Author's Notes

Hi again *waves cheerfully*

I looked up the Japanese law regarding divorce for this fic, and this is pretty much what I found (though there were details lacking): in the case of a divorce by mutual agreement, in which both parties agree to the divorce, the husband and wife must determine, in the case of more than one child, which parent takes which child. In other types of divorce, the mother is given the preference. For this fic, I have chosen that Tomoko and Kousei divorced by mutual agreement, and thus were forced to split the twins by law. I couldn't find anything on visitation rights, but based off Digimon Adventure, with Yamato and Takeru being allowed to visit each other, I assumed that it had nothing to do with law, and was rather of personal choice.

Anywho, if that stuff didn't bore you to death, enjoy, and stay tuned for the second half.

Aargh, why does document manager mess up the formatting? Is that a frequent occurrence?

Disrupted Melodies

The wires hummed beneath his fingers as his voice melded with the music. He gave his heart, his soul to fill the void he played for, but it was only when it was filled did the song become complete…

Kouji M & Kouichi K

Rating: T

Genre/s: Family/Hurt/Comfort

Part 1 of 2 – Deharmonised

The strings hummed as the she drummed them, letting the sound meld into the melodies emerging from the frequent, mellow taps of the piano keys from the man. For a moment, the two simply enjoyed the harmony of their instruments, then the slender 20 year old opened her mouth and began singing, her husband joining her after a pause.

Soft giggles of content rewarded them as their twin children snuggled closer into their cots. They listened quietly, the younger stopping his restless fidgeting, listening to their parents lullaby.

'Nen nen kororiyo okororiyo,

Boyawa yoikoda nenneshina.'

The elder one blinked, tilting his head slightly so he faced his father playing the piano, before closing his eyes sleepily.

'Boyano komoriwa dokoe it ta

Anoyama koete satoe it ta.'

The younger one shifted again, snuggling closer to his brother, before closing his own, one hand gripping the other's, to make sure he would still be there when he woke.

'Sato no miyage ni nani morata

Denden taikoni sho no fue

Sho no fue.'

And then the couple let the last few notes fade into the air with the gentle breaths of their twin sons, and the two smiled at each other, before the mother leaned over the two bundles and planted a sweet and gentle kiss on each forehead.

'Oyasumi nasai,' she whispered gently. 'Sweet dreams.'

The other laughed lightly, looking at how both twins contently slept on, leaning forward himself to ruffle the elder's hair, knowing the younger would wake and wail if he attempted the same thing.

'We do spoil them, don't we Tomoko,' he said fondly.

She mirrored the look, scooping the bundles of joy into her arms, smiling at the content smiles on the identical faces, before moving to the door to tuck them into their shared cot.

Within her grip and still fast asleep, the elder shifted a little to accommodate the extra warmth, curling closer to his mother's chest while looping an arm around his brother. His brother too snuggled closer to the warmth. And in that new position, the twins slept on.

At times like that, the couple, happily married for two years, wished such moments could last forever.

Of course, like all things good, the happy marriage came to an end. The twins, now three and starting to develop rather distinct personalities had been sent to play in the garden; a rather common occurrence of late. It wasn't as though they argued though, or rather argued any more than the average family, but they were both starting to have second thoughts about marrying against their parents' wishes and for love rather than the customary arranged marriages, in regards to Kousei anyway, Tomoko's parents were more lax about who their daughter married, though they too had been concerned about the class boundaries and thus not entirely agreeable.

In any case, love had dwelled into mere cordiality, and even at three years of age, the boys could see the change in their parents' relationship. Life was more strained in the Minamoto household, and even as Tomoko, now solitarily, sung her boys to sleep, they blinked tiredly up at her instead of closing their sapphire orbs, and at times, she or Kousei would check on them in a half hour to find both still restlessly awake.

In the end, they decided it was simply better if they separated rather than risk the rift growing. There was likely more in the world than what they could attain keeping a love marriage turned loveless alive, so to speak.

However, neither of their expertise lay in Japanese law. Which is how they hit the stumbling block of splitting their twins after reaching a mutual agreement on all other matters.

Eventually, it was decided that Tomoko would take the elder child, while the younger would remain with Kousei. And with how the twins reacted when separated for even a short time, they decided it was for the best that they never met again.

The twins were cuddled against each other again, on their shared bed, now old enough to clutch stuffed animals as well as each other. It broke her heart to separate them, as she managed to pry Kouichi's fingers from his brother's shirt and wrap them around the black kitty instead, and then gathering the asleep form with a blanket into her arms.

The younger stirred a little, before curling into the heat left by his elder twin. Tomoko brushed her lips against his forehead again, one last time in farewell, before slipping out the door and to the first floor where Kousei awaited with her things. But just before the door slid shut soundlessly behind her, she whispered her final goodbye to her, their, son, too soft to hear but still stated.

'Sayanora Kouji,' she murmured, letting the silence drown her words, before making her way carefully down the stairs with her charge.

