"Richard Lawson" This story is not based on any of my other works. I'm keeping the manga this is based on a secret for now. All I'll say is that it's not Ranma. :) When Thou, My Music by Richard Lawson "Let me admit not to... let us not to marriage admit...no, dammit." Carl threw his pencil on the table, where it bounced nicely across the surface and into the woman opposite him. She joined the rest of the nearby library patrons in glaring at him. Carl glared back for a second, then softened. "Sorry," he murmured. The woman sniffed, rolled his pencil back to him, then gathered her things and strode away. Carl sighed. Typical, unfortunately. He took his pencil and held it over the paper. His term paper was going very slowly. His initial enthusiasm for it had waned considerably as he realized the research it entailed. Still, Carl was doggedly determined to go on. Fortunately, he had a lot of good source material from a very prolific author: William Shakespeare. Carl had bought a book of his collected plays and was quoting from it extensively. Unfortunately, he couldn't find the quote he was looking for right at the moment. Carl stood with a resigned sigh and headed for the card catalog. On his way, he passed the row of noisy computers a few of the campus geeks were poking at. He couldn't help but sneak a peek as he walked by; they looked like honest-to-goodness 486's. They were supposed to be hot stuff. Wouldn't it be great, he thought as he flipped through the tray of index cards, if they could put all of this information on a computer? Then he could easily find the book he was looking for. Heck, maybe they could put all of Shakespeare's work on a computer. Boy, *that* would make life easy for him. He chuckled at himself as he wrote down the reference number of the book he was looking for. Dream on. They couldn't possibly fit all that information in one of those boxes. The books on literature were on the third floor. Carl jogged up the stairs and walked rapidly through the stacks of books. He slowed down as he got to the section he was looking for, passing by other students who were wandering up and down the aisles. He scanned the books and found it; Shakespeare's sonnets. He reached for it. Another hand reached for it, too. He ended up clasping his hand over the intruder's hand as it held the book. He looked at the hand's owner. A young woman with slightly tan skin, short dark hair, and brown eyes. She was clearly of Asian ancestry. The jeans and striped blouse combined with the backpack over her shoulder marked her as a fellow student at the college. To Carl's eyes she looked beautiful. She was staring back at him expressionlessly. Carl barely kept his jaw from dropping open. The situation was hopelessly cliched. He expected violins to begin playing at any moment. She finally smiled slightly. "Forgive me, but I believe I was first to the book." More than of Asian ancestry; her accented English said that she *was* Asian. Japanese, if he had to take a guess. For some reason Carl found the sound of her speech slightly intoxicating. He struggled to remember what he was here for. "I-I'd just like to look up a reference. Something about marriage and impediments." She looked back at him evenly, then spoke. "Let me not to the marriage of true minds Admit impediments. Love is not love Which alters when it alteration finds, Or bends with the remover to remove: O no! It is an ever-fixed mark That looks on tempests and is never shaken; It is the star to every wandering bark, Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken. Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks Within his bending sickle's compass come: Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks, But bears it out even to the edge of doom. If this be error and upon me proved, I never writ, nor no man ever loved." Carl had a sudden new insight into Shakespearean sonnets: that they carried a whole new meaning when spoken by someone the listener had an attraction for. He quickly cast about for a reason to maintain contact with the woman in front of him. "Um... I can't possibly remember all that. Would you allow me to write it down? My stuff's on the first floor." She regarded him a moment more, then nodded. He beamed at her. "Thanks. My name's Carl, by the way." The woman looked over at his hand, still resting on hers. He hastily removed it. She took the book out of the shelf. "Katharina." Carl raised his eyebrows. "Really?" "Kathy, if you'd like." She pointed behind him, indicating that they should start walking. He complied, frowning thoughtfully. As they reached the stairs, he spoke. "A woman moved is like a fountain troubled, Muddy, ill-seeming, thick, bereft of beauty; And while it is so, none so dry or thirsty Will deign to sip or touch one drop of it." Her smile was a little wider this time. "Yes, you have the correct allusion. I