Fluttering of the Chaconne @nezukana
Chapter 1 I was listening to Hilary Hahn's Bach Chaconne recording, and I was like "yknow, I think Kanao would play like this" and that's how I got the inspiration to write this fic! I pretty much wrote it while looping it in the background so for best results, I recommend you listen to it while reading Link to recording: https://youtu.be/QqA3qQMKueA

The discordant melodies of different instruments resounded past the closed doors of the practice rooms and into the thin hallway; scales and arpeggios skipping between each note like children hopping down slabs of stone, the occasional squeak, and that one player playing what sounded like Canon in D.

It was the only piece Nezuko recognized amongst the cacophony of other pieces playing at the same time, fighting over each other for what little space was left for music. The piece was a staple of weddings and the most sorrowful advertisements, promoting their product or service with a simple piece overlaid on top the producers were certain would strike an emotional chord in the consumers. At least those without classical music experience, or those without friends who complain about it being the most overplayed piece in recent history and there was better repertoire out there that was unfortunately ignored by the masses.

She personally liked how pleasant the piece sounded but could imagine how grating it becomes when forced to play it for every wedding gig (actually she did not have to imagine it; Zenitsu made it painstakingly clear how sick he was of the piece).

She personally liked how pleasant the piece sounded but could imagine how grating it becomes when forced to play it for every wedding gig (actually she did not have to imagine it; Zenitsu made it painstakingly clear how sick he was of the piece).

Even now as they are walking down a hallway, he had his headphones placed securely over his ears, blocking out any unwanted noises and discordant squeaking of the instruments filtering through the walls, yet still found him mumbling curses about how ‘that damn cellist wouldn’t stop playing the first twenty fucking bars of Canon in D.’

She felt bad, which is why she waited until the piece was barely imperceptible before tapping his shoulder to ask the question she’s been wanting to say back when he asked her to come to the practice rooms.

“Hey so, mind telling me why we’re here?” 

Zenitsu stopped walking and rested his headphones on his shoulders. “Have you been listening to those recordings I’ve been sending you?”

“Uh...” Damn, she knew her procrastination was going to bite her in the butt. At her hesitation, Zenitsu raised an eyebrow, and she cracked. “You know me; it’s not like I decided not to watch them on purpose!”

She really did mean to listen to them. But the moment she saw the 30 minute timestamp on those videos, she saved the links in her bookmarks and promised she would ‘look at them later.’ Then hours later became days later, weeks later, months later, and sometimes she forgot the growing collection of bookmarks sitting on her computer existed entirely.

Zenitsu sighed. “Yeah yeah, I figured. But instead of pestering you to watch them, I wanted to introduce you to one of those people that consists of 80% of the recordings I sent and listen to her playing because it is an absolute crime you haven’t at least heard her; she is a literal god amongst us violin plebeians.”

When he started walking again, Nezuko had to jog behind him as he picked up the pace. The sounds of the other instruments rapidly faded into the background, the cacophony shifting as different instruments took the place of the ones left long behind them as they traveled, Zenitsu hurriedly glancing at each room number before finding the one he wanted.

“Found it,” he said, before lightly knocking on the door. The muted violin playing behind the door halted, the noise of the other instruments taking up the space left behind, as the door opened.

Nezuko bit the inside of her cheek to stop herself from gawking at the gorgeous girl standing at the doorway.

“Agatsuma. Hello.” The girl greeted him, before glancing at Nezuko, her pretty purple eyes not quite meeting her own. “Who is this?”

“I decided to bring a friend over,” he said, fidgeting with the cord connecting his headphones. “I hope that’s not a problem”

The girl hummed. “I’m Tsuyuri Kanao. What’s your name?”

Nezuko blinked at the sudden silence, before realizing Tsuyuri was talking to her. “Uh, Nezu— Kamado Nezuko!” She quickly bowed, if only to hide her flushed face in her messy hair.

If she would have known she would be meeting a beautiful girl today, she would have at least had the decency to brush her hair.

“Oh, you’re Tanjirou’s sister. He told me a lot about you.”

“Wait,” Nezuko rose from her bow, “you know my brother?”

Tsuyuri hummed in confirmation (she must really like humming). 

“It’s nice to finally meet you, Nezuko. It appears he wasn’t exaggerating when he said you were ‘the beauty of his hometown.’”

Nezuko choked on her spit.

Did she just call her pretty?

Her heart flipped at least a thousand times in her chest and she briefly wondered if human beings could combust from compliments alone.

Or maybe she was just gay.

Zenitsu clasped his hands together, shocking Nezuko back into reality; she had forgotten he was there. “Can we come inside? It feels a little awkward standing here in the middle of the hallway.”

Tsuyuri nodded and stepped aside, letting the two past her before shutting the door.

