Legato

by Hazel Liebovsky

Legato : music without breaks between notes. Smooth and connected. Set seven years after the anime. In order to save her shattered relationship with Nagisa, Shizuma accepts to work as permanent conductor in an orchestra. There, she will find the meaning of the word legato.

2. Chapter 2

Here is the second chapter. I would like to thank you guys who read and those who reviewed the first chapter, to say the truth I was not expecting any feedback so it did warm my heart in this cold winter =D thank you. It's good to know that you like it even if I introduced a bunch of new characters. As always please read SLOWLY because I haven't started the third chapter yet in fact. And I apologize in advance for the errors/typos you might or might not find. God knows how many times I've edited the first chapter because of them. We're still human beings after all.

I'm still looking for a musician who plays in an orchestra though, come on I don't bite. Until I find him/her let me warn you that even if I made some research this fiction isn't totally accurate my knowledge isn't that great on this subject but I'm improving! I'm improving!

I don't own Strawberry Panic!

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Legato

by Hazel Liebovsky

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Chapitre Deux

"It's only an audition! Give it a try what do you have to lose anyway?"

Eyes opened in the dark room filled by silence. The shadow on the bed remained still for a moment, looking at the black ceiling. After a while, it moved up and leaned its back against the headboard.

"Damn you, Leslie," a haggard hand searched for the light and turned it on. "Damn you."

Isis blinked a few times, turning her head to the right. The clock on bedside table was screaming Friday, four am. She sighed. Her night was over. Great.

Thanks to a certain blonde man, she had spent the last week waking up at incongruous hours only to find herself not being able to sleep again. This was seriously getting on her nerves. She was tired and unable to focus when she was working. Why? Because of a damned audition she did not even want to do. She sighed again. No, she did not want to do it and only agreed because Leslie wouldn't have left her alone otherwise. She didn't even voice her decision! She did not want to do this audition...right?

The young woman ran her eyes over her bedroom's furniture, stopping when her gaze reached a case customized a long, long time ago. When she was still a young student, full of dreams and especially illusions. A woman's naked back was drawn handmade on each side of it, in the style or Man Ray's photograph, the head turned to the left. It was a very expensive case actually. A sixteen birthday present offered by her mom, not discreet at all. And she has always loved it.

Oh, God. Her mom. How long has it been since she last phoned her? Undignified child. Isis sighed again and took her phone. After the fifth ring tone a sleepy female voice answered her.

"You've got five seconds exactly to explain me why I shouldn't hang up."

"Mhm, let me see... maybe because I'm your daughter?" Isis replied after slapping her head with her palm. Of course. It was four in the morning. Stupid brat.

"Who?" The voice was already more joyful.

"Isis."

"Sorry?" Isis giggled. She knew what she had to say.

"Mom."

"Ah! Finally, how many times will I need to tell you to call me Mom?"

"Until you die."

"Oh God, happy thoughts already. What's going on sweetie?"

She took a breath before answering. "I can't sleep."

"No... For real? Want me to sing you a lullaby? Though, my abilities as singer are quite... limited." The voice laughed.

"No I..." Isis sighed. "I just wanted to hear your voice...I miss you, Mom."

"You do?" She could feel the smile in her mother's tone. "Then get your lovely little butt on a plane and come visit me."

"I... no, Mom. I can't," she said quietly.

"Ah," the voice sighed. "At least I've tried, huh?" And that laugh again. "Tell me child, what is bothering you? Isn't that man with a girl's name? Sandy isn't it?

Isis smirked before answering. "It's Leslie, Mom and no it has anything to do with him. Or at least not directly," she took a moment before speaking again. "It's about an audition, for a concertmaster." Good, she said it, first step.

"Sandy, Leslie, it's the same rea—wait, did you say an audition?"

"Yes."

"That's... wonderful!" The voice cheered. "Really, Isis that's wonderful!" And for the first ten seconds she felt the joy making its way in her as well. Only for ten seconds though, and reality slapped straight in her face with its icy claws.

"Mom... I can't do it."

"Of course you can. And you will do this audition." The voice scolded.

"It's been too long Mom. They are searching for a professional player…I mean, I haven't played with an orchestra since..." she stopped here, unable to end her sentence, the memories were still here, too fresh.

The voice on her phone sighed. Of course she knew. "You want to do it, Isis," she said as softly as she could.

"No."

"You want to do it," the voice repeated. "Or else you would not be bothering an old woman at four o'clock."

Isis remained silent for a while. Her mother spoke the truth. She had nothing to say, nothing because it was right. She was dying to do this audition. Just... a try as Leslie said. Just to see if she could still do it. Just to free herself from a past that has left her life to rot for almost five years now.

"Am I wrong?" Her mother's voice snapped her out of thoughts.

"No... I" Face the fucking truth! Isis shook her head. "No, you aren't wrong Mom." Admittance was second step.

"Then, look at your violin case, look at it." The voice waited a bit and went on. "Are you facing it?"

Isis glanced at the case. "Yes, I am."

"Good. Now take it and go play on the roof," her mother said in a dead serious tone.

Isis laughed, but it fell flat when her mom remained silent. "Wait, you're serious?"

"I am," she answered simply.

"But it's freez—"

"No more buts daughter. You've used them too much these years. Now do it. And let your poor old mother sleep." The voice said in an over dramatic tone.

Isis considered her mother's proposition. True, it was cold outside. But she needed practice and playing at four in the morning in your flat was not a good idea says the neighbors. The roof, on the other hand was a good place. Silent and calm, nobody ever came, nobody cared about the roof. Still, it was cold outside. Very cold.

"Isis..." The tone was a little harsh. Only a little.

She sighed. "Fine, I will play."

"Good," the voice released a sigh. "Now let me sleep."

Isis laughed, she said goodbye and was going to hang up when something hit her. She had to ask. Maybe this time she would get an answer. Oh maybe!

"Mom?"

"Yeeesss?"

"Who chose my name when I was born?" She asked softly. Yes, maybe she would get a response this time.

"Me."

"Then, why the hell did you call me like tha—"

"I want to sleep. I love you. Goodbye!" Her mother cut her, speaking as fast as she could before hanging up violently.

Isis froze on the spot, the phone still at her ear. Damn. Not this time.

It was a question that has been bothering her since childhood. Why such a name? Not that she hated it. No, in fact she did. It was a weird name. And children were not known to be the kindest people in kindergarten. But time passing she grew to like it, little by little. And this question always remained in her mind. Her mother never answered it, no matter how many times she asked, how many tricks she imagined to make her tell the truth about this mystery...that would remain a mystery, for now at least.

"I will get my answer before you die, old woman," she rose from her bed, walking toward the wardrobe to choose something warm. While dressing, she glanced at the case again. It was lying carefully on her furniture. She really did love it.

"It's you and me, baby," she smiled at the woman's back on it. "Like old good times." Isis grabbed its handle before heading to the roof.

The last step was action.

-0-

"Oh my God, Isis I'm in love!" A joyful Ann slapped the rest door open, turning around herself with her arms wide open.

The sound startled the other woman who nearly fell from the table she was lying on. She barely caught her balance.

"Were you asleep?"

"No. I was getting high." Isis answered sarcastically while sitting on the table "Wasn't it obvious?"

"Oh, fine then. You look like crap, by the way." Ann washed the woman's answer with her hand before she could even voice it. "I'm in love!" She said her face lighting up. "I'm in love, I'm telling you!"

"Okay, stop yelling and shut that door already." Isis massaged her throbbing temples after fixing her hair and putting her glasses on, mostly to hide the bags that had decided to relocate themselves below her eyes.

"You're such a mood killer, little girl," the employee went to close the door, left open after her outburst.

"Now come and sit kiddo," she smiled warmly at her while pointing to the chair.

A childish grin split half of Ann's face and she literally flew over, to the chair facing the table and sat cross-legged on it. "I'm in love," she repeated again, looking completely out of it.

"Who is the victim?" Isis smirked when the woman's grin dropped and rephrased her sentence, "Who is the ever lucky person who caught your heart…" She trailed off "…This time?" Her smile widened.

"Bitch."

"As always." Her face became more serious. "So? Who is he?"

"She. Who is she." Ann corrected.

The woman gasped. "You're not serious, are you?" All she got was a mischievous smirk.

"Aphrodite."

The other gave her a puzzled look, "Aphro..." then she remembered a certain funky silver haired woman she entertained because she was bored. Said woman who ate half of her chocolate, by the way. "Oh, The pianist! You meant the pianist?"

"Pianist? How do you know she is a pianist? She told you she was a pianist? She didn't even tell me she was a pianist!" Ann pouted. Actually, if she came to think about it a little further - which she had not - she would notice that Aphrodite did not talk about herself at all, letting the girl lead the conversation.

"She did not, calm down. I guessed because I'm just so damn gifted. Don't cry kiddo." Isis giggled. "So are you sure you are...you know...'in love'?" She emphasized the last words by making quotation marks with her fingers.

"Yes!" Ann gave her a bright smile, showing all her white teeth.

"It is a woman, you know that? She doesn't have the dangling thingy, Ann."

"I know."

"You know she's got breasts, Ann." Isis said in the same even tone she used in her previous sentence.

"I don't care about breasts," the other answered bluntly.

"Ah-ha! That's it!" The woman smirked widely "That's exactly it. You don't care about it, but she does. What do you think you will be doing with her? Play scrabble and cuddle before a fireplace while listening to cheesy Barry White?" When the girl tried to reply, Isis went on. "She is a predator kiddo, who knows exactly what she wants and how to get it."

Isis was right, she knew she was. She felt it, that woman...that woman was a temptress, a nymph who could easily lure you. She noticed it. With a single glance she noticed it. People like this pianist were players. And they would stay players for life, until they meet someone more deceitful than them, the roles would switch and they would become the prey. Suffering as much as they made the others suffer.

"Now if you want what she wants, then go for it. But I can tell you that she is certainly not longing for your brain." Isis finished with an unusual motherly tone as she glanced at Ann's distressed features.

