Hello readers! I give my humblest apologies for not updating in a while. I hope you still give this story a chance because I haven't forgotten about it! I'm a college freshman so finding time to write is hard. Positive feedback is a good way to spur me on though. :) Read and review please! I love getting reactions.

Happy reading!

I've kept careful track of the days that have gone by since that night.

Six. Maybe at the turn of the week Nowaki will forget about the whole stupid adoption thing. It's been eating away at me ever since and I already have enough on my plate with work.

I roll onto my side and pull the bedsheets higher. Yes, come tomorrow I should finally be free of these thoughts. There's even a school holiday, so I have a three-day weekend to look forward to.

Things are looking up for me.

As if on cue, Nowaki exits the bathroom. My heartbeat picks up speed as I hear his heavy footsteps on the carpet. I'm practically holding my breath by the time he gets into bed.

"Are you asleep?" he asks softly. He starts rearranging the blankets around us both.

I lay silently for a minute. "No," I finally admit.

"I thought so," he says, his voice gentle. He pulls my body back against his chest and I can't help but marvel at how effortlessly we fit together. It's like my body has adapted to complement his shape over the years.

I just grunt quietly in response. His skin is damp and extra hot against my back.

Seconds pass. Finally, he speaks. "Hiro-san?" comes his tentative question.

"What?" My heart thuds. His voice sounds heavy.

"You have the day off tomorrow, right?"

"Yes. Why?"

I can feel Nowaki hesitate. His breath hitches the tiniest bit against the back of my head. Not good. "Would you…come to work with me?"

"And why would I do that?"

"Well…I want you to meet Yuki."

So much for my relaxing weekend.

oooOOOooo

"I still don't want to do this." Despite my words I'm standing before Nowaki's hospital. This is the last place I want to be on my holiday. I could be getting ahead in my work, or at the bookstore, or finally getting started on a few of those home improvement projects…not to mention I'd rather throw myself off the edge of a building than see stupid Tsumori again. And according to Nowaki, that asshole still works here.

"I know. But please, Hiro-san, do this for me." Nowaki is a few steps ahead of me in his usual dark turtleneck.

"I'm not staying all day," I warn as we start walking again. "I'll meet the slobbering kid and then be on my way."

"Hiro-san, I assure you, Yuki is very different from whatever you have in mind."

Yeah, right. I've seen those kids before. I've seen how they act towards you, laughing and smiling and not having a care in the world. Uneducated brats…like hell I'd want to meet one. I'm doing this for you, moron.

I glare at the back of his tousled head as we enter the building. The receptionist immediately brightens when she sees Nowaki. He greets her and compliments her hair, sending her into a mild tizzy. Ugh. She recoils a little when she sees me, though. Her smile vanishes and everything. "Hello," I say just keeps giving me that strange look. As I walk away I raise a hand to poke at the space between my eyebrows. It's furrowed and creased. "Brow wrinkles," huh….

I follow Nowaki around until we finally get to a back room. It's about time, I was about to vomit from all the sappy compliments and small talk he was throwing around to everyone he saw. The room is pretty clear and empty save for a line of lockers against the perimeter. There's a nice atmosphere in here too; quite the opposite of all the hustle and bustle in the hospital halls. Time seems to stand still here.

Nowaki sets down the Boston bag he's carrying down on a chair. He takes out some clean clothes and stashes them away in his designated locker. Stockpiling for some late nights, I guess.

I lean against a different locker and cross my arms. I say nothing as Nowaki finishes unpacking and pulls on one of his long white coats. He delicately places his stethoscope around his neck for the finishing touch. I find that my eyes are glued to him; I've only seen him in uniform a handful of times. I must admit that he looks…handsome. More so than usual.

"So where's this kid?" I ask. I force my gaze to the ground; I feel the tight sensation of a blush coming on. The last thing he needs is another thing to be smug about. He was already much too persuasive in getting me to come with him today….

