Naru has a secret, one she cannot tell anyone. The words burn on her tongue, wanting out, but she keeps them back everytime. Only once has she told, but he already knew so it doesn't count. It doesn't count because the secret is hers.
Where dit it come from, she wonders. Why her? There must have been someone else who shouldered the same responsibility before her, and that thought fills her with tired despair. If it failed once it can do so again. All she can do is keep watch and hope there will be some kind of sign before it is too late. Not that she really knows what to look for ...
It would be a heavy burden for anyone, even more so for a child with none to ask or share her worries with, and thus it isn't surprising that she turns to the only one who can never tell. She doesn't need a teddybear or stuffed pet - she already carries something within her.
Sad or angry or lonely or scared, she finds herself in a place that is real in a way not quite like the rest of her world. She sits on the floor, the sound of dripping pipes a constant backdrop, and watches a large being trapped by bars of steel and a single small slip of paper. She wraps her arms around herself and takes comfort in knowing that nothing can be worse than what will always be a part of her life.
Naru knows fear.
Not what made her whimper as the summer storms thundered above and lit the trees on fire, but the constant knot in her stomach and whisperings in the dark that someday she will fail. It has been with her for so long that it's part of her life and every other worry pales in comparision.