Chapter Thirty-Nine

Seiji released a long sigh, rubbing his hands together anxiously before knocking on the door. It had been almost two weeks since Anzu had been released from the hospital. She had been moved to Yami's house for convenience, as he had a morning room on the main level where she was sleeping and there was more space than Seiji's modest one-bedroom apartment. Her own apartment was far too small for her to attempt to maneuver in any shape or form with her healing leg. Seiji had doted on her every day, but his mind always lingered on the beginning of all of this, to the man that had taken Sakura from him.

He had never truly thought that he would have any reason to revisit this conversation with Sakura. The last conversation he had with her had been brief and he had watched her cry in his living room without batting an eye. If it had not been for the quick succession of events that had occurred, he might have continued to think that Sakura had run off to a state of bliss with a careless musician. Instead, Sugoroku had approached him and urged him into safety, while explaining to him some intimate details that he had been ignorant of for many years.

He wanted to blame Sakura for her involvement, but knew that the fault ultimately lied upon Yami's shoulders. Sakura had not pulled his daughter into a disaster of a life. If anything, she had protected her from it by remaining far from contact until Hanazawa had passed away. She had known all too well the dangers of her life and how it could stalk her daughter.

"Yes?" Sakura's familiar voice called as she cautiously swung the door open. Upon seeing him, she stilled, her eyes widening a fraction. "Seiji...I was not expecting you."

"I know. Do you have a second?"

"More than a second, actually." She smiled wanly, gesturing at her injured arm, pulling the door open further to allow him entry. He stepped into the house after she had closed and locked the door, his eyes scanning the surroundings thoughtfully. "Go ahead and get comfortable. I'll make some coffee and tea."

He blinked. "Both?"

She hesitated, her gaze sliding to him uncertainly. "You...like coffee still, don't you?"

He released a breath through his nose, smiling in spite of himself at her memory. "Of course, I do. Only thing I drink nowadays."

As she turned away, a slight curve to her lips, he turned around in the living room, considering it thoughtfully. He caught the sight of a picture on the window and moved towards it, picking it up and staring at the faces in it. He recognized Sakura when she was younger, perhaps only a few years after she had left him. Her face was pressed against the man's, her mouth curved in a smile and her eyes twinkling. The man beside her had a lazy smile, but he appeared contented. He did not appear evil or twisted as he imagined Jiiro Hanazawa, but handsome and youthful, if a bit tired. There were dark smudges under his eyes, the only sign that his life was anything outside of normal. Setting the picture aside, feeling strangely uncomfortable looking into Hanazawa's eyes, he turned around and moved to the couch, dropping into it and stretching his legs out with a small sigh.

"I know, as a father, that you want to blame Yami," Sugoroku told Seiji, sitting in the somewhat ramshackle building after giving a full explanation for the events that had unfolded in his daughter's life. Seiji was blown away, too stunned to immediately feel any rage towards the accompanist. "I can only caution this – not all is as it seems."

"Meaning?" Seiji queried numbly, staring at the older man bemusedly.

Sugoroku sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as his brow furrowed. "There is...much that Yami doesn't understand about all of this. He is a good boy. He has tried his best to do what he thought was right. As much as he grew up to resent his parents, he still loves them. They're still his flesh and blood. He could have ended this a lot sooner, but he didn't. He wanted to live a good life, even if it meant sacrificing his own happiness."

"And my daughter!"

"No, trust me, Yami never wanted her to be involved. The last time I saw him, he was scared to death that she was going to get hurt because of him. He was trying his best to protect her, but it's not always easy to do that."

"Then what the hell am I supposed to do? Be okay with this, Sugoroku?"

"I'm not asking anything of you except to listen."

