Le Duo
The Duet

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Op. o1: Départ et Recherches
- Departure and Search -

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She was a piano prodigy.

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It was the sound of music.

The sound of the piano exuded an atmosphere that had made the whole mansion hush into tranquil silence.

Pale nimble fingers continued tapping down along the row of black and white keys, eliciting sad, mellow music that reverberated throughout the plain hall. Cotton-white curtains billowed in from the spring breeze drifting through the open windows, while soft rays of early morning sunlight bathed the marble floor an insubstantial glow. The hall was bare from anything aside from the sleek black grand piano right there at the center, clashing greatly with the spotlessly white floor and walls and curtains, standing out in the stillness and whiteness of the hall like rose in a field of thorns.

The music finally ended with a final tap of a white key, and, almost at once, as if a time-stopper spell was just lifted up, the mansion woke up from its stupor, the servants inside springing back into a dull chattering sound and hurried clicking footsteps along the halls. Life had went on again after those nine minutes of temporary stillness, and, as if to lament the end of the fleeting bliss, the wind had stopped blowing into the windows, leaving the previously blithe curtains hanging limp on their rods.

The faint screeching of wood pulled against the marble floor momentarily filled the silence that had befallen heavily on the white, immaculate hall, and a girl emerged from behind the black grand piano, the person behind the perfectly executed Chopin's Piano Concerto No. 2 in B flat that would have not been usually a possible feat for someone her age. She stood absently beside the piano, her hazel eyes staring dazedly through one of the windows, her lips parted slightly as she mulled in her thoughts, while her long wavy honey-colored hair fell limply along her shoulders and the small of her back.

From beyond the white double doors that separated the hall she was in from the rest of the house, countless maids had run back and forth, clearing the mansion of all necessary things in the least time possible. It was for the reason that in a matter of three hours, she – the daughter of the owner of the house – would be leaving this place forever, beginning her life outside the comforts of what had been her abode in the duration of her feisty childhood years. She, Mikan Sakura, a piano prodigy at age fifteen, who had led the life of a socialite so far, would embark on a new journey as nothing but any other normal high school teenager. She, only daughter of the two most renowned musicians at their prime, would leave behind her riches and luxurious life of a –

"Oi, Mikan, hurry up and help with the packing!"

Mikan, from her sentimental mode (if you could call gazing faraway through windows that), violently swiveled to the direction of the doors and yelled, "I'm savoring my last moments here, dammit!"

"Whatever," came the muffled female voice from behind the door. "If you seriously want to bring all your things with you, at least do something to make the feat easier, princess!"

Mikan pouted childishly as she heard her mother's footsteps pattering away, crossing her arms over her chest in silent protest. In the outside world, Sakura Yuka, one of the best cellists in the entire music history, was the most graceful, beautiful woman a man could have ever laid his eyes on, but Mikan, her daughter, and a piano child-prodigy, knew better than to judge her by her looks alone. Yuka (in the real sense of her) could actually do to some anger management, and her fiery temper and loud personality would have been impossible to be rivaled with.

Heh, not that Mikan was no match to her.

Trudging towards the doors in an unladylike way, the fifteen-year-old girl huffed and rolled her eyes in irritation. If only her mother had alerted her about the great move earlier, she could have prepared herself better. Being informed that they would leave London in one week's time was not something that one could brace wholeheartedly and regard it lightly like it was nothing more but a sudden change on a weekend schedule – heck, this rash decision would change Mikan's life forever!

Mikan stopped short in front of the door, before slowly looking over her shoulder at the sleek grand piano that sat at the middle of the wide hall. Moving to another country in such a short span of time had not permitted her to bring the piano along with her, much to her horror, and had not Yuka promised to follow it up once they reached their new 'home,' Mikan would have stubbornly stood her ground and not agree with leaving at all. That piano was her life; it was the first – and last, she presumed – memorabilia she possessed (and would ever possess) from her dead father, the violin virtuoso that had been only known by the name Sakura by the world. Living a life without it by her side was like living in a lifelong coma for Mikan, who had music as her passion – so no questions asked about the matter whatsoever. Without the grand piano, the deal's off.

"I guess we'll have to wait a short while before I play you again," she muttered quietly, smiling sadly at the piano like it could ever understand her. Sighing, she turned back and left the room swiftly, helping with the packing up, as what her lovely mother ordered her to do.

Here I go, Japan.

