Chapter 2

Shion stayed completely still, eyes darting around the room for a sign that he was not alone. Silence accompanied the darkness, and Shion wished that he'd brought the oil lamp into the bedroom. Eventually, he decided to speak.

"Are you really there?" he whispered. His heart was pounding so loud that the blood crashed in his ears and his body trembled. For a long time, nothing happened. Then Shion heard the doorknob squeal.

"No!" he yelped, jumping out of the bed and careening into the figure trying to escape. Shion tackled him, pinning his wrists to the ground. It was still too dark to make out definite facial features, but Shion held him down nonetheless.

"You're not leaving." Shion grunted, inches away from the intruder. The man let out a small chuckle.

"Oh, really?" he laughed. Shion couldn't be sure if the deep voice belonged to Nezumi, but beneath its huskiness he detected something recognizable. But could he be sure?

The intruder effortlessly twisted his arms free from Shion's grasp, then slid from beneath him. Before Shion had time to react, the man was on top of him, pressing his face into the wooden floor and restraining Shion's arm by twisting it behind his back. Shion felt the flat edge of a cool blade against his cheek.

It was Nezumi.

"That was almost too easy," he whispered into Shion's ear, "you've become weaker." Shion didn't respond. His eyes rolled backwards from the dizziness and his breathing was harshly labored. Inexplicably, he began to cry. At first, only a few tears streamed down his face, but then he gave in to sobbing. Nezumi's force on him softened. He let out a concerned, almost annoyed sigh.

"Why are you crying?" he asked blatantly. Shion didn't respond; he could only weep. Eventually, Nezumi let go and rose to his feet, leaving Shion to slump on the floor.

"No," Shion moaned, "please. Not yet. Don't leave yet."

Nezumi walked to face Shion, getting down on his knee and lifting Shion up by the shoulders so that he was level with him.

"You weren't supposed to be here," he said sadly, wiping the tears from Shion's cheeks. His fingertips were rough, but still warm, a sweet contrast to the icy knife that had been there moments before.

"How could you?" Shion whispered.

"Not now, Shion." Nezumi said harshly. Shion's face fell to Nezumi's knee, and he tried to throw his arms around him, but Nezumi jumped backwards, standing again. "Not now."

Shion felt himself convulsing, and the crying stopped. He had no control over his body; it twitched and thrashed, and he couldn't keep himself from vomiting on the floor and himself. He lay there for some time, and Nezumi couldn't tell whether or not he was conscious. His steely attitude that he had worked so hard to keep up quickly dissolved into genuine concern. He bent down and cradled Shion.

"Hey, wake up," he commanded, "Shion, stop messing around. Wake up." Shion's head hung backwards sharply when Nezumi tried to support his neck. Nezumi never took his eyes off of Shion's face and he picked him up in his arms and took him to the bathroom. He started the water and removed Shion's clothes, setting him the water as it filled in around him. He washed Shion's face and torso diligently, wrapping him up in an old towel when he was done.

"What have you done to yourself?" Nezumi muttered. Shion was still sleeping and he carried him back to the bedroom and set him on the bed. He brought in another towel and scrubbed the floor where Shion had been laying. When things were as clean as Nezumi could manage, he returned to Shion.

"Still so helpless." he whispered as he gazed at the man he hadn't seen in over three years. Not much had changed in him physically besides his hair, which was still a glowing white but cut short. He was incredibly thin, as well; Nezumi was amazed at how easy it had been to lift him and carry him from room to room. Still, he didn't look like he belonged here; soft skin and a kind face, Nezumi wondered how he had survived staying in the West Block. He could have returned to what was left of No.6, where he could live more comfortably. Nezumi dressed him carefully in a sweater and pants that he had found in the drawer. Shion moaned but didn't wake.

Nezumi hoisted Shion onto his back, putting out the lamp as he left. It was the middle of the night by then, and Nezumi blended effortlessly with the shadows, even with Shion on him. He tried not to think about how easy it would have been to keep Shion there, in his bed, to know he was close... Nezumi shook the thought away as he had so often dismissed others throughout the years. Shion always made him vulnerable.