After a moment of intense reflection Ann asked bluntly, "What if I want what she wants?" Sure, being this way...with another woman...it was not a big deal, was it? She could handle it, right?

Isis' face darkened and a mischievous smile appeared on her lips. "Then..." she started with her deep sexy voice while walking slowly toward her. "Would you be able to..." ever so slowly she leaned in, her face only a few inches from a completely frozen Ann. When their lips were only a breath apart, Isis turned her head to the right and leaned to her ear, parting her lips and whispering the end of her sentence.

Ann turned pale.

Pulling back, Isis admired her handiwork. "Welcome to the reality, kiddo. Hope you don't get 'eaten' too fast." she giggled when the younger woman looked at her, completely terrified. She was going to speak again when the door opened letting random employee come in the rest room.

Isis winked to her before leaving. She had to work.

-0-

The clock on the beige wall of the massage room showed half past six pm. She was going to be late. Pouring more oil on her palm, she ran her hands smoothly on the customer's bare back. Yes, she was late. Leslie told her the audition would end at seven. And her shift was ending in fifteen minutes. Damn. Punctuality was definitely not one of her strongest points, but being late for an audition was surely not a good idea.

She circled her thumbs in a strategic point, making the woman melt on the massage table and moan.

"God, this feels so good," the customer said with a dreamy voice.

"I bet it does." Isis answered without thinking. Right now she was more worried with the audition. She had grown stressed during the day and she was going to be late.

"Isis?" The lying woman asked shyly.

"Yes?"

"Could you...um...you know..." she turned her head to face her, a light blush on her cheeks.

The employee looked back and smiled. "Of course," she lowered the towel that was on her behind a little bit and made her way to the south with her fingers.

Relieved that she hadn't been forced to voice her wishes, the woman settled back into position before releasing a reassured sigh. "Thank you."

Trailing her hands on the lower back, Isis found the point she was searching for and started to massage it, switching slow and smooth to harder motions. It was known for its aphrodisiac virtues, she had been taught by woman from Thailand. Isis remembered the first time she tried the massage on a customer, at first a little reticent. The following day this very same customer came back, hugged her tightly and thanked her a million times for as, without this massage she would not have spent a hell of a night turning her house upside down with her husband for six hours.

Word to mouth playing its wonderful trick, soon after that, a lot of customers came to the spa asking ever so shyly for 'the massage that could turn them on for half a day'. It became very popular among the thirty and more years old women who wanted to reheat the flame with their companions without going to a swinger club.

"Oh… yes... oh my goodness yes!" The customer gripped the edge of the table. "Don't stop!" This snapped Isis out of her thoughts and her eyes widened. Is she going to...oh God, no! NO! Not here! She stopped her motions

Too late.

A side effect of this turn on massage was that it was too much turn on. Thus, a lot of women often reached the nirvana before even coming back to their homes. A pity for their husbands and for the spa itself that had to invest a lot of money in new sheets now.

"I... I think I'm done, Miss." Isis broke the awkward silence that settled.

"Oh... um... o-okay, good." The woman wrapped the towel around herself while shifting in a sitting position on the edge of the table. "I'm... I'm sorry," she said, head on the right carefully avoiding eye contact with the other girl.

"It is fine." Isis gave her a reassuring smile. Bitch, she thought, I'm going to be even more late thanks to you. "It's fine really, do not worry about that." She said forcing her smile a little longer.

She let the woman get off of the table, still trembling a little from the experience. After packing her stuff, the customer left the room, apologizing one more time for the inconvenience. When the door shut, Isis glanced at the clock on the wall. It was ten to seven. She sighed and began to clean. Too late for the audition now. Sorry, Leslie.

No... No, actually she was not sorry. Not at all.

Her jaw clenched. Anger was making its way into her.

A week without sleeping. An entire week. Nights of practice in the cold breeze on the roof. Countless hours of stress. A whole night of introspection pondering the pros and cons. Hell, she even called her Mom! All that... all that over nothing? That was too bad.

Hands turned into fists at her sides, she looked at the clock again. "Fuck it all." Isis hissed while walking out to take her case and her coat in the rest room without bothering to change from her work blouse and pants. Making her way out of the beauty salon, she started running. She could do it. She could run and catch up with the conductor before he left. Show him that she was worth his time.

Or so she repeated to herself... Just a try. Give me my chance, damn it! Isis screamed in her head while running faster.

-0-

She was panting, but at least she reached her destination. Opening the front door, Isis stepped in the huge building. It was not her first time to come; she had accompanied Leslie before and she knew some people of the orchestra as well. Unlike a certain conductor, she was not lost and quickly found the corridor that led to the concert room. Glancing at her watch, she noticed that she was only fifteen minutes late. It was good enough fifteen minutes, right?

She quickened her pace. Turning to the left she bumped violently onto something, fortunately Isis had the presence of mind to wrap her arms around her violin case, avoiding it to fall on the floor. It was a case, not a shield and she valued it as much as the violin inside it. She fell on her butt and let out a growl.

"Can't you fucking see where you're going?" The figure sprawled on the floor asked her.

She was going to make a sharp shot back when the woman glanced at the figure's case. It was on the floor, wide open. She looked at its owner, a young man. When he noticed his case on the floor he crawled as fast as he could, examining it carefully to assess the damage".

"Bitch," he spat, narrowing his eyes. "The chin is broken. I hope you're proud of yourself!"

She glared at him but made no comments. She could not. Because if it was her chin that was broken, she would certainly knock the bastard out and hang him with the violin's strings before peeling his skin. Standing up, she voiced a small 'sorry' before walking again.

"Where are you going?" The man asked. When no response came he added, "If it's for the audition, it's over."

Isis turned her head to face the young musician.

"The lady bitch they dare call a conductor literally threw me out of the room in the middle of my piece."

Her eyes widened in surprise. The conductor was a she? Strange. Okay that was not the point for now. She... she threw him out... in the middle of his interpretation? She dared? No one dared. Two facts could explain it; either he sucked, or the conductor was a picky bitch who did not want to be late for dinner.

Fine. Very well. Isis would not disturb her any longer then. Narrowing her eyes she walked back to the exit, slamming the front door after her passage and leaving the man completely stunned by her mood swings.

She was angry.

Angry at that little spoiled ass they hired as conductor.

Who am I kidding? Isis smiled bitterly. She was angry at herself. Angry because she believed in it. Angry for feeding her illusions about this audition throughout the week. Angry because she lied to herself again. No, no, of course no, she could not do it. Why did she think otherwise? Why? Fool. She was a fool. That was it. A complete fool.

Tomorrow, she would kill Leslie.

But now, now she needed to release the pressure. She walked to a place, not far from the parking lot. It was empty only highlighted by single floor lamp. It was bleak. Perfect. She put the case on the ground carefully and opened it. The night blue velvet shinned in the moonlight. Taking one of the three bows in one hand, she caressed the violin before taking it by the fingerboard. She turned around to directly face the wind.

And then she started to play Toccata & Fugue. It was raw. Erratic. A complete draft, but she did not care. She needed this wave of wildness to wash her anger. It always helped, as it did tonight.

"Fuck," she whispered, stopping the music. "Just. Fuck," her fingers were starting to freeze thanks to the cold wind and she had forgotten her gloves at work because of her spontaneous rush. She began to play again. Louder. Harsher. Sharper.

"You are arrogant, perched on your little pedestal, thinking that nobody should listen to your music because nobody deserves to."

Leslie's words echoed in her head. Arrogant? Really? Who was the arrogant one here? Her, or this mysterious conductor who doesn't even let people prove themselves and throw them out without mercy? She was the one perched on the pedestal.

The music stopped again and Isis panted. Closing her eyes she took long, slow breaths. Exhaustion. She was exhausted, the pressure had loosened its claws on her shoulders and tiredness happily took its place. She could feel them. The tears, just behind her eyelids. But they did not fall when she opened her eyes. They never fall. They've stopped falling a long time ago. Their source had dried.

She played again. If the tears did not want to fall, she would make her violin cry for her. This time it was slow and sad. Painfully sweet. After all, Schubert's Serenade was not known to be a joyful piece. Memories rushed before her eyes and she shut them tightly, playing even louder. She could see them in her mind. She could see him.

Her little finger slipped and she stopped before making the inevitable wrong note that would have followed.

"Damn it," she cursed.

At the same moment, footsteps could be heard behind her back. Isis released a smoked yelp before turning her head to the left, eying the listener. She caught a glimpse of silver hair before she turned around to face the person.

Silence filled the space between them. Isis' face would have shown surprise if she was not so exhausted. She remained still, staring at the woman in front of her. Though she must have been standing there, like any other mortal, it seemed to her that Aphrodite had descended from Olympus and was next to her, reaching for her with a gloved hand, eyes wide open.

Nymph. No, definitely not. Isis was not ready to deal with her tonight. The flirt was fun last time, but now she was not in the mood. Shaking her head, the violinist knelt on the floor to pack her instrument in its case.

"Good evening." Shizuma engaged the conversation simply. Don't frighten her.

"Yeah, hello." That deep and sexy voice answered. Go away.

Yeeshh, cold. She wondered if it was really the same girl as the spa. She seemed very different. "I... I heard you playing." God, why was it suddenly so awkward? "You are good. Very good in fact." Meaning: I almost melt in tears when I heard you but I won't say it. Coward.

"Thank you." Isis did not look at her, still pretending to be busy with her case.

When she understood that her silence would not get rid of the woman for her she decided to speak again. "What are you doing here? Are your part of the orchestra?" She couldn't be, Isis knew the pianist, and it was a man.

"Sort of yes." Shizuma responded. Miss Magic Hands was finally making a sentence with more than two words in a row and for some reason, she felt strangely proud of herself. "I am the new conductor."

Isis' head snapped up and she glared at Shizuma. "You are?" The tone was harsh, brutal.

"I am." The conductor answered simply with an even voice.

"Good," with that she rose from the floor and started walking in the opposite direction.

Astonishment filled Shizuma's features. What was wrong with this woman? No one ever dared to turn their back to her like that. She was the one doing it. Not the other way around.

"Wait!" She said, louder enough to be heard by the other woman.

