For [personal profile] alleyquat

Dec. 16th, 2004 06:09 pm
misanagi: (Misanagi)
[personal profile] misanagi
Alley, you said you wanted a Trowa-centric fic. I hope you like this :)

Play it by Ear

Rating: PG
Pairing: N/A
Summary: Trowa finds a flute.
Warnings: Pre-canon.

Notes: Gift ficlet written for AlleyQuat. Merry Christmas!

Thanks to Anne for the beta :)

__________

It was weird how the flute had found him and not the other way around, or at least Trowa liked to think that it had been that way. He didn't know how old he was then, mostly because he wasn't sure of his age, but he thought that he must have been around nine. He was already living with the mercenaries and they were camping somewhere in South America, in what had once been the biggest rain forest of the world, and was now only a deserted and ruined city, with a small reservoir near by.

Trowa had heard that the town had been evacuated a few years before, due to some civil disputes in the region. Now it was just a ghost town, a perfect place for the mercenaries to make camp and wait for their next assignment. The weather was humid but hot, so the air was heavy and their clothes stuck to their skin. That, and the constant rain, made it a very gloomy place, so the mercenaries spent their days inside, playing cards and waiting for the time to leave.

However, the rain and the solitary town didn't bother Trowa. On the contrary, he seemed to enjoy it. While the mercenaries waited, Trowa liked to explore. Most of his time was spent walking through the city, touching the gray walls and imagining them painted in bright colors. He would listen to the sound of the rain hitting the roof, and think about the voices that must have screamed to be heard over the noise a few years ago. It was on one of these outings that Trowa found the flute.

He had been exploring a building that he thought was an old school. Not much was left of it, just a couple of damaged desks and old books ruined by the rain. At least that was what he had thought until he found the little room at the end of the hall. The musical notes and instruments that could still be seen, painted on the wall, let Trowa know that it had once been a music room. There were no desks left, just some empty shelves that had been probably used to hold all kinds of instruments. It was there, hidden beneath one of these shelves that Trowa found the flute. Actually, he tripped over it when he was walking out of the room, so he liked to think that it was the flute that found him, and not the other way around.

Trowa had never played an instrument but he knew instantly that he wanted to learn to play the flute. There was a mercenary at the camp who played the harmonica, and another one who had owned a guitar, but he had lost it in a battle a few months before. As far as Trowa knew, no one could play the flute, but at least there were some people with musical skills who could help him.

The man with the harmonica was named Robert. He was a fat fellow who was always smiling. When Trowa stood in front of him, with the new found instrument in his hand, Robert took out his harmonica and started to play.

At first Trowa just listened. He kept the flute in his hand and sat for hours listening to Robert play the harmonica, hearing the different sounds that made a melody. Then, when he had heard enough, he went to an isolated place and tried to play the flute for the first time. The sound was very different to the harmonica, but Trowa discovered that if he covered the holes on the instrument with his fingers, in a certain way, he could make a sound that was similar to one made by Robert.

The Mercenaries were soon called back to action and as always, Trowa went with them. But since then, whenever they had the time, Trowa would sit next to Robert and listen, and then he would find a lonely place and play, hearing each day how the sounds became more and more similar to the music the harmonica made.

A few months later Robert died in battle. Trowa kept playing the flute and promised to himself, and to Robert, that one day he would get good enough, and find someone to play with.


- The End –
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