The Devil's Symphony
Disclaimer: This kind of thing would never exist in -Man. So it's obvious -Man doesn't belong to me.
Chapter 2: Serenade My Soul, You Forgotten Memory.
A/N: My thanks to all those who reviewed~ You guys really made my day~!
Allen peered nervously at the old man, his eye moving back and forth between him and the case.
He unzipped the violin case on the counter before him carefully, still apprehensive of the situation.
"Uh… I don't know the fingerings… D-Do you have the score?"
He rubbed the back of his neck nervously.
He was replied with a laugh.
"I needed you to sight read. Why else would I choose a piece that hard?"
The old man smiled and moved to get the score.
Allen gulped and tried to reassemble his shattered focus as he flipped the cover over.
But the sight of the violin inside the blue fabric case instantly, completely grabbed his attention, astounding him, refusing to let him concentrate on his priorities.
The strings were contemporary, clean of any type of dust particles and there was no trace of wear despite its obvious age; such craftsmanship had pretty much died out before 20th Century.
The long strings were like those on his violin-made of catgut- and were perfectly sustained.
The violin was tuned well, he discovered as he plucked the strings lightly, and perfectly tightened; these traits were clearly obvious to his trained eyes and ears. They were spotless, common rosin dust absent, seeming to have been cleaned with a common wine cork.
The corpus of the violin was a rich russet colour polished until it was so shiny, and the varnish pure and untainted. The snow haired boy could see his own face in a reflection.
He marvelled at it, and the seconds that passed seemed like hours.
'Snap out of it!'
Allen mentally slapped himself, and was so focused on the beautiful instrument his hand almost subconsciously slapped his own face physically.
His mind was totally blank, and all he could do was stutter.
"I-It's beautiful…"
The old man simply smiled and nodded, his head bowed down, gaze fixed on his fingers which had tangled themselves together.
"It makes a beautiful sound too. My pride and joy… The old guys in the family made it."
He set the stand down, positioning the scores on it so that the boy didn't have to move them then looked up at Allen with old soggy eyes.
"Well, shall we, lad?"
Allen nodded solemnly, a determined expression on his face.
-
It had only been about two minutes since Allen had left.
Ebony bangs twirled round the thin pale fingers of the trained musician.
Lenalee sighed.
Lying wasn't one of the things she did often.
But it was just a small white lie. Couldn't possibly hurt anyone, could it?
She glanced at the violin case that lay unmoved on the table, a few inches away from her empty green mug.
She would tell Allen. Eventually.
She looked up meaningfully, staring at the overcast sky that loomed overhead as she leaned lightly on her right palm, elbow on the tabletop.
The glass separating her from the outside world was crystal clear, and she could see that it was drizzling ever so slightly outside. Sunlight caught in the little water droplets and Lenalee could just imagine the glistening, glimmering crystals that fell from the sky. They would be even more beautiful when winter came.
She sighed, turning her gaze away from the grey mass of stratocumulus opacus clouds; clouds so thick, not a single inch of blue sky could be seen from where she was.
"Lena-chan…"
Lenalee was jolted out of her musings, jumping at the given nickname as a warm breath tickled her ear, and she spun around in shock.
"Ohmygosh…! You scared me!"
The red head simply grinned at her, cramming his gloved hands into his pockets. His emerald eye gleamed with amusement.
"I'd meant to."
The ebony haired girl couldn't help but smile at him, and they shared the amusement of her fright.
She couldn't even try to be angry.
This was something she'd gotten used to after two years spent in the rabbit's company.
It always appeared to be that his infectious personality had somehow allowed the transmission of amusement between them, despite the odds.
He smiled at her, unfolding his arms from behind his head, leaning over to peep into her empty mug.
"Black coffee?"
She nodded.
"Mmhmn."
He chuckled lightly as Lenalee's violet eyes searched his face for an explanation.
"I was running an errand for Panda Ji-ji and saw you staring at nothing when you should be at home practicing for the upcoming examinations."
She sighed and was about to protest but he held a finger to her lips and grinned.
"Yes, I do know you went to see Yuu-chan off, but that was an hour ago, Lena-chan. And it's almost dark. Your brother will be worried if you don't get home for dinner. You know how he is."
