New story! Yay! I feel like I should be picking up my violin soon... It's been 3 years... Too long... too long...
This is for all the hopeless romantics and music lovers whose souls are touched by music every day.

No. 1

If you move it towards the fingerboard, it increases the brilliance and loudness of the instrument. When you move it back and towards the tailpiece, the instrument becomes mellower and there would be a richness and unusual hollowness to the instrument's sound.

The French artisans called it the "âme". The Italians masters called it the "anima". They all mean the "soul."

If you move it just a little and by a little, as in less than even 0.25mm, it can make a world of difference in the loudness and sound quality of the entire instrument. Adjusting it is a science, an art, and some say, a magic. It requires the inherently brilliant ears and the delicately sensitive touch of a magnificent luthier. The little piece of wooden dowel is held up by tension, by friction and never by adhesives, by any mucilage. What is this little dowel? It's the sound post.

The sound post is the soul of a violin.

Repairing it is not for the faint of heart.

His fingers danced on the fingerboard. His hand moved along the neck and the upper bout of the instrument. His bow bounced from edges to edges in between the c-bouts. The horsehair in between the tip and the frog of the pernambuco brazilwood bow peregrinated from the D string to the E, then back to the G after brushing over A. He swayed from side to side to the cadence of the music. On the white paper was a series of complex hand drafted arrangements on staves. He leaned harder on the chinrest and his right hand gripped the bow firmer.

Clank.

The pernambuco brazilwood bow flung across the room.

Clank.

The thin golden E string snapped.

Clank.

In a rage, he dropped the spruce fiddle and with a swift movement of his arm he thwacked the heavy music stand.

The violin ricocheted on the floor of the heatless and lightless room, falling into pieces as the music stand clashed against its lower bout. More strings snapped. Pieces of wood jounced in the room, scattering to every single corner. Pieces by pieces. The violin was destroyed. The Tetsusaiga, his instrument - his beloved instrument was no more. He had destroyed it with his own two hands. He was mad. Insane. Everything meant nothing now. Regret. Regret. Regret.

It's been five years. Five long years. He had lived every single day in regret. One mistake later, both of them had to pay with their whole lives. Responsibilities, obligations, and liabilities ran his life. Why did he have to be a man with principles? With morals? Why couldn't he just bring himself to walk away? To walk away from it all? Why did he have to make that commitment?

"InuYasha! Open up! Now! I know you're in there! What's wrong?" her voice was urgent. Her fists pounded against the heavy oak door over and over again. She was tearing up; her voice was cracking with each knock.

She knew something was wrong. She knew something had been on his mind. She struck the heavy door with the side of her fist, her knuckles, and her palms. She pounded against it until her fingers were numb, until she couldn't feel her hands anymore, until her hands were bruising into a purple shade, until blood began to smear. He was going to do something foolish in there. She had an ill gut feeling about it. She was so afraid. So afraid. Her chocolate brown eyes were filled with anxiety, hurt, and pools of tears.

"InuYasha! Love! Open up! Speak to me!" her voice trembled and became muted as the tears began to muffle her voice.

"Daddy! Daddy!" the small 4-year-old boy sat by the door and cried while he slapped his hands against the door like his mother did. He didn't know what was going on but the loud clashes coming from the room startled him. The little quarter demon was bawling; his golden eyes were fixed on his mother, "Mommy, what's wrong with Daddy? Mommy! Mommy!"

She clenched her fist and fell to the ground, slamming her back against the adjacent wall in the narrow hallway. She couldn't bring herself to look at her son. She couldn't give him a direct answer. What could she tell him? How could she tell him? She couldn't bring herself to tell her 4-year-old that he was partially the problem. She had read the newspaper this morning. So did her husband.