"Get lost!" Isis spat walking away. She did not know where she was going, but she was going, for sure.

Shizuma froze on the spot. Hasn't she just...? Oh yes, she has. Something was definitely wrong with her. She just wanted to compliment her on her music and maybe ask her to play again, inside this time, and why not get her name by the same way? And she, she treated her like a... like a... a...

Human being.

The conductor smirked. She definitely liked this girl.

And Shizuma did something she hasn't done since a good time. Running after someone. Grabbing the woman's arm, she made her turn around to face her eyes. Again, something quite unworthy for someone such as her. But she did not care; if this girl was treating her like a simple mortal, then she would be a simple mortal.

"I told you to wai—" Oh my God. Those eyes...those eyes, the first time she saw them they were blue, clear blue with strands of yellowish green. Now...oh God, now that they were glowering at her, the yellowish green was dominant, only striped with blue.

She decided that she had just fallen in love with those eyes. Only the eyes though.

"Let go of my arm, Hanazono." Isis' voice snapped her out of her observation.

Hanazono? The woman grinned with pride. Ah? So she still remember my name?... Wait, she remembers my name! She remembers my name! This sweet melody rang in her head and Shizuma really felt like hugging the girl right now, for the sole reason that she remembered her name. Stupid ego.

"No I won't," she said the grin still set on her face, "Let's go inside, I want to hear you play. You came for the audition, right?" She pointed the violin case is the woman's hand.

"That's it. I came, and now I am going so let go of my arm." Though, Isis herself wasn't making any effort to let go. Actually, she was fighting a silent and duel with herself. She wanted to go. She wanted to stay, she came here after all. No, she ran till here. Mmh, dilemma.

"Why would you listen to me whereas you have thrown that guy out, in the middle of his piece?" She asked, she had to know, and Hanazono's answer would set her fate. Do it, or not do it? That was the question.

The other woman gave her a puzzled look. The guy? What gu—Ah...ugh. Him.

"He made my ears buzz." Shizuma explained. She still had a bad echo in her ears thanks to that very talented musician. "He slaughtered Handel. I love Handel. He slaughtered him. He's out."

The violinist stared at her blankly. Though, deep, deep inside her she was relieved. Why? She was too tired to seek an answer now.

"He sucked?"

A nod.

"Really sucked?"

Another nod, eager this time.

"Let go of my arm?"

A shake.

"Please?"

Same response.

Isis let out a defeated sigh, this woman was coriaceous. "If I come with you, will you let go of my arm?"

A brisk nod and a smirk answered her.

Shizuma eventually let go and they walked together in silence. The conductor took the opportunity to look at the woman's profile. Her hair was straight down, reaching her blades and the night was giving it a beautiful nuance of black-brown. Her nose, so little and adorable, gave her a cute childish look. Wandering her eyes a little she glanced at the lips... oh her lips. Rosy. Inviting. Sensual. It is exactly at this precise moment that the tip of her tongue decided to wet them.

Torturous.

"Would you please stop that?"

"Stop what?" She asked innocently

"Checking me out as if I was some piece of meat."

"Am I? I was just admiring the scenery," Shizuma said.

"Of course, just admiring. Then keep your distance with the said scenery, please."

Her eyes widened. Hasn't she just...? Oh yes, yes she has. Again. She was going to open her mouth when they reached the building. She slowed her pace when they entered. Shizuma still had issues locating herself in this place. But having this natural and very useless pride, she would not admit it, so she let Isis lead them to the concert room.

"Don't you have errands you must attempt to?" The violinist asked.

The question took her aback, suddenly Nagisa's picture flashed in her mind. Oops.

"No I do not," she lied, "Thank you for your concern though." Goodbye Nagisa! She was already searching an excuse to make up explaining her absence. Wait…I don't need to, do I? I will just say the truth. I had a late audition with a musician…She looked at the woman walking beside her…a very sexy musician.

Yep, the truth would be good for once. She would tell it to Nagisa. Minus the sexy thing of course, the young woman might not take it well.

Opening the door, Shizuma went to light the stage while Isis, shaking her hands to regain some flexibility and blood pressure, made her way in the large alley which crossed the row of red seats in two parts. The room was big, usually used for conferences by the city itself and concerts of course. She stepped on the stage, opening her case and taking the violin and one of the three bows. The light blinded her a little and she narrowed her eyes.

It reminded her of the old time. The rows of seats, the large stage, the blinding projectors. Isis felt her mind wander, back to this time. She could hear the public applauding when they entered on stage. She could smell the scent of strings rubbing against strings. She could see the musicians sweating. She could feel herself smiling again.

"Ready?" Shizuma's voice drew her out of those thoughts.

Isis nodded and waited. The conductor walked her way to the last row, the one before the stage and sat, crossing her legs with a charming smile on her features.

Shizuma waited. And waited. And waited again. When the woman did not seem to want to start, the smile dropped. "What is the matter?"

The violinist looked back and pointed the piano with her bow. "An accompaniment, maybe?"

"You don't need it," she replied honestly. She had heard her. She did not need it.

"I do."

"You don't."

"I do."

Shizuma sighed in despair. Rising from her seat, she removed her coat and went to the piano. When settled, she turned her head to Isis. "Schubert again?"

She shook her head. "Paganini, Caprice number 24. You don't seem to be someone easy to impress."

And it was true, if the look on Shizuma's face was any help. Paganini number 24? That girl was crazy. Or either very talented. Or both. Number 24 was the equal of Hell for all violinists, mostly because of the left handed pizzicato. Knowing this the pianist realized that she had never listened to a live performance of a Caprice that was worth it. This night was definitely full of surprises.

Glancing at the violinist, she noticed that Isis' hands were…shaking? Maybe she had seen too big after all. "We can play something else if you want." I am giving you an escape, so take it.

Hands immediately stopped trembling and she faced Shizuma. "No, it is fine."

The other woman nodded and settled herself in front of the piano again. "Start when you are ready."

Isis positioned the violin's chin and closed her eyes. Taking slow breaths, she tried to calm down. Easy…breathe…inhale…exhale…she is not watching you now. The woman opened an eye briefly to make sure. No…she is not. You can do it. There's only the two of you here. Only the two of you…only the two of us. With that she started playing.

The first notes were hesitant but Isis quickly gained in confidence and played frankly.

Amazingly accurate.

Fast, but not rushed. Each notes hit Shizuma's ears like arrows and soon she found herself taken in this storm. Her eyes closed and her fingers slipped on the keys following the violin. They were not talking, they were not looking, yet they understood each other perfectly. Piano and violin playing in tandem.

Here is the pizzicato part...let's see how you will handle it, my dear. Shizuma played lower to be fully able to hear Isis. Opening her eyes and clenching her jaw in anticipation of wrong notes.

They never came.

Stopping completely her play, she turned her body to face the violinist. The woman saw those blue yellowish pools focused on the fingerboard, her fingers dancing, pinching the strings as if they had a mind on their own and the bow, moving fast and following them. Isis was not aware that the accompaniment she had asked for stopped itself. She was not aware of that stranger watching her, she was not aware of that ghost smile creeping on her face because she played it right. She was not aware that she was literally glowing on stage.

Isis did not realize that she was bewitching.

She did not, but the conductor did, and the more she played the more Shizuma found herself wanting more of it. All of it. That girl was good? Euphemism. She was perfect. Isis closed her eyes again once the hardest part was done and relaxed in her play preparing herself for the next one, the finale.

That would have come if a wrong note had not have decided to show itself at this precise moment.

Snapping out of her trance, she glanced at Shizuma who gave her the same puzzled look. They both threw daggers eyes at the buzzing and ringing creamy coat thrown carelessly on a seat. The pianist rose, giving an apologetic smile and walked toward it. Shizuma cursed herself for not turning her phone off when they came in. The ID showed it was Nagisa.

Oh, Nagisa. She made a face.

Voicing a small sorry to the woman still on stage, she moved away to answer. Isis shook her head and knelt to pack her violin in the case carefully. She was still in a complete blur, and it would take a good three minutes to gather her thoughts together again.

"I am sorry for... this." Shizuma walked to her a moment later, "It was..."

"It was your girlfriend - I assume it was because I do not think a lot of people call you honey on the phone - asking you why you were not coming home yet because she made dinner and it is getting cold." Isis cut her.

The woman's face went pale. How did…?

"I hear... a lot of things, Hanazono," she winked and got off the stage. "You are a liar by the way, you told me you did not have errands. Or is your girlfriend not that important to you?"

Oddly enough, Shizuma felt the urge to explain herself to that girl but Isis interrupted her again.

"It is none of my business. Now, if you may excuse I am going to go." With that the violinist made her way to the door.

"Wait!"

Isis turned her head, giving her a quizzical look.

"Give me your resume so I can contact you," she said.

Oops, a resume. Isis knew she had forgotten something the moment she crossed her front door this morning. This something turned to be a resume.

Scratching the back of her neck she looked away. "I... have forgotten it."

"Then how am I supposed to contact you when I make my decision?" Shizuma's brow arched.

"Tell it to Leslie," she answered simply.

"And who is she?"

"He." Isis corrected with a smile. "First violin, quite tall, blonde with brown eyes and always wearing a four days beard. He drives a bike so search for someone with a helmet."

Shizuma's eyes narrowed. "Fine," she said her voice a lot more serious suddenly.

The other woman did not seem to notice the change in her tone, she waved goodbye and took her leave.

The conductor sighed while putting on her coat and turning the lights off for the last time this night. When reaching her car she stopped abruptly again. No music this time.

Shizuma just remembered that the violinist did not give her name. Again.

---

Slow, gentle sex was the secret cure to keep Nagisa silent. At least from blabbing around. So, when Shizuma did not want to talk, she knew what to do.

Just like tonight

It would help her to think peacefully and…stay in shape by the same way. And now, she needed to think. She thrust her fingers gently, keeping the same pace and taking the opportunity to let her mind wander as it always did with Nagisa. The time when she was body and soul with her partner during these moments had long gone. Was it even here in the first place? She did not want to seek an answer now, afraid of what it would be.