Lenalee looked away stubbornly with a huff.
Her companion laughed.
"I'm just warning you, Lena-chan."
Lenalee simply sighed, proceeding to continue watching the sky and the snowflakes' descent.
The redhead smiled.
"I'm waiting for someone to get back, Lavi."
"Mmn."
His gaze wandered past her, catching sight of the dark-coloured prism case on the table and he sauntered over to the seat Allen had been sitting in across from Lenalee and sat down.
"What's this?"
Lenalee came to face him now, and looked for some form of examination he would commence on this foreign object; she was ready to protect her new friend's property if the need arose.
But there was no inspection as the boy stared her straight in the face with his one emerald green eye, still waiting tentatively for an answer.
It seemed he knew it wasn't hers.
Their terse moment of awkward staring vanished as quickly as it had come when Mr Bentley's potbelly popped into view.
"Lenalee-san, Lavi-san."
Both teenagers blinked several times before turning to look at the stout middle-aged man.
"Yes, Mr Bentley?" the asked in unison.
"Sorry to interrupt, but I'm closing the shop."
"What?!"
Lenalee's protest was not a surprise to the redhead.
He knew she liked the shop very much and would sit in there for hours if she had free time and wasn't busy practicing the viola.
She was also one of those people who never wore a watch.
And it was for her benefit that he deliberately stole a quick glance at his own wrist watch.
"Well, this is the usual closing time."
He looked outside, his solitary emerald eye turning a slightly brighter green with the golden rays of the evening sun, muttering, "It's late."
Lenalee looked around the café and noticed the absence of customers. The balding man understood her actions.
"You and that young lad from earlier were the last ones I served. That's why there's no one else around."
The sixteen-year-old blinked once, a deep sigh following.
"I guess we'll move off then."
-
Music flowed elegantly through the air, filling his heart as the bow rose and fell in a calming flow.
Allen hummed quietly to himself in his head as the music continued.
The violin he had borrowed was producing some of the most wonderful sounds he'd ever heard.
The strings were smooth, and the white-haired teen easily slid the bow up and down, the horsehair rubbing on the catgut strings. It was easy to hold, yet fragile in his grip.
The boy opened his left eye a peek and caught a glimpse of the practised vibrato of the old man.
He had his eyes closed, a soft smile playing on his lips.
-
"Alright then Lena-chan. I'll catch ya later!"
Said girl waved at the redhead, smiling.
Her right hand was wrapped around the handle of Allen's violin case and she strolled away from the shop at a leisurely pace, moving to cross the deserted street, gravel crunching under her boots.
Mr Bentley had ushered them out of his café and told Lenalee to find Allen and tell him that he'd decided that the boy would start his violin playing shift the day after; he'd just put their payment on Allen's new tab there for now.
"You know what time to come."
And then, he'd left.
Lavi had thrown her a mischievous look when Mr Bentley had mentioned this 'Allen' to them, only to be glared at by his senior in music.
She didn't feel like taking that nonsense from him.
Besides, it was already late. Her brother would be expecting her home for dinner soon.
She'd just fetch Allen and his borrowed violin and send him over to the lodge near the faculty.
It was much too late for her to bring him there now.
A familiar tune came within her earshot and Lenalee perked up.
It was definitely a string instrument; that she was certain.
The sounds were higher than that of a viola.
And cellos were out of the picture.
More so, they were definitely not a double bass or folk string instruments.
Violin.
She moved in the direction of the beautiful melody, the voices of singing violins growing easily recognizable to her sensitive ears.
-
The song was coming to an end; just another minute or two to go.
Allen slid the horsehair over the strings lightly and felt the same wave of adrenaline he'd been feeling since the start of the song wash over him, making his senses tingle.
He'd read the page of the score he was playing, memorised it.
This was strange for him.
Usually, when he was told to sight read and play spontaneously, his mind wouldn't allow him the benefit of memorising the piece.
It was strange, this sensation.
He couldn't comprehend.
He couldn't even feel the pain as he usually did when he pressed on the strings with his left fingers.
Why was this so different?
Was it the instrument?
The song?
The person he was playing with?
'Or perhaps the people listening?'
