Part II; Interlude - June 20th, 2009

Seven years had passed since that day. That hot and humid summer in Tokyo had been her last; after graduation the following March she'd left Japan for England to start a new relationship, a new career and a new life. It certainly hadn't been easy, the past six years they'd been together, but they'd definitely gotten smoother over time.

She hurried through the room, her bare feet almost silent on the floor, picking up books on the desk and looking beneath them before tossing them back into place. Sinking to her knees, her dress billowing with the movement, she yanked open the heavy drawers of the desk, thumbing through papers and folders before moving to the next.

"Oh, no," she breathed, rocking back on her heels. "Naru'll kill me..."

There was a rap at the partially open door and a hand pushed it open the rest of the way, stepping inside. His polished black shoes were loud against the wood floor, almost echoing in the room. "I couldn't help but overhear," he said, an eyebrow raised in amusement, adjusting his cuffs as he spoke. "Just why would I do such a thing?"

"Well, hypothetically speaking," she grumbled, rising to her feet. She looked particularly short next to him on this day, her petite frame accented by an elegant black dress, her slim figure flattered by the floating design of the skirt. "If I actually did misplace them, after all the trouble you went through taking me to the Consulate..."

"What are you looking for, and why now?" He stepped behind her and reached into his suit jacket pocket, taking out a delicate piece of jewellery. Stilling her, he placed it gently around her neck, fastening and adjusting it so it lay over her collarbone.

"What's this?" She asked, turning to look in the mirror, her eyes growing wide as she saw the string of pearls. He stood behind her, laying his hands on her bare shoulders.

"Happy birthday," he said, squeezing her shoulders, stooping to place a gentle kiss at the nape of her neck.

She laughed as she turned, swatting at his arm playfully before rising to the tips of her toes, kissing him soundly on the lips. "My birthday is still two weeks away. So what's the occasion?"

"Technically, it's not just from me," he admitted. "Mother insisted that you have it now. It was her mother's before hers, and she wanted you to have it. She wasn't sure you'd have an opportunity in the near future to wear it, so... well, you know how Luella is. Opportunistic, even if it means giving you a birthday present thirteen days early."

"Thank you," she said, kissing him once more. "I'll thank her as soon as I see her, too."

"Hopefully not like this," he murmured. She laughed in response, wrapping her arms around his neck as she kissed him again.

He pulled away and pointed at the closet. "As much as I'd rather just stay here and snog, we're already running late. Where are your shoes? Or was that what you were looking for in the desk?"

"No," she flushed, turning away from him as she went to the closet, pulling out a box. "Sorry. I just... I just noticed that my visa extension application wasn't on the desk anymore, and..." As she spoke she opened the box and placed the black heels neatly on the floor into which she stepped, gaining a slight but noticeable height. Even after all this time it felt strange to put shoes on indoors. "I started getting nervous."

"You mean this?" He reached into his coat pocket and removed several crisp pieces of paper, folded neatly into thirds.

"You!" She spun to face him, pointing an accusatory finger at him. "You had it all along!"

"You left it on my desk, not yours," he said, an amused grin lifting his lips.

"Well, let me have it back," she demanded, holding out her hand. "I'll mail it in next week."

"As you wish," he agreed, placing them in her hand. "Just don't send them in quite yet."

She frowned. "Why not?"

"I saw an embarrassing typographical error you'll want to look over," he said, the familiar self-satisfied smirk crossing his features. "But we'll have to talk about that later." He was moving toward the door and beckoned for her to follow. "I wasn't late last time, Mai. We are not going to be late for Lin's wedding this time around, either."

"Oh, we still have plenty of time," she protested, laughing, as she followed him down the hall.

...