Shizuma thought about what happened earlier this night. This woman…this woman alone in the middle of nowhere, playing Schubert, her notes carrying so much emotions, so much pain. No one could convey this unless they have lived it. She could not be faking it, Shizuma decided.

Nobody could fake their feelings. Not even her.

A sad smile crossed her face when she looked at the woman beneath her, but Nagisa did not notice. Her eyes were shut, only her mouth was slightly parted to let out small sharp breaths. Shizuma shook her head. Not now...do not think about that now... Fine, but when? Not now, she repeated to herself, not now. To convince herself that there would be a right time, when she would really think about it.

Shizuma's mind ran away again, to the concert room this time, when they played together. When she stopped to listen to her. The woman sensed it. Talent. Raw talent. Untamed and pure talent. The violinist had it in her. But not just that, Shizuma felt something else in her when they played together, they were together. The chemistry worked wonderfully.

They were on the same wavelength. Artistically speaking of course. And that was what she needed for her orchestra.

Because in other domains Shizuma had to admit that this girl...she irked her. She did not know what to expect with her. And this was not good. She always knew how to handle people, with a simple glance she could figure their personality out. Not with her though, once she was a very pleasant woman, entertaining, smiling and sweet and another time she was that... that... God she did not even had words to define her!

Frustration made her push her fingers a little harder. Nagisa did not seem to mind though, on the contrary.

Then she would have to find that guy. What was his name already? Leslie? Yes, Leslie. And tell him that she wanted to get in touch with this mysterious manicurist, violinist and hire her as concertmast—oops. She just remembered the...the other violinist, the student. Damn.

Realization made her slow her pace. Nagisa groaned, Shizuma voiced a small sorry in her ear making her shiver and settled in her former rhythm, the red head was close, she knew it.

What to do? She thought, they were both very talented, but no contest the manicurist had the upper hand, she had it. This little thing that Shizuma was searching for, she still could not put words to describe what it was, but she had it for sure. It was her decision of course, but she could not override the orchestra either, the concertmaster would have to get along with the musicians as well as with her. Suddenly her eyes lit up. The orchestra! That's it! She would just have to organize an audition with both violinists and let the musicians choose one of them. And pray that it would be 'No Name Yet' who would be chosen. Not that she did not like the other, they were both very talented but... wait, why did she need a justification? She was the boss. She wanted the manicurist. That is all.

Nagisa's eyes snapped open to look at her, it was only a matter of time now, and the younger woman was trying to say something. " I.. I, Shizuma I lo—ah!"

She thrust her fingers even harder. She did not want to hear it. Nagisa tried again, but this time Shizuma kissed her feverishly.

No, she did not want to hear it because she knew that she would not be able to say it back. Not anymore. I beg you Nagisa... don't, don't say anything like that, please. Because I cannot tell you…

With that, she let a final touch that made Nagisa shake beneath her. Burying her head in the hollow of her partner's neck.

I cannot tell you that I don't love you anymore.

Shizuma wanted to weep.

-0-

Ah, no.

Definitely not, it was not working.

"Stop," she said for the umpteenth this day, brow furrowed and eyes wide open. Something was out.

It was their first practice together...well, without the concertmaster, but the conductor wanted to try the orchestra first, to taste the musicians and their way of working together, thus figuring out how to lead them perfectly. But after two fruitless hours Shizuma decided to give up. Philip told her they were hard to lead. But she did not think they were that hard.

No, no in fact it's not that. The musicians were holding back because she impressed them, and this was seriously getting on her nerves. She did not need puppets. She needed people who would see her as a conductor, and only a conductor no matter her reputation. She needed to talk to them, not to make them faint of blush to death every time she made eye contact. This was an unfortunate side effect of being Shizuma Hanazono. She needed someone who would be the bridge between her and them, and translate her work in a way they would understand.

Hell, she needed a concertmaster. Right. Now.

"We will stop here for today." Shizuma smiled. "Good work." Ha! Liar.

Sighs of relief could be heard among the musicians. She spotted a blonde violinist packing his instrument and talking with another guy. Must be him. Getting off her dais she walked toward them, the blonde man was giving his back to Shizuma, only the other guy saw her approaching. He blushed, gasped and left the other alone, voicing a small 'good luck' before going away.

When the man turned around to see what had frightened the other, he met her eyes. Gasping as well, but not blushing this time. She quirked a brow. Oh? Interesting reaction… she thought. Usually men drooled on her, as much as women did. He must be gay.

"You..." she trailed off, letting her voice invade his head, "…Are Leslie, right?"

"Yes?" He was surprised, how the hell does she know my name? Everybody here knew her but Shizuma kept referring to the musicians as 'flutist number one' and 'cello number four' seemingly not being able to learn their names. Or not caring to do so.

"Good," she gave him a seductive smile.

No reaction.

God. What was wrong with people lately? He should be turning into a puddle by now! Like that manicurist the first time they met. Damn.

"May I help you, Miss Hanazono?" His voice broke her train of thoughts.

Shizuma shook her head to gather her spirits. "Actually yes, you can. I would like to get in touch with someone." When he made a puzzled face she went on. "A violinist, who came for the concertmaster's audition, two days ago."

Leslie's face lit up at the word violinist. "Isis came?"

"I...Isis?"

He smiled before speaking, "Yes, she is tall," he pointed his shoulder. "Till here, brown hair with clear blue eyes?" His smile widened. "Actually, there is a hint of yellow in them if you look carefully," his voice was dreamy now. He was going to talk again or rather ramble again when Shizuma cut him with a swift movement of her hand.

"Yes it is. I think it is her," she said, eyes narrowed and voice abnormally huskier than usual. Actually, she was sure that it was her. And she had noticed the hint of yellow in her eyes, damn it! But why was he smiling like a moron when talking about her? Why? Suddenly, the image of the woman's wedding ring flashed in Shizuma's mind and she glanced at his left hand. No one. Good. So he must be the stupid guy, in love with his best friend's wife or something like that. The conductor felt the urge to laugh. But she did not. She was Shizuma Hanazono. And Shizuma Hanazono is not someone to laugh at people's misery... or at least discreetly.

"How was she? How was the audition? What did she play? Did she do any wrong notes?" Leslie asked, he sounded like a teenage fangirl.

"She was... good." Mesmerizing. Shizuma did not want to say the truth. Not to him because he did not deserved it. Why? Because he would tell this violinist what she really thought about her play. And the woman did not want that to happen. Stupid pride.

"Anyway, could you please tell her that I would like to get a meeting if she has the time?" The last five words hardly came out of her throat. Waiting for an answer was not part of Shizuma's virtues, even less asking for one.

Leslie nodded briskly, "I will tell her, Miss Hanazono."

"Shizuma." When the man kept silent, she repeated. "Call me Shizuma, please." She gave him her brand dazzling smile. "It is time for us to become a real team." And for me to learn all your names, she added to herself, defeated. She never had to, back when she was only a guest conductor, learning a hundred different names each time she led an orchestra was only a waste of her precious time.

Leslie blushed this time. Ah-ha! Caught! She smirked. "And as such, the orchestra is going to choose the concertmaster with me," her voice was loud enough for all the musicians to hear her. "We will choose among the two I have selected, and you will have a word on it."

Silence filled the room. They were going to choose? Great!

Leslie nodded again and Shizuma left him after saying goodbye. She had to see Philip before heading home.

-0-

He was sitting in his brown leather chair in front of this desk always flooded by papers. Philip did not seem to notice he had a guest. Mostly because Shizuma did not knock before entering. He asked her not to, saying that the trivialities of formalities were not necessary between them. She kept staring at him, feeling her body relax in this warm atmosphere that always filled this room.

"Will you sit down or do you prefer to ogle at me from the door? I'm quite good looking close as well, Shizuma." His tone had a hint of humor.

"I am not one to judge." The conductor smiled taking a seat.

"Of course, I forget sometimes about..." A shy expression appeared on Philip's face when he looked at her.

"Me being gay?" She laughed at his apologetic smile for not being able to say it himself. She had never hidden her homosexuality whatsoever in public or in private. She did not say it out loud, but she did not lie about it if asked either. Fortunately for Shizuma, the magazines related to classical music to which she accorded some rare interviews were not fond of juicy gossips. Nagisa would have hanged herself a long time ago if that was the case. "Do not worry about that, it's rather flattering actually."

She looked at the little candy box on the corner of the desk. "I am here for the concertmaster," she started absent mindedly, eyes glued to the box. "I think we ha—thank you Philip." The man grinned when he gave her a piece of chocolate, nodding to let her continue. "I think we have found two potential concertmasters."

"Two?" He leaned in his seat putting his hands together. "I thought you told me that you kept just one resume with you."

Shizuma swallowed the food before answering, "I did." Her face lit up suddenly, "But I have found another one. And she seems very competent." Euphemism.

"Oh, I see..." The change in the woman's tone and face did not go unnoticed by him. "And who is she?" He emphasized the last word, smiling sweetly.

"I only know her name," she said, "It's Isis." Oddly enough, it felt just right in her mouth. Meaning: it would felt just right in torments of passion, having this girl screaming beneath her and whispering that name to her ear. Oh God yes it would be so good. She smirked. I will have you, dear.

Shizuma seemingly lost in her thoughts did not notice that her interlocutor choked in his seat, mouth open and eyes wide. "She came?" He asked after a moment, "Really? She came here for the audition?"

The woman nodded, a little confused by his reaction. She took another candy in the box.

"Well, it is a surprise. My dear you can call yourself very lucky," a gentle smile crossed his face at her puzzled look. "I know her. Isis does not usually play in front of people, let alone in front of strangers. She comes here time on time. I had the chance to hear her once, a long time ago when she sneaked in late at night to steal partitions," he laughed at the thought. "I caught her, to her defense she only said that music sheets were too expensive in shops, and that she would give them back."

Shizuma felt herself smiling as well, it reminded her of her time at Miatre when she was busy chasing or getting chased by the Sisters with... Kaori. Her smile flattened a little but kept its place. "I see," was all she said.

