A/N: I still own nothing.. But I'm thinking about writing another Naru x Mai story. I'll let you know if it will become a reality. Until then, enjoy this.

Daffodils

Part nine

"I believe in you." The words rang in her ears and she nearly dropped the tray she was carrying. A gust of wind passed her and she turned, curious.

"Who's there?" She called out. In reply, there was receding laughter. Mai sighed and delivered the drink, hoping to get it out of her way as soon as possible. After receiving her first thank you ever from the boss, she took out her notepad and a pen and began writing down everything she thought was correct.

Firstly, Shinji Kiriyama is Simba Bismarck.

Secondly, the daffodils in her room were left by the already mentioned man.

She raised the pen's back to her lips and bit it, unsure, if that was really all she knew. Hesitatingly, she added the third point.

Thirdly, Eugene Strider is based on Naru..

But how did a woman like Rosalie Turner know of Naru? Another mystery. She felt like modern day Sherlock Holmes, trying to make the connection. And why was the ghost so not like a ghost? What was tying it to the earthly world?

She crossed her legs and leaned forward, thinking about it some more, tapping the pen against her chin. It was certainly difficult to comprehend.

"Thank you." Naru's earlier words ran through her mind, coloring her cheeks a wonderful shade of red. She shook her head and placed her cold hands over her face, trying to lessen the heat. Her heart fluttered.

"This is so wrong," she muttered. When Naru had told her the miracle words, she had slowly backed away and escaped, squeaking a "You're welcome" to him. Although it was charming of her boss to be so kind once, she came to the conclusion it was too abnormal for her to completely like it. This house was driving her mad.

Meanwhile, Naru was feeling as flustered. Although his calm exterior was still in put, he was glad that in this moment of loneliness, no one could even catch a hint of his inner struggles.

Well, except for one.

"Ne, ne, Naru-chan," a young woman was bouncing around the room. "Have you told her? Have you? Have you?"

"You talk like a parrot," he muttered, not raising his eyes from the empty cup of tea. Miss Turner frowned. If she were alive, she would hit him. Hard.

The girl straightened herself and floated to be in front of him. "I heard she likes the story. That's why you brought her here with you, didn't you? To tell her." She put her face almost against his. "You're so cute, Naru-chan!"

"I came, because our deal is complete," he said, finally looking up. The ghost halted, surprised to get a reaction so soon. "Your story has even become one of the most loved all over the world. You have fulfilled your reason of staying behind. You're free to go now. Yet you haven't crossed."

Once, years ago, he had come here to exorcise a violent spirit, only to find out the spirit in itself wasn't violent, but releasing it's pent-up frustration in a rather inconvenient way for the house and it's people. He remembered as if it had been only yesterday.

"You can see me," the blond lady stated, hands crossed over her chest. "Don't try and deny it."

"I won't," he promised, curious to find out where she was going with the talk.

"Also, if you try and get me out of here, I will never forgive you," she added, before extending her ghostly hand. "I'm Rosalie, Rosalie Turner." He had known her name before, known everything possible about her. "Oh, come on. Shake it!" She whined, when he didn't accept her hand. Reluctantly, he shook it.

"I need a favor from you," she continued with a tiny smile. "I promise not to do anything bad, as long as you fulfill it. My reason for not having died properly."

"What is it?" When it came to scientific matters, Rosalie Turner had died because of leukemia.

"I have always wanted to be an author," she sighed heavily, drying a fake-tear. "I even had a story planned out and everything. I want you to write it down for me."

Back then, he didn't know this story would be so long and take years to have it completely written. Naru had bought the house from its' owners, who were more than happy to sell it, and he'd helped the ghostwriter. All the money Rosalie Turner's books earned went to creating the castle and buying the materials for painting. No one else knew, but all the paintings were the ghost's creations.

"She's absolutely perfect!" Rosalie exclaimed. "She's so smart she can probably figure it out on her own. Is that what you're planning? To let her figure it out on her own?"

"I fulfilled my part of the deal," he said, ignoring her comment about Mai. "You haven't. Care to tell me why?"

Rosalie pouted. "But, Naru!" She whined childishly. When he didn't react, she sighed.

"Well, I can't," she admitted. "I feel like I owe you something. Because you did so much for me." She fidgeted with her fingers. "How about I paint her for you? You like her." She kept musing and floated away, leaving a flabbergasted Naru behind. His cheeks were tinted the slightest bit of red.

"Mai!" He called, trying to calm his nerves. The girl peeked through the door, hiding her notepad. "Tea."

She slammed the door shut and hurried off, unaware of the cheery ghost following her. "She's really pretty," Rosalie thought to herself, a wicked smile coming to her face. Oh, yes, that would be more than enough to make Naru appreciate the time he spent writing the novels with her.

"Hang in there, Mai-chan!" She called out to her. "Sister Rosalie is going to make everything okay."

With a loud and a slightly scary cackle, she flew off to her secret room of paints and canvases. Mai froze and turned, but there was nothing she could sense or see. Rosalie had already left.