It was many hours later when they finally returned, hand in hand, to the Davis household. It had been a wonderful ceremony, idyllic and picturesque, held in the English countryside at a quaint cottage garden. Even if he didn't appreciate the decorations as much as many of the delighted women seemed to, even he would admit it had been beautifully done. There were flowers and garlands everywhere with butterflies flitting about, mindless of the crowd, and even the midsummer birds seemed to know it was a cheerful occasion, singing merrily in the trees. The couple had taken their vows in the early afternoon and the joyous celebration that followed had gone long past the sun sank behind the fields—a great many hours, considering that the following day would be the solstice and it was the second longest day of the year.

He had been there before. 'Been there, done that,' the adage proclaimed but had never been quite so accurate. Despite that, the event had been significantly different than last time. The most noticeable of which stemmed from the fact that Mai had been determined to keep certain friendships this time, vowing to stay closer to everyone from SPR. And she was undoubtedly successful, which in turn affected both he and Lin.

He wouldn't have anticipated the group to stay close, especially with the vast geographical distance that separated them. And yet somehow, against all odds, they did. He and Mai had taken several trips back to Japan and had met up with everyone each time. Takigawa had spent a month with them in London several years ago, shadowing Lin in his work and the two had developed a keener friendship in the process. John had stopped to see them on a visit to extended family in Glasgow. While Mai emailed Ayako and Takigawa casually, occasionally Yasuhara, she exchanged letters and postcards with Masako and spoke nearly every month on the phone. It was odd, he thought, that the once bitter rivals had become very close friends. But it was also somehow fitting that the one most reluctant to accept Mai finally did, and did so sincerely and wholeheartedly.

Lin had invited everyone to the wedding and they all made the journey to join them: Takigawa had even volunteered his band to perform, though the bridegroom had politely refused the offer. The monk had instead brought a bottle of terrifically expensive junmai daiginjo sake, impossible to find outside the country and rare even in Japan. Lin was quite the sake connoisseur, and as he accepted the gift Naru thought he saw tears form in Lin's eyes, so touched by the gift was he. The rest had come bearing gifts as well: Matsuzaki had brought a beautiful porcelain vase and had filled it with lilies for the couple, Masako's gifts of tsukesage kimono and kanzashi hair ornaments for the bride featured a motif of cranes to wish peace and happiness to the couple, and John's somewhat surprising gift of a didgeridoo caused a riotous stir when he played it for the party around eight o'clock. Even Yasuhara had come despite conflicts with his work and had brought an exquisite set of kitchen knives from Japan's oldest and longest-operating knife maker—founded in 1560 in Kyoto, as Yasuhara had informed him on two separate occasions, once when he was sober and once in an elaborate and rather pointless story after he had imbibed several glasses of wine.

He couldn't understand why Mai had been embarrassed with her own wedding present after the flashy gifts of her friends. He could see that she felt absolutely outclassed; especially when he, the best man, revealed that he had bought a bone and bamboo mahjong set for the couple. Not only was it a beautiful and expensive gift, she complained, but it had a sentimental value as well: mahjong had been a shared interest that had led to the couple's dating in the beginning of their relationship. When Mai indicated her displeasure at his "too-good gift", as she put it, he calmly reminded her that he had asked her if she would like to give a gift together but had refused, and honestly, why was she so worried about something so trivial, anyway? This placated her and as the night wore on she had all but forgotten about the gifts. Of course, Mai's gift was unique and thoughtful in its own way. She had selected a Japanese cookbook: Lin's bride was half-Japanese, who, despite having never been to the country, loved to cook the cuisine of part of her heritage and it was no secret that Lin enjoyed home cooking himself. Mai had whispered to Naru that she was pleased Lin had gotten over his prejudice of Japanese people, and Naru whispered back his suspicions that when Lin first met his bride, he thought she was of Korean heritage, not Japanese, and had actually been quite startled to learn the truth.