Mikan, from her light-shaded glasses, read the booklet she held in one hand, while the other one rummaged through the food tray in front of her in search for the small box of milk that the flight attendant had served her moments ago. Yuka, who sat next to her in the plane they were currently riding, frowned at her daughter's antics.

"Mikan, can't you take your eyes off that book for a minute?" she said, watching as Mikan's hand finally was able to grab the box of milk, though squeezing it a little too tightly so that some of the contents squirted from the lid and drenched everything within a six-inch radius with white liquid – which, unfortunately, included the sleeve of Yuka's expensive coat. The mother cellist scrunched her beautiful face in disapproval.

Mikan, however, paid no attention to her, brought the milk box to her lips, and sipped from it slowly, hazel eyes never leaving the booklet, all the while oblivious to the mess she had just created. It wasn't her fault if everything else didn't matter to her anymore whenever she concentrated on doing something, was it?

Well, Yuka didn't think so. "Mikan. . ." she called out again, but the young brunette still didn't reply. "Mikan!"

This time, she successfully pried her attention away from the godforsaken book, but so did those of half of the people surrounding them. Yuka hung her head apologetically at the disproving looks she received from an old couple across the isle, before hissing to her now slightly baffled daughter, "Just what do you think you're doing?"

Mikan frowned at her. "Uhh. . .I'm reading, mother." She returned the milk box on her food tray and immediately went back into reading. Yuka slightly rolled her eyes; who in the heck read while wearing sunglasses? Her daughter was one weird species, indeed.

"What are you reading, anyway?" she asked, choosing to ignore the fact that Mikan was wearing shades in a plane while reading small Japanese text.

"The student handbook you gave me," was the faraway answer. "Are you sure this Alice Music Academy is the best in Japan?"

Yuka leaned back on her seat thoughtfully. "It is," she replied matter-of-factly, after a short pause. "That is the school where I and your father first met, after all."

Mikan's eyes, which were concealed in the pair of shades she wore out of fashion, widened at the rare mention of her father. Turning to look at her mother, she asked, in an innocent voice, "Is father a popular figure in school?"

Anyone else would find the question funny, but it just couldn't be helped in Mikan's case. With the better part of her childhood solely focused on improving her piano skills, the pretty brunette had never really had the chance to live a normal child's life, which included going to school and meddling with children her age. In her fifteen years of life, this was the first time that she would not be home-schooled, or treated with more relevance as a music figure; for in her soon-to-be new school, Alice Music Academy, she would be with people who were rich and musically talented as well – and she had learned (from numerous novels she read for 'research') that things called social pyramids existed among student bodies that usually determined a student's fame in the school where they go to. It made her curious as to what her parents' social stand were in this so-called 'student body pyramid' during their own times, and if it benefited them well, or not.

Mikan was surprised, however, when her mother chuckled softly. "Your father?" Her red-painted lips stretched in a beautiful smile. "How popular your father was, Mikan. He had his own fan club," she replied lightly.

"Oh?" Mikan blinked in surprise. "He was that popular?" Mental images of a faceless young man playing the violin plagued her mind for the meantime, with hordes of gushing girls squealing from the background. Somehow, the thought sent a smile on her lips.

"U-huh," Yuka said with a nod. "Just by his looks girls were driven easily to his feet. What more if he had his violin in him. . ."

Mikan turned back to the Alice Music Academy handbook in deep thought. "Mother. . ." she murmured after a while.

"Yes, princess?"

"Will I be able to fit in this school?"

Yuka regarded her daughter for a while with an amused smile. "Ah," she voiced out. "Just be yourself, Mikan, and everything will go on as you like them to."

Mikan sank slightly on her seat, but her mother didn't notice it. I hope things would go on that smoothly.

He was a violin virtuoso.

-

Mozart's Sonata in A major, Presto rang throughout the soundproof practice room, the overlapping keys weaving a complex and rapid tune that made the atmosphere exude anxiety and gnawing intensity. At the leftmost corner of the relatively spacious room, a black-haired girl hunched over a baby grand piano, her mildly shaking hands brushing over the keys with speed and precision of an above-average level. Her body unconsciously moved with the music she was creating, brows knitted slightly in concentration, her eyes tightly closed – for she had memorized the piece by heart, and had no need to look at what she's doing anymore – and jaw clenched shut, as if opening them would ruin her whole performance. This was a crucial moment for her, after all; she had practiced hard for this day, and there was no way she would forgive herself if she ruined it.