prefer an earlier speech: "I'faith, sir, you shall never need to fear: I wis it is not half way to her heart. But if it were, doubt not her care should be To comb your noddle with a three-legg'd stool And paint your face and use you like a fool." Carl couldn't help laughing loudly. "Okay. I'll take that as fair warning." "Good." She was still smiling, which Carl decided meant that all hope was not yet lost. He thought back on her words. "You said I had the right allusion. Does that mean that you named yourself after the Shrew deliberately? That 'Katharina' isn't your real name?" She looked ahead of them as they continued down the stairs. "It is the name I adopted when I moved to this country. It's as real as any other name." "Sorry. Didn't mean anything by it." The reached the first floor and began walking across the floor towards the tables. Carl sat at his place, grabbing a fresh piece of paper. "This will take just a minute. Wanna sit down?" Kathy pursed her lips slightly, then set the book of sonnets in front of Carl. She walked around the table and sat opposite him. The tables were wide enough to place a not-inconsiderable distance between them. Carl suppressed a surge of irritation. This one was being cagey. He tried to think of something cool to say to her, and failed utterly. He berated himself mentally and opened the book. "CXVI, I believe." He glanced up at her, noting in passing that she had trouble saying "X". "If you've got them all memorized, what do you need this book for?" She raised an eyebrow at his tone. "I don't have them all memorized." He waited a second, but she said nothing more. He found the sonnet and copied it in silence. He flipped back and forth among the sonnets; they tended to run in thematic sequences, and there was lots of good stuff in the nearby pages. He shook his head, then closed the book and slid it across to her. "How long are you going to need it for?" Kathy put her hand on the book's cover but didn't pick it up. "What are you doing?" "I'm writing a term paper. Almost a thesis, really. I want to discuss 16th-century sexual role models and whether they still influence how people act today." This seemed to surprise her. "Really?" Carl snorted. "No. I'm lying. I'm actually turning them into limericks." Her surprise grew. Carl immediately began planning a long session of banging his head against a wall. He'd just said the first thing that came to his mind, without think if she'd be offended by it. Great way to make an impression. To his amazement and relief, she smiled. "An arduous task, to be sure, to do that with Shakespeare-sensei's work." The phrase was a new one to him. "Shakespeare sen say?" "'Sensei' is an honorific. Mr. Shakespeare, if it pleases you." Carl smiled. "I call him Bill." Kathy titled her head. "You Americans are so familiar." He shrugged. "I feel I've gotten to know him. The man had an uncanny eye for human behavior, and he did a marvelous job of detailing it. I've gotten loads of good stuff from his work." "Yes." She looked slightly pensive. "Shakespeare-sensei seems almost civilized." Carl laughed once. "I take it that's a compliment?" Kathy raised both her eyebrows and spoke haughtily. "He was more civilized than you are now." The words flew again. "Yeah, but can he play banjo?" She leaned forward to stare at him quite frankly. Carl looked back, trying to maintain his grin, wondering what she was looking for. Kathy leaned back and slid the book back across the table. "Take it." She opened her backpack and took out some books and a notepad. "I have other homework I can do. Let me know when you are finished with it." The grin on his face strengthened. "Thanks." Without anything further, she opened a math text and began working on a problem set. Carl went back to perusing the sonnets. There was, as always, lots of neat stuff. Yet for some reason he had trouble concentrating. And that, he decided, was a good sign. --- Step one in plan to win Kathy: Play the banjo. Carl sat with his back against a tree, looking out across the lawn. He hadn't seen Kathy appear again at the library, much to his disappointment. She'd politely refused his request to join him for dinner when he had finally finished with the sonnets. He'd kept his eyes open for her, and had only seen her a couple of times as she walked across the quad. So he'd created a plan. The banjo always worked. Well, almost always. Many women liked men who could play an instrument well; that was his experience, anyway. He had it strung around his shoulders. He had to keep from plucking at it; the effect would be best if it came as a total surprise. Carl almost missed her, striding behind a large group of students as they apparently left a class en masse. Carl hastily began playing a tune, a slow, soft ballad calculated to raise interest without being too obnoxious. A lot of the students