Nagihiko just couldn't seem to decide which question to ask first—I wasn't sure whether he was just being indecisive, or if he was trying to avoid asking something that might make me upset or uncomfortable. He'd been silent for a while now, staring down at his feet as he walked, lost in thought.
"Nagihiko," I said softly, and my voice seemed to jolt him awake. He looked up, confused.

"Did you say something?" he asked hesitantly, sounding as if he was afraid that I was going to yell at him.

Though my patience with Nagihiko was thin, I met his gaze evenly with my own and stated calmly, "You said you wanted to talk." I didn't think I'd ever heard him this quiet, which was ironic, since he'd been the one wanting to hold a conversation.

He was silent for a moment more, then murmured, "I do have questions, but..." He bit his lip and glanced away from me, and I held back a sigh.

"If I didn't plan to answer your questions, do you think I would've come with you?" I asked, but my tone wasn't arrogant. "I've already told you so much. It makes me feel just a little better to talk with someone. Please don't disappoint me by telling me that I jumped out my bedroom window for nothing." I managed a small smile.

After another short silence, Nagihiko turned to look at me. "How long?" I could tell that he was starting off with something easy—something that wouldn't cause me to get emotional, which I hoped I wouldn't do even when he started asking more in-depth questions.

"You'll have to be more specific," I answered automatically. "How long since the fighting started, or how long since I got involved?"

There was no hesitance this time when he responded, "both."

I took a deep breath and closed my eyes, then opened them again before I could trip or run into anything. "I was nearly kidnapped about two years ago," I informed him quietly. "They didn't manage to pull it off though—I was rescued quickly..." I had told him this already, earlier that day in the girls' bathroom at the school. But I decided that it would be best to start at the beginning. "My mother and father blamed the incident on one another. They both felt that it was the other's fault, and that they hadn't been watching me properly."

Nagihiko listened intently, nodding his head every now and then. Even when he wasn't looking directly at me, I could tell that he was listening to every word I said.

"They started arguing about everything—the smallest disagreement would spark a fight, and the subject of my kidnapping would always come up, making the fighting even worse. I tried to stop them from shouting at each other, but they would ignore me. So I always hid in my room. I could hear things being thrown around, and it always scared me."

"And when did it escalate to you getting hurt as well?" Nagihiko's voice was gentle, and still slightly hesitant, like he didn't want to pry.

"Like I said, that was two years ago," I said quietly. "When I got a little older, I became sick and tired of the constant shouting and swearing. I hated the way that no one could be happy in my household anymore. So about eight months ago, I decided to try to intervene. I no longer hid in my room like a frightened child—I tried to break in and stop their quarrels."

I stopped talking for a short time, because at that moment, I could feel the tears threatening to spill over. I had promised myself that I wouldn't cry. Nagihiko shot a worried glance at me, obviously wondering why I had paused. "Are you alright?" he asked cautiously, and I nodded, blinking the tears away.

"At first, I tried shouting over them, trying to get them to hear me. I thought that if they would stop, just for a moment, that I'd be able to tell them how I felt. I thought that I would be able to let them know how much I disliked their constant hatred of one another, and that I just wanted everyone to get along again. But my mother and father ignored me completely—so consumed by their anger that they'd forgotten that they even had a daughter to begin with. Even though it was my kidnapping that had started the fights, and even though it was concern for me that was the root of the problem, they acted as if I wasn't there. It was like they'd completely forgotten what they were angry about in the first place. They were just fighting to be fighting."

Nagihiko was silent beside me, letting my words sink in one by one. I took another deep breath to keep myself from crying and continued, "If the arguments got too bad and turned physical, I would try to stop it. Even though I knew I was too small to make a difference, I was desperate enough to get in the way of the blows they aimed at each other, resulting in the injuries you've seen." I examined my own arm, no longer covered by the long sleeves of my school uniform. My skin was pale under the illuminating moonlight, but the various dark purple bruises scattered across it were unmistakable.

I was silent, and I looked up at him, indicating that he could move on to a different question. After a second or two, he inquired, "What kinds of things do they fight about? What causes the arguments?"

I let out a dark little laugh. "Everything," I stated truthfully. "Sometimes, I'm not sure of the exact cause—they were fighting when I got home this evening, so I have no clue what sparked it. But usually it starts over something stupid, like my mother dropping a dish on the floor and breaking it. They fight over who takes me to school and who picks me up. It doesn't take much to set them off."

When I looked up at Nagihiko, he looked completely shocked. But he quickly composed his facial expression when he saw that I was looking. "How long do the quarrels usually last?" he questioned, changing the subject.