She had openly sighed in relief when she had finished the first movement with a flourish. Straightening back up, she gracefully wiped the beads of sweat she hadn't realized to have formed in her forehead, inwardly praising herself for a job well done. As far as she knew, she had not messed up in any way. She finally opened her eyes, and almost smiled as she welcomed the bright light that illuminated the cold practice room. Finally.

However, all her recently acquired bliss shattered into nothingness when a cold, deep voice rang from the opposite side of the room, startling her back to her senses.

"Kawamura Keiko, right?"

She restrained from shrinking into her seat as she felt a cold penetrating stare pierce through her skull. She slowly turned her head to the source, and almost gushed like a fangirl as she was met by an incredibly handsome – yet incredibly bored-looking as well – face; only the seriousness of the situation held her one-sided crush for the boy sitting at the back at bay. She tried hard not to shake as she returned his red-eyed gaze, for it was not good to show even a hint of hesitance when speaking to one Hyuuga Natsume.

But no one could seriously blame Kawamura Keiko if she wanted nothing more than to just evaporate right on the spot rather than face him. Hyuuga Natsume was Alice Music Academy's best violinist, despite him being only a high school freshman; the raven-haired violin virtuoso could easily beat all his seniors in A Orchestra's String Section without so much as batting an eyelid. His terrifying talent in violin, in addition to his equally terrifying fiery personality, made him escalate into a god-like figure in the academy that was worshipped by half of the student body, the other half being those who had crossed lines and waged wars with him, for reasons ranging widely from jealousy to personal grudge. Being on Hyuuga Natsume's bad side was equal to writing a death sentence: one glare would easily send one socially murdered twenty times over, so everyone knew better than to not meet his satisfaction.

And Keiko was well aware that, by the way he looked, Natsume was far from the least bit impressed.

Maybe packing her things tonight would not be such a bad idea now, after all.

Heavy and impenetrable silence fell on the practice room, where Keiko shivered like a mouse cornered by a horde of cats and Natsume stared at her in boredom. From beside Natsume, another fifteen-year-old boy sat quietly, possessing fly-away blonde hair and warm gray eyes that were now tinged with concern for poor Keiko. His hands rested limply on the desk attached to his chair – and from Keiko's position in front by the piano, his right wrist was clearly visible, heavily wrapped in bandage down to his fingers. The sight almost melted Keiko's heart. Poor Ruka-kun.

Almost.

Roughly a minute had already passed, and still, nobody moved nor spoke. Natsume continued staring, Ruka continued to look concerned, and Keiko continued fidgeting, as if they waited for something else to happen or someone to pop out in the center of the room and say "April Fools!" out loud.

When nothing happened, and no one revealed themselves from behind the cupboard to yell April fools, Keiko finally managed to squeak out a few words.

"H-Hyuuga-sama. . ." she said in a small voice. "How. . ." She gulped. "How was it. . .?"

Natsume made no indication that he heard her; Ruka, meanwhile, turned to his seatmate with a frown. "Natsume. . .?" he trailed off.

Only then that Natsume did something other than stare at Keiko, who was now an unrecognizable glob of goo under his piercing stare. He blinked slowly, before he grunted and unceremoniously got onto his feet, walking up the front in slow, precise footsteps. Ruka, after recovering from the slight surprise, stood as well and followed him, giving off a small warm smile to Keiko.

Keiko, seeing that Natsume was headed her way and the smile that Ruka gave her, considerably brightened up. There were no snide remarks or direct bashing (which the young Hyuuga usually did), so it must mean. . .it must mean. . .!

Now excited, Keiko made to open her mouth when Natsume was less than twenty feet away from her. "Hyuuga-sama - !"

But, to her shock, Natsume wordlessly bypassed her, heading directly for the door instead. No eye contact, not even a small word of recognition – he just walked by, as if Keiko was part of the wall. Ruka was shocked as well, coming to an abrupt halt right beside Keiko, confusion evident in his eyes.

When Natsume made no sign of turning back, the blonde boy called out, "Didn't she pass, Natsume?"

The raven-haired boy stopped, but did not turn to face them.

"Well, she did quite well," Ruka reasoned out, giving the teary-eyed Keiko a reassuring glance, "and we're running out of time for the concours. . .can't you choose her?"

