L-chan's notes: Thanks for reading so far. I'm so glad people like this idea. Hugs all around!

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1.

Shadows

Chapter 5—Lessons

Tomoyo stood nervously in front of the apartment door, checking and double-checking the number. 204. She knew she had the right one. 204. She'd memorized Touya's address, but she kept glancing from the scrap of paper in her hand to the engraved plate next to the doorbell. 204. She raised her hand, but her finger stopped just short of the little black button. I'm early. He said two o'clock.

So what are you going to do, Daidouji, she chided herself, stand here like a dummy for the next fifteen minutes? He said "two or so". This is "or so". She quickly pressed the buzzer and then jerked her finger back as if the button had shocked her. Oh, God. She made sure her pink blouse was properly tucked into her khaki skirt and that her long lavender tresses hadn't come loose from the french twist she'd spent so much time on.

Who's the lucky guy? her mother's assistant had teased.

I'm such a fool. Maybe he's out, and I can go back home and change…

Too late. The door opened, and there he was, looking much more comfortable in a gray university sweatshirt and a pair of faded jeans. He was wearing his glasses, and a red pen was clenched between his teeth. "Hey. Come on in," Touya tried to say before taking the pen out of his mouth. "Sorry. Come in. I'm just finishing something."

She followed him inside, nervousness suddenly replaced by curiosity as she got her first look at his home. It was probably a typical young bachelor's apartment, although she didn't know what she was basing that assumption on. It was small and tidy but a little bare, just a couple of framed art prints on the standard white walls, a sofa and coffee table, television, two bookcases, and his desk and chair. She could see into the kitchen, which almost had enough space for the small dining table and two chairs, and just off of the living room was the hallway, which, she guessed, led to the bedroom and bathroom.

He watched her as she took everything in. "It's not much, but it's all I need."

"It's very nice," she said sincerely. He probably thought she was looking down on him, because she was used to her large house and a staff of servants, but really she was just wondering where the piano was. Does that mean it's in his…? She tried not to blush as her eyes glanced toward the hallway.

Luckily, he didn't notice as he sat back down at his desk. "Make yourself at home. I've just got a couple more exams to correct, then I can put all this mess away."

Tomoyo should have sat down and folded her hands in her lap like a demure young lady, but instead she stood behind him and looked over his shoulder. "Have you graded mine yet?" she asked.

"Mmm," he mumbled, the pen back in his mouth as he flipped through the stack.

"Can I see?"

"You'll get it back tomorrow, just like everyone else," he replied in his sensei voice, marking red slashes across some unfortunate student's paper.

"Please? I won't tell." She didn't know what possessed her, but she reached around him and made as if to grab the pile of exams. "How did Meiling-chan do? She was really worried about—" Her arm brushed against his, jostling his hand and causing the pen to make a long streak across his notebook. She jumped back. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean… I was just…"

"Maybe I'll work on this later." Touya shoved the exams into a folder and stretched a thick rubber band around the file, setting his glasses on top. "Do you want some tea or something before we get started?"

"Only if it's no trouble," Tomoyo answered, now standing next to the bookcase on the other side of the room, where she'd be out of his way.

"No trouble. It's as easy to make for two as it is for one." And on that true yet somewhat depressing note, he went into his cramped kitchen, folded his arms on the countertop, and lowered his head with a heavy, silent sigh.

He'd just had to get away from her for a second. When she'd brushed against him, he'd flinched as if he'd never been near a woman before. Girl, he corrected himself, not woman. She's only sixteen. Sixteen. Although with her hair up like that, she could easily pass for twenty. Oh, good. Concentrate on that He had a feeling that this was going to be a long afternoon.

He rifled through the cabinets noisily in an attempt to drown out his thoughts, pulling out the cups and saucers, looking for spoons. "Honey?"

Tomoyo almost dropped the book in her hand. "Excuse me?" she replied cautiously, wondering if she'd heard him right.

"Do you want honey?"

She felt incredibly stupid. "Just milk, please."