Downstairs, she stopped by the music room again, where the guitar she always played sat, For a moment, she considered taking it with her, but then she reconsidered. Let Kouji have something of his mother's...well, that and the bandana tucked under her pillow.

At the door, she couldn't help but ask one more time.

'Do you think we've made the right choice?'

Her now ex-husband looked as wrong-footed as she. 'I hope so.'

Before he managed to get back to sleep, he could hear Kouji wailing from his bedroom. Apparently, he had noticed the absence of his brother; it hadn't taken very long.

Steeling himself for an unwanted confrontation (knowing three year olds to be very formidable), he opened the door to the twin's, now Kouji's room, and ruffling the crying boy's hair.

He sniffled, before looking at his father. 'Kouichi ni-san,' he mumbled through his tears. 'I want Kouichi-ni.'

His father swallowed. He knew that memories began to commit soon after a child past three years of age, and the boys' birthdays hadn't been that long ago. Hopefully, that meant that neither would remember the other as they grew older, that they would be spared the pain of being unable to see each other, as the constant shifting made it impossible on a regular basis. That still left the fact that they would remember now, and there was really only one thing he could say to spare him that pain.

'There is no Kouichi.'

And once Kouji, after several firm repeats, more tears and an angry tantrum, had fallen back asleep, he could imagine the next confrontation which was sure to result.

'Where's 'kaa-san?'

He thought about that. Which was better? And in the end, he decided...


Because if they were never to meet again, she was to him.

Nine years later, Minamoto Kousei still wondered if they had made the right choice. Kousei had been correct about one thing, Kouji soon forgot he had ever had a twin. Tomoko had been correct about one thing as well, the younger of the two twins had taken to the guitar like bees to honey...and yet, it made him sad as he heard the hollow notes float down the stairs, accompanied by the low murmurs of the childhood lullaby.

It sounded...wrong, somehow. He certainly had natural talent with the instrument, and he practiced enough to refine that, taking classes here and there as well as he could fit in with the shifting jobs that required them to move all over Japan. And his voice was certainly not the envy of any banshee, provided he deterred from his general one-worded or sarcastic responses, that is. And while it almost as good as Tomoko's lullaby, it lacked something.

And that made him think to the piano locked downstairs. And his elder son, off living somewhere with his mother.

At times like this, he would wish that choice hadn't been made.

But love's throws are not always as strong as they appear at first sight.

Upstairs, Kouji stopped playing and set the guitar up against the wall, restraining himself from throwing it in aggravation. It had belonged to his mother after all; his real mother that is, not his stepmother.

Not that Satomi wasn't a good mother; she was, if Kouji would give her half a chance. But he wouldn't, and only tolerated her as much as necessary even as she constantly reached out for him.

It wasn't as though he didn't care for her; he did, though part of him resented the place she took instead of his real mother. But it was hard for him to adjust to having a mother after going the most important six years in his life without one, with simply the bandana that covered his long hair, the guitar which now leaned on the wall, the photo on the reverse frame that sat on his desk, and the lullaby whose words and tune he somehow remembered.

But try as he might, he could not reproduce them.

From his earliest memories, he could remember hurting because of the loss of his mother. His father tried to spend as much time as him with possible, but as he grew older and more independent, and the other's job became more demanding, he was forced to spend less time with his now only son.

And when he was not out and about, he tried his hand one more time.

Only for that to end up as empty as the last.

Silence drifted in with the afternoon sun, with not even the birds outside chirping on the hot summer day. Eventually, he took up the guitar once more, as he did once the silence's strike became too hard to bear.

Silence simply wasn't something he could abide by.

The wires hummed beneath his fingers as his voice melded with the music, singing once again the lullaby that for three years had been sung to him.

'Nen nen kororiyo okororiyo,

Boyawa yoikoda nenneshina.'

He raised his voice slightly, trying to add whatever intensity he could muster from his soul, singing so he could hear his mother's voice humming back, singing so the empty space in his heart, yearning for something he did not have, could echo back and state its fill...

'Boyano komoriwa dokoe it ta

Anoyama koete satoe it ta.'

...but it would only sound back in emptiness, and the hollow melodies which emerged from around the door frame.

'Sato no miyage ni nani morata

Denden taikoni sho no fue

Sho no fue.'

It simply wasn't a song meant for one.


The Lullaby

'Nen nen kororiyo okororiyo,
Boyawa yoikoda nenneshina.

'Boyano komoriwa dokoe it ta
Anoyama koete satoe it ta.

'Sato no miyage ni nani morata
Denden taikoni sho no fue
Sho no fue.'

Sleep, sleep, little one, sleep.
You're a good baby, now go to sleep.

Do you know where your carer has gone?
Gone to her village she won't be long.

What will she bring baby when she does come?
A flute so lovely and a thunderous drum.
And a thunderous drum.

From: Edo Komoriuta (Edo's Lullaby): Songs for Teaching, Using Songs to Promote Learning


Oyasumi nasai: good night

Sayanora: goodbye

Ni-san: (dearest) older brother

'kaa-san: mother