She released a huff of air as she toed off her shoes and stepped up into her slippers. The small step up into the house felt like a giant leap, as tired as her legs were. It was already easy for her to get tired; the doctors said it had something to do with the virus she had carried as a child. Twelve years later and it still held true. Though she was certain the same would hold for anyone with a course load like hers. It was hot outside, anyhow.
But she wanted to be done. She wanted to be out in the world helping people. For a long time, she had debated with herself over what to do with her future. On one hand, she could go on to medical school and follow in her fathers footsteps. On the other, she could train and-but that was a silly thought, and she had decided long ago, anyway. She was going to be a doctor. She would continue her father's work.
The image of her father's blackened face flashed in front of her eyes and she was staggered. Frozen to the spot, she dropped her bags to the floor. Her ears were numb to the sound of her groceries rolling across the flooring. As she paused to gather herself, she was struck by the injustice of it all. The memories she wanted to forget were as clear as if they were yesterday...while the ones she tried to cling desperately to slipped away as quickly as water through her fingers.
She sighed and tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear, crouching down to collect the mess she had made. It was easy for her hair to get into her face-she hadn't changed the cut of it for over a decade. Her friends called it childish, that she would wear a school girl's cut of bangs and bob, but the one time she had swept it up out of her face she had been reminded of /that woman/.
Before long, she had assembled her groceries in their proper places in the kitchen and headed into her bedroom. Her purse was the first thing to go, placed on top of her dresser just inside the door. Usually she would make an effort to fold away her dirty clothes from the day, but that night all she did was shed them as she crossed the room to the bathroom. For a long time she hung her head under the beating shower, letting the heat hit the back of her neck and soothe her aches.
By all accounts, it couldn't be considered a proper shower. She forged on through her nightly routine nonetheless, clumsily combing through her hair and brushing her teeth. By the time she wrapped herself in her robe and headed back to her bedroom, her eyes refused to stay open. Her skin was overflowing with heat from her shower, however, and she took a moment to throw open the balcony doors and let in the sounds of the city.
A groan escaped her as she flopped down into bed on top of the covers, legs and arms splayed out gracelessly. She was just about to slip into sleep when she remembered something: she had forgotten to lock the door. It was a horrible habit of hers, though she really ought to have known better. One hand was raised to paw at her tired face as she readjusted her splayed arms to sit up. Before she made it, however, her hand hit something soft and unusual. Confused, she peered up toward her pillows and stopped.
Beside her third pillow, there was a small patchwork bear. Its white parts were gray from use and one of its button eyes was missing.
Perhaps she should have smiled? That tiny thing had been such a great source of comfort to her for a long time. Just then, though, all she could do was peer curiously up at the stuffed animal with something like sadness in her eyes.
Eventually she rolled over onto her stomach and propped herself up on her elbows, tugging the bear closer to her. In the dark, humid room, it looked like a ghost of what it should have been. She worried at the inside of her cheek for a moment before she pinched the bear's hand between her fingers.
The small speaker holding her mother's message had long since burned out, but she could hear it in her mind as fresh as day. The sounds of the city and the wind blowing the curtains weren't enough to compare.
/Maki-chan, welcome home. How was your day?/
She smiled sadly at the memory, running her fingers down the bear's nose. The next part of the message wouldn't come either, she knew, but that didn't mean she couldn't hear it.
/Maki-chan, welcome home./
It was in his voice-it was always in his voice-and it hurt her to remember it. After what he had done for her, it wasn't fair that he had to die. She still didn't have a proper explanation for it all. Even people with cancer didn't die within a few days. They couldn't time their deaths so accurately. But no matter what, she knew what his voice would have sounded like, what it would be like if he told her about tomorrow...
"Make tomorrow a good day too."
She jumped, her breath catching in her lungs at the sound. The sound of his voice was ingrained in her mind, but it wasn't that clear. In her fright, her tired limbs found new vigor and she threw herself around against her pillows. Her eyes grew wide for what she saw, and for all the breathing she was doing her heart may have ceased beating.
"Alright?" He was perched there on the foot of her bed, knees tucked beneath him. His back was hunched forward to keep his balance-it was as if nothing had changed at all.
