And in what month?
This clock never seemed so alive…"
-You and Me by Lifehouse
Days.
Minutes.
Months.
Hours.
Weeks.
Seconds.
They passed without him realizing it, one easily sliding into the next and then into the next, like water flowing over a pebbled riverbed. He allowed himself to be carried along with the current, never stopping, never thinking to stop, never putting his hand out to seek something that interrupted the ever-onward flow. Occasionally there were boulders, pausing him long enough in his movement so that they became distinct images in his mind.
There was the day he met her, the golden sunlight and green leaves still vividly painted in his mind. There was the picnic, the sunny, light day at the riverbank, her tinkling laugh still echoing deliciously in his ears. And then there were more days, more pictures, more moving, shifting kaleidoscopes that he knew, without being told, that he would remember forever.
Even if this came to nothing, he would remember forever her smile and her laugh, the light in her eyes and the honey in her voice.
Before he knew it, his desk was adorned with several small trinkets, evidence of a family he no longer had, a life he did not live, love that no one knew he had. The first was an empty picture frame, a plain, varnished cherry-wood one. He couldn't remember exactly when it had appeared, but it was after the picnic and before the appearance of the silk plush maneki neko that made him smile every time he saw it, eyes closed in smile, paw waving at him. The frame remained empty; he had no picture with which to fill it, but the wood was too pretty to deserve a hiding place in his humble home. A carved owl paperweight, "intelligent as he," she said, watched over his papers with a vigilant eye. He laughing told her he wished it could double-check all of his corrections.
Then there was a daruma, one of its eyes already colored in. He smiled and asked her how she knew what his wish was; she replied that it wasn't his wish, but hers that she was waiting to come true.
His students inevitably noticed the change. Where once there had only been stacks of papers and tests there were now a small number of knick-knacks, the sort of things they might see on other teachers' desks—but never Kinomoto-sensei. They whispered amongst themselves that he'd found a girlfriend, or a long-lost sibling, the stories as romantic as they could spin them. When he heard snatches of the modern day fairy tales he smiled inwardly; they sounded ridiculous, but he couldn't help but think that the truth was equally as romantic.
Finally, one day a student got up the courage to ask. Midway through a lecture on ancient India, a girl in the third row raised her hand.
"Yes, Minami-san?"
"Sensei, where did you get that frame? And is there a picture in it? And if so, whose is it?"
He fought the urge to laugh as someone muttered, "Geez, can you be any more obvious?"
Instead, he smiled and asked her from whom she thought he'd gotten it.
"Well… I personally subscribe to the theory that you've finally found someone that you've fallen absolutely madly in love with."
"Really?" he asked, amused, setting the chalk in the tray and leaning against his desk, studying his students amiably. "There are theories about this?"
"Oh yes," Minami-san continued eagerly, earning embarrassed laughs and grins from her fellow students. "I mean, there are variations of course, but the two prevailing theories are that you've fallen madly in love with some absolutely beautiful and perfect woman or that you've been reunited with a long-lost sibling." Nothing new, at least. "We all agree that it must have been love at first sight; you wouldn't be any other way, sensei." That earned a chuckle from him and relieved laughs and smiles from the students.
"Well, I'm sure the stories will only get better the less I tell you," he teased, turning to return to the board.
"Oh, sensei! Tell us!" Minami-san begged.
He shook his head firmly. "I want to hear how all these stories turn out. Someone remember to tell me at the end of the year." He picked up his chalk again and began writing notes.
"It's a girl," someone asserted. Murmurs of assent followed. "He'd tell us otherwise."
He set down his chalk again and turned back to his distracted students. "And if it is? What is she like? What is her favorite color? Where was our first date? Or have we had a proper date yet? What's her job?" He smiled benignly at his silent, awed audience. "You need to finish the story properly. Don't just leave it at, 'It's a girl.' Really, I thought Emiya-sensei taught you better than that." The class laughed at the reference to the writing teacher.
"She must be pretty…" a girl in the second row, Takahashi-san, offered.
"But how pretty? In what way? You see what I mean, about finishing the story? Now, I'm going back to ancient India. You're all welcome to continue speculating, but I expect you to know this material. And," he added as an afterthought, "I'm not telling you the truth about the picture frame. Not yet."
The students fell quiet and he could hear the scratch of pencils against his voice as he lectured. They remained so as he passed out the paper assignment and went over the requirements. As soon as he dismissed them, they broke into a frenzied buzz, eagerly congregating to discuss their teacher, paper forgotten, naturally, until the night before it was due.
As they filed out, chattering away, he began to clean up his desk and pack his bag, petting the plush maneki neko absently. He was well used to its presence by now. Smiling, he shut the door behind him, ready to head home.
Emiya-sensei would be proud of him, he thought as he tripped lightly down the stairs.
------------She'd found something new for him, something that had caught her eye over the weekend while shopping. She no longer took Sonomi with her on all her trips; after the first time she'd picked up something for his desk, Sonomi had become suspicious and asked after it. She'd been able to avoid intense interrogation, but she solved the problem by leaving Sonomi out of the loop.
Part of her was regretful; Sonomi had been her best friend, for years and years. Forever, it seemed, they'd been together, through all of Nadeshiko's dreams and memories. And now, suddenly, there was someone new, someone that called louder and more strongly than the tomboy-ish cousin who'd been raised with and had raised her.
But, she reminded herself, this was important. This was forever, all eternity that she had within her grasp—and there was no reason she shouldn't reach out to take hold of it.
