blond fellow with a usually cherry, merry expression on his face. He was neither one of those at the moment.

"Dammit, Hihara!" he cried in a half-shouted whisper.

Like Tsuchiura, Kaji did not seem overly encouraging toward Hihara's enthusiasm at greeting the son of the house's master. He seems sweated with a look that said half-amused and half-exasperated, his face nervously scanning for any pass-by who might be staring at them.

Hihara laughed at his own bad mannerism.

"Haha, sorry. But I really want to show Tsukimori my new car," said Hihara.

Kaji sighed, "Yeah, well, I'm sure he's definitely seen it so keep it down will, ya?"

But apparently, Hihara was not to be denied.

"Hey, Tsukimori! Check out my new ride! Cool huh? We're all going to carpool to Seisou University!"

New car? That old thing? Len studied the brown metallic, God forbid, Toyota minivan parked next to them. It seemed to have had its fair share of road wear, even with his eye from the second-floor window. But at least it looked clean. On the outside.

"Hey Tsukimori!! Have you had breakfast yet?!"

Len decided that the sooner he greets them and get ready for the excursion, the sooner he can shoo them out of the area. He just hoped that he has enough food stockpiled in the kitchen. As he walked towards the door, his hand automatically reached out to grab his violin case and he took it with him without a second thought.


On the other side of town was a playground full of half-rusted metal. A young girl in mini shorts and a thick black jacket sat very still on the monkey bars in morning sunlight. Sand, bags of cement powder and other miscellaneous construction material littered the area around her.

So silent and motionless was she that in silhouette, she appeared to be no more than a statue, except for the strands of dark brown hair wistfully quivering at every slight breeze.

With her eyes tightly closed, Kumiko Yukigawa drank in the sounds of the area. A dog in the far distance barked repeatedly. In the further distance were the drones of morning traffic. Closer at hand was the splashing sound of that old crooked fire hydrant, a small fountain pattering over the dirty road. A basketball bounced lazily along on the sidewalk. The sound felt like a heartbeat that came slowly and then faded away as the owner was passing by.

All this she could identify easily. She grew up there and she cherished every sound that came to her ears. Feeding her memories.

Just as like the recognized coughing noise of an old Mazda car engine, growing larger and louder as the driver approached the playground cum construction site. Kumiko smiled slowly to herself, for the driver's coming was a pleasant surprise.

"Kumiko! Hey Kumiko!" cried a light, feminine voice.

She opened her eyes and bended her body backwards so low until she could see, albeit upside-down, to the person in the old Mazda. Without a doubt, it was her best friend in the world, Miss Miya Jones. The woman in the car drove up to park next to the No Parking sign and turned off the engine.

Kumiko positioned her knees and feet against the bars beneath her and pushed her body. He legs swung out and upward, turning momentum into a gymnastic arch from her seating 6 feet or more off the ground. She landed on the stone paved ground half-jerkily, low on her right knee, for she was wearing her inline skates as she landed.

"Oh God, be careful!" the woman sounded half-frightened and half-annoyed. Miss Miya had been almost getting out of her car in anticipation of an awkward fall. But Kumiko had choreographed the move hundreds of times before in the past. Thus, it was no sweat for her in repeating it.

And it would be the last time she would ever sat on those monkey bars again.

Pushing her feet and propelling forward, Kumiko turned and grabbed her large backpack she had left from under the monkey bars. She skated toward her friend, who still stared at her anxiously. Her own face had a soft smile; one gloved hand outstretched for balance and the other was tucking the escaped strands of her hair back into her tightly braided bun at the back of her head.

"Kumi-," Miss Miya began but Kumiko cut her off.

"I know, I'm sorry. Please don't worry, I promise it won't happen again," said Kumiko.

But Miss Miya was not deterred the least. She arched up an eyebrow in the same look she gave her students when they made a misstep or jumped too far and accidentally got out of line. Kumiko suppressed her grin.

"No, really. They're tearing down the old playground. See? No need for me to come here again."