There was a short pause, before Natsume said, in the same cold, monotonous voice, "Ruka, we're going."

"But - !"

"Ruka." His voice was firm, and it was a miracle that Ruka didn't even flinch.

But when Ruka made no indication that he would move any sooner, Natsume gave up and silently exited the practice room, leaving Ruka and Kawamura Keiko staring at his retreating back.

The moment the door snapped shut, Keiko broke down into tears.

Ruka, having no other option, went for comforting the disheartened schoolmate. "Kawamura-san, I'm sorry. . ."

Keiko looked at Ruka with a small understanding smile. "I-It's okay, Ruka-kun. . .I know I'm n-not good enough to be Hyuuga-sama's accompanist. . ."

Ruka shook his head in disagreement. "You're more than qualified, Kawamura-san. In fact, I find your performance earlier good. Natsume only had unusually high standards, please forgive him."

But Keiko shook her head dejectedly. "No, Ruka-kun. I know that the only person Hyuuga-sama wanted to be his accompanist is you." With that, her eyes traveled down to Ruka's bandaged right hand. "If only you were not injured. . ."

Ruka looked away remorsefully, before regaining himself and looking back at the black-haired girl. To Keiko's surprise, he rested his hands on her shoulders encouragingly. "Don't say that, Kawamura-san," he said kindly, making the girl blush lightly. "Natsume not humiliating you meant that he clearly understood the efforts you had put on just for playing for him. He knows to acknowledge those who love music truly."

Keiko stared at Ruka for a moment, before she smiled and nodded in understanding. "Thank you for encouraging me, Ruka-kun."

Ruka finally withdrew his hands (one normal and one injured) and let them fall limply on either side of him. Returning Keiko's smile, he said, "Do not worry about this anymore, Kawamura-san. What's important is that you did your best." With a nod, he turned and headed for the door. He thought that he needed to speak to Natsume about this.

However, as he was about to reach his uninjured hand for the doorknob, Keiko spoke.

"Ruka-kun?"

Ruka paused, and looked over his shoulder at Keiko. "Yes?"

She smiled and bowed. "Please extend my thanks to Hyuuga-sama. And please tell him that I wish him luck for the concours."

Ruka beamed at her. "I'll tell him that." Then he turned and left.

Keiko still stood there beside the piano, an absent smile playing on her lips. Somehow, she still felt grateful that the Hyuuga Natsume spent time listening to her, despite the fact that she hadn't impressed him one bit. At some corner of her mind, she wondered when the violin virtuoso would finally find the piano accompanist he deemed fit for him, especially since the concours was just around the corner, and so far almost all of the students in the piano department had tried out for the coveted position, only to come back brokenhearted (like herself) afterwards. The best pianist of their batch, Nogi Ruka, was unfortunately not fit at the moment, due to the injury on his right hand, thus making it near impossible for the Hyuuga to find the best for him. It would be a shame if Natsume was disqualified just because he wasn't able to find himself an accompanist. She sincerely wished him the best of luck.

Hyuuga-sama. . .she thought. When will you find the pianist that you're looking for?

-

"Yosh. . ."

Mikan stepped out of the airport, adjusting her sunglasses as she looked up at the bright early afternoon sky. A wide smile graced her lips, and her long brown hair gently flew behind her as a gust of wind swept by.

"Alice Music Academy. . .here I come!"

-

Just like there was a Paganini for Liszt.

xx tbc. . .

Disclaimer: Isang malaking kasinungalingan kung aariin ko ang GA. GA is owned by a woman named Higuchi Tachibana. I'm a woman, yes, but I'm not Higuchi Tachibana. I hope you obviously knew that from the very beginning, or else. . .I dunno what to think of you anymore. XD

Notes from your lovely authoress: I'm new here! Watashi no namae wa twiggie-chan, desu! Yoroshiku onegaishimasu! Please review Le Duo to make me happy! Oh, and the piano pieces I mentioned above are no way my property, in case you still didn't figure that one out. So. . .PLEASE REVIEW! XD If you found anything disagreeable, feel free to point it out to me.

And poor Ruka-kun. . .injured. :'(

Credits: I credit my beloved Yoko-chan for the wonderful summary, and Cream-o-holic Writer for spending time planning this out with me. XD Luv ya! :3

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Date Started: 01.05.08
Date Finished: 01.05.08
Date Revised: 01.05.08