She could remember the evenings spent in her home, late into the night her fingers dancing across the ivory keys, pressing them down in a pattern, the secret language of musicians. As she played she created glorious symphonies to dance around the room, the notes flew from the room singing out and dancing frivolously, down halls, through the doorways, and into other rooms. The cacophony of sounds filled the whole house, her deepest emotions, her oldest memories being spoken aloud.

She learned to play the violin in the very same room. She learned a beautiful new dialect of the language that already designated within her very being. She fell in love with the way the bow struck against the strings that lined the violins neck. She played this instrument for him, for the piano boy who'd made her see the world in the most vivid and beautiful colors.

Anyone could see she was destined to do great things in the world of music. Maybe it was all those years of practice, playing until the late hours of night turned to the light hours of morning, the weeks spent memorizing the melodies. Maybe she was born with the natural gift, the way she made people see what she was playing, in their own way. Either way no one could argue that she was a child destined for greatness.

She could still remember walking down the stairs into the little bakery her family owned to find her father their talking to a man from the music hall. He handed her a letter and told her about how he'd heard she was an excellent violinist, how after that concert last week she was practically famous. She opened the red seal on the letter after he'd left, by now she'd memorized the letter word for word.

That was how she'd gotten here, just out of the audiences vantage point. Watching the ending of the Violin Sonata No.9's first movement being played by a boy who obviously found little passion in the work of Beethoven. Almost every bit was off, a little high or a little low. However the whole movement lacked emotion.

He ended his song, the last note piercing the air, his attempt at a final ode to the composer.

"Kaori miyazono,"

She stepped out from behind the curtain when her name was called. Her eyes locked with the boys, brown met blue. Not a single word fell from either of their lips, but an entire conversation was spoken between their eyes. She was going to finish the story, the story told in the form of notes on paper that every performer modified and tried to adapt to them, to tell their story. Every performer who's gone out on that stage had told their story, and when you put all the stories together you had and orchestra of hearts working together to do the best they possibly could.

She walked forward towards the judges, her heels striking the linoleum of the stage the only sound in the auditorium. She stopped in front of the audience, she bowed, rose upright once more and stepped back.

She lowered her head.

Breathe, you've got this!

"...Most humbly I implore you,"

Her head shot up and she looked at the crowd such a fierce determination in her eyes, as she raised the bow to its starting position. A single breath fell from her lips, the years of building herself up to do something great would not fail today.

And she played.

Her bow struck the violin, with such speed, such vigor, such passion, such accuracy, such emotion. That the audience leaned forward, children rose from their seats to see her in full glory. She acted upon impulse, she played with all her heart. Pouring the emotion trapped inside into the song, never pausing not even for a moment. Surpassing her accompanist in one of his most favored songs.

The notes she had memorized no longer belonged to the musicians, she carried the messages of the language on the wings of her dreams. She gave everything she had, she played her story, every moment she could remember, so close to the feeling she could see the images of her past dancing across her eyelids.

She played so that the people in the audience may never forget her, so they will always remember her. Kaori, the girl who changed music into feelings. She dedicated this song to them, the people, the ones payed back in their chairs, the others who sat poised on the edges of her seats hanging onto her every note.

Yes... They would remember her, she would live on forever in their hearts, even after she was gone.