'I have listened! My wife ran off with a goddamn crime lord, my daughter is seeing an ex-criminal who used to assassinate people, and now there are people after my life just because of association. Am I supposed to embrace him and ask him to be my son-in-law?" Sugoroku's mouth thinned at Seiji's outburst and he braced his hands against his knees, hunching his shoulders if to prepare himself for the next onslaught of words. "I already lost Sakura. I can't lose Anzu this way...she deserves better."

"He is taking care of her."

"Unsuccessfully," was the snarky addition.

"Would you just listen?" Sugoroku barked out abruptly, launching to his feet, his wide eyes bulging a bit in anger. Seiji jumped a bit, but continued to hold to regard him with a surly expression.

Annoyed, Sugoroku sent him a disgusted look over his shoulder and stormed over to the table where he dug through his belongings to retrieve a cigar. Seiji remained sitting atop the overturned crate, his hands clasped between his spread legs. He watched the latter male for a bit and then lowered his head. He knew that Sugoroku was only trying to help him, but his mind was drowning in fear for his daughter. He did not like worrying her by leaving the apartment so abruptly without any notice – it was unlike him. He was caught in the middle of something akin to a drug war and was stuck in a none-too-comfortable building with people he did not know. He was too old for this and even if he were younger, he doubted he would have found this thrilling. He longed for some sense of normalcy to return to his life.

"When Yami chose the piano," Sugoroku spoke aloud contemplatively, "he broke his parents' hearts." Seiji raised his head, returning his tired gaze to Sugoroku, who was puffing on a cigar, his eyes resting on him. "In the world that we existed in, if you showed that you cared for someone, you might as well have been signing their death sentence. Rei and Harumi...they didn't know their son well enough. They thought he was being turned into a weapon by Hanazawa to be used against them."

"What are you talking about?" Seiji asked at last, lifting his head up entirely. "Rei and Harumi? Are those his parents?"

"Yes, my son and his wife," he confirmed. "Like I said, this place...his world of dance, it's not for love or tenderness, but Rei and Harumi took it too far. They thought they were protecting their son. Instead, they drove him away. Hanazawa did nothing when Yami left and he refused to help them. Rei and Harumi were terrified. They had seen how much their son had grown to hate them and they thought Hanazawa had devised him as a tool to kill them." He shrugged. "At the time, it made sense. Even I wondered at it until I found Yami on my own."

"But you didn't help them?"

"Initially, I was and he's never forgotten that. But I realized very quickly that he was not a weapon. Hanazawa had set him free – as much as he could – and my grandson just wanted to live a normal life. His parents, unfortunately, were too paranoid to allow that."

"Why didn't you say something to them? Talk to them?"

"I tried. I explained to them that he had no ill intentions. Rei was more open to reason, but Harumi was out of her wits with paranoia. She said she couldn't sleep, her mind was distressed, and she claimed her music would suffer from anxiety if she did not make sure for herself that Yami was not out to get her. He knew he was being hunted, though, and was too quick for them to catch him. Sometimes their men might accidentally come across him and there would be a fight, but that was the extent of it. They never got to meet him."

"But it had been years," Seiji said with a frown. "Why didn't they just give up?"

"I think Rei began to realize that Yami was not out for his life, but Harumi was obsessed with the idea. She resented Hanazawa for tearing her son from her, turning him against her, and she became very bitter. At the end of the day, Rei is loyal to his wife. She has been his partner for this long."

"Did he ever tell you his suspicions?"

Sugoroku took a drag from his cigar, blowing out a perfect oval to match his mouth. After it had faded, there was a faint smile on his lips. "Yes...but it was too late."

"What do you mean?"

"Rei had a conversation with Hanazawa, one that he relayed to me very recently when he was in Spain. Hanazawa had called for him a few weeks before he committed suicide. He told him that, if they had not been part of this corrupt society, they could have lived a sensible life – a normal life. Rei simply told him, 'I know. I wish I had.' Hanazawa then asked him if he could really kill his own son and if not, what would he do?"

"His answer was yes, I'm assuming, because of his wife."

