Title: Ten Mice
Author: Roslin The Werewolf
Summary: He had counted ten mice so far, each a different color.
Genre: Family/General
Words: 1,302 words
Author's Note: Well, don't ask where the idea came from. I just sat down in front of my laptop and started typing. This adorable story is the result of me clearing my mind and writing just the first words that come to mind. I really hope that you huys like this. So here it is; Ten Mice.
Ten mice
He had counted ten mice so far, each a different color.
The first, he told his mother, was black. She had frowned darkly at this, following his shaky gaze in the direction that he had been staring in. There sat the mouse, twitching its little purple nose, all the while scurrying from his window sill to the closet and back again. He had watched it do this cycle countless times already. His mother's gaze had softened and she pressed her gently lips to his forehead, which she had insisted was warm with fever and sweat-he had yet to have noticed the change in his appearance that his mother insisted had taken place-and she told him gently that there was no mouse. Frowning, he gazed back to the window sill and indeed, the mouse had disappeared.
It wasn't long after his mother left and Kakashi came to watch him that the second mouse appeared. This one, in his opinion, was the cutest of the ten. It had soft, fuzzy cream fur with silken whiskers and a twitching pink nose upon its face. Its eyes, so hazel and kind, watched him almost sympathetically. Again his caretaker followed his gaze, inquiring gently about its destination. He told the older man of the mouse in the corner with soft kind eyes and creamy fur. The man smiled kindly and returned that there was no mouse. Following the older man's gaze, he found that his observations were correct. Minutes later, he succumbed to exhaustion and dreamed of the mouse in the corner.
When he woke many hours later, the sky was a pale blue and the setting sun lit his room a soft gold. The quilt, previously pulled to his chin, was now around his chest, his hands now set at his sides. He looked about, ignoring the foul, sweaty smell of both the room and himself, and began his search for the two mice.
It was in this time that his father entered, carrying what looked to him like a small thermometer and a cup of icy water. Surprise flashed in the older man's eyes upon seeing his son alert of his presence, but he remained silent as he placed his burdens about on the small bedside desk. When he had done so, he let his weight drop onto the bed and inquired upon his son about his condition. It was here that the feverish blonde spotted a third mouse sitting atop his window sill.
He did not answer his father's question, instead nodding quietly, eyes sparkling, to the raven mouse nibbling at a corn kernel on the ledge. His father turned his head, following his son's gesture, to the sill, where the mouse sat. Again he inquired of his son's health, a bit worried, and placed a hand to his temple, pulling back, face smooth, a moment later.
So he told his father of the mouse upon the sill and of the mice who he had watched in the corner. His father nodded silently, worried for his son, for he had heard of these mice from his wife and student. But feeling sorry for the boy, he smiled and nodded, he told that he too could see the mouse. It was at his admittance that his son turned from the window to burry his nose into his father's dusty coat, face slick with fever sweat.
He began to tell his father of the exhaustion that had wracked his body and of the flashes that he had felt in his body; first immensely hot, then bitterly cold. The elder man nodded, hanging onto the words of his son. The boy, satisfied, nodded and fell into another exhausted sleep, dreaming of his window-top friends.
It was late when he next woke, but he was surprised to find that he was not alone. Atop his nose sat yet another mouse, this one as pale as the silvery orb that hung in the sky behind the glassy pane by his bed. Its bright black eyes shone in the bright light and its tail, which had before twitched so, slowed to barely a shiver. Neither moved and neither made a sound, both content to simply watch one another. He fell back into a light slumber, the mouse curled atop his nose.
It was his father that woke him at dawn, his gentle, calloused hands lifting him from his damp sheets. Finding that he had awoken his son, he apologized quietly, voice no higher than a whisper, and carried him down the dark halls until they had reached his parent's room. He was set in the bundle of blankets, wrapped no snugger than a new babe, before being repositioned to a pillow. His mother's arms met him there, pulling him to her smooth, round stomach, a babe so near only inches away. He inquired gently, voice thick with sleep, about his whereabouts, only receiving soft lips to his forehead and the smell of a soft meadow filling his senses. He fell asleep, content.
He had nothing better to do in his spare time to do but count the mice that came to see him, twice again his father was with him when he spotted a mouse and three times more with his mother, who each time would grow grave and stroke his hair, replying in a shaky voice that no such mice existed.
Days passed and he remained in a blur of glassy thermometers and doctors, who each reported his condition worse. Twice he woke to find his father rushing him across the rooftops to the emergency clinic only miles from their home, Kakashi and a guard flanking him. But his consciousness never remained with him for long before he would succumb to the dark that was sleep, only so vaguely aware of the going-ons of the outside world. And all the while he dreamt of his mice; the fat, the skinny, the fluffy, the old.
He worried a great deal for them, for they had become his constant companions, often he woke to find them twined around his fingers, stroking his erratically shaking hands to a steady tremble.
It was when he last woke, when he found himself home once more with his mother missing and his father with dark rings beneath his eyes, that he inquired of his friend the mouse.
His father smiled at his, pressing cool lips to his forehead, and took him in his arms. From the window he sailed and across the rooftops he flew, all the while not a single word being passed, until they reached the cozy halls of the hospital. He was then set on his feet, his bed wear drooping just the slightest to the floor, and lead down the halls until they reached a dark room. He was encouraged inside, which he did so quietly, passing the whirring machines and padded benches, until he reached the bedside. His mother laid still, a soft, loving smile lighting her exhausted features. She motioned him closer, in which he obeyed, and pulled back the corner of the soft beige blanket sitting so preciously in her arms.
His eyes softened and warmth unrelated to his previous illness filled him. He reached out hesitantly, fingers shaking, and touched the name atop the pink hat that engulfed his dear sibling's head.
Chiisai Nezumi
Ten mice he had counted so far.
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That was probably the cutest story I've written ever! I just started writing and it just all came out this was. Oh, and ten cool points to the one that can tell me what the baby's name means! It's kind of obvious as to what it means, but if you can tell me what it means, you get ten cool points!
R&R Please!