around the quad looked at him as the sound of his strumming filled the quad. Kathy didn't break stride and didn't look at him. He followed her with his eyes until she had crossed the quad and entered the Student Center. Carl slumped his shoulders slightly and looked down at the banjo as he continued playing it. So much for step one. Now he'd actually have to try and come up with a step two. He thought about it glumly for a while, wondering if he should give up. Or throw flowers at her feet. That would definitely provoke a reaction. He might even get arrested for littering. That would be *something*, anyway. "Trying to impress me, neh?" The voice right in his ear caused Carl to flinch. The song ended on a discordant note. He looked behind him to see Kathy bent over at the waist, her head hovering just over his shoulder. As he looked at her, she straightened and crossed her arms, an amused expression on her face. "But what a sad sight you are, with your head hanging and your face so hurt. What will the poor little boy do now?" Carl gaped at her, his heart threatening to leap out of his chest. Step one appeared to have worked in ways he had never imagined. Now, however, he had no idea what to do. Kathy's amusement appeared to be growing by leaps and bounds. "Oh, did I not swoon into your arms at the sound of your music? I am sorry. Please try again when I am very old. Perhaps I will be senile enough then." "Hey!" Carl was beginning to feel a bit irritated. Partly because of her teasing, but mostly because she'd seen right through him. She leaned down to pat him on the cheek. "A nice attempt, Carl-kun." She straightened and spun on her heel, walking back towards the Student Center. Carl sprang to his feet, slung the banjo over his back, and ran after her. "Hey! What did you call me?" She spoke in a chastising tone of voice. "Following me now? Without my permission? Rude, rude, rude." "Wait!" He jumped in front of her, turning to face her. She stopped and crossed her arms, her expression still bemused. Carl drew a breath. "Katharina. May I walk with you?" "For how long?" "For however long it takes you to get to where you're going." "I was on my way to eat lunch." "May I join you for lunch?" Kathy looked him up and down. "Very well. But only if your promise not to try and woo me with such childish methods." "Hey!" He was saying that a lot. He choked off more words that threatened to spill out. She was so damn irritating. And she was giving him an opening. One he'd better not screw up. He nodded. "Okay. No more childish methods." She nodded back firmly. She stepped around him, and he turned with her as they made their way towards the Student Center. He leaned over to speak into her ear. "May I use more mature methods?" Kathy looked at him out of the corner of her eye. "We'll see." Carl laughed, feeling very, very good. --- The image gazing at Carl was not a reassuring one. The hair was flying all over the place, the cheeks were a peculiar shade of red, and the eyes seemed a little wild. He scowled and ran the comb through his hair again, trying to get the strands to come out somewhat close to even. This attempt came out more or less okay; while his hair had looked better, it had definitely looked worse, especially in the past fifteen minutes. He smiled and patted it once more, promptly sending the strands flying in a burst of static electricity. He growled and threw the comb in the sink. Spinning on his heel, he stalked into his dorm room. He threw open a drawer and began flinging pants around, trying to find a pair that were both clean and not in need of mending. There had been *lots* of time to do laundry today; somehow, the hours had disappeared. One pair of black pants seemed almost presentable; he slid them on, at the same time hopping over to his closet. He blanched at the large preponderance of empty hangers. The remaining candidates were a black and red striped short-sleeved shirt and a white sweatshirt. Carl grabbed both of them and held them in front of him, mentally debating the merits of one versus the other. He couldn't decide, and a vague sense of panic settled over him as he felt the minutes slide by. Finally, he threw the sweatshirt into a corner and put on the short-sleeved shirt. Socks, shoes, wallet, watch, keys, wits, and resolve were all quickly gathered. He glanced once more in the mirror, and felt his grip on at least two of those items begin to loosen. Carl leaned forward, rested his forehead briefly against the glass surface, then turned and walked quickly from the room. It was so important, this night. He'd worked so hard on Kathy. Lunch had been followed by a study session on another day, followed by another lunch. She had been very difficult to get to know. While she was fun and lively in conversation, she had firmly resisted all his efforts to find out more personal details about