Disclaimer: We do not own La Corda D'oro.
~The Exorcism of Len Tsukimori~
When once a tamed Len Tsukimori gone wild. "You can pay me with your body."
Chapter I
"Len, can you get your baby albums?"
"But mo—"
"No buts, dear. I have to put these frames to use, shouldn't I? And this house needs more of your smiling face."
"Yes, mother."
Len drew a sigh and continued his languid gait toward their attic—where their valuable and old things were kept. It was not a long walk but the fact that his mother fancied about his childhood photos made it look stressful. If ever his fellow participants would visit him again, unannounced, they might be able—or more so, they would really see his baby photos in its grandeur. Embarrassment would be an understatement. A word scandalous, he reckoned, was more preferable.
He turned the knob of the door and looked at the small compartment of their house. He had to lean over before entering it as to not hit the chuck of wood about the ceiling.
Len didn't need to look any further as the photo albums were placed just above a shelf with his other childhood stuffs at the right. A word 'Len' inscribed on the top of the canopy. When he was near, he held the albums securely yet cautiously with his right hand, avoiding the stain of dust lingering over it. He was going to turn around when his left foot stumbled upon a seeming box. Dust enclosed the place. He coughed, and silently cursed. In curiosity, he knelt and grabbed it.
"What's this?" he placed the albums on the floor and tried to open the box. With one forceful pull, the lid opened, and a seeming green light exploded from within. Len had to oppress the shout lumping in his throat. He thinned his lips and stared—with feigned calmness—at the box which was somehow grew ominously.
"I'm free!" the unidentified 'it' muttered in delight.
Len gawked hard, subconsciously losing the cool he had nurtured for as long as he existed. His face turned pallid. "What…what are you?"
The 'it' roamed around, its green mist forming into a man figure until it stopped just above Len in his full human—yet translucent—form. "What what? I'm who."
"Who's who?"
"Damn! Are you stupid or what?" The seeming ghost flew farther, his hand lifted to dismiss Len. "Never mind. I don't have time for you. I need to go."
Len watched in horror as the man hovered upward only to be pushed back by an invisible force. He landed on his back, sweater rumpled backward for Len's scrutinizing eyes see the gleam of 1976 on it.
Judging by Len's view, the man wasn't Japanese with his obvious fiery gray eyes and intimidating height. However, Len couldn't say that he was pure American as he had a lighter bronze tone and jet-black tresses. What made it more difficult to conclude was his foreign shirt that was a sweater from an old school in Europe.
"Damn! I cannot leave this place" the voice roared cutting Len's observation.
"H-Huh?" Len uncharacteristically muttered, trying to gain his composure before continuing. "It's not my problem anymore." He collected the albums on the floor and stood up to walk toward the door.
"You will help this one in finding the answers," the man instructed with ferocity. He lifted his hand and a strong wind gusted and pushed the door lock.
With shock obvious on Len's face, he muttered, "I don't care about your problem. So would you please open the door?"
"Man, man, man. You released me from my cage. Isn't it more beneficial if you help me until I get out of this damned world?"
"Why did you get here in the first place?" Len shouted back. He had wasted more of his time. The fact that his baby photos would be a threat to his notorious cold personality wasn't helping either.
"It's a long story, my boy. Now come on and promise you'll grace me with your service."
"I am not your servant."
"One more argument and I'll have to hurt you. Don't underestimate me, boy."
"I-I am not scared of you. You're non-existence."
"Am I?" the man's ominous eyes glowed. He lifted and covered Len's shoulder with his right hand. Cold instantly froze the blue head in place. "Do you think that's non-existence?"
"The iciness of yours won't scare me."
"Damned." The guy moved backward and suddenly tackled Len.
The place enveloped of blue and green fog. Light flickered whilst the surrounding turned silent.
"Len, why are you taking so long—" Misa muttered. She was going to unlock the attic door when it opened, Len emerged from the inside. "I thought you didn't see the albums. Anyway, thank you for your help, dear." Misa grabbed the album from his loosened grip.
Len lifted his head and looked to her direction. Who's this beauty? "Hey, darling. Wanna have some fun with me—"
"Len! Mind your words!" Misa screeched with palpable revulsion. "Wait till your father learns about this. You surely need to relearn ethics. Change your clothes and go to school." Misa turned around and stomped away.
Oh geez! Mother alert. Oh boy, you got a hot mama there. "So, school? Boring!"
"You're going to school, young man! I'll wait for you in the living room."
And scary too. Len sighed and walked to what it looked like his room. This must be it. Blue, blue, blue, boring, nerdish. Yeah, this is his room. He walked toward his cabinet and ransacked the contents. What kind of clothes are these?
