Chapter 13:

"Here."

Len held out the violin he'd ordered for me with an oddly blank look on his face. I stared at it for a moment before taking it, the coolness of the wood burning into my fingers.

Suddenly I'm scared.

It's been over a month since the last time I was able to play. What if my fingers have forgotten what it means to make music?

What kind of sound will come out when I pull the bow across the strings?

"Don't worry, we've got all day," Len broke into my waterfall of perspiration and extraordinarily insecure thoughts. He folded his arms and looked at me with an expression that would make the word "expectantly" pale in comparison.

"I might recommend tuning," he continued in his monologue of "get the hell over yourself before I force you to play".

Automatically, I drew the bow across A string, wincing at its strident flatness.

"Ugh..." I withered in response, and instantly started to turn the pegs, carefully noting the perfectness of the 5ths.

"You always put so much concern into that," Len observed. "I can tell how serious you are by how you're tuning."

I smiled a little to myself, remembering my first lesson with Kumoyama-sensei. Not a lesson I was going to forget in a hurry.

The wood of the fingerboard was starting to warm under my hands, and the bow was starting to feel more and more indistinguishable from my right arm.

"Just try a G scale, two octaves," Len instructed me, "and pay attention to how your left wrist feels. It might be stiff, but if it hurts at all, stop immediately.

"Okay," I nodded, and began the scale, closing my eyes in enjoyment as the sound of the open low G reverberated in my body. How good it feels! Like the exhilaration after winning a race (not that I ever have...) or acing an exam (or that either...) or a first kiss (well, one out of three. It counts).

It took a few times up and down the scale for my fingers to start finding the right pitches. It was worse than performing with cold hands. But the best way to warm up hands is to play scales, afterall.

And then I started into "Ave Maria". I couldn't help it. I'll take a page out of Ryou's book of clichés for this.

The sound filled and danced in the expanse of the large dining hall (which we never used for eating), playing in the fine wooden rafters, seeking out the corners of the windows. I closed my eyes tightly to concentrate on the sound that was filling the air around me, hardly aware that it was I who was making it.

I've actually missed concentrating so hard on making my right wrist glide, pulling the smoothest, sweetest sound I could from the bow...and finding the pitches exactly, trying over and over to find the most beautiful notes and coax them out...

"Oi." I looked up, startled, at Len, armed with a handkerchief and coming for my face. "If you're going to cry, don't get the violin wet," he said sternly but tenderly, wiping my cheeks with the soft cotton cloth.

Remembering he was there threw me into a state of ultimate self-consciousness.

"Oh...sor...sorry!" I stammered. "That sounded really bad, I know..."

*sigh* "Have you been practicing at all since New Years?"

Groan. Back to this again. I keep asking myself why I keep submitting to the degrading torture which is asking Len to help me with my violin technique, but I haven't come up with an answer yet. Other than the fact that it really does help.

"I've been...trying..."

"Try a little harder, please. About the turn..."

He slipped immediately into the "tutor Tsukimori" I remembered from high school, going into details as far as you can in language, and demonstrating for me on his own violin where he couldn't express what he was getting at.

Somehow, I understand his violin more than I used to. All the little nuances I could never hear before...they were so beautifully clear, so tantalizingly tangible.

"Kahoko...oh for pity's sake, have you turned into a fountain?" He sighed and went for Round Two with the hanky.

"Don't you ever feel this way?" I demanded, slipping the handkerchief from his hands to release the fluids that were filling my nose.

He frowned, thinking for a moment. "Yes," he answered at last, "but only when I'm with you."

My breath caught in my throat as he searched into my eyes deeply. "You belong with me," he whispered in amazement, as if he had just considered it himself.

I don't know how to answer that...but somehow...

Something in my heart aches to play Ave Maria with him.

.

"That's enough."

"Aw, just one more piece?"

"No. Take a look at your fingers."

I let go of the violin to inspect the fingertips of my left hand. To my shock, they were dented deeply from the strings, almost to the point of splitting.

Len took the violin away from me, almost forcefully, and stowed it and the bow in the cheap violin case that had come with it, hiding it behind his back. "You still really want to play, don't you?" he asked with a slight smile.

