A/N- Riya-chan here! I've finally gotten over my writer's block, so this will be a chapter story. I don't know how fast I'll post new chapters, but I hope to have it updated at least within a week of my last update. Well, I really hope you enjoy this story!

Summary: Kyo and his daughter, Kyoko, go through a photo album and reflect on the memories of his and Tohru's life together, before he dies. There'll parts of this that are from Kyoko's POV and some in author POV. Basically, it's the story of Kyo and Tohru's life…. Sorry, I'm not good at summaries, but just give it a try!

--Rated T for safety—

Introduction

I sat by my father's bedside, his wrinkled hand placed in mine. The hospice nurse was fast asleep in the guest room, I was alone with him. At that moment all I wanted to do was get our of the room; seeing my dad—my courageous, strong-willed dad—like this, vulnerable and weak and about to die, it was too much for me to bear. I wanted to leave this emotional torture chamber and be in denial for just a little bit longer. But Dad was grasping my hand with all his remaining strength, wanting me to remain with him during what was so obviously the last few hours of his life.

His closed eyes blended in with the rest of the lines on his face; his once handsome face worn with time and age and his past. But then his wrinkled lids lifted and revealed his striking red eyes.

"Dad, you're awake." I hadn't exactly thought he was sleeping; I would've left if he was. But it had been better with his eyes closed in a pretense of sleep—the fact that he was definitely awake somehow made it more evident that he was dying.

His thin lips curled into a faded version of his smile. "Ah, Kyoko-chan. Thanks for staying here with me. I know it's hard for you."

"Not at all, Dad," I replied. We both knew it was a lie; I hated being in here. Still, I hated myself even more for wanting to leave when this was one thing I could do to make my dad happy. "Can I get you anything? You should drink some water, your voice is a little hoarse."

He laughed weakly. "You're so much like your mother," he said brightly. "Water would be nice, thank you."

I was so glad to get out of the room. I tried not to look eager as I fled out the door toward the kitchen.

I took my time getting the water. When I got back, I found the bed empty and my dad over by the closet, seeming to be looking for something. "Dad, you know you aren't supposed to be out of bed," I said sharply as I closed the door behind me.

Dad turned around in mock surprise. "Well, I've been caught," he said without a trace of guilt in his voice. "But you know how much I hate being bedridden all the time. It sucks."

Right then, Dad sounded so much like his younger, less fragile self that there was no way I could be mad at him. So I asked, "What are you looking for, anyway?"

He was looking in my direction, but I could tell he wasn't seeing me. His eyes were distant; he was lost in thought. I wondered if he had forgotten I was even there. "Dad? Were you looking for something?" I repeated.

He blinked as if coming back to Earth and nodded his head. "Yeah, I was looking for my old photo album." He absently turned back to the closet. "I know it's in here somewhere…."

I couldn't stop a smile from creeping up on my face as I said, "Dad, if the nurse comes in here, she'll kill me. Lay back down, I'll get it for you." Dad nodded willingly and shuffled back to his bed. I advanced for the closet and began rummaging through. I was glad to have something to take my mind off things.

After a good ten minutes, I finally found what I was looking for: a beautiful old photo album with "Our Life Together" emblazoned on the front in extravagant gold print. It had the look of being well-loved; its edges were fraying and the binding was bent with use. It seemed to carry not just photos, but a lifetime of memories. It made me all the more aware of how much I would miss the man in the bed behind me. I tried to ignore the lump in my throat and the tears welling up in my eyes. I blinked hard to make the tears go away, then I turned and walked to my father's bedside.

"Here it is," I said cheerfully, as though all was right in the world and my dad could just get up at any moment and be as strong and lively as he once was, instead of this fading whisper of a father. I could keep up this act. I smiled brightly and asked, "What did you want this for anyway?"

He looked straight into my eyes, as though he was considering if he should tell me the truth. Then he abruptly turned his head and closed his eyes. "They say that when a man dies, his life flashes before his eyes. I just want to make sure my memory is ready for when this old heart of mine finally stops beating."

"Oh, Dad…." I gave a mournful little sigh, my fake smile gone. I placed my hand on my chest and was surprised when I felt my heart's steady beating; I thought for sure it had broken. It was all I could do to stop myself from crying as I moved nest to my father and wrapped my arms around him, resting my warm cheek on his now scrawny shoulder. I placed the album on his lap. Instead of saying anything, I just opened the cover. I read the dedication in the front, even though I had looked at this album a thousand times and already had these words memorized by heart. "Kyo and Tohru—Here's wishing you enough. With love, Yuki." It was a short, simple inscription with a deeper meaning that I knew well. I flipped past the dedication to the first page. I saw the first few pictures—a younger version of Mom and Dad, smiling up at me in wedding attire. "Well, shall we start at the beginning?" I asked, even though I knew the answer.

"You know the story as well as I do," Dad replied. And I did. As I looked at the first page, I remembered all the times I had dug up the album as a child, taken it to my father and mother and demanded they tell me the story behind the pictures on the page I happened to be looking at. I knew the stories my parents had told me as I sat by them, my head resting on one of their shoulders, just as I was now. And so, I told my father the story of his life with my mother, starting from the beginning and prepared to finish with what I somehow knew would be the end.

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A/N- Well, there you have it. The first chapter, the introduction. I would LOVE some reviews—compliments, constructive criticism, anything except flames. It doesn't take much to make my day—just a little click on that shiny review button. Please? Well, I hope you enjoyed it! Have a great day!