"No, actually. He said to him, 'Even at the beginning, I don't think I could have killed Yami. When the time comes, I hope to release him from this life of fear and to release myself from a life of regret. Maybe then I can atone for the sins.'" Sugoroku lowered his hand with his cigar, inspecting it with a shuttered expression. "My son is not perfect, Seiji, and neither is my grandson...but they both have good hearts. When the time comes, Rei will do the right thing now that Harumi is no longer here to hold him back."

"I hope that you're right, Sugoroku. If not, we could be stuck here for a long time."

He smiled faintly, but it was a sad, reminiscent smile. "I know I'm right."

Seiji rubbed his face, ridding himself of the memory of the conversation. It had been the start of a long wait, a tiring one in which Seiji questioned Anzu's safety every minute of the day. He did not want to think of what could have potentially happened to her or where she might have been; the thoughts had been too unsettling. Now, knowing what he did and what had happened, he felt thankful that Anzu had at least survived and Yami had ended the long hunt at last, even if it made him a killer.

"Here you go." He stirred from his gloomy thoughts as Sakura handed him a steaming cup of coffee, returning to the kitchen to retrieve her own drink. The aroma that drifted up from him gave him comfort. He breathed it in as she settled beside him on the other side of the couch with her tea, leaving a generous space between them.

"Thank you, I needed this," he said, tipping it to his lips and blowing on it a few moments before drinking it tentatively.

"I could see that. It's been a rough few weeks for everyone." She clasped her tea in her hands, peering down at the golden liquid. "Anzu is doing well?"

"She's definitely getting her spunk back," he said with a nod. "Nothing seems to get her down."

She smiled, taking a drink of tea. "I'm glad."

They lapsed into a somewhat awkward silence. Seiji allowed it to extend farther than necessary before clearing his throat, deciding that it was best to get the nasty conversation out of the way while Hanazawa was still fresh on his mind. "Can you tell me about Hanazawa?"

She froze, staring at him over the rim of her teacup. "Why?"

"I just...All of this is because of him. I want to know more about him. I've got mixed feelings about him, but he..." He shifted uncomfortably on the couch and glanced to the picture. Her eyes followed his and he saw her expression soften. "He made you happy, Sakura, so he can't have been that bad of a person."

"He wasn't," she agreed softly, setting her tea aside and leaning back in the couch, closing her eyes. Her brow wrinkled in pain, as if the memory of Hanazawa's death was still fresh at the surface. Her eyes opened and she stared across the room, towards the window curtains. "When I think of Jiiro, I don't see what everyone else sees. He was ruthless, yes, and he had a mind for business and manipulation, but it was never what he was at the core. Every day, it was as if a piece of heart was being stripped away. He was suffering so much because of what happened to the people he was in charge of. He hated that he had to tear families apart, hated the ways things were, but he understood the necessity. He wanted a life like ours. I didn't even know he was a criminal until I had fallen in love with him."

"Did he know about Anzu?"

"Yes," she sighed, "and it gave him a great deal of pain to take me from her. I told him that he needed me more than she did. She would have you and I could tell, even at that age, that Anzu would be strong enough to care for herself without a mother. I had hoped...that maybe you would have found someone else, as well, but..." She trailed off, but did not finish the thought.

"He didn't want kids?" he asked doggedly instead.

"He did, but was afraid of raising a child in that environment. There were times I saw it in his eyes, how badly he wanted to be a father. It was hard to look at him during moments like those. Eventually, all of the things he wanted...they became too much for him. I don't know if anyone told you, but he killed himself." Her hand tightened in her lap and her mouth pursed. "No matter how happy he was with me, the rest of his life was too much for him to handle. He knew the only way to escape it was to either die peacefully or be killed. He didn't want to live a life like that until he was old. I can't blame him for what he did, but I wish...I just wish I could have done more. He deserved more."