her. Whenever he asked her why she moved to the US or what life had been like back in Japan, her face closed up and she refused to answer. Still, Carl found her intelligent and attractive. She was a strange mixture of an easy-going personality, a sharp and sometimes caustic wit, and a melancholy nature. There was something very special about Katharina, and the more he was exposed to her, the more he wanted to know about her. Two more sessions in the library had been followed by a lunch out in the quad, where Carl had been allowed to play his banjo. Kathy had seemed quite relaxed, and had followed his playing with interest. At the end, he had suggested dinner and a visit to the local comedy club. She had agreed easily, and Carl had felt another barrier between them beginning to melt away. He jogged to the quad, stopping at the edge to try one last time to get his hair in order. Carl drew a deep breath and walked onto the lawn. Kathy was waiting for him, leaning against a tree with her arms crossed. She was wearing a yellow dress and her short hair had somehow been brushed back and out, giving it a feathered look. She was absolutely perfect, and Carl felt his pulse quicken. She smiled at him as he walked up to her. "You are late." He glanced at his watch. "Uh, well, in America, five minutes late is on time." The differences between Japanese and American behavior had become something of a running joke between them. Kathy shook her head in mock dismay. "If we were in Japan I would have left four minutes ago and written you off as unbelievably inconsiderate." Carl spread his hands. "Okay, I'm sorry. Shall we?" She pushed herself away from the tree and walked up to him. "Apology accepted. We shall." Carl grinned and walked with her off the quad. --- Even at 2am the streets were not empty. This being a college town, many students still wandered around late on a Friday night. Carl walked next to Kathy, feeling that all was well with the world. Dinner had been good. He had carefully refrained from all personal questions, letting her open herself up as much as she wanted to. She'd only offered a couple of snippets - that she had come to the US only a couple of years ago, and that she kept herself in good physical condition. Carl had immediately taken an internal vow to begin jogging or something. The rest of the conversation had been just wonderful. The comedy club had been great; the comedians had been on the mark - helped in no small part by the rowdy crowd of slightly-drunken college students. Carl and Kathy had laughed together for over an hour. Now, as they made their way back towards the college, Carl felt that Kathy was as relaxed as he had ever seen her. There had always been a tenseness about her, a sense that she was bearing some huge weight. Now that tenseness was nearly gone, and Carl began to wonder if a good-night kiss wasn't out of the question. They approached the quad again. Kathy had yet to tell him where she lived; another distance she kept between them. So the date was to begin and end here. This one time only, Carl vowed to himself. Kathy stopped under a lamp. They faced each other, and Carl smiled through the sudden tension in the air. "I had a great time tonight." "I enjoyed your company as well, Carl-kun." Kathy smiled back at him. 'Kun', as Carl had come to know, was a Japanese honorific. Kathy only used it when she was amused or pleased by him. Carl fervently hoped that it was the latter this time. Carl straightened slightly, forming in his mind the words he had practiced over and over again. "Let not my love be call'd idolatry, Nor my beloved as an idol show, Since all alike my songs and praises be To one, of one, still such, and ever so. Kind is my love to-day, to-morrow kind, Still constant in a wondrous excellence; Therefore my verse to constancy confined, One thing expressing, leaves out difference. 'Fair, kind and true' is all my argument, 'Fair, kind, and true' varying to other words; And in this change is my invention spent, Three themes in one, which wondrous scope affords. 'Fair, kind, and true,' have often lived alone, Which three till now never kept seat in one." Kathy's smile dimmed. "Be careful of what you say. I am not sure you know me well enough to say such things about me." Carl grimaced internally. He kept forgetting how touchy she was about familiarity. He still wasn't sure if it was a cultural trait, or her personal peccadillo. "Please forgive me, but it *is* what I think of you. And... well, if you think that I don't know what I'm talking about, I'd really like to be given the opportunity to get to know you better. Just so that I can prove myself correct." He smiled widely. Kathy's smile grew again. She chuckled, then sighed. Carl could hear a bit of nervousness in that sigh, and decided that now was the time. As he took a step forward he felt a breeze on his