The day before midsummer's eve: it was a warm night. He had removed his tie and his jacket, carrying it over an arm. He'd also undone the first two buttons at his collar and rolled his sleeves to his elbows. She slipped out of her heels as they crossed the threshold, entering the house barefoot both to the relief of her cramped toes and to muffle the sound in consideration of the older Davis generation, who had not celebrated quite so heartily and had retired to the house much earlier. They hurried down the hall, whispering with mock sternness (Naru) and giggling happily (Mai), as only tipsy young adults in love—drunk from champagne, drunk with happiness—can do.

When they finally reached his bedroom, closing the door behind them, Mai burst into giggles, covering her mouth with her hand and looking at Naru apologetically. He raised an eyebrow at her as he tossed his jacket over the back of a chair, dropping his tie on the desk. "And what, may I ask, do you find so humorous?"

"It's—not—" she started, unable to contain herself. She calmed herself after several deep breaths, grinning ear-to-ear and eyes shining brightly. "It's not anything in particular," she said, giggling again, stretching her arms wide as if to illustrate the fact. "I'm just so happy. I didn't realize how much I missed Ayako and Masako and Yasuhara, and John—can you believe he played the didgeridoo?—and it was so nice to see Bou-san," she said, setting her shoes neatly by the door. "I was so surprised when he sang that love song for them. The look of astonishment on Lin's face! I guess Bou-san will always get his way, in the end. Even if his band mates couldn't make it, he still got to sing for them." At this he raised an eyebrow, wondering if Takigawa had spread a different story about why the band didn't play at the wedding.

Mai's laughter faded and she sighed, though her face was still brightened by her smile. "It'll be fun to meet everyone for brunch again tomorrow. I'm already excited about it."

"If they manage to wake up for it."

"Mmhm." She agreed, nodding. "Even Masako drank more than I expected. Too bad everyone is leaving so soon." She sighed again, the happiness on her face fading. "John and Masako are on the same flight tomorrow afternoon, and Ayako, Bou-san, and Yasuhara are flying out early the following morning."

Naru watched the fleeting expression on her face. "We'll have to visit them in Japan again. Or give them an incentive to come back and visit us."

"Oh, yes," she agreed, her eyes lighting up again. "What if we went to Japan for the autumn leaves? I've always wanted to show you my favorite spots in Kyoto. I went once with my class in school and I'll never forget how beautiful it was. Maybe not this year, of course, but... someday."

Naru nodded but said nothing, though his posture had relaxed considerably to see that her spirits hadn't dimmed for long. He had also removed his shoes, had already placed them neatly in his closet and was in the process of putting away his cuff links.

Mai watched him, a tender fondness welling in her chest and showing itself in her shining eyes. She'd been living in the Davis household for six years, now, but stepping into the privacy of his room never ceased to bring her a small surge of happiness. Naru's room was clean and ordinary, but it was the room he had grown up in with his brother. Being there meant he trusted her enough to allow her into his private space. He trusted her so much that he was standing there with his back to her, partially undressing. He'd slipped out of the fine dress shirt he'd been wearing and had pulled a t-shirt over his head and bare torso, either oblivious to—or more likely, content to ignore—her steady gaze. He picked up his jacket, removed the boutonniere that was pinned to the lapel and hung it on a hanger in the closet.

He was still standing in front of the closet as she crossed the room, silent but for the soft brushing of her bare feet against the wooden floor, and embraced him tightly from behind. He lifted an arm, closing his hand around hers and turned so he was holding her tightly. She exhaled sleepily, nestling her face in his shoulder as he gazed forward. His lips pursing slightly, he inhaled deeply as if about to speak but remained silent.

"You're almost asleep, aren't you," he finally murmured, amused.

"Not yet," she said as she opened her eyes, though her voice was thicker than it had been moments ago. "I just had so much fun today." She said softly, a smile lifting her lips and her eyes closing once more. She stood still, compliant, as he gently undid the clasp of the pearls at her neck, his fingers sending pleasant shivers down her shoulders as they brushed against her bare skin. "Your mother always gives me such nice gifts," she said, opening her eyes again. "It makes me feel guilty."