Seiji resisted the urge to retort, And I didn't deserve more? Anzu didn't deserve more? It was difficult to keep from speaking his mind, but he chose instead to say, "What of Yami? Do you think he'll do the same or turn out the same? He has the makings of an emotional pianist if I've ever seen one. He hasn't had any better of a home life."

She blinked quickly, looking to him with a puzzled glance. "Do you really think that?"

"You disagree?"

"Jiiro looked out for him on more than one occasion. He saw him as a son more than protégé. I think he found happiness with Yami before he left in a similar way that he found it with me. No, I think Yami is much better off. Jiiro made sure of that."

"I see..."

"Anzu will have an easier time than I did," she assured him with a small smile. She picked up her tea again. "She is a lot like you, you know. Once she sets her heart on something, she cannot let it go, no matter the circumstances."

Seiji laughed, drinking from his coffee and then resting the cup on his thigh. "I'm not sure that's a good thing."

Sakura smiled gently at this admittance and they fell back into silence, drinking their tea and coffee, this time companionably.

X

Bakura leaned against the doorframe, listening to the distance ticks of a clock in the house. It was quiet, the only sign of the late hour. After a time, he heard footsteps behind him and glanced over his shoulder slightly. Ryou smiled at him, zipping up his jacket and tucking his hands in the pockets. "Where are Kaiba and Yami? Still upstairs?" he asked.

"Putting some last paperwork together as far as I know," he grunted noncommittally as Ryou passed him to enter the kitchen. "Or being gay with each other, whichever story you like better." Bakura had wanted to leave earlier, but Ryou was adamant that they ensure Anzu was healing well before they left. He might not have minded lingering for so long if he didn't feel that his own business was at stake. He had spent too much time in Domino City and while he knew he was going to miss his spunky little student, it was time to move on. He was ready to say goodbye to this place. It was not in his nature to stay in one place for long.

"I'm sorry for keeping you here," Ryou told him apologetically, as if sensing where Bakura's thoughts had gone.

"I should have left your ass behind. I don't know why I bothered waiting for you."

"Could it be because we're family or does that make too much sense to you?"

"Definitely not that," he decided.

"In that case, it's because you've been enjoying hanging out with Malik."

Bakura rolled his eyes to him in annoyed exasperation. "We already have two people upstairs being gay, let's not turn it that way down here, too."

"I hope," Kaiba's irritated voice spoke from behind him, "you were not referring to me." Bakura turned to scowl at him. Yami sighed at them, shoving past the two as he entered the kitchen with Ryou with a metal box in his hands. "Keep it up, Bakura. You and Malik are both pushing your luck with me."

"Thank God I won't have to deal with your crabby ass from now on then," was the only response Bakura deigned to give. Kaiba's cobalt gaze narrowed on him, but he chose not to continue the exchange, instead following Yami into the kitchen and moving to the sliding doors, opening them a crack and digging in his pockets to light a cigarette. Turning his gaze to Yami, Bakura nodded at the box he had set on the table in front of Ryou. "What's that?"

"What I owe you two. I've already paid Malik."

"I didn't ask for money," Bakura said with a frown. "If you'll recall, I was doing this as a favor. Keep it."

Yami raised an eyebrow. "How generous of you. What's the catch?"

"No catch. I owed a favor and I paid up on it, nothing more. If I had gotten shot, then I'd be asking for money."

The pianist smiled at this and then shrugged, turning to Ryou, sliding the box to him. "Then I guess this is your entire share. After everything that you've had to deal with, I think you deserve it." Ryou took the box and unclasped it, peering down at the money. After a time, he sighed and closed it, a rueful smile touching his lips.

"I wish I was more selfless and could decline it, but this has made a bit of a dent in my savings. Thank you." Ryou lifted the metal box, swinging it slightly before setting it aside for the moment. "This will help a lot. How much did you give Malik, out of curiosity?"

"A good sum. Nasty little bastard was asking for more," Yami grumbled, sitting back in his seat, crossing his arms over his chest. "Not that I blame him. He got a body part delivered to him."