neck. Kathy looked behind him. Her jaw dropped open and her eyes widened in shock. Carl whirled, wondering what he could do, hoping that the campus police were nearby. A small distance away stood a young Japanese man. He seemed fairly nondescript: short dark hair, average build, short for an American but probably average for a Japanese. He had his hands in his jeans pockets and was looking beyond Carl to Kathy. "Konbanwa." The man's voice sounded tentative and subdued to Carl. "Konbanwa?" Kathy sounded incredulous. "Konbanwa?!" She launched into a tirade in Japanese. Carl turned and took a step back so he could see both of them. Kathy was getting more and more angry, yelling at the stranger. The man's eyes grew wide and his face became pale. He made no effort to interrupt Kathy. She finally ended with a peremptory question. The man didn't say anything for a moment, then spoke a few syllables. Kathy spat some mean-sounding words at him, then spun and stalked away. Carl glanced at the man. The stranger was looking at him somewhat speculatively and somewhat angrily. Several questions to ask the man flashed through Carl's mind in the space of a second, but instead he ran after Kathy. She was still stalking angrily, her arms stiff and swinging in a wide arc. Carl caught up to her. "Kathy, what's wrong?" She didn't look at him. "Don't call me that!" "What?" He frowned. "Why not?" "It's not my name. It never was my name!" "B-but... you said..." "I only let people call me that because I hated the idea of Americans addressing me in an overly-familiar fashion. So I let them call me by that stupid name so they wouldn't know how incredibly rude they were being." "Kathy!" The name was off his lips before he could stop himself. He plowed on anyway. "Listen, what do you want me to call you? What do you want me to do?" Her voice was high and strident. "I want you to leave me alone, gaijin!" "What? Guy-jean?" "Gaijin!" She suddenly stopped, turned, and yelled in his face. "Foreigner! Barbarian! Animal! Stupid over-proud rude thoughtless American! Gaijin!" Carl stared at her, his mouth agape, feeling as if he'd just been slapped. Kathy - or whoever she was - swallowed and stalked away. A tremendous surge of anger washed over Carl. "Fine! Be that way, you xenophobic snob! I don't even know why you came to this country!" More words were spilling out, and he felt something nascent dying in the words, but he couldn't stop himself. "Run the hell away, you're doing me *and* the whole country a favor!" She didn't look over her shoulder as she turned a corner around a building. Carl looked back to where they had started from, but the stranger was gone. He looked around, feeling incredibly lost and frustrated. Things had been going so well and then that guy had ruined *everything*. Carl began walking slowly and unsteadily towards his dorm, wondering how much of what had been ruined had been his own fault. --- She walked quickly along, surprised at the burning in her eyes. She should be over this. She had spent the past few years getting over this. And then it suddenly had all come rushing in. She felt a sudden breeze, as if the air had been pushed aside. She looked to the side, and there he was, standing under another lamppost, looking at her with a slightly forlorn look. She ground to a halt. "How did you get there?" The question was so ridiculously out of place that she was sorry she'd asked it. He shrugged. "Please, can we talk a minute?" Grimacing, she nodded. He walked up towards her, stopping about a meter away. "So... how have you been?" "How have I been?!" She shook her head. "I've been in America, that's how I've been! What kind of idiotic question is that?" "You... did you have to come here?" Sudden guilt twisted her stomach. "Of course I had to. Why not? Why would I have wanted to stay?" He looked at her for a few seconds, then off to the side. "I... I thought maybe..." He trailed off. She waited a moment. "Maybe what? Maybe what?" He looked back at her, mild irritation on his face. "Maybe you had a reason to stay." Her breathing was labored. "Damn you. Damn you for doing this to me." "Doing what to you?" "For making me remember..." She stopped, started again. "For reminding me how much I wanted to find an excuse to stay. How much it hurt to leave." He spoke softly. "Because of me?" Getting the word out felt like a well-healed wound being ripped open. "Yes." "I..." He took a step forward. "I didn't want you to go, either. I really wanted you to stay." The pain and anger welled up anew. "Then why weren't you there!" He blinked his eyes in surprise. "Why wasn't I where?" "I came for you. I stood outside and waited for you, the night before I left. You never appeared. You never gave me a reason to think that you wanted me to stay." Shock covered his face. "I... never knew. I stayed up all night thinking about you. But... I