Disclaimer: I do not own the characters in this story, all rights to the characters belong to Rumiko Takahashi.
Summary: When a talented and struggling musician meets artist, Sango, he finds his present colliding with the past. Dreams of a life that aren't his plague him nightly and when he wakens he finds himself slowly forgetting the names and faces of the people in his dreams. Intense headaches also start to ail him and Sango seems to be the key to it all.
Part One: Artistic Muse and Melodies
The room was oddly dark, even as the sun had already climbed high in the sky, and a fan hummed endlessly, as a young man slept in his bed. For the third time that morning the phone, that had been placed on the bedside table, began to vibrate incessantly. The man turned over in his bed, his indigo eyes slowly opened, and he stared up at the ceiling wondering what had awoken him. It only took him a moment to place the sound that came to his ears. He sat up and rubbed the sleep from his eyes, before he grabbed the phone to answer it.
He slid the phone icon over and placed it's speaker to his ear, then spoke to the caller in a groggy voice. "Yeah? What's up Yuji?" He could make out the low, canine like growl of his friend on the other end. "Don't tell me you were still asleep? You should have been up at least two hours ago. You know we have a rehearsal today for that gig we booked. If you don't have the time you need to lollygag, you'll be late for sure." The man ran his fingers through his sleep touseled dark hair, brushing the stray hairs away from his face. "I do not lollygag, I merely seek inspiration to my next piece. The world around us is just filled with music and I need a little extra time to hear the melody."
The musician could nearly hear his friend's eye roll, not that he was bothered, most people didn't understand his need to dally and really absorb his surroundings. "If it makes you feel any better, I'm awake now, and I still have several hours to kill before rehearsals. I won't be late, I promise." The promise was an empty one, even Yuji knew that much, if the guy got wrapped up in his music, he'd lose all track of the time and of the vow he just made. "Oh yeah, sure you won't. I know you well enough to know you're completely full of it. You already know that you'll be hearing from me again, before the alloted time." The man chuckled, wholly aware of the truth behind his friend's words. "So I will. At least allow me a half hour to make it back when you call, I can only run so fast."
He hadn't had a chance to tell his annoyed friend farewell, before the other disconnetced the call. He shrugged it off as typical behavior to his tempermental companion and climbed out of bed to get dressed and start another day. It had been nearly three years since he had started his journey and his parents hadn't been all too pleased with his plans nor the waste in his college degree. He had tried to convince himself that his parent ideas of success were his own, but he found music far more fulfilling than business ever did. To be honest with himself, the common nine to five job seemed absolutely suffocating to him. So his back packing trip around the world took flight, even at his family's persisting he stay and learn the family business.
Despite being against his plan, his parents still wanted to make sure he had money. Yet he felt the need to decline, he needed to prove to himself, that he could make it out here on his own. Yes, they had convinced him to bring along a credit card for emegencies, mainly for their peace of mind, but he had only used it once in his earliest days of the journey and had paid the bill himself when he had the money. After dressing and packing his backpack with the few things he carried with him, he shut off the fan, and made his way out into the blinding morning sun.
It was another glorious day. The endless blue was dressed in the fluffliest of white cotton and the flowers were in full bloom and sweetly perfumed the air. Prague was lovely. The old town square and gothic churches came alive with the music of life. The hum of the voices, the rhythmic tapping of passersby steps, the lyrics of the birds, and the very heartbeat of the city. He shifted the heavy guitar case on his shoulder to get a better center of gravity. He decided he would go down to the river to see if he could make some extra cash. He found he really enjoyed playing along with the song the water would constantly play.
The river bank was bustling with tourist and locals alike, it flowed near the very heart of the city. He found a bench and made himself comfortable, before he breathed in the scent of the water that ran before him. To his far left a gothic church stretched out skywards, the sun creating rainbows on the stained glass. Seated just in front of it was an artist, she held a paint brush in her hand, but made no move towards the easel. A soft breeze caught her chocolate brown hair and created a shining stream of it's own and the musician felt the odd rush of familiarity. In that moment a dull headache began to throb behind his left eye. He chose to ignore the ache, instead he pulled the guitar from it's case, and immersed himself into the world of melodies.
He strummed on the cords and produced the sounds of songs he knew by heart. He often times would play covers of his favorites and instead opted to save his own works for the better paying gigs. He sang softly as a crowd began to form. People would casually toss loose change and small bills into the case as a small payment for his talents. They would come and go, their faces interchangable, the ears that listened always a fresh pair. Of course he enjoyed playing to a crowd, revelled in the applause, but he mostly played for the love of the music alone. He could lose himself within a melody for hours at a time and the world around him would fade from his view, until he was entirely alone.