"That should be the end of all of your accounts then," Ryou said. "It seems so long ago that I had come here to help with what I thought was just a small favor for a friend." He laughed, rubbing the back of his head, glancing at Kaiba and Bakura. "It certainly turned out to be an adventure...I should never expect simple things from you, Yami."

They shared a brief laugh and then the room went silent, with just the ticking filling the house from afar. Bakura had been inspecting a piece of chipped paint on the wall, but at their sudden silence, he eyed Kaiba and then Ryou. Kaiba's face was set in a familiar, stoic expression as he blew a cloud of smoke out the door, but Ryou's face had seemed to fall with some thought of his. He already knew what his brother intended to say before the words escaped his mouth.

"I...think I will miss it here," he admitted to Yami. "You have always been a good friend of mine and I am glad that you'll get the life you wanted. Anzu made me feel welcome, even though I was nothing but a stranger to her. It was a nice surprise. I don't – well, we don't – come across people like that very often. It's so rare to find someone as genuine."

"She does have a way of making people feel at home," Yami agreed with a faint smile. "I know that she'll miss all of you, but you and Malik especially. You have become like family to her."

"For God's sake," Bakura muttered, "it's not as if you can't buy plane tickets, Ryou."

"You're interrupting a moment," Kaiba informed him from the other side of the room.

"He has a tendency of doing that," Yami dryly observed.

"Fuck off, Yami," Bakura said pleasantly enough. "Sorry if I've had too much of your damn dramatics to last a lifetime. I feel like I'm in a damn soap opera every time I'm around you. Might as well say as we walk out the door, 'What new tragedy will befall our hero? Find out next year, when he gets married!'"

"Thanks for that. If something bad does happen next year, I promise I'm hunting after you."

"Feeling a little superstitious?"

"Stop being an ass," Ryou sighed to his brother, rising to his feet. He pushed the sleeve of his jacket up and then dropped his hand, grabbing his box of money. "We had better get going, though. Our planes leave in two hours."

"Kaiba's leaving tonight, too," Yami said, indicating the CEO that had closed the sliding doors and had put out his cigarette. "I think Malik is staying a few more days and then heading out. It'll be quiet here for awhile."

"I think you could all use some quiet around here," Kaiba remarked, glancing down at Yami. "I'm sure Anzu will appreciate having a normal life again without men trying to kill people around her."

"Yes, thank you," Yami said hastily with a frown, "you've made your point once before, Kaiba."

"So touchy," Bakura teased.

Once the three were bustled out the door by Yami into the chilled night air, Bakura swept his gaze across his surroundings thoughtfully before landing on Yami, who hung in the doorway. He raised a hand in farewell to the group and then shut the door behind him. Turning away from the door, Bakura eyed Kaiba, who cast a last look at the house and then looked to the pair. After a moment, Bakura bared his teeth in a grin and offered his hand. Kaiba took it, saying, "Let's not plan on meeting any time soon."

"Sounds like a plan."

It didn't take long to get to the airport, although check-in was much slower than it might have been earlier in the day. Ryou seemed absorbed in his thoughts and as he did not invite conversation, Bakura did not offer any. He had never been a sentimental man, but he understood his brother's feelings for the departure. While he had made fun of him, he also was experiencing a sliver of melancholy. It had been a serious issue for Yami, but he had had fun during it. Anzu and Malik had been particularly fun to be around and while it had not been all that challenging of a problem, it had taken some unexpected turns. It had been out of the ordinary for him and while he didn't expect to ever return to Domino, he would remember it and the occupants fondly.

Once they were checked in and were inside the airport terminal, Bakura released a long sigh, rolling his shoulders. He knew he was going to have to say some words of comfort to Ryou before he left, something he always hated doing. Ryou was far too sensitive but then again, he was a dancer.

