[The bow trembled in his hand as the stage lights poured down like divine judgment. His breathing was shallow, heart pounding. He couldn't see the audience, but he could feel their eyes.
Judging. Waiting. Expecting.
The violin rested under his chin — familiar and alien all at once.
Then… music.
It started gently, but there was no peace in the melody. Only agony. A desperate scream turned into sound. He played like a man possessed, like a soul begging to be heard one last time.
Each note came sharper than the last — rough, jagged, furious.
Then—
SNAP!
The E-string snapped mid-performance, the sound slicing through the hall like a gunshot.
The broken string lashed forward, slashing across his cheek.
Gasps echoed. His knees buckled. His vision blurred.
Then—nothing.
Darkness fell.
"Hah… hah… haah—!"
Eishi bolted upright in bed, drenched in cold sweat. His chest rose and fell rapidly, a dull ache in his heart throbbing with each beat. He clutched at his chest, blinking through the remnants of the dream.
"…A dream," he whispered. "That dream again…"
He wiped his forehead. It was morning — sunlight poured gently through the half-open curtains, casting golden streaks across the room.
He looked around. It was no longer the sterile white hospital room.
This place… was familiar.
The soft beige walls were covered with faded band posters and handwritten sheet music pinned messily to a corkboard. A cheap but well-loved game console sat under the modest TV on a short cabinet. A cluttered desk was crammed with textbooks, open notebooks, and an unfinished composition score. Photos lined the shelves — a family portrait of him, his mom, and his dad taken years ago, now slightly sun-bleached.
His room.
Home.
He took a deep breath, slowly calming down.
"I got discharged yesterday…"
He ran a hand across his face, the scar no longer there. The doctor had called it miraculous. "No nerve damage. Healing rapidly. Almost superhuman."
Eishi had just smiled and nodded. He always heal quickly even from childhood.
It was the weekend, but his body still woke early — old habits from morning violin training. He stood, stretched, and went to freshen up.
After showering he made his way to the mirror near the closet. Toweling his hair dry from the shower, he paused to study his reflection.
The face staring back at him was familiar. Sharp jaw, clear blue eyes, a soft silver sheen in his hair.
"My last life, my hair was black," he murmured. His mother's blue eyes had passed onto him too, soft but unwavering.
attempting a smile. "Still handsome, though."
As he stepped into the living room, a note and a neatly wrapped box sat on the table.
The small house was quiet, sunlight pooling in the corners of the living room. On the low table sat a small note — and a box.
He picked up the note first.
Good morning, Eishi!
Mom made your breakfast — it's in the warmer. I had to leave early for work, but I'll be back before dinner. Take it easy today, okay?
Oh! I left a gift for you. Hehe. Love, Mom.
He smiled at the note… but it faded quickly into a sigh.
"…Still working at the convenience store."
She had taken the job after Dad passed, despite their modest savings. She always said the money Dad left behind was for his future — for when he got married or started a family. "That money's for you, Eishi. Let your old lady do something with her hands, or I'll go crazy sitting around!"
She was still in her late thirties — young, sharp, energetic. But she never stopped worrying about him.
"…Mom…"
He turned his attention to the box.
Carefully, he opened it.
Inside… lay his violin.
But not just any violin. His violin.
The polished wood gleamed a soft reddish-brown, the grain catching the morning light. The fingerboard and tailpiece were black ebony, and the fine tuners sparkled with recent polishing. The bridge was new, delicately carved, and the strings were freshly wound. The bow was wrapped neatly beside it, its hair newly tightened and coated.
Eishi's breath caught in his throat.
His hand trembled as he reached toward it…
…but stopped just short.
Suddenly—
The dream flooded back.
The stage.
The sound.
The snap.
The blood.
His heartbeat spiked. His vision flickered. His knees weakened as a phantom pain flared across his cheek. A chill ran down his spine.
He stepped back, eyes wide, breathing ragged.
He hadn't even noticed the second note — lying tucked beneath the velvet-lined case. Shakily, he reached down and picked it up.
Eishi~!
I sent the violin for immediate repairs right after your accident. I know how much it means to you, and how much you missed playing. It's all fixed now! I hope it brings a smile to your face. I'll always support your music. Love you, Mom.
He stared at the note in silence.
"…This violin," he murmured. "It was the last birthday gift Dad ever gave me."
He closed his eyes.
"That's where it all started…my love for music"
He traced the curves of the instrument with his eyes, not daring to touch it yet.
A hollow chuckle escaped his lips.
"…I never thought the one thing I love most… would be the thing I fear the most now."
He laughed again — louder.
But it wasn't joyful.
It was bitter.
A choked kind of laugh, like someone who finally understood a joke told too late — when it wasn't funny anymore.
He sat down on the couch, arms resting on his knees, staring at the violin like it was a loaded gun.
The fear wasn't rational. But it was real.
The moment he touched that instrument… he knew the memories would come crashing back
He set the case aside gently.
No point thinking too much. He headed to the kitchen, ate quietly, and prepared to go out. The cool morning breeze greeted him as he stepped outside.
"If I lose my scholarship, I may have to switch schools," he mumbled, locking the door behind him. His current school was a private institution, and his spot was earned through that scholarship for classical music.
And I messed up that last performance… badly.
He shook the thoughts off.
A walk would help.
The nearby park had always been a good spot for clearing his head. As he approached, the familiar sight of tennis courts and joggers greeted him.
He stopped when he noticed a boy peeking through the fence at the girls playing on the court. Brown hair, average height, flushed cheeks.
Eishi raised a brow.
"Wow. That face looks extra perverted today. Issei?"
The boy jumped. "Wha—Oh! Eishi?! Don't sneak up on people, man!"
Eishi smirked. "Still ogling girls, huh?"
"It's called appreciating the female form, thank you very much. This is my hobby!"
"Riiight."
Hyoudou Issei. Their houses were next to each other, and they'd been neighborhood friends since Eishi moved here eight years ago. His father had gotten a job nearby, and they had bought a house that was selling cheap.
"Anyway," Issei said, his tone shifting slightly, "I heard what happened. You okay?"
Eishi gave a quiet nod. "Yeah. Better now. Thanks."
Issei grinned. "Well, good. Would've sucked if you kicked the bucket before I found a girlfriend."
Eishi snorted. "You? Girlfriend? The world isn't ready."
They both laughed.
And for a moment, the weight on Eishi's shoulders felt a little lighter.
As the two boys walked toward the park, Issei continued to ramble about his "research."
"Seriously, man. That girl in the white skirt? Absolute angel."
"Uh-huh. Yo, Issei," Eishi said, his tone shifting slightly, "do you happen to know what happened after the evaluation performance?"
Issei blinked, caught off-guard. "The one last week? Not really… it wasn't public, right? I think it was just for scholarship review. You might wanna ask Takahiro-sensei. Sorry, can't help much."
Eishi sighed. "Figured. But thanks anyway."
There was a brief pause.
Then—"Wanna go karaoke?"
Issei perked up. "Uhhh… will there be any girls?"
"Nope. Just me."
Issei's enthusiasm faltered immediately. "Eh, pass. I'd rather stay here. You never know when a tennis girl might need a ball boy."
"C'mon." Eishi smirked. "Instead of standing here looking like a creep, come with me. Maybe some girls at karaoke need a duet partner."
"OHHH. Say less." Issei grinned. "Let's go!"
Haah… this guy's too easy.