Disclaimer: I do not own Nabari, but in my dreams I do…

Consuming darkness. Unbearable loneliness. When I look at this assumed Angel of Death, I see both things.

As beautiful, and sympathetic as this may sound, it really has no truth, as to the way I feel anyway. The death god and I don't particularly get along.

I glare from him at the side as he smoothed his midnight black, kei styled hair out of his blue eyes. He knew I was watching his every move, studying him intently. I never understood the circumstances of his existence, and I don't think I ever will.

He turned his steady gaze to my face. His teeth were chattering, and his a ghostly pale. He didn't bother to say anything about my rude staring, but that was typical.

"What is going on in that head of yours?" I thought aloud,

All he did was glare. No response came from him once again. He decided to disregard all my comments, completely ignoring me. It started to piss me off, but I couldn't show it. That's exactly what he wanted.

"You know, Yoite, you can keep giving me the silent treatment. It doesn't bother me one bit." I flashed him a sweet smile filled with lies. I was one hell of an actress, so he could never know that I was faking it all.

"I know you're lying, so you can drop the act right now," he said faintly.

"Is that why you're doing this then?" I shouted in his face.

"Quite frankly, I do it for my own benefit. You know, even someone as dead as I am desires some entertainment every once in a while."

"You're such a jerk! I don't even know why I agreed to help you in the first place!" I growled slightly, trying to contain the little sanity I had left. He loved to watch me lose it, didn't he?

"You decided to help me because if you don't all your friends will die. It's as simple as that," he cooed in my ear, due to its closeness. I wanted to slap him silly right now, but I knew two wrongs don't make a right.

Before I knew what I said, I blurted out, "You make my life a living hell sometimes, and I hope you know that!"

He cringed at my words, and his face contorted with pain. A few moments later, he began to cough up blood. The crimson liquid stained his tan gloves as he tried to cup it in his hands.

"Hey, are you alright?" I gasped as his liquid life dripped onto my leg, seeping through his fingers. I jumped back a few feet. It felt like his life was in my hands, literally.

He let the blood be absorbed by his gloves, and then he removed them. He revealed his pitch-black hands, shaking them with instability.

I gawked down at his hands, feeling remorse for the way I treated him most of the time. I know it doesn't make any sense, but that's how I felt.

"Look what the Kira's done to you," I whispered mostly to myself.

He wiped the blood residue from the corners of his lips. "That's why it's your job to erase me, like you promised."

I shook off every emotion that made me look weak, and shrugged. "Well, I will once I'm able. A promise is a promise, of course."

"You'll use the Shinrabansho to erase me, and your friends will live. There's nothing to it."

I slammed my fist on the hard wood floor, returning to my normal, explosive self. "Says you! You're not the one who has to use it."

"But remember, I'll help you with anything until you grant my wish. You're not doing this alone." He started to shiver. I then remembered that he was missing his gloves, and he gets sick easily. Did a pair of gloved really affect his body temperature?

"Go get a pair of gloves. That missing garment could make your condition worse," I muttered in a grumpy tone.

He stood to his feet, trembling. He then slowly left the room.

Did he just leave? I cheered inside my head, thankful to be alone. His constant company was quite a burden on me, but I wouldn't tell him that directly.

I pulled my knees to my chest, my arms encircling them. I was in deep thought, about life in general. Would I be alive tomorrow, or the next day? I mean maybe I would but Yoite's chances fluctuate. There's a lot more of a chance that he could be dead tomorrow than I could.

A blonde male entered the tiny apartment with a stressed expression on his face.

"Hi, Yukimi. How was your day?" I asked innocently.

"Packed. I've got to go back out to do a story on a sushi shop." He ran his hands through his blonde spikes then shifted his cerulean eyes to my leg. "Mizuki, why is there blood on your leg?"

I stared at the scarlet drops on my pale leg. "Oh, Yoite's symptoms are acting up again. I forgot to clean it off."

He nodded in comprehension, taking off his metal framed glasses. His eyes darted around the room quickly. "Where is that kid anyway?"

I shrugged. "I think he went to go get a fresh pair of gloves. His other ones were drenched in blood."

"Keep an eye on the kid when I leave, alright? You never know when he can pull a fast one on you." He grabbed a water bottle from the table, and gulped the contents out of it.

"Uh… You do know that Yoite's lips were on that bottle, right?" I told Yukimi cautiously.

"So? He doesn't have some contagious illness that I contract from drinking out of the same container he did."

"Kazuho did say that on top of all the infections he has, a cold can form. And on top of that, since his immune system is down, he can get sick a lot more easily than others."

He nodded it off, and started pacing around the room.

"Don't worry, Yukimi. I'm a fairly responsible young adult." I paused, standing up. "If it makes you feel any better, I'll go check on him."

"Whatever," he replied while pacing.

I shrugged waltzing into the next room over, but Yoite wasn't in there. I bolted around the house twice. He was nowhere to be found.

It was no longer Where's Waldo anymore. It was now where's Yoite!