"Look," Bakura said, clearing his throat and glancing at him, "you need to stop feeling depressed about leaving. It's not like you'll never see them again."

"Oh, no," Ryou said, grimacing, "don't do this, Bakura. You're terrible at this."

"Shut up, goddamn it! You could at least thank me for trying!"

"I'd rather you just slap me on the back and tell me to get over it. You're awful at giving advice."

"And you're ungrateful!" Bakura snapped.

Ryou was silent for a moment before sighing and saying, "You know...we've never been able to have a family. Mom died, then dad was traveling and then got killed in a rock fall during a dig. All we had were our servants to take care of us after that and each other. With them...it felt like a family. It's...kind of stupid, but Anzu reminded me of Isis when she was still alive. She took me in and treated me like another one of her brothers, even though her family was going through their own problems. No matter how much happened or how frightened she got, Anzu always thought of us before herself. It was nice." He shrugged, smiling faintly. "I'm going to miss that feeling."

"Family isn't a feeling that goes away, Ryou," Bakura told him placidly. "Just because family moves away doesn't make them any less close or any less real."

"That's pretty insightful for you."

"Don't be a smartass when I'm trying to help."

"Sorry." Ryou sighed, pulling his leather satchel up on his shoulder more securely. "I appreciate it, Bakura, I do. It's not going to make me miss them any less."

Bakura shrugged. "Then I guess you'd better find work nearby, shouldn't you?" He ruffled his younger brother's hair briefly and then stepped away from him, saying, "See you." As he turned away with a wave, Ryou had cocked his head at him, a far too scheming look in his eyes. Hurrying away, aware that his plane was about to start boarding, he wondered how long it would take his dull-witted brother to take his life in his own hands for once.

X

The days seemed to bleed by for Anzu. Some days went by more sluggishly and after Malik's parting farewell to her, everything seemed quiet and drowsy. Her morning room was not filled with the sound of her boisterous dancing friends arguing, nor with Yami and Kaiba's subtle jabs at each other. Shizuka and Mai continued to visit, but after some time they became less frequent, caught up in their own lives. Jounouchi and her parents were the constants in her life. On the weekends when Jounouchi could convince Rena to remain with her mom, the two of them would lounge in her makeshift room watching bad movies, make fun of daytime soap operas, and he would fill her in on gossip amongst their friends and their budding relationships.

As the season moved into winter and she began physical therapy, she saw less of her friends and her temper grew increasingly worse. While she was thankful she was alive, it was frustrating how little she could do with her leg. There were many times she would break down crying after the physical therapy session. When her father picked her up, though, she beamed at him, ignoring his penetrating gaze on her face. He was kind enough not to mention it to her or question her, although she was sure he wanted to comfort her in some way. He knew his daughter well enough to know that if Anzu wanted to be comforted, she would have cried in front of him instead.

While her leg had healed well, the pain was still present as she went through physical therapy. One day, while she was walking in Yami's house, she paused in the living room, bracing her hand against the wall. Her eyes slid down to her leg and her eyes filled with tears. Slowly, she turned and slid down, spreading her legs out before her. Her legs had atrophied badly due to her lack of movement and the difference was incredible. She no longer had the lithe, dancer's figure she once had and while she often told herself that would be remedied in time, she hated looking at it.

Pressing her fists against her eyes, she sobbed in earnest. She wanted to feel resentful for her position, but she didn't. She was not angry with anyone, nor did she blame anyone for her leg, but she was not coping as well as she thought she would. She had sacrificed her life as a dancer and had come to terms with what that might mean when she woke up in the hospital. She had not realized how important her support system had been to her. With Malik and the others, she had felt self-assured and comforted. Now, even though she had her family and Yami, she felt alone in her struggle.

"Anzu?"

Yami's worried voice caused her to jerk in surprise and she quickly began to wipe her face, looking away from him. She heard him move into the room and place a gentle hand on her shoulder. The touch only initiated a fresh set of tears.