She slid the book back into its place on the shelf and picked up another. She was always fascinated by people's book collections. You could tell a lot about a person by what they read, or sometimes by what they didn't read, in which case the perfectly preserved books were just there for show. Touya's books were haphazardly arranged, some standing up straight, others stacked on top of each other, and most of them were well worn. He had an eclectic assortment of science text books, suspense novels, historical references, poetry, and philosophy.

All of this said two things. He liked facts, logic, answers, solutions. But he was also intrigued by ambiguity. Going through his books either confirmed what she already knew about him or enhanced her understanding of his personality. He was intelligent, thoughtful, and serious, but he could have fun, too. He had an appreciation for the beauty and mystery of life. And even the placement and condition of the books on the shelves told something about him. He liked things neat, but he wasn't obsessive about it. He wasn't concerned with appearances. He was… real.

When Touya brought the tray into the living room, he saw Tomoyo looking at one of his books. He squinted, trying to make out the title. Well, at least he thought he recognized the cover. "Are you into philosophy?" he asked.

She nodded. "I wrote a paper on this last year. The idea that dreams are the purest form of reality… well, it was a little over my head, but I still thought it was an amazing theory."

He'd first read it at nineteen, and it had been over his head, too. He was surprised that she'd understood it enough at fifteen to write a paper on it. "I've got another one of his, somewhere. I think it was on identity." He rummaged through the stacks until he came across the volume. "Have you read this?"

She took the dog-eared paperback from him and skimmed the paragraphs on the back cover. "I meant to, but I didn't know if it would be even harder to get through."

"I haven't read it in years, but I don't think it was as obtuse as the other one. You can borrow it, if you want." Something niggled at him about that book, but he wasn't sure what it was.

"Thank you." Tomoyo sat the book next to her bag before joining him on the sofa.

Touya poured the tea and added milk to her cup before handing it to her. "So, what was your paper about?" he asked with both genuine interest and a need to distract himself from the fact that she was sitting so close. He didn't know why she was affecting him like this. Maybe it was just because he'd never had a woman—girl—in his apartment before. It made the small space seem even smaller.

"We had to choose a theory and then argue for or against the validity of it, based on personal experience."

"I remember doing that. Which side did you take?"

"I foolishly tried to prove that he was right, that dreams are a reality above the physical world." Her friends had slogged through the assignment, glad when it was over, but she'd enjoyed the challenge, coming away with exciting new ideas but no one to discuss them with.

"Ah, but how can something created only in the mind be more real than things experienced through the senses?"

"But that's just it. In dreams, objects still have color, sound, and texture, only you sense them directly. You see…"

They continued debating over tea, and Touya realized how much he missed having someone to talk to like this. He and Yukito used to spend hours going back and forth on existentialism and moral relativism or whatever else had been covered in their class that day at the university. For a high school student, Tomoyo more than held her own, capably backing up her arguments when she could and graciously admitting defeat when she couldn't. He had to admit that he was impressed, and that he was actually having fun.

Tomoyo didn't know exactly when her attitude toward him had changed, but once they'd started talking, her shyness just vanished. She didn't see him as Sakura's brother, or her teacher, or even as someone she was harboring a mad crush on. He was still all of those things, of course, but maybe he was her friend, too, just as he'd said all along. He was someone she could talk to, someone she could trust.

"When you finish that book, we should do this again," Touya said as he cleared away the dishes.

"Sure, I'd like that." She offered to help him with the dishes, but there really wasn't room for both of them at the sink. She stood in the kitchen doorway until he finished.

He turned to her with a smile. "Now, I believe I promised you a piano lesson."

She'd almost forgotten. That was the whole reason she came over, wasn't it?

She followed him down the short hallway, and any degree of comfort she'd started feeling around him was slightly diminished by the realization that she was going to be alone with a man in his bedroom. She didn't want to blush, but she could feel the warmth beginning to spread over her cheeks. She knew the best way to get past it was to start talking again, to remember that they were friends and that there was nothing to be embarrassed about. "How long have you lived here?" she asked.

"About six months," he answered. "It shows, doesn't it?"