He smirked, placing the necklace on the desk carefully next to his folded tie. "Why, are you planning to run away with the family jewels?" He asked dryly, bending slightly to turn on the desk light and flipping off the switch for the overhead. The soft glow from the lamp was a welcome change from the harsh white light from the ceiling. "You shouldn't have let me just take them back like that, if that was your intention." He teased.

"You know what I mean," Mai protested, giggling as she sat wearily on his bed. "I just wish I could give her something in return."

"You have. More than you can possibly imagine," he said quietly, sitting next to her. Their bodies, first touching at the shoulders to elbows as they sat, slowly reclined, laying side-by-side on the bed. Mai shifted so her head rested on his arm just below his shoulder, her arm extended around his torso.

She turned her head toward him, gazing up at him seriously. "You're not going to give me anything else, right? You said it was birthday present from both of you."

He smiled slightly, almost mischievously. "Well, not for your 24th birthday. But I can't make any promises for your 32nd."

She couldn't help but smile, closing her eyes again as she leaned her head closer into his body. It was their own special custom. He wasn't one to celebrate his own birthday but he seemed to take special attention to hers, and each birthday they celebrated together was actually two: her actual age according to the year of her birth and the number of years she had lived. Unlike most people, these two ages were not the same. "You don't have to, you know."

"Maybe not."

Their calm and even breathing was the only sound between them for a long time. She opened her eyes when he spoke, breaking the stillness. "Are you going to sleep in here?"

"Will you let me?"

"Of course. But I don't think you should sleep in your dress."

"I'll go put on my pyjamas," Mai said, sitting up. "I suppose I should brush my teeth, too."

He hesitated for several moments and then spoke. "I don't mind, you know. If my parents know you spend the night in my room. No matter what goes on, or doesn't, while we're in here." Mai began to blush and he continued. "But I don't think you're comfortable with the thought." He sighed, propping himself up on an elbow as he gazed at her. His dark eyes were serious, holding her own gaze tightly. She was still in his gaze, unable to resist him.

"I'm sorry," she mumbled, embarrassed for being embarrassed. He was right, of course. She had never slept in Naru's room unless his parents were out of town, even though he had offered the invitation on several occasions. Even though nothing ever happened when they slept together—it just didn't seem proper.

"Don't be." He shook his head. "That's not my intention. I just want you to be comfortable. If they knew, tomorrow morning, that you had slept in my bed, would you be okay with that?"

She hesitated. "Maybe they won't notice. Or we can be really sneaky." She chewed on her lip. "I do... want to stay here with you. If you don't mind. So I suppose it doesn't matter, does it, if they know."

"It doesn't. And of course I don't mind," he scoffed. "Don't be ridiculous. I always want you to stay with me, Mai."

Mai knew how Naru felt about her, of course, but such verbal expressions did have a tendency to be rare and it always surprised her when he spoke so openly about his feelings for her. It was all the encouragement she needed. When she returned to the room, the black dress replaced by a t-shirt and shorts, the makeup washed from her face, he had changed out of his dress slacks into shorts and lay on the bed quietly, eyes closed and breathing deeply.

She turned out the light and crawled onto the bed, snuggling next to him. "Thank you," she whispered. He put his arm around her shoulders in response, curling himself around her body, his steady breathing warm on the back of her neck.

From where she lay she had a good view out his window. Her earlier sleepiness all but gone, she gazed upwards and peered up at the night sky. "It's not like the country," she said very softly, "but you can always see more stars here at your parents' house than anywhere in Tokyo."

She knew his eyes were still closed and from the way he murmured she could tell sleep was close to overtaking him. "We can drive out to the country and go stargazing, if you'd like."

"Maybe that should be my birthday present."

Even with a single spoken word she could hear him smile. "Maybe."

...