He was so lost within the cords he played, that he hadn't even noticed that the artist had departed. He could have remained where he sat, had the infernal ringing of his phone not broken into his peaceful reverie. The song he was playing stopped abruptly and the crowd of people begun to dissipate around him. He sighed in defeat before answering the phone call. "Yes, Yuji?" He had taken to calling him the nickname in order to annoy him, but it stuck as it was less odd then his real name, Inuyuji. "Let me guess. You aren't even on your way here. Are you?" He pulled his phone away from his ear and sure enough, he only had half an hour to reach the pub.
He quickly began to pack his guitar back in the case, not even bothering to remove the cash he had accumulated. "No, no. I'm already headed that way. You didn't need to even bother calling me." The lie was an innocent one, he knew that Yuji had grown tired of his tardiness and his tendency to lose track of the time. The guy grumbled audibly, "You shouldn't even bother to spew that crap. I know you well enough by now. Just get here as soon as you can, we need the time to practice." He had already began to leave the park before he had even listened to his friend chastise him. "Alright, alright. I'm headed that way now, I promise. I'll get there on time, no problem." He hung up and began to sprint towards the pub, Yuji would bite his head off if he was late again.
The sidewalk was busy, he weaved in and out off the crowd, doing his best to avoid bumping into anyone. He was doing a good job of this, until his guitar case collided with a woman he passed by. She fell to the concrete, managing to catch herself with her hands, but losing a bunch of papers in the process. The musician came sliding to a stop, before he turned around to help her gather her pages. He stooped low and grabbed at the papers with the black and white sketches. He worked quickly and did all he could to gather them up before the breeze could carry them away. "I am so sorry, miss. I can be such a klutz sometimes. If only I had a better grasp on time when I'm playing, then I wouldn't be rushing around because I'm late all the time." He spoke in a rushed sort of way, not even aware that the woman stood unmoving above him.
He snatched up the last of her drawings and finally took notice at what he held in his hands. The sketch was very detailed, he could even seen the vein like lines in the leaves. "Wow. Did you draw these?" He glanced at a few others before adding, "They are really good." He noted the silence and began to wonder why she hadn't answered, perhaps she hadn't wanted him to look at them. He straightened up, could hear her gasp quietly but offered her the pages he held nonetheless. It only took a split second for the woman to grow pale and she stared at him with wide and startled eyes. "Um, miss? Are you quite alright? I didn't hurt you, did I?" The silence stretched awkwardly, she stared without speaking a single word, and the only move she made was to lift her hand to cover her gaping mouth.
Their eyes locked, her brown gaze was filled with hope, his violet ones with confusion, and the throbbing headache intensified behind his left eye again. The hand that held her drawings slowly began to drop and his concern for the artist merely began to grow. "Miss, I really must implore you to say something. Are you okay? I mean, you look like you've seen a ghost or something." He had no idea how true his words had rung, for she did feel as though she was face to face with a ghost of the past. She hadn't moved her hand away from her face and she blinked her wide eyes once before she swallowed hard. As though she was trying to rid herself of a lump that had formed in her throat and for the first time since he bumped into her, she spoke softly.
Her voice was barely above a whisper, had he not been so focused on her, he doubted he would have been able to hear those three syllables. "Miroku?" The name she spoke caused his head to pound that much harder, he had to press his fingers to his temples to keep the pain at bay. "I'm sorry, but I don't know who that is. I'm Masahiro." He could see disappointment creep into her chocolate brown eyes, he found something vaguely familiar about this woman. "Have we...have we met before?" Hope replaced the disappointment, but faded as quickly as it came. "I don't think so, you just reminded me of someone I used to know." He once again offered her the papers she had dropped and this time she took them. "I see. You just seemed a bit familiar is all. I have to run though. I'm late for rehearsals. I'm playing tonight at a pub, perhaps you might be able to come down and hear me play, since I got to see your drawings. It's only fair."
He dug in his backpack and produced a flyer with a band name and location. He held it out to her and although she was reluctant she did eventually take that as well. "Um, yeah. I suppose it is only fair." She offered him a friendly smile and he could feel his heart skip a beat. It wasn't normal for him to act like this around a woman he didn't even know. "Well maybe I'll see you there then. No pressure or anything." He returned her smile before turning to go, he paused for a second, and looked back at her from over his shoulder. "If you do come, bring those pages. I would love to see more of them, if you wouldn't mind sharing them with me." He gave a casual wave, before he disappeared into the crowd. Even with the half hour to get there, it looked as though he would be late anyway. Yuji wouldn't be all to pleased with him, but he would forgive him...eventually.
AN: I hope the wait for this sequel wasn't too long. I will try to finish this one quicker than I did The Artist, but I tend to get super busy as my personal life is crazy at times. Please leave a review, they really do make my day, and I will shot you out in the next chapter.