Title: Stranger

Rating: T, because who knows where this is going to go

Disclaimer: I do not own La Corda D'oro or any of the characters mentioned here.

A/N: Thanks to everyone who has read, and also, thanks again, Dream Cager!

Hopefully things will start getting more interesting soon . . . key word, hopefully. The first few chapters are sort of introductory stuff, so . . . I guess, enjoy!

There comes a time in every woman's life when she feels inexplicably compelled to crawl under the table and slit her wrists.

Incidentally, Shoko's time had come.

"Hello, how are you all today?" the waitress asked, smiling politely as she distributed menus between them.

Shoko could think of any number of responses, none of them socially acceptable.

"G-good, thank you," she forced out, and Len and Kahoko did much the same.

"Can I get you anything to drink while you decide?"

A chorus of "Just water, please," and the waitress was off. A not entirely comfortable silence fell over the table, and Shoko twisted off the corner of the paper napkin on her lap while staring intently at the table edge. Not that it would give her any more answers than her cereal had, but a girl could try.

Kahoko, seemingly oblivious to the discomfort radiating from her companions, happily picked up the menu. She tapped Shoko's menu lightly, and grinned at the other girl, who started and looked up in confusion.

"Prepare yourself, for something wonderful."

In spite of her pain, Shoko gave a shaky laugh and picked up her menu as Kahoko nodded in satisfaction and went on to scour her own for the perfect choice.

Len, of course, already had his open, not that he was really focused on it.

She resisted the urge to slump into her chair, and dragged her own thoughts back to the menu.

Her mood lifted slightly when she saw there was a little section for pie. She liked cake well enough, but her usual choice of dessert, when she ate it, was pie. More specifically, she adored pie crust, but most people didn't really serve it sans filling.

She quietly shut her menu, and went back to clutching the mutilated napkin.

A couple of minutes later, Kahoko did the same, and Len followed suit, returning to the dual surveillance of his water glass and Kahoko's lovely face.

Shoko looked at her own water glass and considered trying to drown herself in it.

Further Adventures of Sogginess, compliments of Shoko Fuuyumi, she thought in wry misery. She was being rather morbid today, she noted. Not to mention that appalling vulgarity from earlier, the recollection of which had her turning red in shame.

Naturally, given the inherently quiet natures of her two companions, Kahoko was left to try and carry the conversation.

"Ah . . . what are you guys going to get?" the question disrupted the silence like a pebble skipping into the water, and Len and Shoko slowly came out of their individual reveries to process the question.

"Cherry pie," she murmured quietly, and returned to her napkin instead of having to watch as Len valiantly tried to make his dessert order sound clever and engaging.

But alas, he was a mere mortal man, and his final answer was simply, "The Dark Castle Cake," in reference to an astonishing arrangement of chocolate cake topped and trimmed with any number of dark chocolate features. "What about you, Hino-san?"

But Kahoko was looking at him in amazement, with good reason. Even Shoko had stopped in surprise. Neither girl could imagine the cold, refined young man next to them consuming the hefty confection he had just described.

Shoko, in fact, felt intrigued, like she was about to witness a strange phenomenon that few people had or ever would see.

"Er, I'm getting the Strawberry Tango . . . I didn't know you liked chocolate, Tsukimori-kun," Kahoko stumbled over the words, still recovering from the shock, but the disbelief was evident in her voice. Shoko looked up briefly, a little curious herself, and her heart wavered a little at the flush dusting his cheeks.

He was blushing! A very un-Len like blush, yet it strangely suited him.

"I . . . It's nice on the occasion," he said, and the words were almost a mumble.

Shoko probably shouldn't be enjoying his embarrassment as much as she was, but really, it was about time it was someone else with the problem instead of her.

"Oh . . . I see," Kahoko responded, and then seemed to realize her obvious surprise had made him feel awkward. She, also, turned a lovely pink color, and Shoko leaned back a little to view the scene before her with bashfully delighted amazement. For the first time in her life, she was the only person at the table NOT blushing. Heady stuff, that.

The glee was short-lived, for karma struck and Kahoko turned her scattered attention on Shoko.

"Ah . . . so, have you guys seen much of each other since the concourse?"

Either some divine force was torturing Shoko, or Kahoko's feelings of awkwardness had spawned a question she normally should have answered and dismissed before it even left her mouth. Shoko stared at her, quickly joining the party of People At the Table Who Sort of Wish They'd Disappear.