"You are right," he spoke. "She is talented. It would be a good thing to have her being part of the orchestra. As violinist concertmaster she could certainly bring the others up, but..."

Philip looked at her and she knew what was going to be said, she cut him with a nod. "Don't worry about that. We played together and got along pretty well in fact." Though, Shizuma was only referring to the musical part of the 'we got along well'. She felt that it would be a little harder for the rest to follow, but never mind she liked challenges, this woman would surrender to her. One day or another.

"If so then I don't have any objection, do as you please. You are going to hire her, right?"

"I would love to, but this decision is not only mine for the taking," she sighed dramatically. "I am going to make the two of them play in front of the orchestra and let the musicians have a word on it."

Philip thought about that for a moment. "You are trying to link yourself to them," Shizuma nodded. "It's a wise thing to do, I know that they still a little...um..."

"Frightened, impressed?"

"Sort of yes, I think they did not expect to have you as conductor at all – me neither actually -. They need a little time to...to..."

"Consider me as a simple being of flesh and blood?" Philip snapped his fingers in approbation before giving an apologetic smile to her. "I think it's because of my hair," Shizuma went on, dead serious. "It's always the hair."

Silence settled a few seconds before they both burst in laughter.

---

Isis was gently polishing her customer's nails, not listening to her rambling at all. But years of practice had taught her when to hum in approval, when to slip surprised noises or shake her head. She had become really good at this little game.

"I am done, Miss," the manicurist said after a little while, removing a few strands of hair from her eyes with one hand. She gave her usual plastered smile before rising from the seat. The other woman nodded and kept blabbing, seemingly not ready to leave the room anytime soon.

Isis packed the stuff in the closet, as usual. God, how she wanted to leave that place, it was getting late and she was hungry if the vocalizations of her stomach were any help. She just wanted to go home and melt in a well-deserved bath. Get out! She mentally yelled at the customer. She would so slap some faces sometimes. Oh, she would, if she did not need her job.

Suddenly, her eyes widened. Damn, it's today! Isis sighed in defeat, just remembering she had agreed to do some babysitting for her neighbor who was going to spend a very active night with her husband, outside. So she gently asked the manicurist to take care of her seven-year- old daughter. Isis had known her since she was three and she would have denied if she did not like the little brat so much and reciprocally.

She shook her head. Goodbye lovely bath. It was nice daydreaming of you, at least. Glancing at her watch, Isis noticed it was really time to go. She looked discreetly at the woman and analyzed her. Nasal voice. Horrible. Makeup. Horrible. Gesticulating while speaking too much. Horrible. Got it. The manicurist grinned.

She looked at her watch one more time, letting an unusual high pitched squeal, startling and effectively shutting the other's mouth before turning her head toward the woman. "What's the matter, darling?"

Did she just call me darling? She mentally cringed at the nickname, shaking her head. The manicurist showed all her white teeth in an apologetic childish smile. "It's just that..." she trailed off seemingly making her mind on something, glancing back and forth between her left hand and the woman. "Um no, no I don't want to bother you with this. It's nothing really," she said with a girlish tone waving her hands in front of her, the smile still on her features.

The customer's face lit up, "You know darling you can tell me everything." She gave her an encouraging smile.

Caught you! Isis sang in her head, she began intertwining her fingers together, a shy expression appearing on her face. "I-it's just that...well today it's our two years anniversary with...with my boyfriend and…um, I wanted to, you know... make a surprise for him and all..." The little dimple fluttered on her right cheek. She looked away, twisting her wedding ring with her thumb. Three... two... one...

A nasal squeal followed by "Oh my God, it's so cute!" The woman immediately rose from her seat and hugged her. "Why didn't you tell me earlier? Go, darling, go don't bother yourself with me! Oh my God it's so cute; I don't even have words to describe how cute it is!"

They walked toward the cashier, the woman literally dragging Isis out of the room with her. Paying, the customer winked at her putting her thumbs up and mouthing 'good luck' before leaving the spa.

Isis smirked when she left. "Too easy, really," she said in her usual deep voice.

"How did you get rid of her? No one gets rid of her. No one is able to get rid of her." Ann stated just behind her.

The older woman gave her a mysterious smile. "I am just so damn gifted, don't cry kiddo. I will teach you, someday... maybe."

Ann huffed.

"Anyway I'm off now, take care." The manicurist walked to the rest room, changing before going home.

-0-

"Say, Isis...?"

"Mhm?"

"Have you ever made love?" The little girl asked with blunt innocence making her babysitter shock in her cup of hot chocolate and cough violently. Almost dropping it on the couch they were both sitting on, watching a random cartoon on T.V.

"W-what?" Though, she realized her mistake when she saw the girl ready to repeat her question, mouth open. Isis quickly covered the devil tool with her palm before any word could be formed. "Shh! Don't say it again!" She muttered looking around to see in no one heard her. That is, until she remembered they were in her flat. You're stupid she scolded herself. "Okay brat, answer my questions first." She waited for the said girl to nod before removing her hand, "Good, where did you learn those words?"

"School, boys were talking about that."

She sighed, obviously, school. "Did you ask your mother?"

A nod.

"And?"

"She told me to ask you," a beautiful smile crossed her tiny face.

Obviously, ask me, yeah. The irony of this fact being that the said mother surely had a sexual life more active than hers. There was this unspoken mutual agreement between the mother and Isis, that all 'risky' questions would be directed toward the violinist. Well, not exactly a mutual agreement, the mother was more okay with it than the young woman. "Great."

The girl tilted her head to the left, waiting.

Isis looked at her and said the words that a kid loathes the most. "You're too young you cannot understand."

The smile on the girl's face dropped suddenly. "I'm not young! I'm a grown up! I'm a woman!"

The only grown up in the flat laughed like a moron. "You know, the sole fact that you say it proves the contrary..." she trailed off, "...Brat." The kid pouted.

Knowing perfectly that this stubborn little girl would not drop the subject so easily, and that not answering a seven-year-old questions is source of extreme frustration for the said kid and an open declaration to start World War Three for her, Isis adopted another way, smiling mischievously. "You want to know?"

A brisk nod answered her.

"You are a woman, huh?" Isis pointed her chest. "You see those?" The little girl nodded, "Well, you will get your answer when they touch the floor, deal?"

The little girl seemed to think, darting her eyes back and forth between her babysitter's eyes and her breasts, calculating how much time it would take for them to drop on the ground.

After three minutes of unbearable waiting, she finally outstretched her tiny hand to the other, "Deal," she said, showing all her teeth in a huge smile. Girl, you are definitely a genius in mathematics.

Isis had to use all her will to keep herself from laughing. She was going to speak when a knock on the door interrupted her. Rising from the oh so comfortable couch she went to answer.

A female yell and the door slamming was what the little girl remaining in the living room heard before seeing Leslie walking in the flat with her babysitter on his shoulder.

"You're chosen!" He turned around himself, Isis still on his shoulder.

"Put me down!" She yelled, barely able to dodge a fatal confrontation with the ceiling light.

"You are chosen, I'm telling you!"

"Leslie, if you don't put me the f..." She caught herself at time and glanced at the little girl on the couch, she was laughing completely taken in the euphoria of the moment. "Look, put me down right now or I puke in your boxers."

The man did as told immediately; he knew she was serious this time. When she laid her slightly annoyed gaze on him, he kept smiling like a kid, "You are chosen." Leslie said with a calmer voice. "The greatest maestro Shizuma Hanazono chose you."

"You are kidding."

"I'm not, I swear I'm not. She came to me two days ago. She wanted to get in touch with you; she even told me you were good!" He had the impression that getting a compliment from this woman was nearly impossible. And he was right, Shizuma could always get what she wanted by dint of coaxing, complimenting on a woman's beauty was simple. But things were not the same anymore when talking about music. She was demanding, with people as much as with herself. Compliments were sparingly given away, if not ever.

But this, Isis did not know, hence her skeptical look. The bitch only wants to get in my pants... Images of their first meeting flashed in her head, I won't give her this pleasure by believing her. Nymph.

"Sure," was all she said.

Leslie's brows furrowed. "You don't believe me? I am not lying, Isis," he spoke. "I do not lie, not to you," he added blushing slightly.

The woman's expression softened at those words. "I know. It just seems surprising - not to say unbelievable - that among all the applications she only chose me, and furthermore tell that 'I am good'."

The guy gently poked her head. "You think too much. Won't you allow yourself some space? At least once?"

He looked at the only other girl in the room to get her approval, she nodded briskly. "I agree!" she stated with a high pitched voice.

Glancing back at her, he quirked an eyebrow. "See? I'm not the only one."

"She doesn't even know what you are talking about, you dummy!"

"I know! I know, I know, I know!" The kid yelled bluntly.

"See? She said she knows..."

Isis smacked the back his head before he could went on. "Shut you, will you?" Then she looked at the little girl on the couch. "And you, It's time to sleep" She tapped on her watch to prove her point, "Get in the bathroom to brush your teeth."

"But, but I don't want to sleep now!"

"You do."

"I don't!"

"Are you sure?" Isis smiled mischievously at her. "Then I guess I can cancel your goodnight ritual."

The kid's expression dropped, she jumped from the couch, running to the bathroom grabbing her little toiletries on the way.

When they were alone, Leslie looked at his friend. "You are a hell of a negotiator, you know that?"

"I know," she grinned.

"You would certainly make a wonderful..." A glare from Isis deterred him to end up his sentence. "Babysitter, you're a wonderful babysitter," he swallowed hard.

"When the brat is in bed we could watch a movie," the woman drifted to another subject, walking toward the kitchen. When she came back she had some chocolate and popcorn in a big bowl. Leslie looked surprised. "We made them earlier. I had a cover this time," she winked.

The man laughed, remembering how they turned her flat upside down when they tried to make popcorn without any cover. Kamikaze.

The sound of the bathroom opening, and a little voice calling made Isis put the things on the coffee table placed before the T.V. and go to her bedroom. There, the seven-year-old girl was lying on the bed wrapped under her sheets, waiting sagely. Her tiny face lit up when the woman opened her case, carefully taking the violin in her right hand and one of the bows. Isis sat just beside the lying girl and smiled sweetly.

