Shaman King belongs to Hiroyuki Takei, not me.
-
-
-
He loved music.
From the time he was born, he loved listening to the different sounds and melodies around him. He often thought that if he hadn't been a shaman, he would be a professional musician. Guitar, most likely, but he always liked the piano.
When he was alone, he would write songs. Melodies would dance in his head, and then lyrics would follow. No one ever heard his music. No one at all. Just him.
His grandparents would call him foolish. His father would tell him to go train some more and clear his head. His mother might like it, but she loved everything about him.
All he wanted was to share his secret songs with one person, one person who would listen, and would want to listen. Especially one very special song.
"What are you listening to?" she asked, wiping her hands on her little pink apron.
He yanked his headphones off his ears. "Oh, oh…nothing," he stammered. "Just nothing." He snatched up a plate and dunked it in the hot water.
"I want to hear it," she said. She held out her small hand. "Give me the headphones."
"You don't- I mean- well…" he sputtered, gulping hard in embarrassment. "Are you sure? Do you really?"
"Yes," she said. "Give me the headphones."
Reluctantly he lifted them off of his ears and placed them in her hands. She tucked them carefully over her head. He ducked his head, ears flaming, as he went back to washing dishes.
She stood still, hands over the orange headphones to keep them on. He idly realized that he had been vigorously scrubbing the same plate for five minutes. Flushed, he placed it in the dish drain and reached for the next plate.
"Where'd you get this CD?" she asked. "I don't remember giving you money to buy a CD…"
"No, no, I didn't buy it," he said. "I made it myself."
"Ah," she nodded. "One of those seared CDs…"
"Burned," he corrected gently, smiling. She didn't hear him. "Do you like it?"
She nodded. Her blonde hair, mussed from the headphones, hung over her eyes and he resisted the urge to brush it back. "It's a love song," she murmured. "Very pretty…"
"It's for you," he whispered.
She pulled one of the earphones away. "What was that?" she inquired.
He looked down. "Nothing, nothing," he mumbled.
"This love song," she began. "Is the girl's name…really…Anna?"
He could feel the blush spreading across his face. "Uh, yeah…it's, it's Anna," he admitted.
She looked up at him. "Did you find this song on the internet?" she asked.
"No," he said.
One of the earphones stayed on the ear, the other rested on her cheek. "Then where did you get the song?" she persisted.
He took off the rubber gloves and draped them over the side of the sink, then turned to her. "I wrote it for you," he whispered.
"You did?" she whispered. Her eyes widened. "You wrote it for me?"
He placed his hands on her shoulders. "I've written a lot of songs," he confessed. "But this one is just for you."
Her immense, chocolatey eyes were fixed on him. "It's beautiful," she whispered. "It's…it's just beautiful."
He wrapped his arms around her small waist, relishing the feel of her soft warm cheek against his chest and the sweet smell of baby shampoo in her blonde hair. She wrapped her arms around his neck. He swayed gently, keeping her hips in rhythm with his, as he sang the words of his song to her.
-
-
-
Author's Notes:
Eh. Just some drabbly goodness. Enjoy.