Magic Mêlée Music: III - Music

Kenichi fell easily back into the flow of going to classes. While he wasn't particularly good at sorcerery, he made up for it by being excellent at songs, and pretty good at swordsmanship. The music teacher, who was also head of the Symphonics, named Alonso Scherzo, but everybody called him “Scary,” took a fascination in the talent of Kenichi.

“I'll have to recommend you for the Great Concert,” he said, listening to Kenichi coerce a sweet song from Drowsysword.

Professor Scherzo played the violin, and it sounded like an angel sighing when he brought forth a song from it. There was something quite familiar and comfortable about Scherzo, and Kenichi liked him, even though most of the time, he had a sour expression on his face.

Similar to the multi, Drowsysword could take on different forms at this school. For music classes, it was his familiar guitar, the one he had started the whole journey with. For swordsmanship classes, it changed into a sword. He never saw it change; it just was a sword when he opened the case for the next class. And for magic classes, it turned into a staff made of the same rosewood as his guitar. It always had the familiar tired eye, and it always had the same feeling in his hands, like it was an extension of his body. And while he still had trouble channeling magic, he figured the familiarity helped him get as far as he did in shooting magical projectiles and levitating books.

On his way back from a particularly grueling swordsmanship class, one where Donatello had nearly cut his ear off, he was lugging his case back to his dorm. He passed by the practice rooms, and heard a wonderful sound coming from within. He stood at the door and listened. It was the sound of an acoustic guitar. He listened more carefully. It was a twelve-string, the rich deep tones accompanying the higher pitched strings. It sounded wonderful. It sounded familiar, like a song he had heard long before, in a different life. Then a melodious voice emerged from within the nest of music. “Tell me good sir, why do you hold my hand? Will you lead me away from this dark and lonely land?”

He stopped. He pressed his hand to the door, feeling the warmth of the song through the wood of the door. He looked into the narrow window. It was Marumi. She looked, seeing motion outside the room. She instantly stopped playing, stopped singing, stopped everything. She set the guitar down quickly and opened the door. “I'm sorry,” she said. “Did you need this practice room?”

“No,” Kenichi said. “I was just eavesdropping.” He looked at her guitar. “You play very well,” he said. “And you sing well too.”

“Thank you,” she said.

“I'm surprised you're not a student here,” he said.

“My parents won't let me,” she said quietly. “Besides,” she said. “I'm only good at the music part. I have no skill with swords or magic.”

Kenichi laughed. He sat down on the bench in the room next to her. “I'm the same way with magic,” he said. “But I've had enough practice with swords lately to hold my own.”

She looked at him, her fingers idly brushing the tuning knobs of her guitar. “I hear you're talented with music as well,” she said.

“Yeah,” he said. “I've been playing for a while, and it's almost like speaking a second language to me by now.” He opened up his case and Drowsysword was a guitar once again. He picked it up, checked the tuning, then began to play. He played a variation of her song, the same song the other Marumi had played for him during their trip to the Angelus. He adlibbed guitar parts to give the feeling that the guitar was singing the vocal parts. Marumi sat there next to him and watched him.

When he had finished, she sat there for a moment in silence. Then she spoke. “That was beautiful,” she said. “I've been playing that song all my life, but hearing your interpretation of it has given it a new life, a deeper meaning.” She nudged closer to him, and he felt the warmth of her body next to his. “It almost convinces me that the characters in the song are real.”

He looked at her. “Like I said,” he said. “I've been playing for a long time. It's just something I've picked up along the way. The charts tell you the general direction, but it’s up to you to make the trip interesting.”

She reached over and plucked one of the strings of his guitar. It echoed in the small room. “Can you promise me something?” she said.

“What's that?” he said.

“If Professor Scherzo offers you a seat in the Great Concert,” she said, her head resting on his shoulder. “Decline.”

“What?” said Kenichi. “Why?”

“It's hard to explain,” she said, plucking another string. “But just promise me that, okay?”

He looked at her, at the top of her head. She looked up at him with those green eyes. “Sure,” he said. “I promise.”

She nodded. “Thank you,” she said. She sat back up, picked up her own guitar, and after finding a way to sit so their necks weren't battling each other, she said, “Play a duet with me.”

He smiled and started playing. As he improvised a song, he heard her start to pick up on it and provide accompaniment. Soon, they were going back and forth, having a conversation without words, their two songs uniting into a single one. For just a moment, the entire universe made sense, everything was balanced, and he forgot, for just a moment, his world-hopping fatal duties.

“What are your plans for when you're done with school?” she said when they had finished.

“I think I'll be a wandering bard,” he said. “Traveling from town to town, playing the songs people need to hear. What about you?”

“I think I'm stuck here in the kitchen until they find a better chef,” she said.

“That'll be a hard goal to accomplish,” Kenichi said. “Your cooking is amazing.”

“Thank you,” she said.

After a tacit moment, he looked over at her. “I may not be able to take you with me,” he said. “But I'll keep coming back to see you, again, and again, and again.”

She smiled. “Oh, Kenichi, you charmer. But neither of us will be the same. You can't walk through the same stream twice.”

“Nothing doesn't ever change,” Kenichi said, “but nothing changes much.”

She looked at her watch. “I have to get ready for the dinner crowd,” she said. “Thanks.”

“You're welcome,” he said.

She got up and packed away her guitar, then left. As she walked away, Kenichi wished that things were different, that he could just tell that stupid cat to solve its own problems or find another hero, and he could just be here, or anywhere, with Marumi. Well, maybe not with M42UM1, since she did inject him with those fatal nanobots. Though, maybe it was just a bad first impression. To be honest, though, he'd give up all the other Marumis just to be back home with the real one.

He packed up his guitar and lugged his case back to the instrument room. On his way back, he passed the faculty offices. He saw on the plaque outside one CALLIOPE EFTÉRPI. He had forgotten to see her since the first day. He gave the door a gentle knock.

“Come in,” the voice said in his mind.

He opened the door and entered. Bookshelves lined the back wall, crowded with books and knicknacks, and the other elements that a professor at such a strange school might have. Calliope sat in her chair behind her desk.

“I've been waiting for you,” she spoke to his mind, her lips still stitched closed.

“I've been getting settled in,” Kenichi said aloud.

“Thank you for remembering to visit,” she said to his mind. “As we discussed, I believe that you are the new Key, and we're long overdue for a Key Change.” She smiled through the stitches at her attempt at humor.

“What does the Key do?” Kenichi asked.

“Unlocks the school,” Calliope said.

“That doesn't really give me much to go on,” Kenichi said. “How do I unlock the school?”

“By defeating one of the department heads in single combat.”

“Any of them?”

“Yes,” said Calliope. “I have a preference, but I'm not allowed to sway your opinion.”

Kenichi sat down in the chair and took this in. There were three department heads, and one of them was looking at him right now. “What's to prevent me from challenging you?”

She laughed, which sounded painful. “They stitched my mouth closed because my magic was too strong,” she said. “The fact that I can speak directly to your mind alone should give you an idea of my power. With the slightest whim, you would be a writhing worm on the floor.”

“So that leaves Cutwell, the swordsmanship head, and Scherzo, the symphonics head.” He leaned back. “I'm pretty sure Cutwell could turn me to ribbons before I even drew my sword, so that leaves Scherzo.”

“You have a high esteem of your musical capabilities,” Calliope said.

“I have every right to be,” Kenichi said. “But tell me, what happens when I defeat the department head?”

“If you defeat the department head,” she said, correcting his subordinating conjunction, “he will die. And if you lose, you, instead, will be the one to die.”