Disclaimer: I do not
own La Corda D'oro or it's characters but their sons are made by
me. :D
First up is Tsuchiura Ryoutarou!
***************
Tsuchiura sighed and turned the stove off. He gave the pan of fried rice one final swish with his arm before setting it to the side of the burner and carefully beginning to pick the stray bits of rice off of his shirt.
"Teiichi!" He called, brushing himself off.
There was no reply save for the sizzling rice in the pan.
Tsuchiura huffed again, he had an idea of where that boy was.
Opening the door to the practice room he was bombarded by blasts of almost recognizable melodies, wincing and loosely covering his ears he yelled over the cacophony.
"Teiichi!"
All at once the painful assortment of notes ended and the little boy sitting on the piano bench turned and looked at his father with sparkling eyes.
"Did you hear that daddy?" the boy asked eagerly
"Yeah," Tsuchiura said letting his hands fall from his ears, "what piece was it?"
Teiichi's eyes widened further. "You didn't recognize it? But you've played it so many times for mommy! La Campanella!"
Tsuchiura's eyebrows knit together "Uh yeah." He had no idea. "It was obviously.. that piece.
"Here Teiichi," Tsuchiura began, gesturing at his son to get up. Teiichi stood to the side obediently and watched his father with confusion.
Tsuchiura touched an A on the piano and let its sound ring. "Do you hear that?"
Teiichi nodded dumbly.
"What was it?" Tsuchiura asked, turning to his son.
"A note." The boy answered confidently.
"…Yes," Tsuchiura answered after a moment of baffled silence. "But what was its sound like?"
Teiichi's small forehead furrowed, "can you play it again, Daddy?"
Tsuchiura obliged and Teiichi's eyes traveled to the floor in thought. Finally he looked up and smiled a smile that only small children can. "Pretty!"
"Think you can make that sound Teiichi?"
The boy shook his head furiously. "No!"
Tsuchiura stared at him in shock. "Why?"
"Because daddy's the best!"
Tsuchiura shock melted into an adoring smile. "Sure sure, but come on and try anyway."
Teiichi took two steps toward the piano and pressed the A. It bonged; the boy's brow furrowed again. "I can't do it." He declared.
"Try again." Tsuchiura prompted, "a little softer this time. Like this." He pressed the A again.
Teiichi watched the action carefully then slowly brought his finger down on the key. A quiet ringing reached his ears, softer than when his father had played the note. A smile twitched on Teiichi's lips but then his mouth puckered. "Was that any good?"
"What do you think?" Tsuchiura asked, ruffling the boy's hair.
"It was pretty." Teiichi answered, "but yours was better."
"That's what practice is for." Tsuchiura turned back to the piano. "Here, this is what that piece you were playing sounds like played that way." And he began to play.
La Campanella floated in the air as his fingers flew across the keys, gently caressing a glittering sound from the depths of the instrument.
When he was finished his son clapped enthusiastically and all but shoved his father in an attempt to get to the instrument.
Tsuchiura laughed and got up. He closed the door behind him as La Campanella's tune rose recognizably from his son's hands.
Dinner could wait a little longer.
