A figure clad in a long, black cloak knelt in a darkened room. The only light came from two tall candles, their flames bravely attempting to banish the darkness. A small table stood in front of the person, a few items on laying on it: a green hair ribbon, a dried rose, and a handwritten note. The figure rose, bringing up one candle and placing it on the wooden surface, throwing the items on it into sharper relief.

The ribbon was revealed to have many creases from being worn often. A few brown strands of hair clung to it. A pale hand reached out from the folds of the cloak and caressed the fabric.

All the rose's thorns had been cut off, save one. The petals were papery and white, and looked as though they might break at the slightest touch. The ghostly hand danced across it, nearly touching the fragile item, but stopping short a few centimeters above.

The note's contents were able to be seen now:

My dearest Umehito,

I wish you could be here with me in New York! There are so many things I would love to show you. Of course, there are the standard tourist attractions like the Statue of Liberty and the Empire State building, but from my childhood here I know all the best places for food, fun, or just a quiet walk. It is so refreshing to have people speaking English. Sometimes it's so hard for me to talk in Japanese. But don't get me wrong, there are some problems here. I had forgotten how the taxis are so hard to get, and often reek of stale cigarette smoke, not to mention the abundance of vagrants. Quite a change from Ouran!

I miss you so much! Although I've enjoyed my time in America these last couple of weeks, I look forward to my return and hanging out with you. Only one week left until I can see you again!

Love always,

Rose

Behind these objects were framed pictures. The first showed a girl with chest-length brown hair flowing out behind her standing in a forest of pine trees. The second was of two people; the same female from before, and a blonde boy. The girl's brown eyes were twinkling as she put up a peace sign. The boy had a happy smile upon his face, one arm wrapped around her shoulders. The final image showed the girl laughing and holding a small kitten as she leaned back against the boy's chest. In front of her was a single cupcake with a solitary candle waiting to be blown out.

The cloaked person sighed and placed a small bowl in front of these items. Touching the candle's flame to it's contents, a sudden scent of roses and incense wafted through the room. Placing the candle back onto the floor, he knelt again, head bowed. He inhaled the strange combination of scents and focused. This was a semi-complicated incantation. The instructions were fairly simple, but it required enormous concentration.

"Happy," he whispered, conjuring a memory to his mind.

A brunette girl, about 14, was leaning against a tree. In her hands were a sketchbook and pencil. In front of her, a hooded boy was tapping his foot impatiently as she drew.

"Come on!" he urged, crossing his arms impatiently.

"Hold on, I'm almost done," She mumbled, glancing up at him and adding a few details to her drawing. Her face was screwed up in concentration as she tried to create the perfect portrait.

"That's what you said an hour ago."

"Liar. We have not been here for an hour."

"I have proof!" The boy pulled out a cat puppet. "Beelzenef was here!"

The girl burst out laughing. "Umehito- you are just- too much!" She gasped, dropping her paper and pencil and clutching at her sides as she laughed hysterically.

Umehito's face remained still for a few moments, before he, too, began to chuckle. "Yeah, that was pretty ridiculous..." He picked up the sketchbook. "It's beautiful," he commented. "But not as beautiful as you." He put an arm around her shoulder and placed a light kiss on top of her head.

The hooded boy cracked a slight smile at the memory.

"Sad," he murmured.

Tears were streaking down the girl's face. "I-I failed miserably!" she cried, crumpling up a piece of paper.

Umehito put his arms around her comfortingly, his long cloak falling around her. "It's just a grade, Rose. Just a stupid science test."

"But look!" Rose waved the paper around wildly. "A D!"

"D-plus," Umehito pointed out hopefully.

Rose cracked a tiny grin at his logic.

"Angry," Umehito muttered.

"You - fucking - pervert!" Rose screamed in English. Although Umehito couldn't understand what she was saying, he got the gist of it. Her face was red and angry as she confronted a middle-aged man in the underground train station.

"Listen, missy, I was never going to do-" he tried to explain.

SLAP! Rose's hand flashed out and connected with his cheek.

The man put a hand to his smarting cheek and swore, "Little bitch!"

Thankfully, the train pulled up just then, and Umehito grabbed Rose's arm and pulled her into the crowded car before the man could retaliate.

"What were you thinking?" Umehito asked her, slightly angry himself.

"I was thinking along the lines of stopping pedophiles from molesting innocent girls," she said heatedly. "It's like being in New York again," she muttered in English, tugging her skirt down.

He didn't understand anything but the words 'New York', her old home. "You're not thinking about going back, are you?" he asked worriedly.

"No, of course not." She paused before adding sweetly, "Well, only if you came with me..."

Umehito focused his mind on these three incidences and drew her face clearly into his mind's eye. Then, he pulled a newspaper clipping out of the folds of his cloak.

Rose Gause, age 16, died at 1:18 PM on June 2. She was killed by a fatal bullet wound from Mr. Richard Snow in the Times Square subway station. Rose, a native New Yorker, was visiting her home city from Japan. She is survived by her parents, Addie and Alfredo Gause, as well as her younger sister Marcie. Services will be held on June 5 at the Gause house in Japan.

He placed this shred of paper into the flames and watched as they burned. He then chanted a string of words in a long-forgotten language of magic, ancient words of power that flowed from the tongue and twisted through the soul.

A cold gust of air went through the room, and Umehito shuddered, wondering if this was a sign. A sensation of cold appeared on his shoulder. Looking down, he saw a transparent hand resting on the folds of black fabric.

"Rose?" He asked, barely believing his eyes as he looked up into his dead love's face.

She nodded, eyes filled with sadness. "Why, Umehito?" she whispered. Her voice was not the joyous tone he had expected, but one of deep sorrow and disappointment.

He stared at her, uncomprehending this unexpected emotion.

"Why did you have to call me back?" she elaborated.

"Because I love you! I wanted to be with you!" he exclaimed vehemently, trying to grasp her hand in his but slipping through it.

The ghost of Rose just shook her head sadly, her unbearably sad eyes staring into Umehito's. "I don't belong here. You, of all people, should know."

A terrible realization came to him. He had thought that he was doing this for both of them, but now he knew that he had just been selfish. "I'm so sorry." His voice cracked as he realized the magnitude of what he had done.

"Just let go. You have your whole life ahead of you. And I'll be waiting, close by, on the other side." Rose bent down and pressed her frozen lips to Umehito's.

It was the hardest thing he had ever done. Closing his eyes and using all of his willpower, he forced all thoughts of Rose out of his mind. A minute later, he looked around the room and saw that she had vanished.

I'll be waiting.

He knew what he had to do.

A pair of feet dangled several inches above the floor. They turned back and forth, back and forth. His face was blue, yet he somehow had a smile upon his face, content at last.