Harmony

by WSJ

WSJ: This is the second story in a series, but you don't have to read the other one before you read this, because they're not connected in any way. Strange, huh? To explain: I'm doing a series of stories that are centered on or in some way connected to Trowa's flute. Most of 'em are Trowa/Midii, but some won't be. Like I said, this is the second one I've got done. The first was called Melody.

Disclaimer: *Chibi-Trowa walks out, holding up a sign Genma-panda style* Sign: WSJ doesn't own GW. *Chibi-Trowa drops the sign and leaves*

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"Matt, Luke, Nikki, don't get too far away!" the nineteen-year-old woman called to her three little brothers, ages twelve, ten, and nine.

"We won't Midii," Matt, the oldest, assured her. "We'll go play on the playground, and you can take a walk or something. Okay?"

Midii Une paused, but then shrugged and smiled. "Okay Matt. Keep an eye on your brothers."

"I will!" he promised before running after the two younger boys.

Midii was on her way home from her music class, having just picked up the three boys from school. It was almost their custom these days to walk home through the park. That way, Midii could have a little peace, and her brothers could burn off some steam before going home to take care of their father, who was still weak, dispite being mostly out of danger concerning his cancer (or so the doctors said).

Midii watched the boys run for the playground, and then headed for a small clearing about fifty yards away, just out of hearing range from the main park, burried under a small forest. It was her own secret place. Not even Matt knew where it was, he had to wait for Midii to come get them from the playground.

It wasn't very safe, since her brothers wouldn't know where she was if something happened, but they were smart, having lived through the war as spies, like her, to support their father. And besides, there were plenty of people they could go to if something happened.

Midii took her time in making her way through the trees, marvelling at their quiet beauty. A squirrel scampered across her path, and she remembered with a chuckle the year that Luke had wanted to dissect a squirrel for his science project. Of course, Midii hadn't let him, and he'd been mad at her for weeks afterward.

As Midii bagan to near her secret place, she thought she could hear the faint traces of music in the air. She stopped, and cocked her head, listening. Yes, it was definately music. She couldn't tell what from.

She crept closer, utilizing every skill she had learned as a spy to keep from being detected. She'd needn't've though. The young man sitting under a tree at the edge of her clearing seemed so perfectly enraptured with his flute that Midii doubted an atomic blast could have moved him. Chuckling quietly, she climbed a tree nearby so she could get a better view. She made herself comfortable, hooking her music bag over a nearby branch.

Midii suddenly froze as he switched tunes, playing a slow, haunting song. A very haunting song. Almost as if someone else were controlling her actions, Midii pulled her picallo from its bag and raised it to her lips, her fingers dancing out accompaniment to his flute.

The flute-player faltered, but only for two notes, and then he was back on track. He and Midii sat that way for awhile, flute and picallo weaving around each other in a song both of them knew by heart. Both were taken back almost ten years, to a time and a place far away. To a war-torn little mercinary train, where a spy and a silencer had bonded over a silver flute.

The song played was theirs, and theirs alone. No one else in the world knew it. It was a song of bitter defeat, of lost friends and family, of devestated love. It was a song of strength and hope, assuring the listener that dawn was not far off.

When the song reached its end, both flute and picallo player sat still and silent, emotions playing in their hearts. Then the flute-player stood and left, without casting a single glance toward the tree he believed to hold a ghost of his long-ago, shadowed past.

Midii sat silent in her tree, her eyes misted with tears, as she thought about the little lost soldier boy whom she still loved.

"Nanashi..."

Tsumetaku
Kooritsuita tsuki no kakera ga
Furisosogu you ni
Hitori no yoru ga ochite kuru

Namida to
Egao no kamen ni kakusareta
Hontou no kokoro wa itsushika
Dokoka ni okisari de

Light no naka de enjiteru
Nakushita hazu no yorokobi wo
Wasureta hazu no kanashimi wo
Kodoku wo enjitsuzuketeru

Tatoeba yume ni tsukarete mo
Uragirareta ai demo
Kokoro wa kuuhaku no mama de
Omoide sae mo nokosezu
Mitsumeru dake no doukeshi

Mousugu
Light wo abite aruite yuku
Itsuwari wo daite
Kon'ya mo curtain wa agaru

Namida to
Egao no kage ni tatazunderu
Hontou no kokoro wa jibun wo
Nuritsubushiteru dake

Nagai jikan wo enjiteru
Tokku ni suteta yorokobi wo
Tojikomete kita kanashimi wo
Tsukutta hohoemi ni nosete

Chiisana hitomi ga kagayaku
Kodomo-tachi no kansei
Tsukurimono wo shinjirareru
Sunao na kokoro no mae ni
Kamen wa kuzurete ochiru

Aisareru koto ni funare de
Aishikata mo shiranai
Tatta ichido no kagayaki de
Kokoro ni nani ka afureru
Namida wo shitta doukeshi

Namida wo shitta doukeshi

()()()()()

WSJ: Translated lyrics avalable by request. ^_~ E-mail me at yamatos_fangirl@hotmail.com if ya' want 'em. They should be familiar, seeing as they're the lyrics to Trowa's image song, Doukeshi (Clown).

God bless minna-san!