It turned out to be a kitten. He took her out to an early lunch and afterwards they went to an animal shelter together. He'd known she'd always wanted a pet but had never had the opportunity. It was easy enough to convince his parents to allow an animal to live in the house. They adored Mai, after all, and when they heard it was something she'd always wanted, they were almost too enthusiastic. It had been a long time, but Gene had kept hamsters and guinea pigs as a young adolescent. It was Luella who suggested a cat.

The adoption agency was quiet that early Friday afternoon and Mai cooed delightedly as she watched the different animals, poking her finger through the bars of the cage to stroke the fur of various cats or dogs. For the most part the animals ignored her but the puppies seemed to enjoy the attention, licking her fingers in response. The kitten she eventually picked out was small and grey with narrow green eyes that watched her carefully, but when the attendant opened the cage and allowed her to hold him, the cat cuddled into her arms immediately, purring as she scratched its ears. The adoption process itself went quickly enough. The cat would stay at the shelter to be looked over once more by a veterinarian and they would pick him up the following afternoon.

They stepped outside, shielding their eyes from the bright sunlight, and Mai spoke quickly, having waited to say it until they had left the building. "I am not going to have a cat named Sparky," she informed him. "I can't believe they named him Sparky! Seriously, that is the stupidest name I have ever heard."

"Then change it." Naru shrugged. "What are you going to call him?"

"Umeboshi," Mai said, with little hesitation.

His eyebrows rose. Just as Mai thought Sparky was a silly name surely any Brit would find Umeboshi just as ridiculous. "Why Umeboshi?" Nothing about the kitten looked like or reminded him of a pickled plum.

She laughed. "His eyes were all squinty when we first saw him. Like he'd eaten something sour. And it has to be a cute name, right? So something small and sour, like an umeboshi."

"Lemon drops are small and sour," he said.

"No, no no," Mai emphasized. "Besides, it should be Japanese." She laughed, clasping his hand, squeezing it tightly. From the glow in her eyes and the tone of her voice he knew she was tremendously happy. It made him happy, too. "He's just like us! He's Japanese, too."

So Umeboshi it was.

...

The days, the weeks, the months passed. It seemed as if they were always together. Sometimes he thought he'd ask her to marry him but somehow he couldn't bring himself to do it. It was not the wedding itself and all the hullabaloo that went along with it. He'd put up with it, whatever it was. He knew she'd prefer a traditional Japanese ceremony to a western one; he himself didn't care what sort of wedding as long as she was happy. But the problem was bigger than that, much larger than the trivial celebration.

He knew neither wanted to make the decision of which country they would call their home as a married couple. Japan was not a country that allowed dual citizenship. If they were wed, would he renounce his British nationality, or would she forfeit her own Japanese citizenship? With his own Japanese heritage he would be content to live in Japan—but for the same reasons he had never returned to the country when he hadn't been with Mai still made his decision difficult today, perhaps even more so. His parents were overjoyed to have their remaining adopted son close at home; not to mention the fact that Mai was an absolute delight to them. They'd passed several hints to him already about 'tying the knot;' 'getting hitched;' 'taking themselves off the market;' 'surrendering to the ball and chain;' and on and on. He had been outraged when his father had made the last reference when the three of them were together; perhaps the only thing that saved the older man from his livid son was that Mai did not understand the euphemism.

He'd almost asked her, actually, on the day of Lin's wedding. If she would rather not file that troublesome visa extension application but marry him and become a naturalized citizen instead. The words had been on the tip of his tongue for half a second, but her joy with the reunion of her friends had stopped him. She had made new friends in London as well, of course, but he could see an ease in her demeanour with her Japanese friends that wasn't quite there with her English peers. Would she really want to stay in London for the rest of her life? And if they had children, as he suspected they might, would she not want her children to grow up in Japan, as she had? Would she be content if her children's grandparents lived in England, some nine thousand kilometres and a fourteen hour flight away? As well as he had come to know her, he could not truthfully answer those questions. He himself wasn't sure of his own feelings on the matter. No doubt she would like to be close to her parents' graves, just as he was reluctant to leave the country of Gene's final resting place.