"What do we play tonight, maestro?"

The kid seemed to think a little. It was their ritual since the first time that Isis took care of her. Back then, she was only three and was afraid of sleeping alone. The woman was practicing and she noticed that the toddler had fallen asleep on her couch, music had the wonderful power to appease her fears. Since then, she always played for her at night. Plus it gave musical knowledge to the brat, it was good.

"Canta per me!" She said after a while.

Isis frowned. "It is a tough one little girl," when she saw that a shadow of a pout was threatening to show itself she smiled "Fine... fine but only two minutes."

She nodded, her features adorning a huge smile. The violinist settled herself comfortably on the bed before putting her instrument below her chin. She started playing; the song was normally erratic and loud. She decided to change the rhythm, slow and low to get the girl to sleep. She really loved that song. A little moment later, Isis heard soft snorts; she ended her movement always lowering the sound little by little until no notes could be heard anymore. Rising from the bed slowly she covered the kid with the sheets, removing a strand of the little girl's hair and kissing her forehead.

Leslie caught the scene from the threshold and he could not suppress a fond smile. Yes... he thought. You would make a wonderful mother, Isis. No matter what you think.

"What are you looking at, dumbass?" The woman uttered after gently closing the door.

"You," he said honestly. "I am looking at you."

Isis turned to face him a blank expression on her face, after a few seconds of silence she burst in a muffled laughter. "Stop your sappy speech, Blondie." She smirked and pinched his cheek before heading to the living room, turning around she gave him a quizzical look. "Do you want to get fossilized there?"

Leslie followed her after a moment. I'm a... hopeless romantic. A fool, really. He sighed.

---

Papers fell on the floor and she crumpled the one on which she was writing, or rather scribbling quavers, semi quavers and other indications all over it. Illegible. Spotting the bin the corner of the room, Shizuma extended her hand behind her before throwing the little ball of paper toward it.

Missed.

She sighed. That was not working, not at all, and for the first time in years she was truthfully worried. She did not have time to be worried. In fact she did not have time at all as a matter of fact. And this only increased her nervousness. Shizuma looked at the partitions one more time but nothing came to mind. Only two months and half. Two months and half including her preparation and the practice with the musicians to turn those sheets of paper into a stunning concert. Impossible. And they still did not have a concertmaster.

Where have you gone oh my dearest creativity. Where? Passion should actually be more appropriate. The woman released a desperate breath shutting her eyes and rubbing them slightly with her thumbs. I need glasses... That's what she told herself every time she was working on partitions, but she kept forgetting about them until she had to spend countless of hours writing again. Stretching herself like a cat on the seat, Shizuma ran her eyes on the room. Her private music room. And hers alone, she had expressly forbidden Nagisa to touch it when she discovered her design madness. No flashy colors on the walls. No weird sculptures in the corners. All in this room conveyed relaxation, and only relaxation. Red walls, like the hall. Oh sorry, like it used to be in the hall. Red like this dress she wore at the Etoile election back then. Red is the color of passion, right? Yes it is. But now, right now passion was not here, it faded away. Like it did with Nagisa.

Oh God, not now! I do not have time for... this. Fine, but when? Why was she thinking about it right now anyway? It's not like she regretted what she did, or rather what she still do... discreetly, not with someone from the orchestra of course not now... not yet, but she did have some fun elsewhere. Shizuma felt bad. Not because she did not love Nagisa anymore or whatever was the feeling she felt for her before, no things like that happen she could not be blamed. Still she felt bad, because her frivolous side had defeated her reason, as it has always done. She felt bad because Nagisa never asked her anything. And Shizuma…she took everything from her. Her innocence, her life, her joy. She put this little seed in her, this seed which, instead of blossoming into something beautiful, symbol of their union, symbol of their happiness, symbol of their love for each other, had grown into that Tacca chantrieri. That orchid she once found when she was eight at her grandmother's house. All black. Morbid, monstrous and magnificent at the same time. She had rotten her. Rotten Nagisa just like black sucked the colors out of this flower. Enjoying every moment of it and leaving a lone, pale shadow.

It is true... but I always failed to see it. I always thought that it would not last, that it would change. Disappear, or whatever. But it's still here... I have always done that... always. Always hurt people I claim to care about in a way or another. I should let you go... A lone tear made its way from her right eye down her chin. Indeed, she should. I should tell you everything. But I... I can't, otherwise I would, I would... Her thoughts broke there, Shizuma could not finish and hid her face in her hands. "I can't," she whispered lowly shaking her head.

"What can't you do, honey?" Two slender arms wrapped around her neck from behind, startling her a little as she did not hear her partner coming in. Nagisa's head gently positioned itself on her shoulder and the younger woman kissed her cheek sweetly, looking at the papers on the table. "You should take a break if it tires you, Shizuma" Please... please forgive me.

"You are right," she took one of Nagisa's hand in hers and kissed her palm. "You are right," she repeated. With that, Shizuma rose from her seat and let herself being led to the door the door by her partner, glancing one more time at the music sheets on the table. Again, nothing came. The conductor shrugged, it could wait one more day after all.

-0-

She was skipping her lunch time. She... was skipping her lunch. She never skipped it. Lunch was sacred. Then why was she wasting her precious time? Isis quickened her pace. Maybe I can catch her before she leaves. Or so she hoped, because if she was not there, then the violinist would turn wild. Literally. Spotting the building she quickened her pace again, almost running toward it. Not bothering to enter, she directly made her way to the parking lot and examined the cars.

"Oh, what a pleasant surprise!" A husky voice said behind her as footsteps could be heard. The woman turned around, meeting sparkling amber eyes and a charming smile. "As I thought, you are even more beautiful in broad daylight. Though, the night gives you this little je ne sais quoi which is quite bewitching as well." Shizuma added playfully.

"Enough with that, Hanazono." Isis narrowed her eyes. "Tell me why?"

"Have you eaten yet? If not we could have lunch together and talk about what bothers you, dear."

She rolled her eyes. "I do not have time, nor do I want to play with you now." Annoyance was palpable in her tone and the fact that Shizuma's smile did not move was even more irritating. "Just tell me why you chose me."

The conductor walked toward her car. "I won't..." and before the other woman could voice a protestation she went on, "Unless we have lunch."

"Look, you won't get anything from me I can tell you that. So spare the both of us a headache and tell me why so I can disappear and go back to work in peace." The violinist said, her tone steel.

"Are you sure of this? That I will not get... anything from you?" Shizuma's smile turned into a sneaky smirk when she felt anger rising in her interlocutor. Oh, she was so enjoying it!

"Go to Hell," the woman spat, turning around to walk out of the parking lot.

She's giving up already... pity really, the conductor thought. She is not in the mood, too bad. Very well dear, here it is. "You have it," she said loud enough to be heard by the walking figure who stopped on her tracks at her words.

"What?"

"You have it." The conductor repeated, emphasizing the last word the smirk glued on her face.

"I have what?" Isis turned around, a quizzical expression on her features.

"It," was all she got and she wanted to yell. The conductor sensed it and tried to explain herself as much as she could, for as she did not know what this 'it' was either, she just knew that's what she needed. "Listen, I am not a liar..." Shizuma trailed off seemingly thinking about what she just said and shook her head. "No, no actually I am deceitful, you should never believe me." The other woman smirked. "But, not about music, I would not have asked you to play inside if you were not worth my time," she said truthfully. "You have what I seek for my orchestra, and I know we can do amazing things together," she smiled, not a charming smile, not a seductive smile, it was a real one, a dazzling real smile. "You felt it as well when we played together, you cannot deny it."

The violinist was stunned. Like really stunned. The older woman was right, she felt it when they played, but that was not enough to reassure her about the conductor's intentions. "So, you don't want to drag me in your bed?" She tried.

"I do."

She sighed, "Thought so."

"Still, you don't ask the right question, Isis." Shizuma said, delighted at the woman's surprised expression. "Your friend told me your name, quite pretty. Unexpected but quite pretty."

Suddenly, the violinist saw it. This sparkle which just crossed the other's eyes. This glint of playfulness she had seen umpteenth times on each face of each person who knew her name. She shook her head and narrowed her eyes at her interlocutor, then said what she had always said since middle school. "Look, I know exactly what you are thinking right now. So let's make a deal, if your joke is lame or already heard, I reserve the right to..." she quickly observed her and noticed Shizuma's long, silky ad well maintained hair. "To shave your head."

The older woman opened her mouth. And closed it. Opened again. And closed it again. This little game amused greatly Isis who smiled, victory is mine, she thought happily. Finally Shizuma sighed. "Fine," she said huskily. She valued her hair, she loved it, she worshiped it and she would not let a little joke destroy that because she had the strange impression the woman before her would really do what she said. "Still, as I said you don't ask the right question," the woman returned to the main subject.

Isis arched her brow. "What is it, then?" she asked sarcastically.

"Did you chose me because you wanted me should be more appropriate, then I would answer I chose you for your music, and your music alone. Your appearance is only a plus, nothing more, nothing less." Shizuma looked at her in the eyes to prove her point.

The violinist nodded.

"Good. Besides, I have not chosen you; I have selected you, as well as another violinist. The orchestra will choose who is able to be their concertmaster, this evening at six."

"You mean that I am going to play for them?" She asked.

"Exactly."

"I refuse."

After a moment Shizuma smiled. "I will not force you." Astonishment filled Isis' features. She's giving up? She was not arguing? She was not trying to convince her? Why? She felt migraine knocking at her head and stopped thinking. Hanazono was crazy. Yes that's it, totally crazy. Satisfied with her thoughts, she started walking until the voice stopped her again. "Though," the conductor added, "Let that aside, I still want to drag you in bed, as you put so poetically, in yours actually," she laughed when Isis shot her a glare. "So, you still don't want to have lunch with me? It will be a public place I swear. And we won't be alone." She winked

Isis did not bother to answer and left Shizuma who laughed even more. You will come... you will come to me.