didn't go outside. Why should I?" She knew how illogical the words were, but she couldn't help saying them. "Because I was there." Silence so intense she was sure he could hear the beating of her heart. Finally he found his voice. "I'm sorry. I'm here now." And he was. The man she had thought about almost constantly for years. He was actually here, in the flesh, right in front of her. Suddenly her eyes narrowed. "And why are you here in the country, exactly? Because of her?" The guilt that crossed his face confirmed her suspicions. "I... she..." She shook her head. "You're supposed to be... what, visiting her? Or living with her?" He looked extremely uncomfortable. "We... were going to talk about it. She wants me to move to this country with her. I... I needed to see you before I could decide." They stared at each other for another long while. Finally she lowered her eyes. "And you'd leave her? Just like that?" Something like anguish in his eyes. "I... don't know that... that what I felt for her was ever anything like I felt for you. I... I don't want to hurt her. I never did. But... but in my secret heart, it was always you. You." "Your secret heart. Too secret. So secret that you couldn't tell me." "I... I was too scared. Immature, I guess. But from that first time we met..." She took a step towards him and looked up into his eyes. "You don't know me. Not that well. How are you so certain that I am the love of your life?" Every word he spoke seemed like an agony, as if he was struggling mightily to get them out. "I... I just know. I've always known. Please. I... I want to be with you." He took a step toward her. Their arms seemed to slip around each other of their own accord. They looked into each other's eyes. He bent down to kiss her. She turned her head to the side. Brought her hands up to his chest. And pushed him away. "I can't." Tears were flowing from her eyes. "It's wrong. We can't cause all this pain to everyone on a whim." "B-but it's not a whim. I..." "You came all this way to see her, but on the way you stopped to see me. Where is your faith and loyalty? How can I know that you won't decide later to leave me and go back to her?" He swallowed heavily. "No! I'd never... never abandon you." She took a step back. "You already did, once." He reached out to her. "Please, I... I wouldn't... won't ever... can't you give me another chance?" "It goes back to what I said before. I - we - can't be allowed to cause so much pain to so many people just on a chance." Desperation colored his voice. "Don't you feel it? Feel how much we belong to each other?" She began to get some control back. Her voice was a little more controlled, a little more confident. "What I feel is the fact that I've obsessed over you for three years. I've thought so much about what might have been, fantasized so much about how wonderful our life *would* have been if I'd stayed. I think you feel that same thing. Can't you see what we've done? We've both built up our expectations so high that any reality we try to create now couldn't possibly live up. Disappointment would be the inevitable result. And then where would we be?" He said nothing, just looked at her with such longing and hurt. She sighed and took another step back. "Go back to her. You've been happy with her, I think. She talks about you all the time in her letters. You've got a reality with her that I don't think you fully appreciate. Move in with her, make her happy, and I'll bet she'll make you happy in return." "Is that what you want?" She almost couldn't hear him. "To live our little fantasy in our minds, having that be the only way we'll be happy together?" "A happy fantasy is better than a sad reality. I want us to be happy." He looked at her for a long time. Seconds stretched into minutes as the air swirled with the force of their emotions. Finally, he smiled slightly, the pain still evident in his eyes and voice. "Okay. I want us to be happy, too. I only wish... that things had gone a little differently back then." She tried a smile also. "Me too. But it's best we live in the present, neh?" "Yes," he breathed. He turned away. "Goodbye." She took a final step back so that she wouldn't rush forward and hug him. "Goodbye." He walked off, fading quickly into the night. Her body began to tremble. She quickly stilled herself. This was so sad. But it was also a relief. Something had been excised from her soul. Its removal had been quite painful, and it would hurt for some time to come. But eventually she would recover, and be stronger. At peace. She turned and walked back towards her dorm. The further she got away from him, the more her mind began racing with new possibilities. Now, at last, she could live again. --- Carl looked at what he'd written so far, and decided to change a comma to a semi-colon. It was the most productive thing he'd done on the paper all