He continued to muse on the subject, knowing they'd have to breach it someday. Someday he would ask her to marry him and they would have to discuss what that meant for them and their future. No doubt it would be a difficult decision to make, but together they would decide what path to take. However, the timing wasn't right; something about the timing wasn't quite right. He knew that a perfect opportunity would probably never arise, but—still. Something about the situation wasn't right.

And so he waited.

...

It was a crisp autumn afternoon, sunny with brilliant blue skies and brightly colored leaves that had just started to turn with the season. This surprisingly good weather after two weeks of dreary and rainy days was a more than welcome change. She had greeted the sunrise that morning with nothing short of joy. Gleefully, she had asked him if he would mind extending his lunch break with her to take a picnic in the park. After all, she rationalized, who knew if the weather would stay this nice for long. He was not terribly fond of eating outside or picnicking, but in the years he had known her he had learned to discern when it would be prudent to compromise, and this was one of those times. For some reason the thought of going on a picnic with him today was dearly important to her so he had smiled and agreed. Now, sitting at the desk in the quiet office, he was half-heartedly working on the report from his last case. It was just after noon and he kept glancing at the clock on the wall, wondering when she would arrive. Picnic or no picnic, he always looked forward to seeing her, even though they saw each other every day.

He allowed his mind to wander and he rested his chin against his hand, gazing out the window. A breeze rustled the leaves of a giant elm, the shimmering sound audible even through the closed window. It reminded him of a beautiful fall day in Tokyo—but Tokyo had been on his mind a lot, lately, as he had just started planning a spring trip to the city where he was determined to propose. While not a romantic, he did take immense pleasure in surprising her, and thus, that was his sole intention. He began to wonder what false pretence he could use to justify the visit. A new case, perhaps, the original trio of SPR specifically requested by a former client? It would be risky, to be sure, to ask for assistance in his scheme from Matsuzaki or Takigawa—certainly Masako or Yasuhara would be more reliable if he did need to look to anyone else for help. No doubt the group would try to make a reunion out of their visit, invite John from Australia, and hold a party under the blooming cherry and plum trees...

His thoughts were interrupted with a jolt and his eyes widened in shock, the transformation from calm to terror instantaneous. He knew. Knew even before the sound of rushing footsteps that something terrible had happened. He was on his feet, hearing the screech of failing brakes and the screams of pedestrians, the image of a car hurtling out of control toward fragile and vulnerable bodies playing in his mind. A sickening feeling of dread hit him and he prayed it wasn't true. He was moving around the desk and approaching the exit when the door burst open and Lin appeared, chest heaving with ragged breaths. "Naru," he gasped, mobile phone clutched in his hand. "Quick—"

Trying to keep the despair from clouding his mind he followed the taller man out the door and through the hallway. He nearly tripped over his own hurried feet in the stairwell, wrenching his ankle as he righted himself but was oblivious to the pain that followed as he ran behind the taller man out of the building and to the street. All the while, the steady stream in his mind repeating incessantly It can't be. I was right here the whole time. I'm dreaming, right? Nothing can come between us. Nothing can happen to her. Not while I was right here, so close—

It can't be.

All feeling evaporated from his body as he saw her. The world went silent save for the rushing in his ears, which roared even louder as his eyes took in the sight. Her body was contorted in an unnatural way, lying still on the sidewalk, her blood staining the pavement. One of her slip-on shoes had fallen onto the street, her limp bare foot lying over the curb. Next to her hand was a crumpled canvas bag, some of the contents spilling out across the walkway and into the grass. Their picnic. The anguish clenched even tighter around his heart. Why had he ever agreed to such a foolish idea?