"Yeeees," I moaned. "It feels like it's been forever!"

"It sounds like it's been forever."

OMG, you jerk!

"Stop giving me the 'Tsuchiura would never say that' look."

"You deserve it."

"Well, I'm off to bed," he said, studying my face.

"This early?" I asked. The sun hadn't even set yet. I still had some dusting I wanted to do in the drawing room. Darn building was so big, and without a violin, I was at the mercy of the itchy impulse to clean obsessively.

"Yeah." He sighed deeply. "Things have gotten awful noisy around here. I feel tired."

"Oh, well, sorry to spoil your cocoon of silence," I said loftily, closing the door before he had a chance to respond.

But for a moment I stood waiting by the closed door, listening to his footsteps as they hesitated for a moment, almost wishing that he'd open the door and come after me...but instead his clean clip turned and went upstairs.

Dumb Kaho. You should go after him, and you know it.

I know that...! But...

I sighed and headed down the long side hall to the drawing room, arguing with myself as I went. We tried not to keep the lights on too much, because we wanted to keep the impression that the building was unoccupied, but I have to admit that I didn't like the dark rooms with their various taxodermical wall-hangings and unexpected pieces of furniture that clawed at the ankles of the unwary traverser. Like the hall, most of the rooms were panelled with carved wood, which had the tendency to smell musty from lack of polishing (that is one job I will not undertake!), tall ceilings, and elegant, if outdated, furniture with lots of bookshelves.

I allowed myself to mutter aloud as I walked, just to fill the deep shadows with some sort of human presence, if only my own echo.

"Really, Kaho, the guy has been waiting for you all this time; you know it's not his fault.

"Yes, I know, Kahoko, but Ryou has been, too. Didn't you promise yourself that you wouldn't hold back any more?

"That was before I knew about Len, damn it! Shouldn't that change something?

"Would you really want to be the sort of girl who changes her mind at every whistle in the air?

"Well, isn't it just as bad to be inflexible?

"Well, it's too early to make a decision either way..."

"Something you want to share with the class, Hino?"

I jumped, my hand still on the handle of the drawing room door I'd just opened. Ryou was looking over figurative glasses at me from the love-seat he was seated on. In front of him was a mahogany coffee table with an embossed-silver tray of low-ball glasses and several bottles of alcohol, yellowing labels peeling off the sides. The low beams of light cast across from the tall westward facing window, shutters opened as if for a relief of air, caught in the amber liquid of one and scattered orange rainbows across his amused features.

"What...what are you doing?" I spluttered, a little lost for words. "Oh, Ryou, don't tell me you're this desperate to escape..."

"It's my birthday," he answered, "big ole 20 today. I always wanted to go out to a bar with friends, but lo and behold, I'm stuck here. Hey, sit here," he patted the plump cushion with faded floral pattern next to him, "keep me some company for a couple of hours. This is your fault, so pay your due."

I narrowed my eyes. "Oi, you be careful with that stuff."

He laughed good-naturedly. "Don't worry, I'll be fine. The one we should be worried about is you, you lightweight you."

I shrugged and joined him gingerly, trying to avoid touching him, although the cushions seemed designed to entice gravity to slide us toward each other. "I'm not that much of a lightweight."

"Sure you are." He winked. "I'd like to see you try."

"No thanks," I answered airily, eyeing the stuff on the tray.

He grinned. "Scared, huh?"

"No," miffed.

"Try a little."

"Pass."

"You totally are scared."

"Am not."

"Yeah, you are."

I huffed. "Fine. I'll try a little. Just a little."

He grinned and uncorked the tall bottle that sparkled enticingly. "Whiskey first?"

"Sure." Not like I could tell the difference, anyway.

He poured it slowly, amber liquid trickling weightily into the little glasses. "This could be a little strong." We lifted them together. "Cheers?"

"Cheers."

Watching for the other a little nervously, we simultaneously took a small swig.

The result was instantaneous.

"Paah!"

"Gaack"

We both set down the glasses, eyes watering, throats burning, and panted unbelievingly.

"A...little...strong?" I upbraided him. "Just a little?"

"Okay, I wasn't expecting that," he told me sheepishly, wiping his eyes with his hands. "Oh god, why do people drink this?"

