(A/N: I haven't been watching "Dr. Stone" for a long time now, but I knew that when I saw it for the first time that it would become a new favorite. I didn't expect to like it so much, but there's nothing not to like about it.
The title for this story is inspired by the song "Welcome to the Black Parade" by My Chemical Romance and I personally find it very fitting for much of the show. It's also pretty fitting for this story and my OC.
There's so much I could say, but I don't want to turn this into a ramble. With that in mind, I hope you'll give this story a chance and end up enjoying it.)
U-I-Y-I-U-*o*-U-I-Y-I-U
D… D… A… A… B… B… A…
'Twinkle, twinkle, little star…' a girl thought as hummed to the tune playing in her headphones.
She sat in a plane with a pencil in one hand and a journal in the other. Her pencil scribbled in sync with the music she listened to. She was writing musical notes in her journal, drawing lines through each dot and circle.
The song ended and her writing did as well, she let her headphones fall around her neck when she removed them. She sighed and looked at the time on her phone, the plane would be landing shortly.
"Done for the day, honey?" the woman next to her asked as she typed on her laptop.
Both of them had strawberry blonde hair and bright blue eyes, almost exact copies of each other. It was to be expected for a mother and her daughter.
She shrugged, "For now, I guess."
She glanced at her with a smile before returning to her computer, "Well, don't burn yourself out. I know you're tired today."
Leaning back in her seat, she looked out the window as she asked her mother, "Do you think there's going to be a crowd again?"
"We are flying economy class, but anything is possible," she replied. "For all you know, a flight attendant could have gotten a picture and sent it to reporters."
She groaned at the thought, "How does auntie do it?"
Smiling to hold down a laugh, she responded, "It's a wonder, honey."
An hour later, the plane landed at the airport and came to a stop on the runway. All at once, the passengers stood up from their seats and got their carry-on luggage from the overhead compartments. The mother and daughter waited until the walkway was less congested before gathering their belongings as well.
The woman handed her an instrument case, "Here you are."
She smiled, "Thanks, Mom."
"Go ahead and put your notebook in your bag while we're still here," she said.
Her carry-on was a small duffle bag, almost too small to be called as such, it was meant to hold supplies, but it was more than enough for her journal. She set it on the arm of a seat momentarily to put it inside, quickly zipping it up again.
They caught up to the passengers and followed them off the plane. Once inside the airport, they began to make their way to the baggage claim. It took only a couple of minutes for people to start pointing and whispering.
"Is that her?"
"I think it is."
"I saw her concert online. She's a genius with her violin."
"Violin? What about the piano?"
"That's her Mom, right? I can't believe how much she looks like her sister."
"I'm so jealous! I'd kill to be the Lillian's sister or her niece!"
"Please tell me Dad's already here," she grumbled.
"He's already here," she smiled, shaking her head.
They made it to the baggage claim and looked for their luggage. Their suitcases eventually came to them on the carousel and they grabbed them. Extending the handles, they proceeded to the exit with their bags rolling behind them.
Just as they were about to walk through the automatic doors, the sound of shoes running in their direction could likely be heard from the baggage claim area to the terminals. In an instant, there were people with their phones and cameras surrounding them, trying to get pictures and video.
"Let me get a picture!"
"Autograph, please!"
"How do you feel about Lillian broadcasting her music from space?"
Truthfully, she would have been more than willing to take pictures, sign autographs, and answer questions anytime, but not while leaving the airport to go home. She and her mother spent weeks in America while she played for nearly a dozen concerts all over the country, only taking a break the day after their arrival so that she could say goodbye to her aunt.
'I guess this is what happens when you're Lillian Weinberg's niece,' she thought, bemused.
Eventually, the crowd let them exit and they immediately found her father's car. He unlocked the doors as soon as he saw them, making it easier for them to escape the paparazzi.
She took her mother's suitcase into the backseat with her as she got in the car. Her mother set her smaller bag onto the floor of the front seat before sitting inside herself.
Her father had short black hair and light brown eyes. The only thing he had in common with his daughter was a mole the same size and placement on their collarbones.
He smiled when he saw his wife and kissed her, "How was your trip?"
"Long," his daughter answered as she arranged the suitcases.
His wife smiled and laughed at their child's response, "What she said."
He chuckled, "I'm sure. I bet you're tired after all those concerts, I caught a few of them online."
There was always someone who livestreamed her concerts from the venue, even if they lasted for hours. "Really? How did I do?"
"You're the famous one, you tell me," he replied jokingly.
She smiled, "Please, people only know my name because I'm Lillian Weinberg's niece."
"Maybe, but you're only a good musician because you have two skilled and amazing parents," her mother said.
It was true, both of her parents were talented musicians and had played in bands for many years before and after they had her. They were the most supportive when she started playing for audiences and encouraged her to do so.
For her, having musicians for parents and a world-famous singer for an aunt, it was not a matter of if she would pursue a career in music, but what she would do; would she play instruments, sing, or both? She could sing, but she preferred instruments and when her talent caught national attention, it was not a long wait for her to start playing in other countries.
Unfortunately, it was not without cost, she had to switch from public school to homeschool in order to keep her education. If she stayed with public school, she would have been graduating from high school that year.
She had a few friends when she still went to school, but no one she could ever call a "best friend". Truthfully, she always felt they only wanted to be friends with her because of her aunt, their family connection was certainly not a secret.
Her father drove out of the airport, headed in the direction of their home. After weeks of criss-crossing all over the United States, she was ready to rest until the next concert.
'I'm gonna take a nap after I unpack,' she thought.
