Digimon does not belong to me. Reviews are appreciated.

Violin

Ever since she was a kid, that girl played her violin every day. More than a ritual, it was a way to express through melody things she could not put into words. She used to play for hours after school and practice beyond what her music teacher advised. To play that instrument was a way to gain distance from the world she inhabited and to enter one of pure sound and beauty.

Her love for music became stronger as she grew up. Many times, she closed herself in the school's music room and practiced until night. A boy with glasses began to go to that classroom's closed door after his soccer club activities. When the girl opened the door and surprised him leaning on it, instead of the boy saying anything, he just ran away, awkwardly silent. That kept on happening every school day.

One day, she decided to wait for him outside the music room. When he appeared, she gazed into his eyes.

"What's your name?" The girl asked.

"Izumi Masami." He replied in a shy murmur. "I'm your classmate, Yoshie-san."

The girl blushed in embarrassment for never having noticed him in her class before.

"I-It's okay." He seemed to be able to read her thoughts. "I'm a pretty plain guy, I wouldn't pay attention to myself either!" Masami forced a laugh. "Sorry for eavesdropping you like some creep… it's just that you play beautifully and I like to listen to it. I can stop coming here if I'm bothering you, though. I'm really sorry."

"Would you like to come in?" Yoshie asked, opening the door to the classroom. "You'd be more comfortable like that, right?"

"Am I not going to bother you?" The boy asked, blushing.

"When you bother me, I'll send you away." She assured him.

Yoshie never sent Masami away. They became close friends with time and confided in each other everything. He sometimes talked about the son of his father's cousin that had moved to his house after losing his parents, whose name was Shunsui. Yoshie used to talk about her strict father and her dream to become a music teacher.

Whenever she played, he paid attention, in quiet respect. He could never hide how much he adored listening to her. Playing for someone else introduced Yoshie to new wonderful and intense feelings. Masami was the first person she allowed to be part of her private world. His mere voice slowly began to sound to her like one of the melodies that lived in her heart.

More than ten years later, they got married and moved to Tokyo. She studied music and got a job in a school. Sharing the gifts from her violin with students didn't feel the same as sharing them with Masami. Yoshie wondered if she would only have that connection with her husband and no one else. That thought vanished when, a couple of years later, she came to know that she was pregnant.

Izumi Yoshie played the violin every day as she waited for her child to be born. She imagined that she would shower her kid in her love for music, enveloping him in the magic of the notes, the beauty built from endless effort and the sublime joy of playing an instrument. All of those were things Yoshie was determined to pass on to her child. For her, complex emotions like love and happiness were best transmitted through an organized amount of sounds that came together to form something magnificent.

But her pregnancy came to an end like it shouldn't have.

A trail of blood. An ambulance. A hospital.

Her son came into the world in complete silence.

Yoshie locked her violin in a case and hid it in the depths of her closet, determined to never again play it.

When Shunsui and his wife died and their baby was adopted by them, an essay of a new melody began to sprout in Yoshie's heart. She fought it for years, determined to never allow such music back into her life.

However, it was hard not to hear lovely melodies in Koushiro's laugh and even in his cry. As he grew up, his sweet and inquisitive voice filled their home with joy. Yoshie sometimes found herself humming or tapping according to a rhythm that she had failed to repress. It felt like, soon enough, she wouldn't be able to resist the urge of taking the violin out of its case.

But one day, without warning, Koushiro began to act differently around Masami and her. He became overtly formal and distant to them, hiding behind a computer and a front of unnatural politeness. His laugh didn't sound as melodic as before. In his once shining eyes, lingering sadness became more visible, despite the smiles he put on his lips.

Did he know he was adopted? Did he resent them for lying?

As fear and guilt took over Yoshie's heart, the urge to pick her violin from that case died out.

But a day would come when that fear would vanish.

When Koushiro opened his heart to his family and all misunderstandings were resolved, music overflowed from Yoshie's heart once again.

The violin was welcomed back into her life and she welcomed her child into her world.

Never again there was silence.

This was another case of an idea thought to be integrated in an upcoming chapter of The song of Love but that didn't quite fit in and now it's a drabble that takes place in that universe. Or any other universe, if one would like.