InuYasha crawled to a corner of the dark room; the curtains were drawn to block out the morning light. His sensitive ears picked up the small sniffles from outside the thick wooden doors. His heart ached. His abrupt outburst was frightening his son and startling his wife. His wife. He leered at the thought of the woman outside of his door. He covered his left hand with his right and felt the restrictive wedding band around his finger. It was evil. So evil. It was that little piece of metal that had taken away all of his freedom: his freedom to love 'her'. He scoffed. How ironic, he had chosen this path for himself because it was the proper path to take.

He did this to protect his family's reputation. He did this to protect her honor. He did this out of stupidity. He didn't know any better back then but now he was paying the hefty price for his actions.

InuYasha hit his head against the cement wall of his studio and closed his eyes.

'If I practice 10 hours a day, everyday for 3 years, I'll get really good. I might be just as good as you are. Let's make a pact, InuYasha. We'll make it to Juilliard, together.'

His eyes shot open. He wasn't safe in his own head. He could hear her voice and see her face. He reached around him and picked up a small piece of his Tetsusaiga. It was the violin's sound post. He clenched it in his hands and a silent tear trickled down his cheek. He had never cried for anyone in his life until now. This was his first time shedding a tear... For anyone.

"Open up, InuYasha! I demand that you come out here this instant! Now!"

InuYasha pondered for a moment; he knew that angry voice too well. It was his father's. He knew better than to enrage his father, the greatest conductor of his time, Inu no Taisho Takahashi. His father was a powerful and influential man. Everything he was today was because of his father. InuYasha sneered.

'Everything that I am... What am I?'

Yes, he was the world-renowned child prodigy violinist, InuYasha Takahashi. He was a virtuoso. He recorded his first album of all 24 of Paganini's Caprices at the age of 11, a feat that had never ever been achieved before he came along. He toured with orchestras and symphonies all across Europe at the age of 16. He was exceptionally brilliant, just fabulous. It was rare and unexpected but he was also a pop culture icon. He managed to change musical styles at the age of 18 and began infusing Classical music with contemporary beats. He was a pop culture sensation.

His father was the one who had made him into who he was. Inu no Taisho was an unfeeling man. He expected nothing but the very best from his sons and he didn't care how much pain or pressure they were going through. Sesshomaru, InuYasha's elder brother had abandoned his music pursuit as soon as he became of age and left home. InuYasha became the sole vessel to Inu no Taisho for fulfilling his unattained life-long fantasies. His father live vicariously through him, pushing him to greatness that he felt appropriate.

His father ran his life. What life? InuYasha never had one.

He had fell in love with the girl of his dreams twenty years ago. She had always been the rock that grounded him. Whenever things got rough, he had thought of her and it made all of his worries and stress melt away. Even when his father had ripped them apart and forced him to marry another woman, it comforted him to know that she was well and happy.

"InuYasha!" his father barked as the door flung open. "You ungrateful boy, get the hell out of here! You had us worried! How could you do this to Kikyo?"

"InuYasha, honey? Please, don't do this," his wife ran into the studio to embrace him. He could feel her warmth but he didn't react to her. He was just an empty shell.

"Let me be, Kikyo," InuYasha whispered while avoiding his wife's glance.

"Daddy!" the little boy cried. He kept his eyes away from his son too. He didn't want to look at him. InuYasha knew it was wrong of him to shroud in his own misery and block out his family. He just couldn't help it.

"Let's get you downstairs," Kikyo mustered all of her strength and pulled her husband up. A piece of newspaper clipping fell out of his pocket. It was an article from this morning.

-x-x-x-

"Brilliant Violinist Kagome Higurashi; Youngest Concertmaster of the Nippon National Philharmonic Dies at 27."

-x-x-x-

Let the supernatural romance begin! I've always wanted to write a supernatural romance story. My first try with "Through His Eyes" didn't quite work out. It became a mystery/suspense/romance story instead... Well... here goes with this new one. Let's see how it goes :)

The style of my writing is heavily influence by my favourite author, Lissome Dalliance! Go check her out. She's just PHENOMENAL. I guarantee that you will LOVE, LOVE, LOVE her story, "The Best of Friends."