After half an hour of driving, they had arrived at their home, a fairly modest two-story house in a nice neighborhood. Every time she had to be overseas for a long time, she was never more happy to be home.
The car came to a stop in the driveway and the family worked together to get the bags out. She pulled her mother's suitcase out of the backseat first, before grabbing her own. Her mother grabbed the handle of her own suitcase while her father took hold of hers, taking them to the front door.
"We're going inside, honey," she told their daughter.
"Okay," she replied, taking her carry-on bag and instrument case out of the car. "Thanks for taking my bag, Dad."
"No problem, sweetie," he responded as he and his wife stepped into the house.
She set her bags down for a moment in order to shut the door. She took her phone out of her pocket and looked at the time. There were times where it was still difficult to comprehend how she had been on an airplane a mere hour prior.
Before she went inside, she opened her carry-on to briefly look at the writings in her journal. Sometimes, looking at something under a natural source of light was more helpful when analyzing for mistakes.
She looked at her notes to see if she had written the songs correctly as she had listened to them. As far as she could tell, she had done a flawless job, it could almost be mistaken for genuine sheet music by the composers themselves.
Almost, she was not vain nor bold enough to call it as such. It was simply a decent memory, slightly hyperactive senses, and the way her brain worked.
She picked up her case and was about to grab her bag when she saw something quickly arising over the rooftops of the houses in her neighborhood. It was a bright green light, one she had never seen before; it was mysterious and she could almost call it beautiful.
She saw one of her neighbors walking along the sidewalk across the street, they looked in the direction of the strange light and she watched as they were turned into stone. After witnessing such a sight, she should have been afraid, she should have ran away from the light, yet she found herself walking towards it.
The green light illuminated overhead, moving across the sky like a tidal wave. Her body began to turn to stone, quickly spreading like a fire across dry grass, still her eyes were fixed on the mysterious light. Before her vision became black, she thought she could see musical notes.
"Huh? What? What happened?"
She could not see nor hear anything, yet she was conscious, she could still think, she could still remember everything. The last thing she remembered was the mysterious green light in the sky.
She tried to move, but she was unable to; she could not even move one little finger. It was as though her body was made out of rock.
Then, she remembered what witnessed happening to her neighbor and to herself just a second before she passed out. Was that why she could not move and only think?
"Did that light do something to me? Did it turn me into stone? But how is that possible?"
She could feel her anxiety rising as fear and confusion filled her mind. She did not become anxious very often, not as much as she used to when she first started playing instruments for audiences, but it felt warranted, given her situation.
She felt her consciousness fade suddenly, like an invisible force was trying to put her to sleep. She fought against it, struggling to keep her mind awake, fearful of what could happen to her if she allowed it to overcome her.
"I have to keep my brain active, but how?" She started to think of a way to stop herself from becoming unconscious, a way to keep her mind occupied and alert. It was not long before an idea formed, "That's it! Music will keep me alive, it's the one I've been passionate about my whole life. And the very thing that brought my family together."
Thinking about the first song for her mental audience of one, her mind suddenly drifted to her aunt. She was in space as the first public figure to take a trip to the International Space Station, she hoped that she somehow avoided being turned into stone. With the way the green light traveled, she knew it was likely her parents were caught in it as well. She could only hope they would fight whatever force she was fighting as well.
Her aunt's most famous song was called "One Small Step" and it was one of her favorite songs in general to listen to. To the public, it was written about her hardships in her early life and her rise as a singer, but in reality, it was something different. It was inspired by the story of her great-grandfather, who fought against the constant threat of bad weather and the remnants of war while migrating to the United States.
Nowhere to turn,
Nowhere to hide
Between a rock and a hard place
Someone to find
I know the times are tough,
Just down and out
Putting my faith in tomorrow
I'm ready to go
But I don't know where to start
Each and every road seems to be calling to me
Pulled in every which way,
So I made my own path
A deep breath,
And my best foot forward
One small step from zero
I'm not afraid
Cuz the world that we want is right here for us to make
Just taking one small step to hero
I'll take the chance
And when I do
I'll be thinking of the same thing I always do
It's always you
We try to find
The passion inside
A flame that will never burn out
Something that's mine
I did it on my own,
No looking back
Wishing for my time to shine
No way to know,
So I'll just follow my heart
Each and every road seems to be calling to me
I'll keep moving on,
So there's no looking back
A deep breath,
And my best foot forward
One small step from zero
To start again
If we want,
To be strong,
Have to believe that we can
Just taking one small step from hero
To make a change
And start brand new,
I'll be wishing for the same thing I always do
It's always you
All the hope we have
Is right here in our hands
The future's left unseen,
Just a blank page
All the strength we need is right here in me
Just need one small step
To carry on
Just taking one small step from zero
I'm not afraid
Cuz the world that we want is right here for us to make
Just taking one small step to hero
I'll take the chance
And when I do
I'll be thinking of the same thing I always do
It's always you
While she was mentally singing the song, she thought she could hear her aunt's voice. She could almost cry, she knew it was very likely she would never see her aunt again, that was to say if it was possible to break out of her stone prison.
She pushed those thoughts out of her mind, "No! It is possible! I will break out of this one day. Doesn't matter if it's months or even years! Even if auntie didn't make it, I'll be there to make sure her memory never dies!"
U-I-Y-I-U-*o*-U-I-Y-I-U
(A/N: Shortest first chapter I've written in a while (lol), I would've made it more than this, but I figured this was a good spot to leave it at. I know it probably could've been written better, but I think I did pretty well.
I don't want to bore you with my rambling, so I'll wrap this up (considering there's not really too much for me to discuss as of now). Hopefully, some of you will stick around for the next chapter.)