the sound

Her roommate wasn't up yet; Ayane had rolled in yesterday morning, dropped off her stuff, then headed out with her parents to take a look at her new home for the next couple of years. By the time she got back to the dorms it had been late and she'd been up for a good sixteen hours, including finishing the drive down. She had said hi before hitting the sack, barely.

She groaned getting out of bed: getting used to the college mattresses was something her body was not looking forward to.

Bathroom, and a shower. Let's see, that was left down the hall…

As she was drying off was the first time she actually noticed the music. A little tone, that almost sounded like it was right inside her ear, was playing for every move she made. If she stood still it faded, only playing the long slow notes that matched her breathing. As she moved around to reach herself with the towel it played faster, just barely audible under the sounds of the space around her.

A small part of her wanted to investigate, but most of her still wasn't used to standing around naked in a public area, even if it was a female shower room. She packed up and headed back to her room.

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Life — of course — was hectic for Ayane over the next few days. Occasionally she'd notice a faint melody in the background, but she never had a moment to think about it. Besides, there were a lot of new background noises at college. Cars, movement, old A/C systems, broken clocks, drunk frat boys…

So it was nearly a week later that she finally noticed the music for real: Sunday morning. Her roommate had been out partying the night before, and wasn't likely to be up for a few more hours. Same with most of the rest of the dorm. Ayane would have headed to church, but she didn't know any of the churches in the area yet. Next week, probably.

She had the shower to herself therefore, and the constant background noise had dropped to a minimum.

So — stepping out of the shower — she heard the tones as she did every moment, and paid attention for once.

Raising her arm produced this tone, breathing in this note, each distinct and repeatable. If she stood absolutely still, closed her eyes, and held her breath she could almost manage to get them all to stop.

But then she'd have to move again. And the music would start up again, a pleasant mirror of her actions.

Realizing she was dancing naked in the bathroom, she went to get dressed.

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At brunch, she pondered. Now that she was aware of it the music — or the sound, whatever it was — went with her everywhere. If she closed her eyes and listened, she could follow the whole melody of her life.

Odd. Nice, but odd. That was the word for it. Odd.

Nice though.

Ayane experimented. Moving this way was more musical than that way… More pleasant to listen to.

She didn't notice she was swaying her hips as she walked out of the cafeteria.

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"What are you humming?"

"Hmm?" Ayane looked up from her books to her study partner.

"You're humming, the same little bits over and over. It's kinda annoying."

"Sorry." Ayane tried to recall what she'd been doing. She realized she had been humming along with her internal music track. "It helps me concentrate. I'll try to avoid it."

"Good."

They went back to their books.

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Sunday rolled around again, and Ayane realized she hadn't told anyone yet. Hadn't even really mentioned to anyone that she was hearing music all the time.

She wondered if she should.

It wasn't like the music hurt her at all. It was just there, a pleasant counterpoint to her day. Constant, in the background. What she'd told Morgan in the library was true: If she focused on the music, brought it to the front, it helped her concentrate. Things seemed simpler when she was listening to it.

And it was very pleasant to listen to. As she'd found a week ago, she could influence how it sounded. If she held herself a little differently, moved a in a slightly different way, it sounded better to her. Not only sounded better; it felt better too. She'd found herself standing straighter, walking easier, and sitting taller. At the end of the day she was less tired, and listening to the even in-and-out of the music as she breathed rocked her to sleep with ease.

If she told someone, it would sound like she was complaining. And she wasn't; wouldn't. It was nice. She liked the music.

She could keep it to herself for a while.

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Tuesday one of the teachers threw a pop quiz. Everyone in her class groaned, Ayane included. They'd barely started the year.

She looked at the paper and cleared her head, listening to the music for a moment to help her.

Paying attention again a moment later, she'd already answered the first question. Correctly, as far as she could tell.

On an impulse she cleared her head again and let the music guide her fingers. When she had finished the quiz, she double-checked it. There were a couple of questions she wasn't sure on, but nothing she was sure was wrong.

She turned it in, unchanged.

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For the next twenty four hours Ayane was careful to not get too lost in the music. It was easy for her to hear now, distinct from the sounds of the world around her. The tones in her head played separate, and even, clearer and louder as she had gotten used to listening to them.

She did realize she'd gotten used to letting it guide her a little, around the edges. Early morning especially, when she'd just gotten up, before she was really awake, she followed the music to the shower and back to her room. The outfit she pulled out of the closet while listening was nice and classy, with more than a hint of curves underneath. It wouldn't have been a bad choice for a casual date, but it wasn't so fancy that Ayane felt she couldn't wear it as daily wear.

There was nothing wrong that she could tell with the music's choice.

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She got the quiz back the next day. She had gotten two questions wrong, one that she had been unsure on and one that she only understood why her answer had been wrong when the teacher explained it to the class.

Ayane had to admit that she would have probably done about the same on her own, without the music. Maybe worse: there were a couple of questions where she had been tempted to change her answer, and most likely would have on her own. Since she got them right without changing, that would have hurt her.

She smiled, and hummed to herself as she listened to the teacher.

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"Going out?"

Ayane turned to her roommate, trying to understand the question. It was a friday night, and she'd been letting herself get lost in the music.

Diane gestured to indicate the clothes Ayane was wearing. "Are you going out?"

Ayane looked down at herself. Heels, nylons, a skirt that made it about halfway to her knees, and a blouse that was thin enough to show the barest hint of a the bra underneath. She had been caught in the middle of buttoning it. "I guess so." It seemed a reasonable enough explanation.

"Good. You stay cooped up in here too much." Diane grabbed her purse and headed out the door. "Maybe I'll see you around."

Ayane stood aside as the door opened and closed, then looked down at herself. Well, why shouldn't she go out for a bit of fun? She was in college after all.

She went back to listening to the music.

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Ayane stepped onto the dance floor and could barely hold back a smile of pleasure. Here was where she could really listen to the music, and feel it flow through her. The question of whether she was dancing to the music around her or the music inside her didn't bother her: she just existed in the dance. Perhaps it was that the music inside of her danced her to the music around her.

The dancers around her didn't matter, nor did the stares of men and women who watched. Some with hungry eyes, some with envy. The music had chosen her clothes, her jewelry, her accessories. What was in her closet was no longer enough: it had taken her shopping to find something to display it's prize better.

She didn't hear the propositions around her. She heard the music, her music. It had grown louder yet, nearly drowning out the rest of the world.

Not that it mattered. Ayane listened to the music within, and that was enough. It would guide her, move her mouth when she needed to speak, her body when she needed to move. All that needed to matter was the pleasant music inside.