She pointed to the large wooden sign erected next to the derelict lamppost. The noticed indicated that the playground would be demolished, as the area was part of a high-rise office building that was to be constructed.

"Yes, I can see that my dear. At least it's obvious you have been working on your pas de poisson," said Miss Miya, referring to the technical term to describe a sort-of backward leap.

"But really, you nearly gave me such a fright," she exclaimed. "Especially landing on those!" she shook an angry finger to Kumiko's skates.

Kumiko smiled brightly and opted for a more formal apology, yet still teasing. It was still too early in the morning to feel too disciplined towards Miss Miya, who was also her ballet teacher. She was a charming faced lady who always pulled her already short hair back to a ponytail. The two of them had gone way back to more than 10 years ago, to when she was six and Miss Miya was a first year university dance student herself.

After exchanging well-meaning good mornings, Miss Miya offered Kumiko a ride to her high school, which was along the way to her day job as a clerk. But Kumiko shook her head.

"Thank you, ah..." she began, but her mind turned blank. She knew she would soon have to tell Miss Miya the recent news but for some reason, her words could not seem to come out. In her head, a male voice, her older brother's voice, rang the warnings they had discussed the night before.

The night she slept for the last time in her childhood home.

"Well, Kumiko? Aren't you going to get in?"

She blinked and quickly pulled herself out from being spaced out. It was becoming a habit for her, letting her mind wander outside the point in time. Then again, she had a lot of things on her mind and far much more to come, if the year held any luck.

She shook her head.

"Ah, I mean. I don't go to Soruku High anymore."

"You don't?" Miss Miya's eyes were wide with surprise.

Taking in a breath, Kumiko continued, "Yeah, I'm at a different school this year. Seisou Academy. It's on the opposite side of town and not at all near the same route as my old school."

She pointed towards the road that leads to the larger residential areas. Miss Miya made a pout look on her face.

"Awww, so this means you're going to have to take the bus?"

"Yeah, but on rainy days. I'm just going to skate to school today," Kumiko bounced one wheeled foot on the ground to emphasize her wearing them.

"Also..." said Kumiko, in a near whisper, "I've just moved house as well. To be closer to my new school."

"Oh? You and your brother finally got out of... that place?"

"Huh? Oh no, just me. Big bro still lives in the old house. He needs to stay close to the station, in case he gets a call or something."

Kumiko faced to the road across the playground on the other side. It looked innocuous enough, just like every other roads around the concrete plated low-income neighbourhood around them. But where that road leads, the streets and its inhabitants, to politely state, they were much less friendly.

"So," said Miss Miya, "You moved out? Staying all alone?"

"Naah, I'm staying with a family friend. Her family's great and they own a motorcycle repair shop just next door to their house."

"Urg. Sounds noisy."

"Yeah, I'm still adjusting to all the new sounds," laughed Kumiko, patting her ear.

But she saw Miss Miya's face suddenly turned forlorn, her ballet teacher's eye watching her animated hand; she dropped her hand down quickly. She knew what her old friend was thinking and quickly strived to change the subject.

"Well, uh," she coughed and then tried for poise, "Seisou Academy is a bit more expensive but I think Big bro and I can manage."

"Oh, are you sure? I heard that they even have very extensive co-curriculum and that's just for the half of the school wearing dark-coloured uniforms."

They exchanged a light banter as between two good friends about the merits of such a prestigious place compared to her old school.

"Ah, speaking of music," said Miss Miya, "I've already announced it to most of the others but almost forgot to tell you. Kumiko dear, the company is having a conference today and tomorrow. I'm afraid that ballet class for tonight and tomorrow night is cancelled."

Kumiko blinked in wonder. "Is the conference far?"

When Miss Miya nodded shyly, Kumiko felt... relieved. Which was strange because she loved ballet.

She lived for ballet.

Maybe that relieved feeling was evoked because under all the recent uncertainties plaguing her. Some good rest coming for her that night after a day at the new school might be a good thing.

