Nice is A (relative) Term

"A rose on a grave-site…"

Hatori believed with all his heart that Saki had the intentions of scaring the poop out of him. Whenever he would fall in to the depths of his own mind, Saki seemed to have knowledge enough to speak something close to nonsense to bring him out of the void and back to the present.

"Excuse me?" he lifted his head from the black coffee. Cream and sugar were placed on the table for his convenience, but Hatori left the amenities untouched and unwanted. He wasn't one to use cream and sugar normally, since he always seemed to need the extra kick that black coffee gave him. He had a feeling today would be no different.

"You don't talk much." She deadpanned.

"Perhaps I have nothing to say."

Saki looked up from her empty plate to stare at his coffee. "Nothing to say…or nothing you can say?"

Hatori pushed the coffee cup aside. Her eyes didn't follow it. "Sometimes what you can and can't say are two of the same things, Saki. It's not always so black and white."

"No. It isn't. It's grey and red." She simpered as Hatori's emotions didn't change. He was getting used to her. "Like roses on a grave-site, Ha-san. The outside may seem pretty and perhaps even a little weathered, but…underneath still lay the remains of a decomposing carcass. Naturally we only want to see what is appealing to our eyes…not the ugly secrets beneath the surface."

The door to the café jingled, signaling the waitress swiftly coming out to refill coffees of the patrons who sat outside. But there weren't many. It was a week day and students wouldn't be caught dead at a café while school was in session. At least…most students.

"More coffee, sir?" the woman asked, politely, quickly refilling Hatori's cup when he nodded his answer. She then proceeded to move near Saki to pick up the empty plate, whisking it away on her tray as she moved hastily back inside. Obviously, Saki made her quite uneasy.

"Even a waitress as simple as she…" Saki traced an unknown drawing on the table's shell "…is appealed to surface beauty."

Hatori looked through the door to the café to catch sight of the woman running back and forth. "She's…pleasant."

"That's a relative term."

Genuinely intrigued by Saki's train of thoughts, Hatori decided to inquire more as he continued to gaze at the waitress inside. He was curious as to why Saki seemed so impartial to one who had treated them quite respectfully. "How so?"

"When the woman has a breather, she will talk to her co-workers. Seeing as they are mostly women, she will point to you and, perhaps, blush a bit. You're attractive, handsome and clean-cut. You are the definition of: surface beauty. When one inquires about me…she will scowl." Saki's finger stopped in its tracing tracks on the table as she looked up at Hatori.

His expression ranged from one with an open mind to one who didn't want to see reality any longer. "Do you peg people with this attribute often?"

"Only those that have it." She answered. "I am not very attractive to the eye. Quite the contrary, actually…I'm fond of scaring others."

Hatori didn't stop his eyebrow from quirking at the comment. Yeah, he figured that out about her early on. And it didn't stop there. She knew just when to strike up a conversation to scare the wits out of a person near her. He also heard from Shigure that she knew how to manipulate others to do things she could not.

"Don't sell yourself short." He said with a grimace, placing the tip on the table, underneath a napkin holder to keep it stable. When he stood, he outstretched his hand towards her with an air that demanded she grab it or…die? Hm. Curious. She wasn't reading his waves wrong. "Come on." He added, shaking his hand for emphasis "We're leaving."

"So soon?" she observed. "You didn't even touch your second cup of coffee."

"I suppose one cup was all I needed."

It was a lie; a sad, pathetic, blatant lie.

In truth, he could have used that cup of coffee. God only knew he needed the added caffeine to break away the hold a new headache was having on him. But Hatori couldn't risk it. Couldn't risk the awareness it may bring him, couldn't risk the surge of energy that might propel him to do something stupid. He couldn't risk the problems.

Saki had enough knowledge to sense this, had enough curiosity to question it, but she refrained. Yes, curiosity often overruled her senses, but in this case, she was afraid to hear the answer. For once, sense told her it was better to just keep her mouth shut. And for once, Saki listened.

With a sigh of feigned annoyance, she placed her hand in his, waiting for him to lead the way.

Hatori nodded and wasted no time to continue down the district, away from the café. His brow furrowed in annoyance; annoyance at himself, at the people in the café…but mainly at himself for being angry at those people.