All day during school she heard the vicious and lively chatter of her fellows; they were all speculating on the giver of the little ornaments that now adorned Kinomoto-sensei's desk, and had been for weeks. Sonomi had given her a sideways glance when the rumors had first cropped up, but Nadeshiko had only smiled her trademark smile and said nothing. She suspected that Sonomi still knew, because Sonomi was smart and could put two and three together to get five, but Sonomi said nothing.
Today's gossip was decidedly different. There was a new electricity to it, a new current coursing through the student population. Apparently yesterday Kinomoto-sensei had challenged them to continue the rumors, and to bring the completed project to him at the end of the year. Now the creative gears of students were running wildly as they sought to make up a suitable story. Others were simply trying to read into the teacher's challenge, wondering what it meant about whether or not it was a girlfriend.
Smiling, she waltzed on by, seemingly completely oblivious to it all. The door to his classroom as slightly ajar; there was no class in session any more, but he was still there, and would welcome students who requested assistance or conversation. She slid the door open and stepped inside, picking her way around the desks. He looked up when she entered, then lowered his head again and went back to scribbling. She didn't mind; she knew he wasn't ignoring her. It was what happened when he was particularly inspired or interested in something, and she respected his academic pursuits.
She sat at a desk in the first row and watched him, admiring the way he could smile through such a serious expression. He was concentrating, occasionally flipping through several books lying open on his desk, then going back to the sheets of paper before him, but his eyes were smiling. She loved that. It meant that even during the serious times he could smile.
When he was finished with the thought he lay down his pen and rubbed his eyes. She stood and changed positions, sitting on the desk, swinging her legs. She'd closed the classroom door behind her. There was hardly anyone left in the halls to notice or overhear them, but she wanted to keep this a secret between the two of them. She was a romantic, yes, but she was also practical.
"Hello, Nadeshiko-san. What brings you here today?" His brow was furrowed, probably trying to remember if she'd asked him for anything as her advisor that he'd forgotten. "Did you ask me for something?"
"Oh, no," she replied with a smile, fighting the urge to finger the new gift in her pocket. "I have some time before I need to go home; Sonomi has something today after school, and I'm going to wait for her. I didn't want to wait by myself, that's all."
He nodded. "I wouldn't want you waiting by yourself, either. It isn't safe."
She smiled, then changed the subject. "I heard about the discussion in your class yesterday."
"I'm not surprised. It turned out rather differently than I had hoped."
"I find it all very amusing," she mused, wandering to a window to look out. "They're so concerned with you, and what your life is like. Why do you suppose that is? Why aren't they worried about their own lives?"
"You're high school students. You won't worry about how your own lives turn out until you're in college, or older," he explained, joining her at the window.
"Some of the stories are so romantic, though. I think that the stories are just reflections—"
"—of what they hope to have someday," he finished for her, smiling. She smiled back. They were kindred thinkers, she'd discovered, and she never minded letting him complete her thoughts.
"I think some of the stories are so much better than the truth," she lamented softly, watching some of her classmates playing football on the lawn. They would eventually be chased off by a proctor or teacher in order to preserve the environmental beauty of the campus, but for now they were allowed to have their fun.
"Why?" he asked curiously. "I rather like the truth."
"You don't think it'd be more interesting for you to be in love with a famous actress working in Tokyo on a major movie? A woman that you love, who loves you, but whom you can't be with because the papers and photographers would tear you apart? And so instead you exchange gifts through the mail?"
"It would make a splendid novel, certainly. But no. I rather like the truth. Though I never want anyone to find out the truth, of course."
"Why not?" She wondered if it was because he was frightened by the power and status of her family. She didn't want him to avoid her, to refuse to let this go farther because people thought they shouldn't be together.
Because that's what she wanted, ultimately. After enough time had passed, after she was old enough and after people had come to accept them, she wanted this to be forever. She knew it, deep in her bones and in her heart and in her soul.
"I like secrets, maybe," he offered nonchalantly.
She understood, and let it go. It warmed her inside, this veiled protectiveness. She reached into her pocket and withdrew the small, tissue-paper wrapped bundle she'd stayed for.
"Here. I found this, and I thought it would look lovely on your desk." He took it from her curiously, studying its shape and unwrapping it.
A miniature clock, made of wood and silver sat in his palm. It was beautiful and elegant, and Nadeshiko could see from his expression that he loved it.
"Was it expensive?" he asked, almost automatically. He always asked it; she knew he didn't like her spending money on him.
"Not particularly. I was looking for something else, and I saw it, and I couldn't help but think that it would be so much nicer than the ugly clocks they have hanging on the walls of the classrooms."
"Thank you, Nadeshiko-san. I'll definitely have to find something for you on my trip."
"Trip?" she queried, taking it upon herself to move the things on his desk to make a place for the clock, even removing it from his grasp to set it down. "Is that what you're doing all this work for?" she asked, gesturing to the paper and book strewn desk.
"Yes. I'm traveling to China next month to do some research for a paper I'm writing."
"You write papers?" she asked, honestly amazed. "I thought that was something only college professors had time for."
"Well, then I'm getting a good start. I'd like to move up to the university level, someday."
"You'd be a wonderful professor," she complimented
"I'm glad you think so."
She leaned over to peer at the new clock on his desk. "It's time for me to go. Goodness, I can't believe it got so late so quickly."
He settled back down at his desk, picking up his pen again. "I still have some work to do, unfortunately. Will you be all right?"
"Yes," she assured him, leaving the door open just a crack, the way she'd found it.
She met Sonomi on the front steps, impatiently tapping her foot and fumbling with her bookbag. When Sonomi asked where she'd been, Nadeshiko replied, "I was watching the boys play football."