His room had a little more personality than the front of the apartment. There was a solid blue comforter on the double bed, a nightstand with his reading lamp and alarm clock, a stereo and more books on a bookcase, some framed photographs on the dresser, and an upright piano against the far wall. Doors led back to the hallway, the bathroom, and the closet. The walls were covered with a pale yellow paint, courtesy of the last tenant, and he'd tried to disguise the wan color by hanging some of his sketches.

"Do you like it? I'm sure it's much different than living at home." That had to get the award for Most Obvious Statement.

"Sometimes," he said, looking around the room. "But it can get a little lonely, especially at night."

"Do you get a lot of girls with that line?"

He didn't realize how that sounded until it was out. He groaned and covered his eyes. He wanted to kick himself, and hard. "Oh, God. That wasn't—" He peeked at her through his fingers, hoping he hadn't offended her, and he saw her trying not to giggle. Well, if she wanted to tease, he could play, too. "And, you know, if that doesn't work, there's always, 'Hey, want to come over for a piano lesson?'" His emphasis on the last two words implied a nefarious double meaning, and for just a split second her expression showed that she thought he was serious. Then he grinned, and she laughed.

"Well, that one worked," Tomoyo joked, sliding onto the piano bench. Back in elementary school, whenever she'd felt uncomfortable around Syaoran, she'd found that teasing him always helped. It gave her the advantage while he groped for a response. Now she knew it worked with Touya, too. She'd have to remember that. Only he was much quicker than Syaoran ever was.

He sat on the narrow bench next to her, and their knees bumped against each other. Everything seemed smaller with her here. He cleared his throat and looked down at the keyboard, trying to focus on the task at hand. His fingers idly roamed the keys in an old restless habit. "I don't have any beginners' books," he realized, the random striking of notes giving way to a familiar melody. "I should have thought of that. You do read music, right?"

She nodded, watching his hands effortlessly glide across the piano. He didn't even seem to notice what he was doing. How does he make it look so easy?

"Of course you do. That was a dumb question." He plunked out a couple of low notes to represent his addled thinking before lifting his hands. "I'll see if I can borrow some books from the music department for next time."

Next time. She hadn't thought of that. Dummy. You can't learn everything in a single afternoon. So, more lessons meant… more time with him. She closed her eyes and smiled to herself happily. She was already looking forward to it, if the rapid beating of her heart was any indication.

"Daidouji?"

Her eyes snapped open to find him looking at her curiously. If she was already with him, why was she wasting time daydreaming? "Sorry, sensei," she replied, keeping up her end of the joke. "I guess I spaced out for a second." She hoped the blush she felt creeping over her cheeks was also only in her imagination.

"Just don't let it happen in class," he teased. "Okay, I guess we should start with the basics." He flexed his fingers and poised them over the keys again. "Here is your middle C," he said, pressing the key and holding it as the note sounded in the room. "And here is C again. That's your octave." He slowly played the scale up and down. Then he turned to her with a sheepish smile. "Sorry if I'm being condescending. I don't mean to be."

She shook her head. "No, it's fine. You have to crawl before you can walk, right?"

"Something like that. Now, you do it." He took her hand and arranged her fingers over the keys, starting with the C. "See, like this."

His hand was so large, and so warm. He kept it over hers as he helped her find the notes, and now she was sure she could feel her cheeks turning pink. She tried not to think about it, but her fingers clumsily clunked along the keys as she played the scale. She cringed. "Well, that was bad."

He laughed. "You'll get better. You can sew, right? And type?" She nodded. "It's like that. Your fingers just have to learn the patterns, the motions, and soon it will become automatic." She didn't look convinced. "Trust me. Now, let me show you something else."

For the next half hour, Touya and Tomoyo sat together as he taught her the notes and she tried to get her fingers to obey his instructions. Neither let on how the close contact was affecting them every time he touched her hand or whenever she stepped on his foot to press the pedals. Next time he'd definitely have to stand and let her have the bench to herself. If her leg brushed against his one more time…

And then it did. "Okay, I think that's probably good for today. I can't really show you too much more without some music to go from."

She folded her hands in her lap. "Have your ears had enough punishment?"