Eyelids lifted slowly at the voice that resounded in his head to reveal a pair of dazzling blue-grey eyes.
Those same eyes scanned the room, landing on a figure outside the shop.
It was just a silhouette; the shop was facing the west where the sun was setting.
The song ended then as Allen played the last note.
He lifted his chin lightly off the chinrest and straightened up, his left hand still holding the fingerboard of the violin as he lifted it off his shoulder.
Footsteps echoed around the empty room as the old man placed his hand on the shoulder of the white-haired teen, smiling joyfully.
"That's the best sound I've heard in years."
The boy grinned.
Allen started as the bell at the entrance of the shop chimed briefly.
The sound of someone crossing the room could be heard, but it was soft, almost too soft to be heard.
The snow-haired boy did not turn around.
There was a light thud; the sound of an object being gently put on a table.
There was a slow clapping noise that followed it, and Allen turned around to see the same ebony bangs and violet orbs he'd seen earlier.
"L-Lenalee?"
He hadn't seen her come in, though he'd certainly heard the sound of her snow-boots on the wood-panelled floors as she moved to hang up her coat and place his violin case on the table.
The girl only smiled.
"I only heard the last part of it, but it was beautiful, Allen."
He flushed a light pink as his name rolled off her tongue quaintly.
'It's just the effect of the compliment,' he told himself, 'don't go there.'
She smiled and turned away from him.
"Good evening, Jigo-san," she said, addressing the elderly shopkeeper this time, bowing politely.
"Good evening, Lee-san."
Lenalee laughed; a soft velvety sound in place of the bell chimes.
"Jigo-san, I've told you to call me Lenalee."
Her thousand watt smile showed itself again.
Allen simply stared.
The said Mr Jigo sauntered over to the table of where-which sat his violin case.
Sliding the shoulder rest from its place, he smiled, and said, "Same to you, Lee-san. I've told you to call me Tikano several times."
He chuckled softly.
"The title 'Jigo-san' makes me feel old, Lena-chan."
Allen looked back at Lenalee, watching for her response as he made his way to the blue fabric violin case.
"Yes," she replied playfully, "Tikano…"
She grinned before adding, "…san."
The old man sighed, a smile still on his face as he finally slid his violin into place in the case.
At this, Allen saw something shift in Lenalee's eyes.
He decided to inquire.
"Lenalee, do you have any requests?"
A forced smile showed on her face, distinguished by the absence of the light in her eyes.
She nodded.
"I do."
Their gazes locked for an instant, and Allen saw the disappointment she held for having missed most of the performance.
Especially its idiosyncratic intensity.
He tore his gaze away from her face, staring down at the violin this time.
The wooden instrument he'd borrowed was already in the case, but he gently lifted it out again.
"Jigo-san, can we play another piece?"
The old man raised an eyebrow, looking a little bit angry.
Allen bit his lip. Maybe the townsfolk weren't so overly giving after all.
"I told you. Call me Ti-ka-no," he said, waving his finger at each syllable of his name.
Then he smiled.
"Sure."
He lifted his own violin out of its case gingerly and grinned.
Allen turned to look at Lenalee.
"So, what would you like us to play?"
The sixteen-year-old looked down, folding her arms and rubbed the upper part of the limb.
"I would like to request Canon in D Major by Johann Pachelbel, if you please?"
Allen shot Tikano a fleeting look.
The old man nodded at him.
At the gesticulation, Lenalee's mood instantly lifted, and Allen could see the happiness of her smile touch her wondrous amethyst orbs.
Allen positioned the violin on his left shoulder as Tikano pushed his glasses further up the bridge of his nose, his chin already resting on the chinrest of the honey-coloured violin he was holding.
The fifteen-year-old had memorised the piece by heart, and playing it without the score was a piece of cake.
Allen waited, bow at the ready before the old man nodded, signalling the start of the piece.
His bow hovered above the strings lightly for the first couple of bars before his turn came, and the violin sang beautifully for them, the bow moving up and down, across the strings in a melody.
Lenalee's rested her right hand over her heart, her left hand wrapping around it lightly. Her eyes fluttered shut as the music flowed and resounded through her.
She really missed it…the beautiful sound of the violin.