"I seriously don't know," I groaned, "but I have the feeling being cooped up in an ancient manor for five weeks may provide some impetus."

Then we both laughed aloud.

"Try another sip?" Ryou suggested, and I accepted gamely.

"Not so bad this time around," I giggled after the second time. "It's tickly."

"Mmhm." He leaned back on the love seat, casually stretching out his arm around the back. I didn't mind that it grazed the top of my shoulders slightly. "You know, this isn't so bad, after all."

"What isn't?"

"Well, honestly, even drinking with a bunch of guys in a high-class bar in Tokyo wouldn't beat this...you, here, in a room of fading red sunlight, classic old mansion setting...It's like the perfect setup for a film-noir style murder..."

I squinted at him and poked his chest viciously with one finger. "That is NOT happening under my jurisdiction, Tsuchiura Ryoutaro. I don't care how much you two don't like each other."

"It's not that," he answered lowly. "Tsukimori and I could probably get on just fine...if it weren't for you."

"...This is my fault?"

"Yup." He grinned goofily. "All your beautiful fault."

I murgled disgruntledly. "I'll go for another drink, please."

"Of course, my lady." He made a mock bow and opened up another bottle of heavy square-shaped glass. "I think this one is brandy." The color, hidden by the shadows, seemed to be a dark woody brown. It smelled a little euphoric, and I couldn't help my curiosity.

"I think I saw some brandy glasses in the cabinet," he told me. "Be right back."

I watched him cross the room, opening the glass cabinet and rummaging around a bit. His shoulders seemed broader than usual, the muscles in his back creating noticeable lumps in the white T-shirt he was sporting. I didn't mind the view, honestly.

"Got 'em," he announced at last. "It's getting dark."

"Should I turn on a light?" I offered.

"Nah. Atmosphere." He sat back down and poured the pear-shaped glasses about a third full. "Cheers."

"Cheers."

…(gulp)...

"It burns, dammit!"

"Ha, I know, but it's a little thrilling, isn't it?" he chuckled at me. "Like a roller coaster."

"True." I grinned at him and took another sip. My vision was starting to haze a bit, and as I gazed up at Ryou, it didn't seem to occur to me that there was anything else in the room. Just him...and the smokey glass in my hand.

"You okay?" he asked me lowly, finishing off his glass and stretching out a hand lazily to ruffle my hair. "You look a little red."

"I'm fine," I smiled back, and shifted a little closer to him.

Pause. "Hey, Kahoko?"

"Yeah?"

"You know I like you."

"Somehow, that hasn't escaped my notice."

He laughed a little louder than necessary. I yawned, my eyes suddenly drooping a bit. My insides felt warm and sedated.

"Tired?"

"Nope," I lied.

"Yeah, you are." He sees straight through me. "Relax for a bit. Here." He reached for my shoulders.

I found my center of gravity unexpectedly shifting until I was staring up at his face, my head resting on his arm of the loveseat. Somehow, my upper body had managed to end up across his lap, and my legs drooped over the other arm of the couch. Um...I think this is starting to encroach on the "no-man's-land" territory...

Heeey...this is okay, though. Everything is okay. It's all good.

Happy butterflies are floating lazily through the air, scattering happy fairy dust on the happy meadow of daisies in my head. Whee...

I could just barely make out his face in the deep darkness. Hehe, I could pretend anything I want...I could make believe he's a pirate and I'm a captured lass on the high seas...

"Kaho? Can I kiss you?"

"Sure, why not?" I smiled.

He leaned over and placed a feather-light kiss on the tip of my nose.

"Oops. Missed. I'll have to try again."

This time his lips landed on my forehead.

"Not quite."

He then marked both of my cheeks, right under my eyes.

"If I didn't know better, I'd say you're doing this on purpose, Ryou."

"You think?"

He began working his way down and across until his lips met the corner of mine. Then he paused.

"Hmm...you okay?" I asked sleepily, taking his hand from where it rested a little too far up on my torso, and lacing my fingers into his.

"Yeah..." he said softly, "I was just thinking...I really want to do this sober, you know? I want a clear memory of your face after I kiss you for real."