I shrugged. "It depends," I replied. "Sometimes they don't last too long, but other times they go on for hours. You heard them when I opened my window, correct?" He nodded, and I noticed him hide a shiver, though it wasn't cold outside. "Well, they'd been at that since before I came home from school."

There was a long silence, and I looked around; we'd been walking for a while now and I had absolutely no idea where we were, as I'd been too busy talking to pay much attention to where my feet were leading me. Really, I'd mostly been following Nagihiko, and now I was alarmed by the fact that my surroundings were so unfamiliar.

Noticing the apparent distress on my face, Nagihiko smiled warmly. "Don't worry, we're not lost," he assured me, succeeding in calming me down a little. "I know where we are." I was relieved by this, so I was able to relax a bit.

I noticed that Nagihiko looked extremely uncomfortable, and I figured that he had another question. By the look on his face, it was something he was afraid to ask. "Nagihiko," I whispered, and he turned his head to look at me. "Don't be afraid to ask a question. I won't get upset."

He didn't look the slightest bit convinced, and his big, brown eyes were hesitant. "Rima," he started, but cut himself off, unsure whether he wanted to ask me something or not. After a moment's hesitance, he let out a gusty sigh and asked slowly, "Do your parents ever hit you on purpose? Even when you aren't trying to get between them?"

Not meaning to, I flinched. The question wasn't unreasonable, and I wasn't angry or upset that he'd asked, but I hadn't been expecting something quite like that, though I didn't blame him for wanting to know. I hoped Nagihiko hadn't seen my involuntary reaction, or at least if he had, that he wouldn't make a big deal out of it.

Unfortunately, that's exactly what happened. "I'm sorry!" he exclaimed, and I flinched again—Nagihiko didn't usually raise his voice, and it sounded even louder in comparison to the silence outside, and, to my surprise, somewhat feminine. "That was uncalled for. I didn't mean to make you upset!" His words were coming out in a rush, an octave or two higher than normal, and starting to give me a headache. "I shouldn't have—"

"Shut up."

Nagihiko blinked once and then stared at me, stunned into silence. I was glad that that had done the trick; Plan B was to slap him. Nagihiko didn't usually get worked up, and that fact, coupled with the sudden voice change, was enough to freak me out a little. "You don't need to apologize," I pointed out. "I'm not upset; the question just caught me off guard."

Nagihiko, still unable to think up an intelligent response, only nodded.

We continued to walk side by side, neither of us speaking. I wasn't sure what Nagihiko was thinking, but I was contemplating the question he'd asked. Do your parents ever hit you on purpose? Even when you aren't trying to get between them? Was he asking if my parents struck me when they were angry with me? As much as I didn't want to answer the question, I knew that if anyone had the right to know, it was Nagihiko; I couldn't tell him half of a story and not the other half.

"Yes." The word, though whispered, sounded louder than usual in the silence. Beside me, Nagihiko stiffened and made an almost inaudible sound in the back of his throat. "I don't need you to feel sorry for me," I said, the stubbornness returning to my voice. "I don't need sympathy from anyone." I had always been the type of person to deal with my problems alone, not seeking help, nor pity from anyone. I didn't want to burden them the way I had burdened my parents.

"I don't feel bad for you," Nagihiko said suddenly, and I looked up at him in confusion. "Pity is useless. What does a person gain by having others feel sorry for them?" His view was much different than mine, but it was interesting, so I listened to him. "But," he continued, "Just because someone doesn't pity you, that doesn't mean they aren't worried about you. People that take pity on you simply feel bad for you, being in the situation you're in. It's usually short-lived—people don't act on feelings of pity."

The way he put it, having someone feel sorry for you was almost insulting—I knew what he meant. Having people feel bad for you didn't make the situation any better. They didn't try to help; those who pitied you were simply thinking, "I'm glad that's not me."

"Real friends worry about you." Nagihiko said suddenly, looking down at me. "When someone's worried about you, they actually care. They want to do something to help you, instead of just feeling sorry for you. If a million people pity you, but not one stops to listen, does that do any good? But if one person is really worried about you, they'll try to do something about it. Which is better, Rima? I don't pity you in the least—I wouldn't insult you that way. If I can, I want to help you in any way possible."

His entire spiel had left me utterly speechless, and as I stared up at him, I felt tears collecting in my eyes. Until now, I thought there was nobody at all who knew how I felt. But he understood. I'd come to despise all the people who'd said, "That poor little girl. She must have it rough, nearly being kidnapped. She must be upset, the way her parents are always arguing." They said these things from afar, not knowing how truly right they were—but they wouldn't do anything. Having someone that really cared about how I felt, rather than just being glad that it wasn't them in my position, was comforting. It made me feel that I wasn't as alone as I'd thought.