-0-

Miyuki put her fork down her plate and stared at her friend who was seemingly very busy ogling at a blonde waiter's back. "Who is she?" she asked with an even voice.

"Excuse me?"

"Who is she?" The woman repeated.

"What makes you think that there is a she?" Shizuma tried, though she knew more than anyone else that Miyuki was not someone to be fooled easily. It was Miyuki after all. And as expected, it failed and her former roommate narrowed her eyes a little.

Scary... and Dennis has to deal with her every day? Oh God. She felt suddenly sad for the man. Still, she did not give up and offered Miyuki her best dazzling smile. Come on, drop the subject, drop it.

"I've seen you in the morning Shizuma. This will not work," not a slight change in her face.

Epic fail.

The conductor let a defeated sigh and put her fork down as well. "Won't you at least let me finish my lunch?"

"No," it was not perceptible for a stranger's ear but Miyuki's tone had a hint of humor in it which made the both of them smile.

"You can't blame me for trying anyway." Shizuma said while taking a sip of her wine. She was not a drunk, but good meal always needed a good wine, that is what her years in France taught her. Of course, at this time she was only a little girl. All she could do was observe the grown-ups drink, and incidentally take a sip here and there given by her father secretly. Her heart warmed up at the thought. "What do you want to know?"

The other woman sighed. So she was right. She would have preferred to be wrong. "What is she this time? Cello? Trumpeter? Oboist?" Her voice kept slight annoyance in it.

At the word oboist, Shizuma's mind drifted back to Russia, directly in this brown haired woman's arms. Oh the night they have spent together! After this, she knew she would never forget how her name sounded in their tongues. Oh, yes their tongues...and the flutist's tongue...her tongue...

"Shizuma? Shizuma! Come back here, quick!" Miyuki scolded, waving her hands at her completely spaced out friend.

She blinked a few times, crashing back to reality. "Sorry I was..."

"I don't want to know," her friend cut her, then hardened her gaze, "Shizuma, you must stop this."

"I must stop?" She repeated innocently and all she got was an icy glare.

It has always been a sensitive topic. Subject of a lot of arguments between them since the very first time Shizuma admitted her unfaithfulness toward her partner, but years passing by, nothing changed. The conductor was stubborn and Miyuki knew it perfectly, she would stop her little game only when she would have decided to, not before. Her friend always tried to make her see reason, even if it was in vain. Like it was again today.

"You must, think about Nagisa..."

"Nagisa is fine," Shizuma cut her sharply. She did not want to be so harsh especially toward her, but she did not like Miyuki using her girlfriend as a pretext. This had nothing to do with the red head, nothing...right? Sensing that the discussion would have no end she decided to change her tactic. "Look, let's don't have this topic today, just for today. I know what you think about it, but just for today, let's just drop," she pleaded.

After a little moment, her friend's face finally softened and a ghost smile appeared. "Fine."

Again, Miyuki gave up, again Shizuma had what she wanted and again she magnificently dodged the truth, hiding it with an opaque veil. That is, until it will not be big enough to hide her secrets.

-0-

That is how she liked it. Mind boiling, pen scratching on the paper, feverishly taking another when this one was full, ideas rushing, and music. Yes. Music playing in her head. She could heard it, she could taste it. Shizuma could see the concert taking place before her eyes. The orchestra, the projectors, the public listening. Yes that's how she liked her job, when her creativity was rushing, when she knew exactly how to interpret each notes, each act of the opera. Aïda...Aïda she loved it. Emotions, pain, love, she knew how to make the musicians take those feelings and incarnate them. How to make people sense each change, and sink into the music, her music. Yes she knew. Oddly enough, Shizuma could not apply her abilities in her private life.

She stopped her writing and took a piece of chocolate glancing at her watch on the table. A great indication that she is working if it's on the table. A quarter to six. Good. She will come, Shizuma knew it. Just thinking about her made the ideas rush again and the conductor took her pen to write them down. That's how it first started. A simple thought of the violinist playing like she did that night. Shizuma could still hear the violin's cries when she focused and, as always it sent chills down her spine. That girl is talented...she thought, I...I need her. Indeed, the conductor needed her, for the orchestra of course. But not just that. Though, she knew she could still dream on about that. Why? Because Isis knew perfectly what she wanted. And what she would never get. The woman pierced through her little game. She couldn't lie to her, she could not pretend or fake some infatuation toward her because it was not true and she knew it. A great change for Shizuma Hanazono. She only desired her because of the chemistry when they played...oh when they played! It was, it was supernatural, and the conductor knew that it touched both of them. Though, she seemed to be the only one whose libido was affected by it. Or maybe the violinist was? With her husband...every night... Her pen crashed.

Shizuma made a face. Disgusting. What a waste really.

A knock at the door startled her, and she saw Philip coming in, this eternal warm smile crossing his face. "I'm sorry. Did I disturb you?"

She shook her head. "No, no I was done anyway. Is it time to go?"

He nodded, looking at the table flooded by papers. "You worked hard as I can see. That's good," he gave her an apologetic glance. "I was afraid the delay might be a little short."

"Actually it is," she said truthfully. "But don't worry," she went on when he opened his mouth. "I had a good...inspiration lately," a mysterious smile played on her face.

Shizuma started to pack her things. She had been working here instead of her music room at home as her inspiration and creativity seemed to sulk her, taking a mischievous pleasure to play with her nerves when she was there. She asked the orchestra manager for a quiet room where she could focus peacefully. It reminded her of college back then, of the countless nights she spent working in a room learning, no, eating partitions literally. And when she could not take it anymore, when she could not learn by heart others' compositions, she imagined her own. It was a good exercise to aerate her brain, a very good one she started since her first year at the Royal College. But she never showed her work to anyone, not even Nagisa. It was carefully hidden in the closet of her music room. Why? Because she was vain, and vain people cannot handle criticisms about their precious baby. And it was personal...too personal some of the compositions being written when her mind was drifting away, to Kaori. So no, Shizuma would not let anybody see them let alone, judge them.

She wrapped her silky scarf around her neck too lazy to hold it and walked toward the door where the orchestra manager was waiting patiently. As always he gave her his arm to escort the conductor to the concert room where the musicians were waiting for them as well. She will come, Shizuma repeated to herself, not so sure right now, she has to come. Damn. How was she able to make all her confidence vanish like that? To be so out of control, so out of her control? Philip opened the door and she scanned the concert room searching for those familiar blue yellow eyes.

None.

The manager felt her tension when the grip on his arm tightened. "Are you alright?" He quirked a brow.

She relaxed a little and nodded to him. But inside, inside she was burning. Why? Why wasn't she here? I though...you thought wrong. Shizuma sighed. I've been arrogant, thinking that she would come because I was here. It was what she had always despised in other conductors: cockiness. And this violinist made her fall from her little cloud. Showing her that she really did not care about what Shizuma might think or want.

Serves you right, she walked to the first row before the stage, the musicians were all sitting in the second and third row. She nodded at them, smiling. Shizuma turned to see that the student was already on stage waiting. The conductor smiled at her as well and the violinist returned it seductively which surprised the complainant. So, she...? She smirked and nodded back. She would have what she wanted with her, at least. But it did not console her for the loss of the other, still.

Philip sat and she took the seat next to him. He looked at her a moment and Shizuma knew he wanted to speak. She had grown to know him, and the more she did, the more she liked who he was. "Disappointed?" It was a question, but both of them knew the answer already.

The woman nodded slightly, "I thought she would come. I was proven wrong."

He took her hand and squeezed it gently. "Don't worry, unexpected things can happen," he said with a wink.

Shizuma turned her attention to the blonde woman on stage when she coughed discreetly to manifest her presence. Impatient are we? When their eyes met, she saw this flicker of irritation in the violinist's eyes and it did not amuse her in the slightest. Who did she think she was? Ah, whatever. "What are you going to play?" The conductor asked gently.

"Chostakovitch, waltz number two," she answered, sending another tempting smile to Shizuma who nodded, not paying much attention to the attempt of seduction. She wanted to assess her music now. The rest...well, the rest would come later on.

She put her violin below her chin, narrowed her eyes and started to play the waltz. It was good, very good just like when Shizuma first assessed her. This girl did not lack of technique and all the musicians, including Philip could notice it. The way her fingers went back and forth, it was how they were taught at the Royal College. Completely different from Isis' technique, still it was good yes.

But it was also boring

All of them could feel it as well. Something was missing but they could not put a word on it. It was just here. Or rather it was not here.

Passion…Shizuma's eyes widened when she finally found it. This...this exaltation, this force that all musicians who really love music have. This perpetual need to convey something, to give a message through their instrument. This fervor they put on their task to make each people live the music through them. That was what the violinist was cruelly lacking. Sure, she was good but the way she made her instrument speak for her was mechanical like a child who would recite his lesson learned by heart to his teacher.

Eventually, the woman ended her play and waited for applause. Which never came. Shizuma looked at Philip who looked back; they turned their heads to the musicians behind who gave them the same blank look. Finally, she glanced at the violinist on stage. Truth be told she did not want to take her if all of her music was like that. But she did not have any choice either way. She cleared her throat. "Well, it was go-"

The door slapped open and a blonde man came in, carrying something...rather a yelling someone on his shoulder. "Leslie, put me the hell down! What do you think you're doing? Put me down, damn it!" Isis shouted, punching his back with her fists, which had no effect on him as he kept walking to the stage in a complete silence.

All the people present stared at them, not able to voice a word. Leslie reached the front row and put his luggage on the ground, grinning to Philip, "I brought you a stray cat. I hope you don't mind," he got a punch on his shoulder and winced. "She was at the door and did not want to come in." A glare froze his blood and when he looked at Isis the message was clear. You. Are. Dead. "You will thank me someday," he whispered handing her case to the woman who kept throwing him daggers eyes.

"If I do thank you, please make sure to wax out my eyebrows." Isis spat making Philip and Shizuma burst in laughter, soon joined by the entire orchestra.

"Well young lady, as I see you did not forget your humor," the manager said, wiping a tear from his eye. He gave a knowing smile to Leslie who nodded back. "Now that you are here though, would you mind if I burdened you with one of my selfish pleasures?" He asked gently.

