The Early Moon Chronicles by Michaela Wills

Story 9 - 'Blossoming of Passion'
or 'A Younger Sailor Neptune'

Michiru sat contentedly in her mother's warm arms. It was a place that made her feel safe and cozy. The darkness of night receded into bright pure light as they passed through a pair of immense doors. Looking away from her mother's pretty face, Michiru gave a small cry of awe at what she saw.

There were pretty clothes everywhere and in all colors, the fabrics shimmering in the dim light. Her wide eyes took in every shining gem, twist of hair and white glove. Her mother walked through the crowd of colorful styles beside her escorting father. Turning her love of pretty things onto herself, she looked down at her own form to see she was wearing a pretty white dress, her short green curls falling into her view.

Her mother sat down again, holding Michiru firmly to her. She could see the soft seat of the chair beneath her mother's black dress. A small group of people sat down in the row before Michiru, the woman directly in front of the small child placing a very fuzzy wrap around the back of the theater seat. Engrossed in the soft look of the fabric, Michiru reached out towards the wrap longingly. Her mother's gloved hand caught her smaller one before the folds of soft fabric came into her reach.

"No Michiru-chan. That doesn't belong to us." Her mother scolded softly and gently, sounding very little like a scolding. "Ohh, look at the pretty lights, dear."

Her mother's hand pointed nearly straight up and Michiru craned her neck in order to see what she pointed to. The tiny child let out a cry of joy at seeing the immense lamp that glittered overhead. For many long moments she stared at the crystalline gems that hung in intricate patterns from above. The little electric candles glowed brightly, sending sparkling light throughout the huge theater.

The lights suddenly dimmed and she blinked in surprise at the loss of the attractive object overhead. A whimper began to form in the back of Michiru's throat, she wanted the light back! Her whimper never came, as a sudden movement from the stage caught her attention as the heavy red curtains were opened and the announcer stepped forward.

He began to babble a long and difficult to understand speech that would bore any infant like herself. Michiru also lost interest, beginning to fuss in her mother's firm grip. Thankfully, she noticed the slight sway of the heavy curtains caused by the powered air vents and became engrossed in them quickly.

Clapping ensued and Michiru eyes bugged as she glanced around quickly in alarm. When the noise settled, she returned to her calm state, watching the pretty sway of the curtains. Her thoughts and admiration of the simple fabric were interrupted by a new sound.

She stared at the man on the stage, something held near his face. It was similar to the way her mother held her bottle, his hand supporting the object from beneath with fingers crawling around to the skyward surface, but it was tucked under his chin and much longer. The deep chestnut object shone in the light, a stick dragged across it's surface. Michiru was sure the sounds came from that odd contraption, but how was a mystery to her.

Yet the sounds themselves were magic to her. Her eyes sparkled in delight at the changing sound patterns, so rich and majestic pulled at the small child's heart strings. She watched entranced by the music, never having heard anything like it before. The chords of music danced through her head, deep and soothing, more warming to the child's soul than her mother's soft singing. It enchanted her to feel the pulse of the tune, it echoed through her, like water spilling over her, playing on her simple emotions. She could feel the love and sorrow in the music, although their meaning was beyond her. Her heart sung to hear these sounds, it was a power that she could not understand, but one that she could appreciate.

The pulse began to slow and Michiru began to feel a little loss as the piece ended. The audience erupted into applause a moment after the music's completion, and in understanding this custom, Michiru mimicked her mother and father.

The rest of the show seemed very long to Michiru, who sat, waiting for more of the same music, but finding none came. There were other sounds made by many other odd objects, but none seemed as dear to her as that first one. None could match the deep, vibrating echoes that had touched the tiny girl so much.

Clapping announced the end of another music arrangement as the man with the odd brown object came back, a woman carrying a matching object following him. Michiru leaned forward, staring at the two intently as the sounds forced from those chestnut brown things filled her soul. She could feel the music echoing through her, calling to her. She ached with the feel of these instruments and the passion they drew from her. She so longed to touch that thing herself, to fill this grand room with those delightful sounds herself.