"N-no, not . . . not at all," she half-said, half-squeaked, and completely lied for what must have been the third time that day. She'd spent the time since the concourse switching between desperately avoiding him and giving in to temptation to shyly seek out the sight of him. So maybe it wasn't a lie - the two probably canceled each other out to make for a normal sighting-average.

Len didn't even need to give an answer. His gaze shot to her in confusion, proving he had once again forgotten she was there.

But this time, instead of being embarrassed, Shoko felt a sliver of something akin to bitterness. That's not right, she tried to tell herself. You often make an effort to be forgotten. You have no right to take offense - you've been fading into the background for longer than you can remember, and you've always been okay with that. The feeling shrank away, but did not leave completely.

"No," he agreed, then paused thoughtfully. "Actually, I saw her Wednesday, I think," he amended. He thinks? He thinks? The bitter feeling swept back up her throat, and she felt uncharacteristically moody and churlish.

"Not really, I nearly crashed straight into you, more like," she muttered, caught up in her inner feelings, feelings she hadn't felt in a long time, if ever.

It took her a few seconds to realize the other two occupants of the table were staring at her, Kahoko slightly open mouthed. Sane perspective returned, along with it, horror at herself.

"I-I, um, I'm s-sorry about that, Ts-tsukimori-sen . . . senpai. I . . . I guess, ah, I can be clumsy s-sometimes." She tried to get herself to stop shaking. Len nodded slowly.

"It's fine," and looked at her for a moment longer, a terrible, eternal-seeming scrutiny that had her ready to bolt from the table, before dismissing her once more as the waitress arrived. Kahoko's gaze, however, lingered, a mixture of perplexity and something else that Shoko couldn't identify. If anything, she swore she saw the corner of her mouth tilt up, but that could just be in preparation to smile at the waitress, who had arrived and was setting down their drinks.

"Are you all ready?"

"Yes," affirmed Kahoko, and Shoko nodded mutely.

"Okay," she said, flipping open the notepad she'd fished out from the pocket of her cute apron. "Miss?" she prompted Shoko.

"Um, I would like the Cheery Cherry Pie, please," she responded quietly, unable to dust away the shadow that seemed to have fallen over her mind. Probably for the better, so you don't say anything else ridiculous.

"Cheery . . . Cherry . . . Pie . . ." the waitress scribbled. "And you?" she looked up, and nodded towards Kahoko.

"The Strawberry Tango, please,"

"Strawberry . . . Tango . . . and the usual for you, Mr. Tsukimori?" the waitress directed a friendly smile in his direction. Shoko and Kahoko both swiveled their heads towards him, mouths agape. Len briefly looked like he was in a great deal of pain, before straightening in his chair and nodding shortly at the waitress.

"Yes, please. Thank you." She cast him a curious glance, her gaze shifting to Kahoko and Shoko and back to him, before shrugging slightly.

"Alright, then - anything else?"

They all shook their heads.

"Well, it should be out soon. Please let me know if you need anything," and she departed to fill their order.

Kahoko was clearly trying to stifle a grin as she turned to Len.

"What errand did you say you came out here to run, Tsukimori-kun?" Her innocent tone did a poor job of covering the mischief laced through it. His face took on a martyred look.

"I didn't," he said stiltedly.

"Uh-huh. What do you make of that, Shoko-chan?" her voice teased, and Shoko, called upon to contribute to the . . . fun? This was supposed to be amusing, right? let go of her napkin and decided maybe this was a good time to get a little revenge on Len, not that he'd know what it was for. She geared herself up, mustering her courage, and tentatively spoke.

"I-I don't know, Kaho-chan. But it's a little suspicious that he doesn't want to tell us, I think," she said, feeling braver as she spoke, and immensely pleased with herself when she finished. Kahoko looked delighted with her answer, and Len cast her a half-surprised, half-murderous look, though his eyes betrayed a reluctant glint of humor. Proud, but ultimately good natured, as long as he wasn't on his guard. She could appreciate that.

The pleasure from the game dissipated a little at the direction of her thoughts, and she pushed the nonsense away.

"I have to agree with you, Shoko-chan. I guess we'll have to force it out of him," she determined with feigned regret, and Len choked on a regal sip of water. Shoko and Kahoko briefly abandoned the game to look at him in concern.

"Tsukimori-kun?" Kahoko questioned, and Shoko looked on, noting that he had flushed considerably and was looking askance. Interesting. She wondered what had caused that reaction, but came up with nothing.

"Water - went down - wrong." Until then, Shoko hadn't known someone could gasp out something with such dignity. Or any dignity at all, for that matter. What a guy, she thought ironically, allowing herself a smile.

