"Thank you (correct me if I'm wrong,) Kassaro-san.  And to you as well Hizurugi-san.  There's no more boxes but we appreciate the offer.  You both are welcome at our home whenever you have a chance to come over."  Surprise was on both of their faces when the girl said she had no mother to speak of, Vergil afraid to ask and his mother afraid to pry too much on their first meeting the details of what had happened.  Vergil wasn't about to complain as Kari took the box and only nodded to her question.<br/><br/>They had been living overseas, in America until about three years ago.  After everything had happened, it was decided that it would be better for both he and his mom to make a fresh start.  He hadn't considered flying clear across the world, but it did help to get away from the familiar at least.  Something told Vergil that Kari was being unusually kind as she led them to his dorm room before walking away with an offer to help if she could when and if the need ever arose.<em>Unlikely I'll ever ask but we'll see.</em>Vergil thought to himself, but his mother was taken in by it.  "Thank you kindly dear.  I'll be sure to remember that.  Good luck with classes Kassaro-san."<br/><br/>Bowing at the waist, Vergil and his mother both showed their respect to the girl before turning to unpack his junk.  When it was over, Vergil settled down on his bed, his mother having left a few minutes ago.  Going to the one box he hadn't touched yet, Vergil looked inside and almost pushed it under the bed.  It was his violin case and musical notes, the delicate instrument safely tucked away in its airtight packaging to keep the dust and other things of that nature off of the wood.  Putting it on the bed, the black haired boy of 17 stopped and simply looked at it, lost in thought.  How long had it been since he'd played it last?  Five years, more?  Slowly unsealing the covering and taking the bow and violin itself out of the case, Vergil held both items in his hands as if they were made of glass before standing and putting the bow to the strings.  It all came back to him in a rush of living color and memory as the first strains of a sad yet heart wrenching song came out of the boy's hands and through the violin, closing his eyes as he went through the old routine without needing to look at the notes that were still in the bag that had kept the sealed instrument safe for so long.  In a way, he was like the violin that had seen darkness for so long that the light was foreign and strange to them both.