day. He threw down his pencil, watched as it bounced on his desk and hit the wall before falling into his lap. He grimaced and stood up, walking over to the window. He grabbed his banjo and sat on the bed, idly strumming a few chords. Three days. Three days since the date. Three days since he'd seen her. How little he knew about her became clear when he tried to locate her. Not only didn't he know her true first name, he didn't know her last name. He didn't know where she lived or what she majored in. He'd tried finding her in her favorite places - in the library, at the student center - and failed. She appeared to have left the college altogether. Carl tried to comfort himself with thoughts of how insulting she had been, how ugly she'd been while hurling epithets in his face. If he could just hate her, he wouldn't feel so bad. But always his mind filled with the image of her leaning over his shoulder and talking into his ear. And that was an image he held very dear to his heart. He launched into another old-time ballad on the banjo, plucking at the pain in his heart. It would get better, eventually. That just wasn't a great comfort to him now. "Who are you trying to impress now, Carl-kun?" He looked up, startled. He usually kept his door open during the day because the weather has so warm and air circulation in his room was poor. Standing in the door with her hands on her hips and a smile on her face was Kathy. Katharina. Whoever she was. His chest tightened. He set the banjo on the bed, stood up, and bowed to her. "I apologize for what I said to you. It was rude. I'm sorry." He held the bow for a couple of seconds, then straightened, hoping he'd gotten that right. The smile had left her face. She bowed as well, although not quite as deeply as he had. "I, too, apologize. I was the one being rude. Unbelievably rude. I... never thought of you as an animal. Or a barbarian. I am sorry that I lost my temper and said things I never felt." Carl sighed in relief. "Okay. I accept. Can we start over?" She nodded. He walked up to her and held out his hand. "Carl Pearson." She smiled slightly. "Shaking hands? Japanese people don't shake hands. It's too familiar." "Well, excuse me for breathing." He clamped his mouth shut, muttered a silent imprecation, and bowed. "Like I said. Carl Pearson." She laughed, a pretty sound that fired his nerves. "I am Ayukawa Madoka." He grinned. "Ayukawa. That's a prettier name than Katharina." She shook her head, still smiling. "Japanese people always say their family name first. My given name is Madoka." "Oh. This is going to be harder than I thought. Will you forgive me if I make a few more mistakes like that?" "Yes. If you will forgive me at times for acting like a xenophobic snob." Carl snorted a laugh. "Okay. Sounds fair." His smile faded. "Who was that guy?" Her smile vanished as well. "An old... acquaintance." He tilted his head. "Don't you mean boyfriend?" "Yes." She looked to either side. "May I come in?" "Oh, yes, sorry." He stepped back as she entered. He closed the door and leaned against it. Madoka cast a critical eye across the room. Her gaze fell on the banjo and she walked over to it. "I used to play the piano. I was quite good at it. I stopped playing because it reminded me of him." She picked it up and studied it. "I stopped doing a lot of things because of him." Carl walked up behind her and put his arms on her shoulders. "I think you should start again." "Yes, I should." She turned around and pushed the banjo at him; he had to take it with his hands. "As it happens, I have already begun steps to do exactly that." Something in her voice made his stomach begin to twist. "Oh yeah?" "Yes. I talked to a cousin of mine, one who runs a band. I'm going to be joining him as a backup on the keyboards." Oh damn. "You mean you're going to be leaving college?" "More than that." She sounded sad. "I'm going to be moving back to Japan." Carl felt his hopes come crashing around him. Again. He looked down at the banjo in his hands, feeling a sudden urge to smash it and understanding why Madoka might have given up her music. "Carl, you must understand." She sounded earnest, if still a little sad. "When I left Japan, I tried to distance myself from everything that reminded me of him. I stopped playing my music. I never went swimming again. I cut my hair because for some reason feeling it on my shoulders made me think of him. I even adopted an American name so that the sound of people calling me 'Madoka' wouldn't remind me of how much I had longed for *him* to call me that." Carl looked up at her. She was looking at him intently, as if trying to will understanding into him. "It didn't work of course," she continued. "By doing everything I could to make sure I wouldn't think of him, I made it virtually certain that I *would* think of him all the time. I sent my whole life out of balance