Shion's house was a small building attached the the back of a bakery. The brick was new, and the awning had a welcoming image of a cartoon mouse, equipped with an apron, holding a loaf of bread. Nezumi entered around the back, carrying Shion through the sitting area and into the hall where the bedrooms were. Although Nezumi had never spied on Shion personally, he had sent his rats to keep a limited eye on him, and he thought he could remember which door was Shion's. He crept inside, but an unfamiliar face greeted him. It was a little boy, a toddler, really, peaking out at him from beneath his blanket. Nezumi froze.

"Are you the doctor?" the child asked him in a high pitched voice. Nezumi raised an eyebrow.

"Why would you think that?" he asked suspiciously.

"For Shion!" the boy responded, "he's been very sick for a long time. He's always in bed! But the doctor can make him all better so we can play together again!" He smiled happily at the thought. Nezumi was struck by a pang of astonished sadness. He turned his head to look at the unconscious Shion's face, which was resting on his shoulder. He did look gaunt and weak. Nezumi turned back to the boy.

"Well, I am the doctor," Nezumi informed him, "and I was just putting Shion in his bed. But I can't find his room." He tried to be friendly with the child, using his experience with acting to become someone else.

"I could take you to his room!" the boy said. Nezumi nodded.

"Ok, but you have to stay quiet."

The little boy bounced out of bed and led him out. Shion's room was at the end of the hallway, and the entered, shutting the door behind them. Nezumi laid Shion on the bed, and the boy helped cover him in his blanket. Nezumi turned and started to leave.

"Don't you have to do doctor stuff?" the boy asked. Nezumi looked back at him. The child couldn't have been more than five, and he stood beside Shion and held onto his hand like he was the last thing in the world the boy wanted to lose. He looked at Nezumi desperately. Nezumi cursed himself inside for involving him in the first place. He walked over to Shion and took his arm, feeling his wrist with two fingers.

"His pulse is fine," Nezumi said, "that means his heart is good." He looked at the boy, who was still watching him expectantly. He reached into his pocket and pretended to take out something incredibly miniscule between his thumb and forefinger. "You see this? It's a very small pill, but it's very powerful. It will make Shion healthier and stronger. Help me give it to him. Open his mouth." The boy complied. Nezumi slipped the nonexistent pill into Shion mouth and carefully closed it.

"He'll be all better now?" the boy asked. Nezumi crouched down to be on his level.

"Even though it is very powerful, I'll have to come back every night to give him some more. But you need to be in bed. Don't worry, tomorrow I'll come give him some more, but you won't see me. That's how nighttime doctors work." he told him in a calm voice. The little boy nodded.

"You can go back to your room now. Thank you for helping." Nezumi said. The boy smiled and ran out the door. Nezumi watched him go, then looked back to Shion.

"What's happened to you?" he muttered softly.

The room's walls were completely adorned with drawings of plants or insects, often accompanied with little notes scribbled beside them. On the dresser there were potted plants and a notepad. Nezumi glanced over the books on the shelf. Nearly all of them were nonfiction, but tucked in between a textbook about evolution and the side of the shelf was a beat up copy of Much Ado About Nothing. Nezumi plucked the play from the shelf and held it gingerly, flipping to the inside cover. A small note was inscribed there, exactly where he'd put it years before. It was a little poem, about nothing really. Shion must have found it and kept it for himself. Nezumi returned it to its slot on the shelf. He felt two hot tears slip down his cheek. All that time he'd been gone, he imagined returning to Shion. It was always part of the plan. But never like this; Shion with some mysterious illness and him with bitter regrets. He couldn't have stayed then. He had to go. But he'd thought that, when he returned, there would still have been plenty of time.

"What is happening to you?" he whispered as he finally went to the door. He left the bakery with a heavy heart, melting back into the night.