He saw Saki's prediction take place right in front of his eyes, hadn't expected any less to be quite honest. But he wasn't expecting the male employees to look over at the woman's gesturing. Hadn't expected them to look; hadn't expected them to appear interested; and most certainly had not expected them to watch Saki as if she were nothing more than a piece of meat. The eyes that roamed her up in down with a smirk off to the side inflamed a rage he thought wasn't burning within him.

Yes, he needed to get away from the café. Away from those people and the world they were living in. Away where he could infinitely deny the ugly emotions that he harbored within his own soul.

Because Saki had been right.

Hatori was like a rose on top of a grave-site. While he could blend in to society with little to no problem, inside he was no prettier than a rotting corpse. In fact, he had a suspicion that he was irrefutably, much more repulsive…

…for a rotting man, had no thoughts.

XXXX

"And where is it that you plan on going?"

It wasn't until Saki spoke; unwittingly scaring him out of his thoughts again, that Hatori took notice of how tightly he was gripping her hand. Thoroughly ashamed of himself, Hatori let go, stopping briefly at a bench to collect his thoughts and his breath.

"Sorry..." he apologized, rubbing his forehead in hopes to will the massive headache in to hiding. It didn't work.

Saki's head fell to the side, looking hopelessly like a confused puppy. And much like a full grown dog, he was sure she no longer did that very often. "No need to apologize. Just explain."

Hatori poked sight from around his hand. "I just…didn't want to see the truth about that woman…" and those men.

Expressionless, she sat next to him, silently rubbing a hand on his back. "It would be so easy to say I believe you and to leave it at that. But…I don't."

He chuckled. "I expected as much."

"What Ha-san saw…was lust." She watched infamously as he craned his head to look at her, raising it from the palms of his hands. And what Ha-san experienced…was jealousy, she thought, but kept it to herself. With the state Hatori was in, she didn't imagine he wanted to hear it.

Methodically ignoring the issue, Hatori shook his head. "You need to go back to school."

"I can always finish what I loss in the make-up exams…I do that anyway." She surprised herself with the answer. In a round-about-sort-of way, she was telling Hatori she wanted to stay with him. If she went back to school, she had a feeling she would never see him again. She couldn't mess with Hatori if she couldn't see him. And where was the fun in that?

But she knew he wouldn't be convinced so easily. She was lucky he forgot enough before. It wasn't likely he'd forget another time. Saki opened her bandaged palms to look at them…and saw her solution.

Pressing her hand against the bench, Saki hissed, wincing against her palm as she brought it up to nurse in her lap. Hatori immediately looked over and with wide eyes caught the sight of blood on her bandages. "And where did that stem from?"

"Where else?" she mused "My hand is injured."

Repressing the urge to roll his eyes, Hatori unwound the bandage to examine her wound. Inflammation told him this newly found patch of blood, hadn't just occurred. Coagulated blood told him Saki was the sneaky con-artist that Shigure portrayed her to be. The little minx.

His instincts told him to blow her cover and reprimand the child she was being. His heart told him to play-along. Besides, it might just score him some brownie-points. Stifling the urge to smile, Hatori patted her wrist and moved on to the next step.

"Regrettably, the only place I have medical equipment is my office." He paused. "Since we're already in town, I don't see any harm in fetching it…but after that…you're going home."

"Haven't you heard, Hatori? Home is where the heart is." She paused "My home…may not be home at all."

Sighing, Hatori got up, unconsciously grabbing her hand again as they strolled down the side-walk. "If that's the case, tell your heart to tell me where your home is."

She frowned and didn't answer. He took her silence as indecision. He couldn't be more wrong.

Saki already knew what her heart wanted. Easily ignored, her head told her otherwise. Not to say her heart wasn't a smart one. No, it was pretty smart. Normally, people would say their heart was stupid to fall in love, depending on the type of person who warranted such a response. Saki had no doubt her heart was a smart one. Because it knew enough of Hatori to enjoy him; knew enough of Hatori to be attracted to him; knew enough of Hatori to fear him. Fear him and fear the possibility that…

…his heart wasn't in the same place.

