***

Verse One

***

"I'm so sorry" Kahoko turned on her heel and made a mad dash away from him.

As her feet carried her through the halls of Seiso Gakuen, thoughts of him and his harmony were still plaguing her head relentlessly. There were simply no words to describe how pleasing it was no matter how heartbreaking the piece was. His melody was certainly different from all her musically gifted friends. Not to mention that it came from him, he was the type of person whom she least expected to be playing within the vicinities of the school. Her accidental discovery was truly startling, but the thing that astonished her most was the unlikely company of his eyes.

Earlier that afternoon, the realization that it was the last day of second term which also marks the final day of classes within that year dawned on her. Kahoko had just finished with her violin practice when there was a knock on the door. Len entered the room both bag and violin case in hand. She gave a weak smile to acknowledge his presence. Ever since his unforeseen confession a few days ago, she cannot help and feel slightly awkward around him.

Len held an exceptional position for Kahoko but the specifications of his importance are still under extreme scrutiny, which had her all worked up these past evenings.

"Shall we go?" he asked, casually running his free hand through his bangs.

Before pouring out his emotions for her, he made the effort of walking her home in a daily basis. She thought that those particular routines were only meant to ensure her safety, like before, as the evenings came earlier during the winter seasons. But after his untimely declaration of ardent attachment to her, Kahoko's perspective changed.

"Sorry," she started, zipping close her violin case, "I want to go home alone today."

He said nothing but had stared at her with a raised brow. The silent tension was unmistakably high between them but she persevered and excused herself nonetheless. She could feel the guilt slowly weighing her down as she came near the door. But it had to be stalled by the grip she felt on her wrist.

"Are you avoiding me?" he said without any hesitation.

The question was too direct it made her feel more culpable.

"No," she answered not moving a muscle.

"Then why?"

Kahoko knew she needed a good outlet and quickly as to not make him suspicious. Thereupon, at her very feet was the answer and her artifice was formed. Half the sun was still up and its golden rays scattered through the hallways of the school. She immediately tugged her arm free from his grip with enough strength. But she heard Len's footsteps, indicating that he had backed away from her just a bit which added guilt to sink at the pit of her stomach.

"There's still light," she said, turning her head partially to her right, "If I go now, I think I'll be home just as the sun is about to hide away completely"

"I see," he sighed, "If that's really what you want."

"Hai," she gulped, placing a foot forward, "Well, I better get—"

"Will you be there tomorrow?" Len suddenly asked, staring at her profile in a hopeful manner.

"I will," Kahoko nodded and left.

She found that walking simply won't do and had settled into running instead. Ashamed was she for lying, she was also relieved that he bought her excuse. But her conscience got her thinking twice. Kahoko stopped at the foot of the stairs to catch her breath and contemplate on how she had handled the whole situation.

"Too harsh," she mumbled, clamping her hands on her mouth and taking a seat on the steps, "I should have not brushed him off just like that."

The attitude she showed him must have puzzled him exceedingly the minute she left him. It was not in her nature to be dismissive in such an unfriendly way. She was thankful that the school was almost rid of students as a frustrated groan escaped her lips. Kahoko finally decided to return to where the unwanted confrontation took place, hoping in every bit that he was still there.

She picked her way back but her direction diverted when she heard a violin playing somewhere from the same floor. The piece made her fear for the worse and her heart wrenched in grief. Kahoko speculated that Len took his leave from the room but found a different seclusion to put out his diminished desire, of taking her home, and convey his wounded pride through music.

Following the melody, she was stunned to find that it led her to the opposite side of the floor. The hallways appeared older for some of the walls seemed to have weathered on with time. The notes soared higher causing her to frantically search for the epicentre of such a tragic piece. And there at the end of the hallway, as if calling out to her, was a partially opened door with the streak of sunlight seeping through the gap.

She marched and stopped in front of the door to push it fully open. But it went too quickly and way too strong that it slammed loudly against the adjacent wall. The playing of the violin ceased. The afternoon light blinded her momentarily and the wind from the recent action of the wood had caused particles of dust to flutter around. She coughed and heard someone coughed in return.

Kahoko peered through the cloud of dusts and saw the outline of a person standing in the middle of what looked like an abandoned homeroom for a whole class under the music department. The chairs were piled on the corners of the room in a messy state. The chalkboard was half broken and some of the windows were shattered.

"Tsukimori-kun?" she called out.

The particles gave way and she was able to make out who stood before her. Their startled eyes met and both were unable to speak from her sudden arrival. But Kahoko stumbled upon something that made her wished she should have not seen.

His tailored black suit was thinly covered with the tiny particles of dirt. The glow of the sun made his face glistened from the traces of tears present on his face. The bow clung to his thumb as he concealed his eyes with his palm.

"Kira-riji?" Kahoko said slowly.

It was rare indeed for someone like him, the usually staid director of the school, to be playing and shedding tears in such an untidy room. He could have used his handsomely furnished office instead. Why there? Kahoko's gaze left his face and turned towards the violin he was holding. She was absolutely sure she had seen it before. He must have sensed the way she was staring at his instrument for he had broken the long wordless pause with a question.

"Why," he started, struggling with his words and current disposition, "Why are you here?"

Akihiko turned a fraction of a quarter to hide the evidence of his weakness. She took his gesture as a sign that she had to leave him no matter what. So, with a short uttered apology, she sprinted away from him.

***