"She's in the south wing. She was in intensive care up until this past Tuesday, but her symptoms have gotten better. That's why I thought this would be a good time to introduce you two."

I look up to find him smiling tenderly at me. I clear my throat and look out the window. "Fine."

I can see it now: a goofy little blonde girl in an oversized bed, surrounded by stuffed animals. Maybe she'll be coloring or doing something else that isn't mentally stimulating. Then Nowaki will waltz in her room and everything will be all smiles and laughter.

The thought makes me sick.

"Hiro-san," Nowaki says, and I'm snapped out of my reverie. Before I can fully react he takes me into his arms and hugs me. "Thank you for doing this for me. It means a lot."

"It's nothing," I lie. I feel that stubborn blush finally surface.

"It's not nothing," Nowaki croons. "I'm…so happy."

I say nothing and I know it relieves him. His stethoscope presses against my chest as he holds me closer. He pulls slightly away to look at me and I'm floored at how utterly contented he looks. His eyes are quivering the tiniest bit as if he were on the verge of crying.

I just stare blankly at him, trying to comprehend his joy. Seeing him this happy almost makes me smile, too.

Almost.

When he leans in to kiss me, I'm already waiting.

Nowaki leads me out of the room, still faintly smiling. He makes several stops to talk with doctors and other employees. All of them give me peculiar looks. It pisses me off.

Finally, after prying off quite a few little kids that were excited to see him, Nowaki ends our trek at a door. Room number 214.

"She's in here," he tells me as he knocks twice on the smooth wood.

The door opens in a few seconds. "Ah, Kusama-san," a brunette nurse says happily. She seems not to have noticed me.

"Good morning, Ryu-san," Nowaki says kindly. "How is she?"

The nurse's eyes sparkle. They must have this conversation a lot. "Better than yesterday. Her health seems to be taking a turn for the better." She starts babbling about test results as she opens the door wider to let Nowaki and myself in. She stops midsentence when she sees me in the doorway. "Oh. Who's this?"

"Ah, my apologies. Ryu-san, this is my-"

"Friend," I interject suddenly. Stupid Nowaki, the last thing anyone in the workplace needs to know is who you're going out with! "My name is Kamijou. I'm nobody suspicious." I struggle to keep a level head.

Nowaki smiles a little out of amusement. Idiot.

"Oh, okay. Nice to meet you," the nurse says, bowing slightly. Then she turns back to Nowaki. "I just remembered I have some calls to make. I've given her all her medication for today, so she's taken care of for the time being. You're welcome to stay for a visit." She smiles again and tilts her head a little, already knowing that Nowaki plans to stay.

In a short little flutter of papers and a clipboard, the nurse leaves. The door shuts and suddenly the room is wrapped in a blanket of muted silence save for the quiet beeping of a monitor. A few seconds pass before I realize the beeps are heartbeats. It's eerie.

I suddenly become aware of the fact that Nowaki is no longer by my side. I see the last glimpse of his coat disappearing behind a white mobile curtain near the back of the room. He really can't wait to see the brat, can he?

I inch closer, taking off my jacket in the process. I lay it on a chair and my brain registers that my palms are sweating. What am I so nervous about?

I dare take another few steps closer to the curtain. I can hear Nowaki's voice murmuring to another. Then I hear a "Hold on" and I jump back a ways and pretend to be extremely interested in a generic paining of a bouquet on the beige wall.

"Hiro-san, come and meet Yuki," Nowaki says as he comes out from behind the curtain.

"I thought you'd never ask," I answer with fake confidence. Why am I so worked up over meeting a dumb kid?

I pass Nowaki and walk around the curtain, actually bracing myself in the case of a squealy hug or other slobbery attempt at contact.

But no.

My heart sputters to a confused halt.

The girl in the bed is the polar opposite of what I'd imagined. The happy, foolish girl is nowhere to be seen. All I see is an angry looking little kid, arms crossed and lower lip slightly pushed forward in a pout.

Is this a joke?

