Runnin' with the devil

Part 5

"You didn't have to get here so early," he says sheepishly. "Now I'm the one who looks late."

"I wanted to make sure the hall was ready!" she insists, giving him a huge hug. He smiles into her shoulder. She's always like this, he's learned, overprepared, but he can't thank her enough.

"You're going to be amazing," she says. "I can't wait for people to hear this. Pass with flying colors."

"If you're saying that, then I guess I can feel reasonably confident in myself," he tells her, and means it. She's always honest. 

"I'm going to start laying out my music," she says. "Do you need anything?"

"I'm okay," he says. Then, "Actually, have you heard from—" He stops himself. He's trying not to dwell on this.

Momo taps her knuckles lightly on top of his head and he winces, admonished. "Don't you worry about that right now," she says. "I'll see you out there."

He nods, and she leaves with another reassuring squeeze to his arm.

Shouto has prepared forty minutes of music, with a five minute intermission. For now he can tune his instrument, practice, or just relax, both before the recital and during the break.

He sets his violin case on the table in front of him and cracks it open. His mother's violin rests inside—light antique varnish, Italian made, certainly no Stradivarius, but Shouto has never cared about that. The tones it produces are clear and natural to his ears, like icicles formed on evergreen. He takes it from his case and feels its familiar weight in his hand, before he begins to warm up.

As he runs through the familiar motions, he reflects back. It's somewhat amazing, that his first semester of university has now nearly come and gone. This recital is the last big push before the winter break. Shouto hasn't quite decided what he'll be doing when the semester ends. Going back home doesn't feel like the most appealing prospect.

His phone buzzes in his pocket and his hand snaps to it a little faster than he'd like to admit. He pulls it out to see Midoriya has texted him.

Glad we got here early! Front row is our territory now! ᕙ(*•̀ᗜ •́*)ᕗ

Shouto can't help but laugh at the joke, given he had only let Midoriya and a few of their other friends know about his recital time personally. It's standard for the school to post announcements, but Shouto has no other friends in the area, and Shouto's brothers and sister had agreed not to come and avoid attracting their father's attention, on the grounds that he send them a video recording. The recording in question will be taken by Kirishima, who agreed very enthusiastically; Shouto is still getting used to how nice it is to know the friends he has made are here to support him.

The thought reassures him as it comes time to leave the green room. He walks down the corridor, sees the piano and Momo waiting, sees the light of the stage at the end. The cacophony of voices is starting to hush, and he feels a momentary sense of confusion, disorientation. That isn't the sound of a few meager voices. That sounds more like...

He steps onto the stage, blinking through the brightness of the lights, to see that the entire hall is filled with people, from the front row to the back. It's the sound of a full room, quieting down to wait with bated breath for the performance to start.

He realizes immediately what's happened. Even trying to keep a low profile, word has gotten out about who he is, about when he's playing. All these people are here to see him perform, and that's fine—he supposes it's not a huge surprise. And he's played in front of larger audiences before.

Still, this time is different. This is his music, that he picked for himself, that he had approved by instructors and advisors, his first independent college recital. And all these people, whether they know it or not, are here to see him be himself for the very first time. He swallows, his grip tightening on his bow.