"In that case," Kahoko continued on, "Do you feel like sharing yet, or should I instruct the waitress to withhold your cake?" she delivered the playful threat with narrowed eyes full of lively amusement.

Shoko watched Len study her for a moment, fighting a smile, which was understandable. No matter who you were, even if you'd normally find a joke ridiculous or pointless, Kahoko was contagious, whatever the emotion.

And then the magnitude of the concept struck her. Len smiling. The novelty of such a thing, of what she was witnessing and might in the near future witness, crept into her thoughts, and her heart skidded into a faster pace.

Len composed his face into a mask of disdain, raising an eyebrow, the corners of his lips twitching ever so slightly, and inclined his head.

"As you will."
"

Such stubborn silence! Unfortunately, that action might be unnecessary. I think Shoko-chan has come to the same conclusion as I have about your secret," Kahoko's eyes twinkled, and she looked pleased with Len's participation. Shoko wasn't surprised, though. Kahoko's almost magic abilities had proved themselves time and time again.

"I think I have, Kaho-senpai," she nodded solemnly.

"And what is that?" Len queried demurely, preparing to deny the accusation.

"Well, it's obvious. He was coming here . . . to flirt with the waitress," Kahoko finished, winking at Shoko. Clearly not expecting the intentionally ridiculous punch line to the joke, Len laughed, a little embarrassed, but obviously enjoying himself.

And Shoko's lungs filled but couldn't empty, her insides seeming to tumble over one another, heart seizing. To her astonishment and confusion, she felt tears, of all things, prickling the corners of her eyes when normally she would have laughed along. She was baffled. She couldn't account for the tears, or for this inexplicable, wrenching, yet oddly light feeling knotting in her whole self. Her vision blurred, and she held her breath, trying to keep from crying at the table for no apparent reason.
Kahoko, who seemed almost equally transfixed by Len's laughter, dragged her gaze away and glanced at Shoko.

"Shoko-chan, is something the matter?" How many times had Kahoko asked her that in the last few days? She wondered if there was just something visibly wrong with her to match the hidden problem.

She opened her mouth to say no, she was distracted, or some other weak excuse, but instead, she sneezed, barely remembering to cover her nose. Which turned out to be a much better excuse than the one she had planned.

"Bless you," but oddly, it did not come from Kahoko. The source was Len.

Shoko's face unaccountably heated. Oh, dear. Now even simple courtesy was setting her off. She sniffled to clear her nose, and plastered a smile on her face.

"N-nope, I just . . . needed to sneeze," she gestured, and Kahoko nodded, the smile back on her face. And then quietly, she added, "And thank you, Ts-tsukimori-senpai."

He tilted his head, eying her with that same scrutinizing look from earlier, allowing her to mentally squirm before nodding and focusing once more on Kahoko, who had begun to ask how long he'd been coming here for cake. His long, elegant fingers drummed against the table as he reluctantly answered.

"A few months, now."

"Oh . . . I haven't been in a while, but my friends and I used to come here often. It's amazing we haven't run into each other then."

"I suppose it is," he said hesitantly, in a way that suggested it wasn't as amazing as Kahoko might think. No doubt he made himself scarce if he ever saw Kahoko here, Shoko decided, and imagined Len catching sight of Kahoko and diving under the table, doing a military crawl out of the back door to the restaurant while a stunned waitress looked on.

She dissolved into giggles.

Kahoko gave her a quizzical smile, but Shoko was laughing too hard to say anything. Even the feeling of embarrassment did not stop the helpless giggles. It was Len's staring at her with a strange look on his face that finally sobered her, and she shifted under his gaze, a prickly sensation crawling over her skin. He abruptly turned away, giving her no time to try and read it.Oh, dear, she thought. He must think I'm mad. One minute, I'm stuttering, the next, I'm muttering under my breath, and then I randomly burst into laughter. If she hadn't still felt the affects of her laughter, and if she didn't have company, she would have hit her head against the table in self-chagrin.

Kahoko was waiting expectantly for an explanation, however, and Shoko scrambled to come up with something. There was certainly no way she would relay the undignified and possibly offensive mental image of Len's Cake Shop Escape, not to mention she was reluctant to clue in Kahoko in regards to Len's behavior. It would be unfair to him.

She frowned, suddenly wondering how Len managed anger. He was frightening enough as it was when he was irritated, or when he was so annoyed he looked like he might kill someone, but what about anger? Fury. She'd never seen that. Would the icy control he always held over himself disappear, leaving open all of those strong emotions he normally stifled? And they were there – something told her that for all his cold indifference, Len's personality was anything but mild. All of that unleashed, channeled into anger . . . the complete unknown of a coldly furious Len sent a frightened shiver down her spine. Not something I ever want to see, she thought.