"Well, I was trying not to say that, but, yeah."

This time she stepped on his foot on purpose, and she laughed when he made an exaggerated grimace. "So, let me hear how it's supposed to sound," she instructed as she stood up and stretched her arms over her head. "Will you play something for me?"

"What do you want to hear?"

"Anything."

She sat down on the edge of his bed, only because there was nowhere else to sit, but it still unsettled him to see her sitting there so casually. He turned his attention back to the piano and tried to think of something to play. It didn't really matter, because his fingers had already decided and were beginning to move over the keys.

She closed her eyes as she listened to the haunting melody. It was obviously a piece he loved, because he played it with the emotion it was meant to convey, the crescendos building slowly and then falling back again. It initially sounded somber, but there was something almost passionate about it as well. She couldn't describe it, but she could feel it, and it made her shiver. "That's really beautiful." She spoke in an awed whisper, as if she were afraid to disturb him.

"It's a piece my mother wrote," he said softly.

"Do you miss her?" She saw his shoulders tense, and she immediately wanted to take the words back. "I'm sorry. That was a really stupid question."

"Well, now we're even," Touya answered glibly. It wasn't so much the question about his mother that had bothered him, but thinking about it brought back the memory of the day he'd sacrificed his last link to her. If I'd known then what I know now, would I have made the same choice? He stopped playing and turned to face Tomoyo. "How much do you know about all that?"

"Just what Sakura-chan told me, that you used to be able to see her."

He nodded. It made sense that Sakura would tell Tomoyo about him. After all, she was there that day, and she'd seen him fall asleep in the most unusual places afterward. "I know she's there, even if I can't see her. She's still very close to me. When I start to miss her, I just remember all the things she gave me." He was constantly surrounded by reminders of his mother, from the songs she'd taught him to his cheerful little sister who acted just like her.

"My mother is always telling me about her. I wish I could have known her." It was true, even though Tomoyo sometimes felt as if she were living in Nadeshiko's shadow, trying to be something she wasn't to make Sonomi happy.

"She would have loved you," he said quietly.

She didn't know what to say to that. She met his brown eyes, but she couldn't read the expression she saw there. She just looked back at him, trying not to get lost in those coffee-colored depths.

Then he looked away. "So, when do you want to have your next lesson?" he asked, and a little too loudly.

She'd been caught staring again. She didn't mean to. Will I ever get over this? "How about one day after school? Maybe Thursday?"

"Yeah, Thursday's good." He stood up and shoved his hands in the back pockets of his jeans. "So, I'll see you in class tomorrow."

Don't let the door hit you on the way out, Daidouji. "Okay." She walked back to the living room with him following behind. She slung her bag over her shoulder. "Thank you." Then she held up the book. "For this, too."

"No problem. See you tomorrow," he said again, holding the door open for her as if he were anxious for her to leave so he could get on with his life.

"See you tomorrow," she repeated, raising her hand in a little wave as she walked out.

Touya closed the door and leaned against it. He closed his eyes as he let out a long breath he didn't know he'd been holding. He'd never been so relieved to see someone go.

He'd once told Tomoyo that he'd be her onii-chan. Well, the thoughts running through his mind for the past hour had been anything but brotherly. Like how good she smelled, just a subtle floral fragrance, maybe lilac. Or that her glossy lips were the color of plum wine and looked as soft as rose petals. That her pale skin glowed like newly fallen snow. That her violet eyes were more beautiful than the ocean and twice as deep.

It was just wrong on so many levels. Tomoyo was only sixteen. She was Sakura's friend and Sonomi's daughter. She was his student. He wasn't supposed to think of her in any other way, no matter how lovely and intelligent and—

He muttered a curse under his breath and sank down on the sofa, throwing his arm over his eyes. He hadn't been this confused by his attraction to someone since he met Yukito. At least that had been about magic.

"Damn."

He finally remembered what had bothered him about that book.

-----

This was a long one, but I had a lot of things I wanted to get in. I'm trying to lay a foundation for their relationship, because I don't want it to just come out of nowhere.