"Len, you're going to be late!" Misa shouted from downstairs.
"Yeah, mom! I'm preparing," Len replied back, wearing his school uniform in disgust. "Damn, I'm more good-looking than this boy. Anyway, I can endure. He's not that bad, but there is a big difference between our handsomeness. Maybe a little, wait…more improvising would do." After some time he looked at his reflection with satisfaction. "Damn, Andrew Salvi, you're handsome. Let's go, myself."
"Len, the car is waiting, go there and our driver is waiti—" Misa choked the remaining words in her throat. Her composed and sweet expression darkened and twisted to rage. "Young man! Explain that appearance of yours."
"Mom, it's style!"
"Style or not you're going to school, button that blazer and unfold those sleeves. Did you knock your head earlier?" Misa sighed. "You're acting very strangely, Len. Are you being rebellious? Do you have problem? Tell me."
Oh shit, she mustn't know this is not her son. "N-no, mother. I was simply curious about this style and I thought of trying it. If you don't like it, then I'll not try it again."
"Oh!" Misa sighed in relief. "I thought you…never mind. Its fine to change style but don't do it with your school uniform. You can experiment with your normal clothes instead."
"Yes, mother. If you don't mind, I'm going to be late." Len acted and buttoned his blazer.
"Yes, dear. Take care."
~…~
Oh geez, this place is the epitome of a true boredom. There are courts but I am not allowed because I'm effin music student. Then this case… I'm no violinist! Oh geez, I need woman. But the girls were avoiding me. Seriously, what is this boy doing in his teenage life? Ruining it? You'll thank me later…
"Let see, I need a girl." Len was going to open the rooftop door when it opened.
"I'm so sorry…" the girl bowed down. Her vermillion hair cascaded like thread of silk, emitting a sweet aroma effectively enticing the man in question.
Answered prayer. "No, dude…er, no it's fine, lady."
The lady lifted her head with a smile. The bullions, that were eyes, gleamed softly and innocently. "Tsukimori-kun?"
Oh man, I take back what I said you have a hot chick here. "Ah…?"
Kahoko blushed. "Ah, I-I was thinking if you're going to teach me again…but it's ok if you can't right now."
Teach what? I can teach you more than that. A subconscious smile flitted on his lips. "Yeah, sure. I'd be glad to teach you."
"Really? Let's go."
"Ah, where…?"
"Huh?" Kahoko tilted her head at the side, making her expression more innocent.
Oh geez, you're tempting me. "Hn?"
"Aren't we usually practice in the music room."
"Oh, lead the way." Oh, this is fun. After the whole boring day, finally!
~…~
"So…" Len looked at her—looking for any tag or something that would let him know who she was. It was not appropriate if he asked her directly. That would create confusion and suspicion.
"Yes? Ah…we started Sicilienne yesterday but it's already late that's why you said we can continue it now."
The luck is with me. I know this piece. "Go on, let's see what you got."
Kahoko got her violin, placed it on her shoulder and tucked it in with her chin. She started the first notes smoothly until it turned rough and inconsistent at the latter. Len had to try to stop and lecture her of the proper sound for it. After some time of practicing, Kahoko deemed that it was quite late already—it was almost sunset, and Kahoko didn't wish for the guy to go home late.
"Tsukimori-kun, I think, it's enough for today."
"Oh…" Len looked at his watch and silently cursed. Do they leave this early? But the fun would always start much later. "Ok, if that's what you want," he replied however.
"Thank you, Tsukimori-kun. I'm so happy that you're helping me. If only I can give you something in return."
"You don't have to." But if you insist…
"I insist. What do you want?"
Jackpot! "Really?"
"Yes, it's not nice if you're helping me but I don't give you something in return. I want to pay you back. So…" Kahoko smiled. "What is it?"
Len smiled—devilishly. "If you really insist. There is one thing that I want." He started walking toward her.
Kahoko tilted her head sideways. "Tell me?"
"You can pay me with your body." He leaned closer, cornering the girl between his form and the wall.
"I-I…"
The sound of the Grandfather's Clock echoed in the surrounding, indicating that it was already six in the evening.
The sudden vigor hauled the soul out of the body placing it with another one. Len blinked the blurriness of his vision. He should be happy that he could see clearly now, right? However, how could he be at ease if he found himself towering a girl—face hued with bright red—in her very vulnerable stance.
"T-Tsukimori-kun…I-I…"
What did that 'it' do?
Authoress Corner:
Hallo, Everyone! This is NeKo Meow talking, I and Ishikawa Aya-hime decided to make this story for you. Hope you like it. And please do leave reviews, it'll be appreciated.
I can only say, this can be a crackfic. Torturing Tsukimori.
©2012