"Shoko-chan?" Kahoko prompted, and Shoko broke out of her reverie.

"Ah, it was . . . I'm s-sorry, I thought of something . . . er, it's hard to explain," she mumbled weakly, and Kahoko shook her head with a smile.

"If you say so . . . Oh, there's the waitress!" she sat up straight, her face lighting up. She stilled, and her cheeks pinked as she put a hand behind her head, her brow wrinkling. "Sorry. It's been a while since I've had sweets."

Len simply glanced the other way, hiding a small smile.

Kahoko had that effect on people. And yet, that weird, unpleasant feeling tugged at Shoko once more.

"Here we are, the Cheery Cherry Pie for you," she set the plate down in front of Shoko with a clink. "And your Strawberry Tango," she transferred Kahoko's plate from her tray towards Kahoko, who took it and set it down happily. "And of course, your Dark Castle Cake, Mr. Tsukimori," she handed it to him, and then refilled their water glasses with the pitcher from the tray. "Enjoy, and I'll be back to check on you in a bit." She hurried off, and Kahoko, looking immensely happy, unrolled the napkin, set it on her lap, and took a bite of her cake.

"Mmmmm. Heaven," she murmured blissfully, and Len looked at her warily before shaking his head and gracefully picking up his fork.

Shoko, still feeling unsettled, followed suit, and took a bite of her pie.

Any other day, or even five minutes ago, it would have tasted fantastic. But at that moment, with all of the strange moods she'd experienced over the course of today leading up to that bizarre, unhappy jarring feeling, the flaky crust and warm cherries turned bitter in her mouth.

The rest of the meal passed in relative silence, and half an hour later, they left. Len politely offered to walk with them until Shoko and Kahoko's streets split, Shoko politely covered her snort at the transparent excuse to spend more time with Kahoko, and the trio set off in companionable silence. Well, companionable for Len and Kahoko. Shoko was fiddling with the strap of her book bag, lost in her troubled thoughts. She didn't feel well. After the initial awfulness, the outing was pleasant, or at least tolerable, and yet she couldn't shake the feeling. Instead, it seemed to build up as they walked along, churning inside her like a thunderstorm. What's wrong with you? She wondered when she'd be able to give an honest answer.

Kahoko and Shoko's cross street came sooner than expected, and Shoko was surprised to have reached it with no interruption to her thoughts. Kahoko must have had her hands full with Len, she decided, and that awful feeling expanded in her chest.

"Ah, here we are!" Kahoko announced, and the group slowed. She looked between the two of them with a warm smile. "That was a lot of fun . . . let's definitely do it again sometime,"

Shoko hesitantly nodded in agreement. She wasn't sure she could handle that much excitement so close together. Today had been . . . well. It magnified the daily stress Len Tsukimori's existence had on her by a hundred.

"Yes," Len finally agreed, after thinking over it for a long moment, and Kahoko smiled up at him in that way that showed she understood exactly what was going through Len's thoughts. Well, aside from certain feelings.They seemed to be the one thing Kahoko was deaf to.

Then, as Kahoko waved goodbye and thanked Shoko for coming out, Len spoke, looking resigned.

"Ah . . . Hino-san. May I talk to you for a moment?" Kahoko halted, surprised.

"Oh . . . sure. What is it?" she asked, a questioning look in her eyes. Len hesitated, glancing at Shoko, who took the hint and murmured a goodbye before turning and heading down the street at what she prayed was a normal pace.

She hadn't left soon enough, apparently, for she did hear what he had to say next.

"Are you busy next Saturday?"

She stumbled on the sidewalk, and the feeling she'd had since they'd left the restaurant burned, the storm growing. She quickened her pace, and as soon as she was out of sight, she broke into a run, her feet slapping against the pavement and her book bag slamming into her side. She didn't care. She raced on, feeling the moisture build up inside her eyes. By the time she reached her house, it was only a blur in front of her. She took the steps two at a time, throwing open the door and slamming it before scrambling clumsily up the stairs and into her room, where she shut the door and slumped onto the floor, a sob leaking out. Tears burned at her eyes, and she crawled over to her clarinet case, pulling it out even though she was in no condition to play. It hurts, she thought, grasping it, desperate for the cool, comforting feel of the wood. It hurts so much. Why does it hurt?

And Shoko simply clutched the instrument to her chest as she curled up in the corner, squeezing her eyes shut as the thunder inside gave way to rain and she cried.