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A harmonic melody softly echoed in the room, the sound bouncing right back at the harpist, who smiled as his fingers felt the strings, knowing exactly where each one was, expertly plucking at each of them, his hand sliding and creating more pleasant, wonderful sounds.
Once he finishes, he takes a deep breath, waiting patiently for the reaction of the crowd.
And applause clamored out.
It always did, they always applauded, but it always gave him pause, considering all he could do was wait for their reactions, that maybe would never come. But they always did.
In fact, it was a cheer. His legion of fans that he had acquired were always very vocal in supporting him, chanting his name.
“Light! Light!” Light heard them, and thought to himself that his parent’s strange choice in name certainly helped, seeing as his name worked quite well as a catchy stage name as well.
Perhaps he was half the reason the place where he and Clover worked at became so popular over the past few months.
Clover. He wonders what happened to her? Was she busy at SOIS? It did always take a lot of her time, unfortunate as that was, but she would usually inform him if he got busy, either by telling him before they left home, or by messaging him on his phone. Neither of those happened, aside from her saying that she had to talk to Alice. It was strange for her to do that, and so, as soon as he was done, he bowed to the crowd and started to pack up his things so he could go back home.
Not before grabbing the gifts that his fans had thrown at the stage of course.
He holds something, and by the hard stem, but soft top, and the pleasant smell, it must be a rose, which luckily had its thorns removed. A nice, thoughtful gift that he would keep with him for the rest of the day.
He grabs something else. The texture was different. Fabric?
Ah… It seems he has an admirer.
…He likely wouldn’t hold on to it, but he surely couldn’t just leave that there. He grabbed it as well before going backstage, where he would throw it in the trash. A shame it had to go to waste, but he wasn’t sure what else to do with a “present” like that.
As he was backstage, he pondered about how he always felt a bit anxious whenever his performances ended. Light had to wait for an audible reaction: a laugh, a sharp breath, murmurs, a nervous cough, just about anything, to actually let him know what people thought, considering he couldn’t judge the look on their faces. His ears were always attuned to the slightest of noise, and so his ears might as well be the eyes he lacked. It gave him “vision”, in a way. Of course, he didn’t have any actual vision, that would be absurd, but he did have a vague sense of where things were, and as he’d described to others before, he could walk just fine without the aid of a cane, as long as he could actually focus on the sounds around him. A busy street, for example, was one of the times that he would certainly need one. The overwhelming sounds made it hard to focus on the things useful to him, so going by the tactile sensations, as well as the sounds, of the cane against concrete was the main way to maneuver.
And that’s what he was doing. Walking home, carrying the case for his harp behind him, while tapping his cane with his other hand. The sun warmed his usually chilly skin, and he turned his head up, feeling the heat emanating on his face, looking content to anyone who looked his way.
Today the streets must’ve been bustling, considering the constant honking and the roar of the cars speeding by, which did indeed make it hard to traverse the streets, but he did so, as natural as anyone else. He may be ‘impaired’, but he was just as good as everyone else walking by him.
Thunk.
No, he was even better than some, one such example being whoever that was that fell in broad daylight.
…
Not long after, he arrived home and went to unlock the door.
…The door was already unlocked. That wasn’t normal.
He opened the door, leaving the harp outside, grabbing his cane by the middle, quickly starting to brandish it as a bat, and even if he knew it wouldn’t be particularly sturdy, it worked in a pinch.
“Clover? Are you there?” Light called out, loudly, to make sure that Clover would be able to hear him, but no answer was heard, so he tried again. “Clover!”
Then, he felt his foot kick something. Something he hadn’t noticed. Something new, on the floor, that wasn’t there before.
It sounded like a can of some sorts.
He bent down and grabbed it, and noticed its very distinct shape. It wasn’t a can, it was a canister, one he had felt before. A gas canister, with a very particular smell, one of Soporil. He’d smelled it before, when he and Clover were kidnapped by Zero and forced to go through another Nonary Game.
It couldn’t be…
He felt the sinking feeling of despair washing over him, as he realized why Clover wasn’t answering. She was kidnapped, again, but this time… he was left behind.
Why? What could be happening that led her to be kidnapped, but not him? He was used to these complex, albeit dangerous and convoluted plans that involved kidnappings, but… well, considering the type of people that he and Clover, as well as SOIS were dealing with, he feared for her safety more than ever now.
He remembered how scared he felt for her, back on the Gigantic, when he was sinking while Clover must be going through similarly horrible things. How his friends helped him get through it, and he ultimately found her, reunited with lots of tears and hugs, and he promised to never lose her again. That’s what the promise he made upon that four-leaf clover meant to him.
…He wouldn’t lose her now. If he was out here, free to walk, for whatever reason, it meant he had a chance of contacting her, wherever she was, and a chance to get in touch with SOIS on his end, to unite everyone into figuring out what is going on.
That despair turned into anger-fueled determination in record time, as he gripped the canister with all his strength, before he grabbed his phone, cycling through the contacts before he finally found the one for SOIS Headquarters, and started to ring it.
He would find Clover, no matter what it took.