XXXX

Triumph is a far more powerful emotion than disappointment; namely because triumph was fairly easy to squash.

Hatori just didn't know how to squash it.

For the better part of an hour, Saki had been snooping through his office, reading nondescript files and pamphlets of diseases and how to cope with them. She was more or less waiting for Hatori to pull her aside and wrap her hand up. But he just couldn't seem to find the bandages.

"Saki, could you check in the bottom drawer of the cabinet to your right? I might have misplaced them."

Complying with his request, Saki pulled out files, more files and, alas, more files. "You could wrap my hand with paper."

Hatori growled. "Do you realize how many hands have touched those files?"

She smiled. He squirmed so easily. "Sterile hands in a sterile office."

"Really?" he searched hastily through his desk drawers "I've never known you to be one that takes things at face value."

"You've never known me." She stated simply, gathering the files in her arms and dumping the contents on a seat. Hatori could sort through them later.

He glanced behind him and saw the paper littering his chair, the patient bench, the floor and, well, who was he trying to kid, the paper was everywhere. "Could you clean that up and help?"

Saki covered her mouth, hiding a very small smile. It had to be a sin; to love inducing panic and anger in a person. Especially in Hatori. He was rather interesting when he wasn't all clean cuts and sharp corners. She thought she wanted someone like that; someone who was refined, practical, and disciplined. But she was finding more and more that she preferred Hatori…well…as he was: Hatori.

Starting to pick up the files, Saki bent over.

Noticing a paper with a familiar name, she quickly pushed every other paper aside and went to grab the one. In her mind's eye, the writing and even the color of the paper stood out. She knew it was the denpa talking and since it hadn't spoke to her in so long, Saki couldn't help, but feel compelled to touch the paper. She was sorry she ever did.

Her finger touched the corner of the page and she immediately felt sick. Suddenly the room was spinning in a torrent surge of emotion that seemed to evolve in the form of a whirlwind circling her ever-stilling body.

The hurt, the anger, the hate; she couldn't sort through all the negative emotions without feeling as if they were a creation from her own mind, her own hate. It was immediately recognized that she wouldn't feel satisfied until others were hurting as she was, others were suffering like she had, and until something was ruined for them as life had been ruined for her.

It hurt; it hurt so much to feel this negatively towards a person, towards humanity, towards the world. She had only felt this anger, this type of blind rage once before: when she had almost destroyed someone's life.

Sure, she had taunted Hatori, tested him by calling herself a murderer. And while she wasn't one, she once had been very close to becoming one. And perhaps taunting others about it, flaunting it to make it seem casual, was her only defense; a mechanism that induced others to run from her so as they would avoid suffering. Because despite all of her 'big' talk, Saki was afraid she might kill someone she never meant to hurt. Someone close to her; someone she loved.

Her eyes shot up. It was sickening. It was painful. And then it wasn't anything. Her eyes focused and he was standing there beside her; having enough sense to not touch her, but being caring enough to be near her. The hateful feelings died the longer she looked at him; her own feelings overpowering the ones that didn't belong to her. Her fingers slacked, the paper dropped to the floor and Saki fell forward.

Hatori followed direction quite well. The minute she dropped, he knew a barrier had been lifted and took his opportunity to catch her, stabilizing her form so that she could look at him.

Unfortunately for him, he received the barely conscious woman in a hug. A common mistake that most might make in this sort of situation; he was standing while she was on the floor, after all. He had to twist his shoulders just right in order to stop her from falling to the hard surface of his office floor. But common mistakes were unacceptable for Hatori; they were forbidden.

Saki's eyes registered his form dipping in front of her when she heard a 'pop' in consecutive order with his hand wrapping around her back. And then his hand was gone. His waves, even, had changed. She pried open her eyes to see what had happened, but her vision was fogged by smoke.

Still, through the smoke and just barely able to recognize the outline, Saki noticed movement. Small movement.

She placed her hands out to the side to catch herself from falling; now that Hatori was gone, now that the smoke was dissipating and now that she could see everything clearly. Her eyebrows lifted in question at the source of the movement lying helpless underneath her body and only one thought rose to her mind:

Seahorses don't belong in medical offices.