Hello! My name is nobadi-liek-u. This story is an AU - my first attempt at one. Actually, it's my first attempt at writing anything in a long time. I am a classical pianist, and a few months ago I was inspired to write a story based on Pokemon Special about classical music. This is the result!

Be warned that there is a lot of musical terminology used in this story. Because of this, I'm providing a handy glossary at the end of each chapter for any terms that might be unfamiliar to those who don't listen to or play music, as well as links to YouTube for any pieces mentioned so that you can get an idea of what they're supposed to sound like. None of these videos are my own. If there are any terms that I miss that you don't know, DM me and I'll add it to the glossary.

I think that's all. Enjoy!

Chapter 1: First Movement

White's house is an old one, and it shows. The paint on the outside, a superb white maybe a hundred and fifty years ago, is now faded and peeling. The paint on the interior is also peeling and most likely lead-based, which is no doubt unhealthy. The windows are foggy and spotted. The stairs creak as you walk up and down, and a hot-water heater makes for an interesting obstacle in the basement, burning your skin within seconds should you touch it. And yet, White wouldn't dream of moving out, not for anything in the world.

Why?

Because the sound of the notes leaping from her Steinway and into the living room are so fine, so clear, so pure - that she is certain no room in the world could offer a better place to play.

However, today White finds herself playing not her beautiful Steinway in her lovely old house, but playing a battered, hopeless upright in a busy university lounge. Several students sit watching a Blue Jays game on the television, raising the volume of the none-too-pleasant voice of Buck Martinez calling singles and strikeouts every so often. Two dudebros are using the billiards table, shouting whenever something mildly cool happens and then immediately glancing at White to see if she's impressed. It's almost impossible to hear herself play, but she grits her teeth and tries to tune the noisy students out.

She is rather a stunning sight to see at a piano. She's small, no taller than five and a half feet, but slender, with a curvaceous back and hips. She's wearing her chestnut hair down and it reaches her lower back, flowing like water. Her skin is pale and clear. She has a small, upturned nose, wide blue eyes and and a perpetually excited expression on her face. She sits at the piano with supreme confidence - back straight, head high.

A light, somewhat discordant piece is what White starts to play. It's oddly chromatic in structure, as if every other note is a tone off of what should be played, only to be immediately resolved into the "correct" one. The left hand chords are broken and almost stretch further than her hands can reach. By all musical logic it should sound like a mess, but a whimsical tune emerges as if spitting in the face of the man. The piece is named "Wrong Note". Appropriate.

White is about to lose herself in the music when she hears someone walking up to her left and glances over. One of the guys from the pool table has decided to make his presence even more distracting. She returns her attention to the sheet music.

"Hey, what're you playin' there?" He says, with a goofy grin on his face. He looks like a walking stereotype. He's wearing a backwards ball cap, plaid canvas shorts and skate shoes. A pair of sunglasses are worn above his eyes. He has a Monster Energy drink clutched in one hand, a pool cue in the other. White smirks a little.

"Chopin, Opus 25, Number 5, Étude in E minor," she says, not stopping with her playing. Normally she is very friendly, but she knows how this conversation is going to go.

It is doubtful that the guy knows what half of these words mean, but the grin never wavers from his face. "Oh yeah, I know that one. It's by, uh, Beethoven, right?" (He pronounces so incorrectly that White cringes). "I'm Brad, by the way." Even his name fits the stereotype.

White stops playing and looks over at him with a forced smile. "White. Nice to meet you. I'm sorry if I'm being rude but I really need to pract-"

"Can you play Kanye?" interrupts Brad. "I love Kanye!"

White scowls. "No, I can't play Kanye. Again, it's really important that I practice right now. I'll chat with you later, but could you go away for now?"

Brad looks confused. "Why can't you play Kanye?"

She has lost her patience. "Please leave."

Brad looks upset, but turns and heads back to the pool table. White hears him mutter "it'd be rad if she played Kanye..."

She sighs. This kind of conversation is incredibly common when she plays in public, given her looks and the number of frat boy bro-dawgs at her school. It's one of the reasons why she rarely plays on a piano other than her own - or at a concert hall, of course.

White starts playing again, but only gets through a few bars before she stops again.