-
"Thank you, Allen. That was beautiful."
He simply smiled at her, his smile further brightened by the golden light of the setting sun.
Lenalee turned to look at the vermillion-orange orb falling, dipping back behind the horizon, the darker upper portion of the visible sky already harbouring a young, silver crescent moon, highlighted slightly golden by the remaining rays of sunlight.
The surface of the river they were walking along shone like a thousand crystals, the glimmer of the evening sun reflecting off it.
"Charmed," she said to the autumn sunset, "that's the effect twilight has on me in winter. And what your music did to me," she turned to the white-haired teen, "was the same."
"Thank you. I'm most flattered."
He looked at her meaningfully as they continued down the riverside path.
There was silence- the snow had been swept away, off the path – and the white-haired teen's mind wandered.
The problem he'd pushed to the back of his mind till just then resurfaced, and Allen sighed.
Lenalee seemed to sense his unease, and looked at him, eyes curious.
The white-haired teen seemed to notice her conspicuous inquisitive glance, and scratched the back of his head with his free hand.
"I haven't exactly got any money for lodgings. How am I going to pay for my stay at this motel you're bringing me to?"
The sixteen-year-old girl blinked.
"I could lend you money," she offered.
Instantly, Allen's left hand shot up and flailed about.
"No, no! I can't do that!"
Lenalee raised an eyebrow, looking slightly irritated.
Friends were supposed to help each other out, regardless of whether money was included or not.
"Can I invite you to my place, then, to stay the night?"
He looked at her expression, contemplating as he struggled to make a decision.
His brain was telling him not to impose on her, but his conscience was telling him that, judging by the face she had just made, she'd be very upset if he didn't accept her request.
And he was a gentleman.
Gentlemen are supposed to please women in a polite manner, not upset them.
"Ehh? Are you sure your parents won't mind? After all, I just met you today and…"
Allen stopped short.
Lenalee's expression had darkened noticeably and her hand tightened around the handle of the violin case she was carrying.
"I don't have any parents. They were murdered when I was little, right before I moved to this town."
Her voice was monotonous, independent of emotion.
'Uh oh.'
Allen stiffened.
"L-Lenalee… I…"
She lifted her face up to look him in the eyes with fiery amethyst orbs that simply screamed "don't you dare pity me".
"But I'm sure my brother won't mind," she muttered darkly, a bitter smile plastered on her face.
"O-Oh, you have a brother?"
She smiled at this, the dark feeling about her vanishing.
"Yes, an older brother."
She chuckled softly.
"Though he does have quite a sister complex," she added quietly a smile gracing her features.
Allen laughed quietly to himself, readjusting the violin case slung on his shoulder.
Lenalee tapped a thin, pale finger against her chin.
The action went unnoticed by Allen, who was flexing the fingers of his left hand, entirely engrossed.
The ebony-haired girl did not notice his unusual movements either.
"Well, 'quite' would be very much of an understatement…" she muttered to herself, incomprehensible to Allen.
"Sorry? What did you say?"
"Oh! Um, nothing."
They walked in silence the rest of the way and Allen pondered silently what Lenalee might have said, the fingers of his right hand curled around the handle of his suitcase, his violin case still slung over his shoulder.
-
"Nii-san, I'm home."
Allen stepped into the warm space illuminated by bright white lights.
It was in a modern apartment building, situated near the river they had been walking along earlier. It was located even closer to the music faculty than the motel; right behind the faculty building, or so Allen had been told.
Everything was perfectly normal. The only thing he noticed that was out of place was the uncharacteristic burning smell that lingered in the air.
And the racket of clattering pots and pans.
"Welcome home, my sweet Lenalee!" an excited voice called, seeming to have come from the depths of the kitchen.
"I brought a guest, Komui-nii," Lenalee said politely, pulling off her shoes, signalling Allen to do the same. She put them neatly on a wooden rack that stood neatly to the side.
"Oh? Who is it? Any friend of my Lenalee is welcome!"
Allen slipped off his boots and looked at Lenalee awkwardly as she giggled.
"I told you," she whispered.
She beckoned him into their small living room.
"Make yourself at home," she said, beaming.