because of it." He found a bit of his voice. "Did... did I... help you at all... find any balance?" She smiled regretfully. "All the time I spent with you, I was thinking of how unlike Kasuga-kun you were, and how good that had to be for me. I wasn't thinking at all of whether or not you were a nice man. And that wasn't fair to you. It wasn't fair to either of us." "Oh." He couldn't think of anything more intelligent to say. There was too much disappointment, anger, and regret in his mind for him to be able to form coherent sentences at this point. "So I'm going back to Japan. I need to find my balance again, and that means both remembering who I am and who I was, and not letting any man - any *one* - decide my identity for me." Carl couldn't help smiling. "There are some amazing parallels to the topics I'm writing about in my term paper." He sighed and let some things go. "I guess that means I understand. I won't say that I'm not disappointed. I would have liked the chance to show you that... that I'm more than a guy who's not your old boyfriend." Madoka smiled warmly. "I have a gift for you." She reached into the pocket of her skirt and pulled out a small book. Numbly, Carl held his banjo with one hand while he took the book with his other. He had guessed as soon as she'd reached for her pocket. Shakespeare's sonnets. He felt a small tingle of warmth. It *was* a nice gift, whatever else might happen. He nodded at Madoka. "Thank you." She was grinning somewhat mischievously. She reached out and plucked a string on his banjo. "I marked one for you." Carl looked down to see a ribbon inserted in the pages. Awkwardly he flipped the book open and read the sonnet. How oft, when thou, my music, music play'st, Upon that blessed wood whose motion sounds With thy sweet fingers, when thou gently sway'st The wiry concord that mine ear confounds, Do I envy those jacks that nimble leap To kiss the tender inward of thy hand, Whilst my poor lips, which should that harvest reap, At the wood's boldness by thee blushing stand! To be so tickled, they would change their state And situation with those dancing chips, O'er whom thy fingers walk with gentle gait, Making dead wood more blest than living lips. Since saucy jacks so happy are in this, Give them thy fingers, me thy lips to kiss. He smiled and looked up at her again. "I hate to tell you, no one's ever tried to kiss my hand. Although that doesn't mean-" Speech became impossible as she reached up and kissed him. A daze descended over Carl. There was something incongruous about this but he didn't care. He was going to do his utmost to enjoy the moment. After a minute, Madoka released the kiss and stepped back. "The Dean has granted me a year off. I'll spend that year in Japan. After that... well, I don't know for certain what I'll do. But returning here to finish my degree is a definite possibility." "Madoka." Again, he had no idea what more to say. This seemed to be good enough. She smiled widely, warmly, almost lovingly. "You're allowed to call me that. You alone of all Americans. Remember what that means." He grinned back at her. "Always." "I'll write you when I get settled." She kissed him on the cheek. "Take care, Carl." She walked around him. He heard the door opening behind him. "Ja ne." Then she was gone. He looked down at the book he held. Wow, he thought to himself. These sonnets can accomplish some darned impressive things. Carl put the banjo on the floor and lay down on his bed. He turned to the first of Shakespeare's sonnets and began reading, determined that he'd memorize all of them in the coming year, preparing for the time when he could say them again, with feeling, to cover whatever the future held for him and Madoka. ~*~ AUTHOR'S NOTES: One of my pre-readers put it best: "The story was nice, and engaging, and very typical WAFFY Lawson. Dunno if that's a good thing or a bad thing, really, but there it is." ^_^ I've just begun reading the Kimagure Orange Road manga. I've gotten as far as the fifth tankoban. The story where Madoka almost leaves for Chicago is in the fourth tankoban. I wrote this to show the Kyosuke and Madoka scene, what might have happened if Kyosuke had not wandered outside his apartment very late that one night. Really, it was quite a coincidence that they both met at four in the morning the night before Madoka was to leave. As I read it, I wondered what would have happened to them if Madoka had gone to America. Those of you who are familiar with my work might have noticed a similarity between this and "Thy Outward Part". Stylistically they're very similar. I tried to make Carl as un-Kentaro-like as possible. Let me know what you thought of his character. Oh, and I am not Carl. ^_^ -Richard sterman@sprynet.com ~~~*~~~ All of my fanfics can be found on my fanfic web page. http://home.sprynet.com/sprynet/sterman/fanfic.htm ~~~*~~~