"Ah, that's okay, I think..." she scrambled her brain for thoughts, "I can double check on that school's extensive co-curriculum you so worried about."

Miss Miya smiled and teased, "Alright. But don't you slack on your adagios. You better get those rights when I come back."

She took her leave to part at that comment. As she started her car, the old engine coughed to life, she gave Kumiko a passive look that conveyed meanings more than her words.

"Be careful, Kumiko."

But the younger girl just smiled. They both exchanged goodbye waves and Kumiko stood alone on the sidewalk for as long as she watched her teacher's car disappear around the corner.

'Adagios' and 'get those right' were two words almost impossible to put to Kumiko. Adagios require slow, controlled movements and Kumiko reveled more in jumps, leaps and spins; allegro, grand jeté and pirouette. Still, it was also one of the most graceful motions ever designed to dance. It was not as if she could not execute them. Controlled and composure were almost infinite in Kumiko.

Control and composure ruled all her life.

That was why she hated to have to use them in her dancing. Kumiko did not realize that her face had turned poker grim until she caught her reflection on the surface of a large rectangular flat glass window, cracked and chipped, leaning against the derelict lamppost along with other rubbish tossed by who know which of the irresponsible neighbours.

She literally wiped her mouth, brushing her fingers over stiff cheeks. Turning towards the playground, she crossed it, expertly maneuvering her skates between piles of sand and nail-embedded wood. She stepped on to the street, the one that led to the darker denizens of the area.

It had taken three weeks-, no, almost a month to have to get transferred to a different school and change her living quarters. And the changes were still kept coming. Kumiko Yukigawa was 17 years old and she would be taking her entrance exams in a brand new school. She loves to dance ballet, do freestyle urban skating and enjoys listening classical music. She has an older brother who was working and supporting her financially.

Though she has a slender body with good bones, fair skin and fine green eyes, the biggest flaw she considers in her appearance was her long messy-wavy hair which she always try to keep securely tied in a hair-clipped bun. On occasion, a strand or three escaped, betraying its true long length.

Her bangs parted in the middle, which she often tucked behind her ears, as she had not cut to a neat length yet. It held many visible strands of blond-white hair that glinted as they frame down to her neck. The contrast of dark brown hair peppered with a blond-white fringe made her look much older than her teen years.

In a nutshell, those were the only things other people would need to know about her, her superficial appearance and background. Everything else, everything that might turn out in the future, would be either immaterial... or just none of their damn business.

It was the future that worried Kumiko the most. She checked her inline skates, making sure that the wheels were good and the laces were tight. They were quite old and needs to be regularly oiled to keep going smoothly.

Finding no fault, she turned to the contents of her bag. The items she needed were all inside, including her dark uniform, its white skirt and its dark-coloured scarf; she would change her clothes at school. She securely strapped her bag-pack on her back and shoulders, closing the clip at her small waist.

There. That was all she needed to worry about for now. Checking left and right for traffic and pedestrians and finding none on the empty road, she quickly pushed her foot and took off into the oily, pothole-ridden streets, neatly avoiding trailing rivulets from the crooked fire hydrant.

These were the streets she grew up in. She had to move quickly, before the wild dogs start to roam about, scavenging and fighting for scraps and rubbish heaps.

A few good blocks away, then to the overhead pedestrian bridge over a fast-running freeway and into the small-business shop lots. Another shortcut bordering the green parks next to Seisou University and then onwards to the high school itself. If her brother knew that she was taking the ghetto short cut to the new school, on the first day of her new school what's more, he would be furious. He would rant and rave and then tell her to go to the devil her own way.

But Kumiko vowed that the devil would not have her yet. Not yet. She would face all the future's challenges, one day at a time. Only for as much time she could have between the hour she had at that moment to the day that follows after tomorrow. Because being who she was, what she was, and she herself doesn't know how much of her future she has left.

But one certainty she promised herself; she would keep going until Tchaikovsky's last swan drowns.

End of Chapter 01


Author's PS: For more information about the Fan-Epic (and that I NEED help on something), check out the FAQ in my personal profile.