Blinking rapidly, my head quickly swivels to look incredulously at Nowaki. He's just grinning and he gives me an affirmative nod. Talk to her, his eyes plead. His eyebrows rise in that irresistible, persuasive way that forces me to turn back around.

The girl focuses her broody eyes on me. When we make eye contact I swear our surroundings are stripped away. All I can think is…

There is something familiar about this child.

"Nice to meet you," comes the forced greeting.

It's as clear and resonating as the peal of a small silver bell. The world jumps back into view.

Huh?

I blink a few final times as my hearing kickstarts. I feel like I've been slammed back into Earth from whatever universe I just came from.

"Um," I mutter. It's all I can do for a moment. Reality starts to sink in. The girl reaches for a wad of yarn on her nightstand. I watch intensely as she picks it up and pulls it over her nearly-bald head.

Oh. It's a crocheted hat.

"Nice to meet you too," I say mechanically as I take a step closer. Get with it, Hiroki! Don't stare, she'll get the wrong idea! "I'm…Kamijou. Kamijou Hiroki."

"Yes, Kamijou-san. Kusama-sensei talks about you a lot."

"Right," I say, forcing a little cough to clear my head. Calm down. Then I realize how much I must be staring at her. I look quickly at the wall, then to the floor.

"I'm used to it," Yuki says, her tone approaching boredom.

"To what?"

"Staring." She pulls her hat down a little more.

Shit. "No, I…I didn't mean..."

"I know." She's not looking at me anymore, either. I can feel it.

The steady beeping of the monitor fills the room again. My gaze falls to rest upon the cushioned chair beside Yuki's bed. I have no doubt that Nowaki put that there in hopes that I'd feel more comfortable talking to this girl.

Nowaki. Where did he-?

"So…Kusama-sensei tells me you like reading," Yuki says, shattering the silence. Some of the boredom is shed and a quiet curiosity has crept into her voice.

"I do," I say automatically. Nowaki evaporates from my mind and I'm drawn back to Yuki like a moth to a lamp. I take another tiny step closer to the chair. There's something so blatantly familiar about this girl, and yet I can't put my finger on it.

"Me too," Yuki mutters. She inspects the IV going into her arm as I finally work up the nerve to sit down next to her. There's a certain air to her, like time itself has been distorted. Despite Yuki's prickly surface, her atmosphere has an unsettling calmness to it….sickly, but calm. Accepting of the fact that she may not have much of a life here on this Earth.

"What do you read?" I ask. Fleeting images of popular kids' books enter my mind. Yes, just because a child is quiet and beautiful doesn't mean she can't have sophomoric tastes in literature.

She deliberates for a few moments. She has to know I'm hanging on her every word. "Ukigumo," she finally says.

My eyes grow wide. Futabei Shimei? Japan's first novelist? The man I revere and teach about? Why, that book is part of my curriculum!

"Really?" I ask incredulously. "That's…incredible." I'm so floored I can barely choke out the words.

"I like how there's no ending," Yuki says simply. "So it can't be sad." She's still looking at her lap, and I come to realize that the book that sits there is none other than Ukigumo itself. The Drifting Cloud. It's a tattered, old copy, with the threads of its binding fraying along the spine. The face is worn and covered in a tired lattice of wrinkles. This book has obviously seen many owners.

And this girl, Yuki. She's so cultured…how old did Nowaki say she is? Less than ten, I believe. She's existed for less than a decade and she's so beyond her time.

But who does she remind me of?

"It can't be happy, then, either," I slowly point out. The controversiality of the "end" of this book often leads to heated debates in my classes. It thrills me to see my students so riled up over literature but I decide not to tell Yuki that she may not be completely correct.

She's quiet for a minute. "I never though of that…."

My heart breaks. Never thought of the possibility of being happy? How can a child think like that? Aren't they all supposed to be carefree and smiley and tickled pink? A somber little girl…it's an oxymoron. I can feel the stereotype in my head shattering.

The child before me is different…special.

I can feel it.