"I'm sorry," she spluttered, "I'm just feeling a little emotional. I just..." She gestured towards her leg. "I just hate this. I can't do anything."

She heard Yami sigh beside her and then he sat next to her, spreading his legs out beside hers. She sniffled and glanced at his beside her. Hers still looked more muscular compared to his, even though she had not used them for many months. She sometimes forgot how slender he was compared to some men.

"I know. It's...a big difference from what you're used to." He reached over, taking her hand. She blinked blearily at him as he kissed her knuckles, a sad smile curving his lips. "I wish I could do something for you, but all I can do is watch you struggle."

"It's going to take at least a year to get me back to where I was," she said pitifully, "probably longer because of where my leg was damaged." She uttered a groan, covering her face with her face and turning away from him. "It's not fair." He remained silent, holding her hand and staring down at their joined hands. She felt his thumb rub over her skin. He let her cry silently beside him and after she had exhausted herself, she rested her head against the wall, gazing across the room. "I'm never going to look the same," she told him at last, revealing the inkling of insecurity she had been experiencing for the past few weeks.

"No," he agreed, "maybe not, but why does that matter?"

She hesitantly looked to him. "It's...I just...it won't be the same."

"Won't it?" he asked mildly. When she stared at him blankly, he reached out and wiped her cheeks gently. "Just because you can't dance doesn't mean that you're going to blow up into a balloon, Anzu. You're not a lazy girl. You're going to find some other mad hobby to get all that pent up energy out of you. I just want you to know that I'm not going to be able to keep up. I mean, look at me. I sit at a bench for a living. We're not exactly known for being fit."

She laughed in spite of herself and lowered her gaze. "How do you do that? You always make me feel better about things..."

"The same way you do, I guess," he answered. "Maybe it's because you love me? Just a little?"

"Wh-what?" she stuttered, pulling away slightly and blushing. "You can't just say something like that!"

"Why not?"

"That's...I've never told you..."

"You kind of did," he said plainly. "If you don't love me, then I think it's a bit strange that you're living in my house."

"I'm not saying I don't..." Anzu squirmed under his amused gaze, wishing now more than ever that she could jump up and run out the door. How did the conversation turn in this direction? "That's just not how I imagined this conversation."

He laughed, pulling her back to him and kissing her forehead. "I'm sorry for my teasing," he said with a smile as she peered up at him suspiciously, "but I do hope you know, at least, that I am going to love you regardless of whether you are a dancer or not. I didn't fall in love with you because I was your accompanist. I fell in love with you because of how you are, as a person. Nothing is going to change that."

Anzu gaped at him, shocked at his sudden frankness. She had always felt far too nervous to say the words after her open confession in her hospital room. She had certainly not expected him to say so after she had cried all over the place. Shyly, she lowered her eyes, saying, "Well...I feel the same way."

"Oh?"

Catching the amused tone in his voice, she scowled up at him. "Are you laughing at me?"

"No, I just think it's cute that you're feeling shy right now."

She pursed her lips and looked away, tucking her hair behind her ear. "It's not that...I think you've known that I've loved you for a long time."

"I have," he told her gently, "and I'm sorry that I left you waiting for so long."

She glanced at him, somewhat placated by his soft tone. As usual, however, she could not stay mad at him when he had such an earnest expression on his face. Releasing a breath, she reluctantly smiled and then leaned in close to him, pressing her lips to his. She felt his arm around her, pressing her closer into his warm body, and not for the first time, she cursed her bad leg again. It had not been the first time she had been caught in a kiss with Yami and had wanted far more from him.

"Once you finish physical therapy, you're still going to be spending some time in bed," he stated some time later. She raised her head from where it was resting on his shoulder, her brow furrowing in confusion.

"Why would I do that?"

"Because I'm not going to endure any more of those seduction tactics from you."

At his words, Anzu laughed.

TBC