She realized that her heart hadn't stopped, but instead was pounding so furiously that the beats ran together. There was nothing she could find to say, though her lips parted to make way. For a long time-seconds that felt like hours-she stared at him. He stared right back in the manner she remembered. It was impossible.
"L." It was, finally, sputtered out from behind clumsy lips.
"Hrm?" He perked slightly, tilting his head in what she assumed was a curious fashion. Apparently he was completely oblivious to her shock, or at least refused to acknowledge it.
"You're-" What? She didn't have anything to go along with that. She had started, but there wasn't anything to finish. Her disbelief crowded out any trust she had in her own eyes. The only possibility she was willing to believe was that she had fallen asleep. She was /dreaming/ of him, of course. It wouldn't be the first time.
"Real." He stated, rather matter-of-factly. It was just like him to know exactly what she was thinking about-but that had been years ago. She must have been dreaming. She was dreaming.
"I-this is impossible. You're dead!" It sounded like she was trying to convince herself, though her panicked voice clearly displayed her continued disbelief. "You've been gone for years! I have-"
"Sugar?" He cut her off, brows raising almost inperceptively underneath his mess of hair.
"What?" She gaped at him. "Of course I have-" Her words failed her again. If she was dreaming, everything suddenly made sense. Of /course/ L's ghost would want to eat sugar.
Something about that familiarity struck her, comforting her in a manner that should have been impossible. Her body relaxed, eased of the tension his sudden appearance had produced. Without a word, she slipped off the bed, careful to keep an eye on him all the while. As she stepped around the bed in a wide arc, he shifted on top of the footboard, readjusting his feet like a bird perching on a wire.
"Just a minute," she offered finally before backing out of the room. Her heart was racing again as she rushed through her apartment, gathering up all the sweets she had and piling it all up on a breakfast tray. There were very few things she could suspend her disbelief for, and even as she scurried about she fully expected to return to an empty room. This thought prompted her to mutter under her breath as she placed the final item-a small plastic container of donuts-on the breakfast tray: "You've gone crazy."
All the same, she loaded the tray into her arms and headed, hesitantly, back into the bedroom. She craned her neck before she made it through the threshhold, almost terrified to find that her delusion was still there. It was enough to slow her footsteps as she moved forward, eyeing him warily.
Though there was no smile on his face, he bristled with something like excitement for the sight of all the sweets.
"You've got a lot there, Maki." He observed.
"Yeah, well,"-she paused, a disgruntled expression on her face despite herself-"You're lucky its grocery day." It was all she could do to bite back at him as she did everyone else. How was one supposed to react to a hungry ghost showing up in the middle of the night?
He didn't seem to notice, however, and had quickly turned his attention to the tray of sweets. She watched as his lips moved thoughtfully; it was clear he was trying to decide what to eat first.
Rather than dig in as she expected, L paused suddenly, peering up at her as he placed his hands palm to palm in front of him. "/Ittedakemasu/."
He held her gaze for a moment in a way that should have been more meaningful than it was. She remembered sunlight on her face, remembered saying just the same thing to him on a rooftop in the summer...
"L!" Suddenly, she was a child all over again. She dropped the tray to the floor, hardly noticing the way it crashed and scattered as she threw her arms around his shoulders and burried her face against his neck.
"You'll get your feet dirty," he announced, voice as even and unshakeable as ever. She barely heard him.
"You're really here!" She choked on the words, tightening her grasp on the cool fabric of his shirt. "You left me, but you're really here!"
Before she knew it, she was sobbing. It had been easy to forget how much she missed him. After so much loss in her life, she'd grown accustomed to forgetting.
He hummed quietly after a moment, finally reaching out to wind his arms around her. She could feel his breath in her hair and his cheek against her temple.
"I've always been here," he whispered. She could almost hear a smile in his voice.
But all she could do was sob, clutching to him desperately. He was lying, of course. He hadn't been there with her for /so long/...
One of his hands found the back of her head, and he ran his fingers along her hair as confidently as he could manage. Comforting others had never been his strong suit. "Shh, Maki."
How could it be so familiar yet so alien to hear him say her name?
"I interrupted your sleep."
Before she could protest, he had tipped back onto the bed, tugging her along with him to lie comfortably atop him. In her state of distress and exhaustion, she would have been satisfied with a bed of concrete.
She cried herself to sleep against him as he stroked her hair