And before she knew it the musical magic was over. Allowing a small sound of satisfaction to escape her, Michiru let her body's fatigue overcome her. She knew from her internal clock that it was very Late. Late lead to Tired and Tired . . . lead . . . to . . . Sleep.

She heard talking, the soothing voices of her parents and a wonderfully rumbling baritone that gave her a warm feeling also. Lazily she opened her large eyes, a light haze covering her sight. With a yawn, she blinked, adjusting her eyes to the light of the room.

It was unfamiliar, but nice. A few chairs, a dresser and mirror, a coat-rack and the sofa on which she laid. Her mother sat next to her and her father was on a chair nearby. The third voice came from a wonderfully looking man, who sat on a last chair. Michiru's eyes widened in recognition. It was the same man who'd played her favorite thing! She stared at him for a while, listening to the words that escaped into the room, whether or not they meant anything to her besides being words.

Slowly she allowed her eyes to wander around the room more, although not really wanting to take them away from this remarkable man. Her gaze roamed, finally settling on the table between the three pieces of furniture occupied. And to her joy there was that amazing chestnut brown object. It rested in a velvet cushion, surrounded in an open black case, and it called to her.

She forgot everything else as her mother set her on the floor. Creeping to the table, Michiru pulled herself up to the low table so her small chest rested against the edge. Stretching one little arm out to the instrument, she heard a deep rumbling chuckle. So looked up, eyes very wide, finding herself looking at the man. He smiled at her curiosity and said something to her parents she didn't quite grasp before standing.

He continued his chatter, with her eyes glued to his every move as he rummaged about. With a sudden cry of victory, he held up another black case, this one being alot smaller in size. He put it on the table, near it's partner as he picked her up, setting her deep into the couch beside her mother. He turned slightly, still talking as he opened the smaller case. He turned to her with a miniature object, identical to the one on the table she loved so dearly, and said something she finally understood.

"Here, Little one." He placed it in her lap as she made a sound of awe.
Her parents made sounds of protest as he did so. Yet they were forgotten to the small girl, enchanted by the object. The man chuckled again at her response, patting it fondly.

"It's a violin, Little one." Violin. The word rolled off his tongue as she gazed at it lovingly, stars in her saucer-wide eyes. Her tiny hands stroking the deep chestnut surface fondly, playing across the tight strings, making the slightest of sounds, a tinkling laughter escaping her lips.

The man looked at her delight, her joy and enchantment bringing a reminiscent smile to his own lips. "It's yours. A gift, Michiru-chan." She looked up at him, an understanding and love of the fine art that only another musician can share in her eyes. It nearly brought tears to his eyes, to witness the blossoming of a musician before him, the deep love of music unmistakable. Her parents would protest, they both knew, that a child so young could not possibly keep such a valuable item.

He laughed. "And am I to play it? Ne, it's too small for me, and I feel that such a gift is one she will come to appreciate, if not already. I have seen the look in her eyes, Kaioh-san, it's the same one I've seen in the eyes of many a musician, and artist too, who deeply love what they do with an undying passion. She too, will play someday, my friend,
and this way she'll have her own violin ready for that day."

The other adults shared one of those parentally concerned looks. Gazing at the enraptured Michiru, they saw that they would not soon break that new toy from their daughter's loving grasp. Her father sighed.

"Alright, alright, Kim-san, she'll keep the violin for you. I don't think we could take it away from her at this point anyhow. But at least let us pay you for it . . ."

He cut Mr. Kaioh off. "Please, my payment and reward will be to see this young protege blossom into a talented musician before I am too far gone to appreciate it's majesty. That is all I need." He said, a sparkle in his eyes. "Just let her learn. That is all I ask."

He looked at the girl again, who gazed at him with adoration and thanks, the joy in her eyes telling him all he needed to know. Music was to play an important part in this child's life. It would become one with her until, like him, her music would cause audiences to hush and relate her passion and emotion to the world. It was something that only another musician or person deeply passionate with music could understand or feel. They shared a secretive smile. And they both knew that this was her first step into a larger world.

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