The room was small, barely fitting three people in the space not taken up by a rickety-looking music stand, a table, and a plastic chair holding a violin and a bow. Zenitsu inspected the room more closely; the ceiling corners and the carpeting themselves did not escape his judgement.

“You know, I’m surprised you found a room that isn’t in absolute shit condition.” Zenitsu said. “Lucky day?”

Tsuyuri shrugged as she collected her bow and violin from the chair. “I know I asked you to come here, but what’s the reason for bringing Nezuko?”

“Right,” Zenitsu gestured to Nezuko, “this one here hasn’t heard your absolutely god-like playing which is completely unacceptable, but online recordings won’t do for the same reason I can’t listen to a podcast without dying from boredom so I wanted to bring her with me to listen to your playing, if it’s not too much trouble, of course.”

Tsuyuri hummed once more, tested all four strings, and nodded. She waited until both took a seat on the floor, and started with a slow and light down-bow stroke.

The next notes increased in intensity, yet remained just as light as the first, fluctuating, the lilting, like a fairy over a pond, her wings gently setting her on the water’s edge, the surface softly rippling, like each note connected in a continuous stream with no interruptions, one single line creating a study with music. The more powerful notes, reminiscent of pressing down on an ink pen for weight amongst the whimsical lightness of the softest passages creating depth and variety. Even the crossing of the strings with the bow sounded like a calm lake, the rippling effect clear yet precise enough not to disturb the rest of the notes.

Then there was Tsuyuri herself, swaying in time with the music; her hold on the bow gentle, producing glorious sounds, her left hand gracefully sliding across the fingerboard, each note perfectly articulated, the vibration of certain notes subtle yet enriching the whimsical style of her playing. She looked calm; her eyes were closed as she breathed in at parts of growing intensity, and slowly exhaled when the passage turned soft.

It was less like she was playing and more like she was the music herself.

When Tsuyuri finished, the last note echoed against the walls and created a still atmosphere, only to be punctured by a horn squeak from another room down the hall a second later.

“Welp, that horn ruined the mood but damn,” Zenitsu practically whispered the last part. “I know this is probably the thousandth time I’ve heard the Chaconne but your interpretation surpasses literally everyone else’s. Like those string crossings? It is so difficult not making them sound like crap, but there goes Tsuyuri making them sound as elegant as a whale underwater. I did notice you dragged out some of the notes more—was that intentional?”

Tsuyuri nodded. “Did it sound alright?”

“It was absolutely perfect, and there was so much more emotion for sure! Gah, that was incredible, right, Nezuko?” Zenitsu bumped Nezuko’s shoulder.

Nezuko was still stunned speechless after the short performance, and her thoughts were still slowly gathering. 

“Yeah, um, that was, really really good.” Nezuko said, fidgeting with a strand of her hair. She wished she could add more on to that statement, but what could she add? She didn’t know enough about classical music to make a clever observation like Zenitsu. “How did you get so good anyway?” 

Tsuyuri merely smiled and said one word:

“Practice.”

Zenitsu snickered—it was probably an inside joke Nezuko did not understand—before he stood, and helped her up on her feet as well. “Alright, Tsuyuri, did you need me for anything else or should we just get going? I don’t want to use up any more of your precious practice time.”

Tsuyuri hummed, before shaking her head. But as the pair started to leave, Tsuyuri told Nezuko to wait. She produced a permanent marker from her jacket pocket, uncapped it, and held out her hand.

“Your arm, please.” Tsuyuri said, when Nezuko didn’t understand what she wanted.

“Oh,” Nezuko complied, and was shocked at how cold her hands were, as she wrote down a string of numbers… 

Wait, was that a phone number?

“I’d love to play for you again one day,” Tsuyuri said as she capped the marker, and her cheeks became a few shades darker. “And maybe get some bubble tea, if you would like.”

Oh.

Oh.

“Oh, yeah—um, definitely—definitely looking forward to it, Tsuyuri! Yeah.”

She had no idea if that sentence came out right over her internal screaming.

“Please, call me Kanao.” Tsuy—Kanao requested of her.

Oh yes, both Zenitsu and Kanao are violin prodigies which is why they're friends (though they aren't comfortable referring to each other with their given names). I sort of imagine Zenitsu having a very emotional style of playing, like Sergey Khachatryan in the Shostakovich Violin Concerto 3rd Movement recording (Link is here: https://youtu.be/1pCigbK6rcQ) The soft passages are literally incredible, and the build up in the second half of the video is so powerful, I encourage you all to listen to it! Anyways if you want to see more of me, I have twitter (@solarsnapp, @mitsumitsuri) where I scream about my wips and post art, and a tumblr (autistictanjiro)! Have a nice day!
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