Another boy is watching her from an armchair about 15 feet away, from behind a book. Unlike everyone else in the room, he is silent. She looks back at him, wondering how long he has been watching. He is staring, unwavering, but White gets the feeling it's as much at the piano as it is at her. He thrusts his chin, as if to say "Don't stop. Keep playing."

White huffs. Easy for him to say - along with the noise and the jerks, she now has an attentive audience. But it's not like she has any other choice - the piece has to be ready by the end of the month, and she can't go home until classes are over.

She resumes playing again. She can feel his eyes on her, but that doesn't matter. 'He wants a performance? I'll give him one. Leave it all to me.'

Her playing all of a sudden becomes sharper, crisper. Somehow the out-of-tune piano starts creating a lovely sound. She's a natural performer. An audience just gives her that much more reason to play it perfectly.

She finishes the piece and looks over at him, almost shyly. 'How was I?' he waggles his eyebrows comically, as if to say 'gee, I dunno.' A giggle escapes White inadvertently. She hasn't even spoken a word to him, but he's already shown more character than all of the bro-dawgs who've ever hit on her.

The boy uses the giggle as a cue to come over. At first White is annoyed - why can't these people just let her play? - but then she shrugs. Maybe this one won't be so bad. He's tall and thinly muscled, with a shock of brown hair and intelligent chocolate eyes. He leans on the piano and gives her a relaxed smile, totally different from to intense stare he was wearing whilst she was playing.

"I don't wanna be rude, but why are you here?" he asks. "There's better places to play."

White giggles again, though she is unsure why. "I can't go and play at home, because I have another class in ten minutes. Trust me, if I had the choice I wouldn't be here." She jerks her chin at Brad none-too-subtly, but Brad has lost interest in her and doesn't notice.

"Ah, I see," he says, a little too loudly. "You have a class this late?" He says this as if it's a travesty that the damned school doesn't lock its doors at 3:30 PM. Right now, the sun is just dipping to the horizon on a chilly October day.

"Yeah, I'm a music student," she laughs. "What are you? I haven't seen you around before."

The boy turns slightly pink. "Engineering...or something," he mumbles. "Freshman." White blinks, bemused. 'Or something?'

"You don't sound convinced," she says with a frown. In the back of her mind, a bizarre thought emerges that he might be a serial killer posing as a student.

"Well, it's definitely engineering," he says. "But...the engineering of what exactly, I dunno. I don't really pay attention."

"Is that not what you want to do?" White asks.

The boy laughs. "Not in the slightest. In fact…" his eyes wander to the clock on the wall. "Dammit! I gotta go." He shoulders his bag and bounces towards the door, before rushing right back.

"I'm Black, by the way," he wheezes, pumping her hand.

White giggles again. He certainly is strange. "Nice to meet you. I'm White."

"I know. I heard you say it to that guy. Bye!" And without another word he takes 3 giant leaps and disappears out the door.

White watches him go, and then looks back at the piano for a moment. It really is time for her to get to class too, but she wants to run through the piece one more time. Her mother's voice appears in her head.

"Playing Chopin is like handling a wild animal, White. You must approach it gently and slowly, or it will bite you."

She takes a deep breath, puts Black out of her head as best as she can, and begins to play again.

Steinway: AKA Steinway and Sons. Piano manufacturer, well regarded as the best creator of concert pianos. They're very expensive, and it's a little unrealistic for White to own one, but it sounds better than "Her K. Kawai" or "Her Yamaha" (which could also be a TV, a Motorcycle or a boat.)

Buck Martinez: The play-by-play guy for the Toronto Blue Jays. (What can i say, I'm a fan). Known for his distinctive baritone growl, and legendary for (allegedly) never being sober in the broadcast booth.

Chromatic: a chromatic musical scale is played using only semi-tones - meaning each note is the very next one up on the keyboard, black or white. Example: watch?v=hrvsooTd8-g

Étude: French for "study." A piece designed to either improve a musician's skill in a particular discipline of technique, or to improve the understanding of a composer's piano method.

Frederic Chopin, Étude in E minor, Opus 25, Number 5: watch?v=TM1BN4uwMfA. You might recognize this piece from the anime Your Lie in April. If you don't because you haven't seen it, I highly recommend it.