There was a small two-seater sofa positioned against the wall and Lenalee motioned for him to sit down before excusing herself to change into more comfortable clothing.
Allen's observant gaze wandered around the room, catching sight of a standing piano in the corner, on it a set of photo frames.
Though he did miss the small television and fireplace set at the front of the living room; his attention was quickly received by the photo frames on the piano top.
He got up slowly, hesitantly, leaving his two violin cases on the small rectangular coffee table, his suitcase on the floor beside the mahogany coffee table.
The white-haired teen sincerely hoped he wasn't intruding.
Then again, her exact words had been 'make yourself at home'…
He padded over to the instrument, the carpeted floors tickling his feet outside his socks.
The photos in the frames on top of the piano were slightly faded but he could make out the faces of the people in the pictures.
Allen found himself feeling a sudden wave of anxiety wash over him.
He felt dizzy.
It was her.
The 'Lenalee' from his dreams.
So it really hadn't been a coincidence with the names, looks or the ages.
And there was more evidence of them being the same person; in the photographs.
One of the little Lenalees in the photographs was holding a violin.
This however was in an older picture and the girl was about seven years old.
In another picture, where the ebony-haired girl was slightly older, looking about ten, the age Allen had seen her in the dream, there was a viola in her arms and she was beaming happily, her raven coloured tresses reaching just above her waist.
He was a little surprised that Lenalee hadn't told him about her music history.
Heat rushed to his face.
She wasn't actually obliged to tell that to a stranger like him.
Allen heard footsteps-the sound of someone approaching-and hustled back to the sofa as quietly as he could.
Lenalee emerged, her hair up in two adorable pigtails. Well, in Allen's opinion anyway.
Her previous outfit had been replaced with a green turtleneck sweater and shorts, thick looking leggings reaching up to her thighs.
She came to sit beside him on the couch as they waited for her brother.
A few moments afterwards, a man looking to be of about 20 years of age came prancing into the hallway, spatula in hand.
But the strangest thing the white-haired boy noticed about him was that the man was wearing a frilly pink apron.
Lenalee stood up as the man approached them. Allen followed suit.
"Nii-san, this is Allen Walker. Allen, meet my brother Komui," she said, smiling broadly.
"Hello! I'm Komui Lee, Lenalee's darling brother! It's nice to meet you," he exclaimed cheerfully, extending a hand.
The boy paused, and the world around him slowed to a stop once more. Another familiar person.
That name.
That's what his master had called the man in the dream.
Again, he snapped out of his stupor.
Allen reached out and took the older man's hand, shaking it.
"I'm Allen Walker. It's nice to meet you too. I'm terribly sorry for imposing on the two of you like this."
Komui laughed lightly.
"It's no problem. And besides, it's been some time since we've had a visitor."
His overly joking demeanour vanished and he smiled warmly.
The fifteen-year-old boy was slightly bewildered by this action and was speechless as the bespectacled man spoke once more.
"Would you like to have dinner? I'm sure you're hungry."
"O-Oh… Uh, sure."
Komui laughed again.
"Relax, Allen-kun. You don't need to feel so uptight."
This time, said teenager sighed.
Then, he smiled.
"Thank you… Really."
Komui looked as if he didn't understand, but Allen noticed the same knowing aspect in his dark violet eyes that he had seen in Lenalee's earlier at the coffee house.
"I've never met nicer people… All my life, I've been paying off my master's debts. I've never been treated nicely… always called a 'freak'… But the two of you… Despite my scar, my hair… and…" Allen's gaze travelled to his left arm, "that... you haven't call me a freak… The same goes for the rest of the people in this town… I wonder why it's so different…"
A hand rested on his shoulder.
"It seems you've been through a lot, Allen-kun. Let's talk about it over dinner… If you want…"
Allen looked up and nodded gratefully, lightening up. He was starving.
Komui laughed again.
"Spaghetti's on the menu tonight!"
Both the ebony-haired sixteen-year old and the white-haired boy laughed out loud at this statement and Allen pushed the thought to the back of his mind.
'That dream was never a dream to begin with. It was a memory.'
Fin.
A/N: I hope you enjoyed this chapter. ^_^ Please do review and leave me a cookie~