The soft music traverses through the air, filling the entire house with an artificial sense of quiet calm. The old man closes his eyes, lost in the ethereal enchantment that the boy is casting. The boy peers at his mother. He sees her twisting the handkerchief with undisguised hate in her eyes. She lowers her head when she notices his gaze. His fingers clench the bow.
The atmosphere changes all of a sudden. The air turns tense. The old man frowns a bit. The sharp turn in the music instills agitation and frustration in his heart. The music is no longer as gentle as the breeze. It's laced with growing poison that infects the listeners in the room.
"Stop, Heiji."
As soon as he hears the command, the boy stops.
The old man looks at him with a smile. "My son, are you not feeling well?"