"Aww...you a little tispy, Ryou?"

"A bit." He yawned as well and leaned back, letting the back of his neck rest on the back of the couch.

"Hehe."

That was the last thing I remembered from that night.

.

My memory of the following morning is considerably clearer.

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK.

"Make them go away," Ryou groaned, and I opened my eyes just a peek.

Oh, shit, crap, frick on a stick, damn damn damn...

Len stood leaning against the open door to the drawing room, with a look on his face that had something to the effect of, "Here's a little slice of hell for breakfast."

And the sight that greeted his eyes was: a table with two open bottles of alcohol and several glasses that bore traces of said drinks, Ryou lounging against the loveseat, and me asleep in his lap, hands still twined together.

Ryou and I both endeavored to become vertical. We succeeded about five centimeters each.

OMG, somebody turn off the sun!

"Argh!"

"Oww!"

We grimaced and covered our eyes with our hands. A blinding jolt of pain was shooting across my eyes.

"For the time being," Len's voice purred viciously across the room, "I'm going to give you both the benefit of the doubt and assume nothing happened. However..."

His footsteps (their loudness stabbing pain through my temples with every step) closed in on us, and I found myself being lifted into a bridal-carry.

"What are you doing to her?" Ryou asked in annoyance, as I opened my mouth to ask the same thing.

"Confiscating her. Clearly you don't have the manners or breeding to treat a lady with respect," Len told him grimly, and literally carried me off to my bedroom in stony silence.

Once we'd reached it, he laid me a little more roughly than necessary on my bed, and stood with narrow eyes and crossed arms looking down at me.

I would have sat up, but my head forbade it. The room, with its cheerful pink-and-yellow rose patterned wallpaper, white-washed furniture and east-facing window, was painfully bright. I chided the Kahoko of five weeks ago for choosing it. "Len...look...nothing really happened...it's just that it was his birthday, and..." I weakly started.

"Kahoko." His voice was dead serious. "Do you have any idea how it felt to walk in to that room and find you sleeping with another man?"

I gaped at him. "Look, I already told you...it wasn't like that..."

"I heard you the first time." He sighed and sat down in a curved armchair next to my bed.

Silence extended its silver scepter across the two of us. Suddenly, I felt extremely guilty, remorse marking heat across my face.

"Len...I'm sorry..."

"Yeah, I know." He sighed yet again and looked outside the sunny window at the boughs of the apple tree, the tempting, hard little balls of unripened fruit dangling amid the leaves. Then he leaned over and looked me straight in the eye.

"Kahoko. I know. I can trust you no matter what."

I gasped at the intense sincerity of his voice. "...What?"

He reached over to push my tussled hair out of my eyes. "No matter what happens, I know you. I can trust you not to make a mistake that would affect 'us'."

The amber of his eyes was more alluring than the whiskey; the little wistful smile on his face glowed in the mid-morning sun.

"And what's more," he continued softly, "fool-hardy though it may sound, I know that I can trust Tsuchiura with you." He looked away with a very slight, begrudging frown. "Somehow, he can control himself around you better than I can. Why is that, I wonder?

"However," he ended the moment briskly, "You, Tsuchiura, and alcohol is not a combination I ever want to witness again. Besides," he sent me a little vindictive smile, "I think you've learned a little lesson this morning, mm?"

I groaned and scrubbed my temples in pain. "Hai, sensei."

He chuckled lightly and stood up. "Just this once, I'll make you a prairie oyster. Tsuchiura can make one for himself, if he wants. I can't guarantee that you'll like it, though. We have eggs, yes?"

"In the fridge," I answered, wondering what on earth a prairie oyster was.

When he returned a little later, bearing a tray with a glass of a foul mixture on it, I came to a full understanding of the saying, "The remedy is worse than the malady."

Author's Notes:

I don't know why I write these little scenes that don't have anything to do with the plot...they're just fun, that's all. I have never been drunk, and Ryou and Kahoko aren't either in this section, but it's definitely true that a couple of glasses of that kind of liquor does dull your senses and make you ridiculously relaxed...especially if you're a light weight.

Kids, don't try this at home.

Okay, I promise the plot will move forward soon! Purgatory in Scotland won't last forever.