She knew it. And she wanted to say no but she could not. Philip was one of the nicest men she has ever known, if not the nicest. And they both knew she could not refuse him this, hence the mischievous smirk crossing his face when she looked at him. Letting a defeated sigh, Isis put the case on a seat in order to open it, "Fine."

A grin played on Shizuma's lips but it soon dropped when the violinist shot her a death glare. She was not doing this for her, and she wanted the conductor to know it. She took her instrument, a bow and tuned it silently.

Another cough and the attention was drown toward the woman on stage again. She was annoyed, and she showed it this time. Philip furrowed his brows. Such an impoliteness. "You may take a seat, young girl," his tone sweet but preventing her to make a comment. She let a huff nevertheless, before getting off the stage and sitting.

Isis let a satisfied hum when she finished tuning her violin, looking up she noticed that everybody was glancing at her expectantly. "What?"

The manager pointed the stage. "There maybe?" His eyes were smiling.

She did as told, reluctantly climbing on stage. When she turned around to face them, the projectors blinded her a few seconds. Closing her eyes, Isis could feel stress making its way inside her and she started to tap on the fingerboard with the tip of her fingers in order to calm herself and not to let anyone know her hands were shaking. Easy...inhale...exhale... they're all watching you... she opened her eyes...yes they're all watching. Great.

"What are you going to play, young lady?"

Isis let a shaky breath before speaking. "Violin concerto of Vivaldi, first movement in A minor."

"Good choice," Philip nodded.

She put the violin below her chin and closed her eyes. First notes. Wrong. And she stopped. Opening her eyes, she looked at the faces. Isis spotted Leslie who gave her an encouraging smile. Fool. How could he have so much faith in her? Stupid guy. She sent him a desperate look and shook her head. "I'm sorry..."

"I'm not." Shizuma cut her sharply, her voice harsh and loud. "And you are not." The violinist glared at her. "Because, if you really were you would try another time. Do not lie, you just want to get out of here as soon as possible," she rose from the seat and pointed the door. "Then go."

Eyes widened. It was the first time that they heard their conductor talking like this to someone. She always spoke gently to the musicians, never shouting, never even forcing or raising her voice to be heard, the way she addressed to Isis was definitely unexpected.

The woman on stage hardened her gaze. She wanted to argue? She would get it. "Look Hanazono, you know nothing about me, don't you dar—"

"I do not care. And I don't want to know anything about you now. I want you to play, nothing more, nothing less. But I guess your arrogance makes us seem unworthy of your music."

Mouths opened. How was this woman able to stand against Shizuma Hanazono? Most of the women there would have burst in tears after receiving such a comment. Men as well in fact.

Isis' jaw clenched and she greeted her teeth. How dared she? Arrogant? Her? Oh God, how she wanted to jump on that spoiled bitch and show her who the arrogant one here was. She breathed. Fine. Very well. "Give me your scarf." she said in a steely tone.

"Excuse me?" Surprise was all over Shizuma's face. They were having a fight weren't they? Then how did this drift to her scarf?

"Give it to me," she said. "Please," her voice softer this time.

She did as told while the violinist put her instrument gently on the floor. When Shizuma handed her the scarf, she knotted it at the back of her head in order to block her view. When it was done, Isis raised from her kneeling position, the violin in her right hand and the bow in the other. She took slow long breaths and settled her instrument. Another breath and a scent caressed her nostrils. It was the scarf. Shizuma's fragrance. The woman sniffed it again, Ange ou Démon...Givenchy, she thought... you are definitely a demon to me, Hanazono.

Isis started to play. It was loud this time, loud and confident. It was not arrows that hit the musicians' ears like it did to Shizuma's when she played Paganini last time, but strokes, gently inviting them to close their eyes and listen. Just listen. But they did not, instead, they stared mouth agape. They did not know what was the most amazing, the fact that she was playing with a scarf on her eyes preventing her to see anything, including her fingers and the fingerboard, or the fact that there were no wrong notes as would have been expected. One thing could explain it, she knew the movement by heart and especially she knew her violin, every curve of it. The violin was literally reading in her mind. Everything was here, the accuracy and grace. Inviting them to travel far, far away, in Italy where this piece was first created. Yes that is it. It was not a simple play; it was a trip, a trip leaded by Isis, a trip they did not want to miss. A trip they did not want to end.

She finally ended the music with a final note and chewed on her bottom lip nervously. Right now she could not hear anything but her heartbeats. And it was loud. Loud enough not to hear the first clap. Loud enough not to hear the second clap. Loud enough not to that almost everybody was now clapping and cheering her. Eventually, the violinist removed the scarf to see what was wrong and the light blinded her again and she shut her eyes. But now, now she could hear them and Isis felt a smile making its way on her face. A genuine one. A smile that waited patiently for four years to appear again and it felt good. It felt great. She opened her eyes and bowed. When she lifted her head she saw Shizuma winking at her, and she winked back. Isis was back. She was back again.

The applause died little by little and the conductor looked at Philip whose lips twitched when he nodded. They turned their attention to the musicians. The heads nodded briskly in unison, agreeing with the tacit decision. It was the manager who spoke this time, with this eternal fatherly tone. "Young lady, would you make us the honor of being our new concertmaster?"

And the cheers started again.

-0-

The euphoria of last week's event faded away. And Shizuma was now working seriously with the musicians. The critic path of the two months being crossed, they had to start practice now or they would be screwed. And she knew a lot of people were waiting for their performance, for hers especially as settled conductor now. A lot of orchestra managers, when acknowledging her decision became very interested. In a bad way. All they wanted is to see her make fool of herself and put that on the fact that London's orchestra had nothing comparable to theirs. It was true, it had nothing comparable to theirs. In fact it had a secret weapon that would turn all of them down.

Whose seat was desperately empty.

She glanced at it one more time before sighing again. Her swift movements were followed by the musicians, they have started to understand her a little more, yet it was not enough for the concert. It would be way easier if she was here because the musicians were still holding back even if Shizuma told them countless times not to do so. She impressed them, like she always did with everybody. Everybody? No because their newly hired concertmaster was the only one who was able to stand against her.

Philip put her hand gently on Isis' shoulder, startling her a little. "Still observing from away?" She nodded. "Why young lady?" He asked as he took a seat nearby.

"I don't trust her."

"Oh, I see," he noticed her case on the other seat. Good. "It's a very nice case that you have here."

Isis smiled at him. "Thank you," she handed it when he outstretched both of his hands.

Philip examined it silently, his fingers hovering on the drawing. "You have a really good hand. Those lines are magnificently fine. The perspective is beautifully done. I really like it," he said, sounding like a child with a new toy.

"Thank you," she repeated. "But I am not the one that drew it." A laugh. He arched a brow and she went on. "It's a gift from my mother."

"It is really beautiful," he paused for a moment and looked at the orchestra that was playing. "She's an artist isn't she?" Isis nodded not knowing if he was talking about her mother or the conductor in front of them. Philip glanced at her. "And you are too, young lady."

For the first time in a long time, she blushed. "I...guess," she said with a low voice.

The man smiled to her. "You know, you two look quite alike in fact," she made a face and he hushed her with his hand before she could speak. "Look at her," he added to prove his point.

And she did. Examining Shizuma carefully. From her head, her hands moving slowly in rhythm to her feet. It was the first time since they met that Isis took the time to observe her. She is...beautiful. She was startled by her own comment. But it was true, Shizuma was a beautiful woman, and the unusual color of her long hair did not even bother her, on the contrary. It adds to her charm actually...oh God, stop that! The violinist shook her head to kick her thoughts out and watched the conductor again. She noticed that even if her brows were furrowed, Shizuma was adorning a beautiful smile. It was not the ones she kept when she wanted to lure someone. It was a genuine smile that showed itself only when she was working here. A smile that showed how much she loved what she was doing. How much she loved music. The only woman she would stay faithful to, no matter what happens.

Isis suddenly rose from her seat and took the violin case happily handed by Philip. She walked to the stage, climbing on it. The music stopped abruptly and she put the case on her seat not paying attention. She took the instrument and started to tune it.

"Second violins, you play too loud," she said. "The overture is supposed to be low and only when the violas start you play louder, not before," turning her head, she glanced at a flutist. "You don't mark the nuance enough, and your flute is a little detuned," the man nodded. When she was done tuning her violin, she walked just beside Shizuma's dais. "And for God' sake please stop holding back! She's already told you a hundred times! Play like you used to with the former conductor, damn it!" She scolded them all and the musicians looked shocked and nodded after a few seconds of incredulity. Isis lifted her head up to a stunned Shizuma; the violinist smirked at her face. Quickly regaining her composure the conductor looked at the orchestra, her smile wider than ever. "Let's play now." she looked at Isis one more time before lifting her arms in a swift movement and music filled the room again.

Philip observed the scene from away grinning.

---

Woo! Done!

My sincere (or not) apologizes for the Nagisa/Shizuma fandom again. I will only say a thing, it needed to be done. =)

Vocabulary

A little je ne sais quoi could be translated as "a little something" in the sentence.

Pizzicato is an Italian word. it's a technique which consists in pinching the violin's strings with the hand instead of using the bow. Paganini kind of invented the left handed (for right handed musicians and the other way around for the lefties.) pizzicato which consists in pinching the strings with the hand placed on the fingerboard.

I invite you to search for Caprice n°24 on youtube it's quite amazing. In fact you should search for all the music I've written there it will give you some knowledge about classical music which is not always boring like some would qualify it.

Oh! And Canta per me is from Noir the OSTs of this anime are just amazing (it's the same compositor that created Mai Hime/otome's OSTs) and the manga is great too.

As I said previously the third chapter is far, far from finished. I need at least (and I said at least) two months from now to write it down and another two weeks to be edited by my beta, but don't worry I can assure you that it will worth the wait.

And sorry again if you spot some mistakes.

Hmm I think that's all. Oh yes! If you're already here, go up and re-read the chapter it will kill the time in meantime.

Until then, j'irai me prendre une cuite dans un bar à payday.

Hazel.