I couldn't hold them back anymore, and I felt hot tears begin to trail down my cheeks, several of them falling to the concrete below. I stopped walking, knuckling my eyes like a sleepy child, trying to rub the tears away. A gentle hand rested on my shoulder before Nagihiko pulled me into his arms for the second time that day. Vaguely I remembered that I'd never wanted this to happen again—Nagihiko hugging me like a stuffed toy while I cried into his chest. But at this point, I didn't really see the harm in it.

It was strange that the person I'd never gotten along with would be the one to comfort me, let alone be the only person to really understand my feelings. As ironic as it was, I found that I was glad it was him—I couldn't imagine how awkward it would be if, instead of Nagihiko, it was Tadase, Yaya, or even Amu trying to comfort me.

Nagihiko was patient with me, caressing my hair and gently rubbing my back while I rid myself of the tears that had been threatening to escape since the start of our conversation. Under his gentle touch, it didn't take too long for me to calm down, though after the tears stopped, there was still quite a bit of pitiful sniffling. He brushed the lingering tears from my cheeks with his fingers and gave me a small smile. "You alright?" he asked, and I nodded, taking a shaky breath.

"Thank you," I sniffled, and he nodded. I wondered if he knew that it wasn't just his comforting me that I was thanking him for, but somehow I had a feeling that he did.

"That's enough for now," he murmured, and I guessed that he meant that he was finished with his interrogation, though it hadn't been as bad as I'd feared. Granted, I had ended up sobbing like a frightened child again, but that didn't bother me too much.

"Sorry about your shirt," I said rather sheepishly, noticing the tearstains that had imprinted themselves in the fabric of Nagihiko's T-shirt. He just laughed.

"Don't worry about it," he assured me, smiling. "It's late—I should probably get you home so you can get at least a few hours' sleep." He flashed a quick glance at his wrist, once again making me wonder when he'd started wearing a watch. "It's almost four."

"Is it?" I asked, a bit shocked. We'd left at about one-thirty—it didn't seem like two and a half hours had passed since we'd starting talking. "I wouldn't have noticed. I'm not tired at—" The huge yawn that followed cut off my sentence and contradicted it at the same time, causing Nagihiko and myself to laugh.

Suddenly, I was a bit concerned. If we'd been walking for two and a half hours, wouldn't it take the same amount of time to get back to where we'd started? I looked up at Nagihiko, worried.

He must've known what I was thinking to begin with. "Don't worry," he said, laughing. "We're actually pretty close to your house—we walked in a huge circle, or hadn't you noticed?" The truth was, I hadn't noticed. But now that I checked, he was right. When I looked around, I found that we were in an area that I recognized, and that it really wasn't far from where I lived.

"If you like, I can carry you," he suggested mildly, earning a glare from me.

"I'm not so tired that I can't walk three blocks," I stated, rolling my eyes for an added effect. He laughed.

"Alright, then let's go." He headed off in the direction of my house, and I nearly had to run to keep up, cursing my short legs the entire time.

"Slow down!" I complained when I finally reached his side. My cheeks were flushed from the sudden expense of energy, and I was at least three times more tired than I had been two minutes ago.

"Oh, sorry. Was I walking too fast?" Nagihiko inquired innocently, and I weakly slapped his arm.

"You think?" Stopping to catch my breath, I noticed that we were already at my house.

"You run faster than you think you do, especially for a midget." Nagihiko teased, ruffling my hair and earning himself another annoyed glare. "Anyway, you'd better get inside," he pointed out. "You need to rest."

Nodding, I headed up to my house, turning back once to smile and say, "Thanks, Nagihiko." Just as I reached the front door, I heard Nagihiko's alarmed voice behind me.

"Hey, Rima?!" Confused, I turned around and looked at him, tilting my head to the side.

"Hmm?"

"If you value your life, I would not suggest walking through that door!" He cautioned, and I realized that he was right. Furthermore, I realized that he'd just about saved my life.

I quickly backed away from the door and scampered to the side of the house, where my window was. Nagihiko followed, stifling the giggles that were threatening to escape; apparently, he found the huge mistake I'd almost made quite hilarious.

It was then that I noticed something—and it wasn't good. "Hey, Nagihiko," I said nonchalantly. "I hate to interrupt your silent laughter, but there seems to be a slight problem."

He blinked and looked at me, unconsciously brushing his long violet hair back with a flick of his wrist. "What's that?" he asked.

"How the heck am I supposed to get back into my house?" I inquired, indicating my two-story window, well out of our reach. Nagihiko was the one that had told me to jump out in the first place, so I was hoping he had some kind of plan to get me back inside.

Sadly, that hope was shattered completely when Nagihiko spoke several seconds later, uttering only one, defeated word.

"Crap..."