He was taking in large gasping breaths and even then it was difficult to breathe. His vision swimming, he sank to his knees by her side, hardly daring to touch her should he cause any more damage. It was obvious to him that there were broken bones and the strange twist of her body indicated an injury to her spine. He slowly took her hand in his, clasping her fingers as he looked to her face. Her expression was far too peaceful for the scene, a stark contrast to the blood that was already matting her hair. Her eyes were closed and he became aware of the sound of her shallow breath, relief flooding his chest. She was breathing. Hearing the sound of a siren, he looked around, as if only realizing his surroundings. She was not the only one injured at the scene: there was a child wailing, clutching his mother's hand as blood trickled from a gash on his head. The woman herself moved gingerly, as if she had fallen, and he could see the bruises forming along the scrapes on her knees where grit and small pebbles were still embedded in the skin. A middle-aged man was limping toward a pair of frightened students, checking to see if they were all right. Other than their shock they seemed unscathed. Two others appeared to have taken minor injuries; one of whom Lin was helping to his feet, the other, an older woman, holding her arm against her body, was assisted by a young woman.

The police had arrived: the lone first-responding officer immediately checking to make sure the car, crumpled and smoking against the now fallen light post, was not in danger of catching fire. The second police car screeched to a halt, parking across the street and directing the traffic around the accident. The paramedics were quick to arrive soon after, two ambulances arriving almost simultaneously. Of the first, two men rushed to the car to extract the driver. A sudden hand on his shoulder caused him to bring his gaze forward again and a voice asked him if he was hurt. Numbly shaking his head, he tried to gesture toward her, but his movements seemed sluggish and clumsy. But the emergency workers were already pulling him aside, his hand reluctantly leaving hers as they placed a stretcher on the ground next to her. He was only able to watch helplessly as they manoeuvred her onto a board and strapped her into the stretcher, which they picked up and moved into the back of the waiting vehicle.

Only when the ambulance began to drive away did he realize he was crying. It was Lin who finally helped him to his feet and drove him to the hospital.

...

He'd been in the waiting room for hours, resting his forehead against his hands as he sat in an uncomfortable plastic chair. Lin, witness to the scene, had only left his side to be questioned by the police for his account of what had happened. He had been standing in BSPR's lobby when the accident occurred on the street in front of the office.

He wished his parents were there. Since he'd arrived at the hospital and even moreso after Lin had left, he'd done nothing but try to contact them. After multiple failures, he'd finally gotten through to them. Of all the weekends to go to Paris! They were going to catch the next flight back to London but it would still be hours before they arrived. He wished his mother was there to hold him, as he knew she would. He wished for his father to tell him that everything would be all right. He wished for it, as if the thought of them taking control of the situation would somehow change the outcome. Even though he knew their presence couldn't change anything.

Within the first hour he spoke regularly with the doctors as they assessed her condition but after some time there was nothing new to report and he sat silently, undisturbed as he waited. Sheer exhaustion had pushed him into a restless doze, and when he woke, disoriented, he looked around the room, searching for the quiet voice he thought had woken him. His throat was dry and he felt a new pang of helplessness as the situation weighed down on him.

He hadn't moved from his still position when Lin's wife rushed into the quiet room, finding him easily among the other silent patrons. He stood, startled, limbs creaking from the unnatural position he'd rested in. She hurried toward him and enveloped him in a tight hug, burying her forehead in his shoulder. "Oh, Oliver," she cried. "I'm so, so sorry. Is she still…?"

He nodded numbly. With her embrace he realized that his limbs were stiff and cold. She seemed to notice as well. "Here," she said, pulling a large sweatshirt out of her shoulder bag. "Koujo said you left without anything and I know hospitals are always cold, so I brought you this..." She nearly put it on for him; placing it around his shoulders and helping him extend his arms into the sleeves and zipping it up the front. "Where is he? I thought for sure he'd be here with you."

"Talking to the police about the accident," he said, his quiet voice a raspy croak. She immediately reached into the bag and pulled out a thermos of tea, passing it toward him. He took a long drink and forced a lifeless smile, clearing his throat. "Thank you, Sarah."

