Before last night's dinner with Momiji, Saki had decided there would be sun-bathing in Antartica before she would join the orchestra, but now—now it actually seemed like a possibility. It was with tight shoulders and shifty eyes that she entered the orchestra room, imagining herself invisible.

Once, that might have logically worked, but not now. She stood out with her cello in hand, almost as conspicuous as she would be carrying a whale. Taking a seat in the back, she made eye contact with the conductor only when he called her name, leaning against his podium.

"Miss? Can I help you?"

"My name is Hanajima Saki. I filled out the application to join orchestra this morning," she said, but was thinking better of her decision now. Momiji wasn't here, neither was Haru. She hadn't even known that the white-haired boy was even in the same college as she was.

Maybe she had been a little reclusive.

"Sorry we're late!" Momiji called as he and Haru entered. "Ah, Ms. Hanajima, you came!"

He took the seat just in front of her, violin case in hand, and though she wasn't looking at him, she could hear him beaming. She wasn't quite sure how you could hear someone beam, but his aura just radiated joy. It was like sitting behind Tohru on an average day in high school, years ago.

"Have you auditioned?" the conductor asked. She hadn't.

"But she's really good," Momiji said, unsnapping the buckles on his violin case. "I've heard her. I'm sure she can play two scales."

Was that all the audition was? Saki was glad she hadn't bothered to make an appointment to have one then. The conductor shrugged and directed her to the black box in the corner to search for the cello versions of the pieces while the group warmed up. It was strangely pleasant to hear them all jarring and discordant in the beginning. By the time Saki sat down to play the first piece with them, the orchestra played a single song, rather than the fifteen individual and off-key songs they had played warming up.

Except her. She still stuck out of the group, a bit slower, a bit off the beat. Sight reading was difficult and her fingers didn't shift fast enough. It felt like a tug of war on occasion, the rest of the orchestra pulling her along, always a sixteenth note too slow. They were experienced enough with this piece that they had habits of playing. She, on the other hand, hadn't heard the songs before.

After practice ended, she tried to slip out quietly, feeling stupid, but Momiji caught her by the door.

"Ms. Hanajima!" Setting his violin horizontally on his chair, he jogged over. "You came!"

"You told me to," she said, tucking her head low and not making eye-contact with any of the orchestra members passing her, some of which waved to Momiji as if they knew him. He waved back airily.

"But I didn't know you would actually come. And you joined." He smiled—broader, if that was even possible. "You'll enjoy it, you really will."

"The songs are good," Saki agreed. "It's been a while since I played with anyone though." Anyone since Momiji. Getting lost in a group was like wandering in the woods, but not feeling lost. What would it be like to play in a duet?

"You'll remember," Momiji said instinctively, offering an awkward smile. He looked a little more subdued today. "I would have been here to welcome you, but we were a bit slow getting out of the house this morning." He glanced at Haru and his gaze fell.

"Out of the house? You didn't go to class?" Saki asked.

"I don't have classes today and Haru skipped."

"Was something wrong?"

It didn't look like Momiji would answer for a moment, then he said quietly, "I didn't expect to hear Megumi had died the other day. It's been bothering me."

Oh. She hadn't thought of that when she told him; it was hard to think of Momiji mourning anything. Not that he was heartless, but she couldn't have imagined him being depressed, especially over something as old as Megumi's death.

Then again, she had known for years and she was still mourning. She tried not to think about apologizing to him, or reassuring him that everything would be all right, because she had no confidence that it would. She had trouble getting up in the morning too.

"If you need anyone to speak to," she found herself saying. "You can talk to me."

Where had that come from? He had Hatsuharu, and the Souma family, and Momo, and his father. And at least the beginnings of a degree in Psychology. She offered a couple years of living in grief, in an empty house, and cello music. She edited her statement brokenly.

"Or sometimes playing music. That can help too."

"With you?"

Well… she had meant alone. The silent hush that Momiji had found her in two days ago, with her and her cello and the rich thrum of her grief. But had it ever made the grief lessen? Maybe playing together would help Momiji more. Maybe becoming like Saki wouldn't help anything.

"Yes. Just tell me when." She slid her cello into its case gently, feeling the smooth wood glide against her fingers like a kite taking off. Ironic, since it was being laid to rest. Standing, she nodded to Haru, who had come up behind Momiji, and picked up her case.

"It was good to see both of you."

"I'm so glad you came!" Momiji said, and he truly seemed to mean it. "Don't disappear now, okay? Come back on Thursday?"

"There are two practices a week?" Saki only remembered hearing about the Tuesday afternoon one.

"No, we have a concert." Pawing through a zippered part of his case, Momiji found a folder and pushed it at her. "I don't think you can play since you've been here a day, but you should come. Momo and my dad will be there. She'd be happy to see you again."

He was wheedling, but it was working and something about his smile was infectious.

"It… it should be interesting. I'll try to come." Seven at a nearby concert hall on Thursday night. What else would she be doing?

"Yes!" Momiji pumped the air with his free hand. "Let's go, Haru!"

The white-haired man nodded to her in passing, accompanying Momiji out of the orchestra room. He'd grown quieter as he aged, not so much the angry delinquent Saki remembered him being and more of the solemn person she had caught glimpses of at times, usually when Yuki was around. She had sometimes wondered about them, but Momiji had always appeared, distracting and bubbly. That was the way things went though; people changed when you fell out of contact with them.

And now she had a concert to go to. Smiling, she closed her cello case and, though she didn't strike up a conversation with anyone on the way back to the house, she felt more social than she had in ages.

(divider)

Author's Note:

First, thank you to everyone who actually… READS this thing. And reviews. And waits for YEARS. O_o

You all have incredible tenacity, and I'm sorry I've been a fail author. It bothers me when people do that—and then I do it myself. Thank you so much caring about this story.

A note to Dani's random fox: No, your notes are completely not offensive! I love constructive crit, though I don't plan to rewrite this story (if I were, your notes would be fantastic). You made some excellent points and I jogged the story by switching it to violin in this chapter. Thank you thank you for all your comments. They're very accurate and appreciated. I should rewrite, but I'm working on original fiction most of the time now, and just feel like I should finish this story.

To everyone else who reviewed chapter 2: loretta537, Avid Adrenaline, RaiderTKD, .Illusion, Kiki Hayashi, atsuko sohma, XxxlovebreaksthebrokenxXX, and southern-punk = wow guys. You are the only reason this story keeps toddling on. Holy cow. You're all amazing.

Apologies for any OOC or major plot problems. I've been out of this fandom a long time now and, regrettably, the story's not going to have a major conflict. It might end next chapter, if I can come to an ending point. I don't know what will happen. Hopefully it's… still okay.