Title: Stranger

Rating: K , pretty harmless content.

Summary: Len Tsukimori makes Shoko Fuyuumi feel things completely at odds with what she perceives to be her true self, leaving a confused Shoko to contemplate these feelings.

Disclaimer: I do not own La Corda D'oro or any of the characters mentioned here. Ah, if only.

A/N: This is currently just a oneshot, though I may decide to go somewhere with it. It seems Len/Shoko isn't terribly popular - actually, Shoko, despite hers being an interesting character by virtue of it's open-endedness, doesn't get much attention at all - so I'm torn between the need for more of it, or letting it alone due to lack of interest. So, I guess, let me know what you think. Thanks, and happy reading.

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Shoko Fuyuumi might be shy and plain and quiet, but she was by no means an idiot. She certainly knew danger when she saw it, and Len Tsukimori had bad news stamped all over him.

Naturally, being aware of this, she applied the Rule of Three (and sometimes more, depending on the slight changes of his brow which told when he was mildly irritated – his default setting – and when he was ready to grab the nearest person and beat their head against a tree), which meant staying at least three feet away at all times.

She followed the rule religiously, and often shrank into herself and hid behind Kaho-chan when she felt particularly threatened by the tall, imposing young man. Even as she felt herself blossoming little by little, creeping out of her shell, finding the courage to square her shoulders and try new things, Len Tuskimori always managed to reduce her to the shivering, stuttering, cowering little girl she was at her worst. More than anything or anyone else she had ever encountered, he made her want to run fast and far in the complete opposite direction.

Most likely because he also drew her like nothing else.

How many times had she stood in the practice room during the concourse, her hands poised to play her clarinet, her mind just finding the right melody . . . when suddenly, she'd falter, as the thought of him raced into her head, causing her music and heartbeat to become hopelessly jumbled and discordant. How many times did she play the same notes over and over until she finally cradled her clarinet against her as she sat against the wall, leaning her head back in flustered misery. How the mere idea of him rendered her completely useless, even more so than she already was! It was infuriating and terrifying and left her feeling completely hopeless.

More than anything, it left her feeling out of place. Different. Not like shy, plain, quiet Shoko Fuyuumi. Like a stranger to herself. And she could not abide that. She couldn't. She had come to terms with herself, accepted that she was the way she was, and for the most part, no matter how tempting the lure of Kaho-chan and what she represented, Shoko would always be this way. This way was what she knew best. This way, she was safe. She knew where she stood and what she was. Even against all the awkwardness and painful stumbling through everyday things, her identity was something she had confidence in, a reassuring constant.

And then she'd catch a flash of blue hair or a faint grimace or the smooth dance of his fingers and the bow across his violin, and her heart would simultaneously jump into her throat and drop to her feet, and suddenly it was as though the self she had come to know, come to terms with, had completely vacated her, leaving her a confused mass of contradicting wants and fears, completely out of her element.

Len Tsukimori made grey, colorless Shoko become any number of hues that she would rather jump in front of a moving vehicle than identify. She didn't want to know, didn't want to feel. She just wanted to be her shy, plain, and quiet self, the blush in her cheeks and the stutter in her voice induced by any common social interaction or mishap – not by the thought or sight or sound of that terrible, frightening, incomprehensibe boy. The one she wanted to slowly pick apart until she discovered and understood every inch of him.

And therein lay the problem. Shoko Fuyuumi kept things simple. She didn't go looking for trouble, she kept social interaction to a minimum, and withdrew into herself as much as she could without going crazy. She certainly did not have an irrational and almost irresistible desire to go chasing after complex, tightly locked away disasters like Len Tsukimori. At least, she shouldn't, and the fact that she did, more than she could ever explain, made her unusually furious at him for scattering her life like he had.

It made her wish that he'd suffer as she had. That he'd become a complete wreck inside. That the moment he retrieved his calm, cool exterior, someone would come along and knock it away again, leaving him confused and angry and full of feelings and impulses that people like him should never feel.

Except he was. He absolutely was. Kahoko Hino had turned Len Tsukimori into as much of a hopeless mess as he had Shoko.

Strangely enough, the knowledge that he, too, was suffering, did not make her nearly as happy as it should have.

Shy, plain, quiet Shoko Fuyuumi did not dare contemplate why.