"I brought some food, too, there's another thermos of soup, and some sandwiches." She peered inside the bag and passed it to him, wringing her hands. "It's not much, but I wanted to do something..."

He had eaten half a sandwich when Lin returned, his weariness evident in his face. "I passed the doctor on my way back. They say we can see her now." He sighed. "I need to move the car, though. Or pay the meter again."

"I'll take care of it," Sarah said, standing quickly. "You should go with Oliver."

Naru had already risen to his feet, striding forward. Lin hesitated but followed, close to his side. Walking together in silence they walked down the hall until they reached the room that had Taniyama scribbled on the clipboard hanging by the door.

The room was cold—too cold, he immediately thought, searching for a thermostat to adjust the heat. And much too silent. The only sound was the beep of the machine which even to his untrained ears did not sound regular or reassuring. He approached her cautiously, though her figure was barely recognizable. Most of her body was encased in casts, covered in bandages and plastic splints to keep her immobile. When the car had hit her she'd broken bones from her knees to her hips, ribs and vertebrae, her arms and her collarbone. But it was the spinal cord and head trauma the doctors had been most concerned about. He'd heard them say "complete paralysis" and "permanent disability as a best-case scenario" in hushed tones.

"The doctor said he'd be back soon," Lin said. "They'd like to have a meeting with you to discuss.. to discuss her condition."

His head snapped up, training his eyes on those of the older man. "What did he say?" When his friend hesitated, he spoke again, his voice steady and demanding. "Tell me, Lin. Please."

When Lin spoke it was clear he had to force himself to say the words. "They don't think... they don't think she'll make it, Naru. She's still alive, but only.. only just. If she does survive, they don't think she'll ever come out of the coma."

"What about…" his voice trailed off and Lin shook his head.

"I can't, Naru. This is out of my league. I could cast a spell to keep her heart beating, perhaps eventually encourage her body to heal itself. But there's nothing I could do for her head injury."

Naru released a shuddering sigh.

"I'm sorry." Lin spoke softly, choking as tears gathered in his eyes.

"It's okay," Naru said, eerily calm. "We'll just go back again."

"Naru!" Lin gasped, taking hold and shaking the smaller man's shoulders. "You can't. We all have to lose the ones we love at some point. You can't try to change the past again—"

"No. Not like this." A disturbing determination was filling his eyes. "Not yet."

"You told me before that you didn't know how you did it. No matter how we explained it, you didn't really know how you turned back time and brought her back to life. That you were lucky and you didn't think you could do it again."

"I can," he snapped. "I will." Stepping away from Lin, he moved closer toward the hospital bed where her body lay, picking up her limp hand and cradling it in his own. Tears filled his eyes and he brushed her bruised cheek tenderly. "I will," he repeated softly.

"Naru! Please!" Lin had shouted the words but they were barely audible over the din that had begun to grow in his ears and he ignored him, gathering his psychic energy without hesitation. While still standing in the hospital room, he was also standing in the middle of a dark, vast ocean. An unrelenting wind gathered around him, ripping his clothes and stinging his eyes as he waited for the waves to crest and fall upon him. He then became aware that something was trying to stop him and drag him from this tumultuous sea of energy: Lin had set his spirit familiars upon him, but those, too, he ignored. He brushed the attacking spirit demons away like sand, concentrating on the final moment. The waves, all around him, rose higher, and finally broke with a tremendous, thundering crash.

It was an explosion and an implosion all at once. The wave of his energy was released and his body was both ripped apart into thousands of pieces and crushed into a space the size of a thimble.

Please, he prayed, managing one last coherent thought. Don't take her away yet.

Within the cacophony he thought he heard a gentle whisper. There's more you can do, the small voice told him. There's another life you should save.

Then there was silence and nothing remained. Not even darkness, not even light.

...