Chapter Forty, The Notes of My Heart

The faint buzzing in the bedroom stirred Anzu from sleep and she blinked her eyes blearily against the sunlight that was trying to penetrate the blinds. Her hand reached out, fumbling on the counter until her hands caught her phone and raised it above her face. Her alarm continued to frantically go off and she uttered a groan, hitting snooze and setting it aside, throwing her arm over her arms. The clock had read half past six, giving her another hour and a half before she had to leave the house.

As she began to drift back into sleep, her companion shifted beside her and then she felt his face nuzzle against her neck. "Alarms are typically supposed to get you out of bed, not keep you in it," he murmured huskily.

"It only takes me ten minutes to get ready," was her reply.

"Is that so?" He shifted and her breath caught in her throat, feeling his hand slip down between her legs. "Then we have some time."

"Not...that much time." Her body shuddered against his as his fingers stroked the sensitive area beneath her panties, causing them to moisten and her legs to part for him.

"Your body disagrees." There was a smug tone to his voice and when her eyes fluttered open, he was smirking down at her.

"I hate you," she stated, reaching up to pull him down to kiss her. He laughed against her lips and stripped the blankets that were trapping them.

It had been three months since Anzu had completed physical therapy and summer was gradually rolling in. She had initially planned to return to her apartment once she was able to walk on her own, but instead she had permanently moved into Yami's home with him. She had very few things to move and the majority of her furniture and other items went into storage. Seiji had been surprisingly accepting of the idea and had even encouraged it when she had tentatively suggested the move to him. And once completely moved in, Yami had kept to his promise, teasing Anzu at every opportunity in every room possible.

While the ease of their relationship was comforting, Anzu knew she needed to return to some type of work soon. Spending every day together was enjoyable and Anzu loved being with him, but she became restless. She spent a lot of time at the gym strengthening her legs again, but she would never be able to sauté into en pointe like she would in the past. Instead, she focused on functional training and would work her way back into dancing, even if she would not be as graceful. As a result of this, though, she had spent multiple hours over the past weeks looking for work and Yami had been more than supportive, searching with her for something that would be acceptable.

"I'm a little nervous," she admitted later that morning in the bathroom. Yami was leaning against the doorframe in his sweats, watching as she smoothed her hair back from her face in a simple, professional bun.

"Why?" he asked frankly, tilting his head as he surveyed her. "You know that you are a wonderful dancer – "

"Was," she interrupted, "a wonderful dancer." She caught the flash of sad guilty in his face and he dropped his gaze to the floor, but too slowly for her to notice. She turned away from the mirror, smoothing her hands over her abdomen and reached out, pulling him to her and pressing a kiss to his forehead. "It's okay," she reassured him softly.

"I still hold so much guilt for this, Anzu," he said quietly. "You should be going to auditions, not interviews."

"I will, just not yet." She smiled through her own inner suffering. She knew that he was skeptical, but he returned her kiss as she passed him, hastening out of the house. She called out a farewell to him, waving, and hurried to her car. She spotted his brooding gaze in the rearview mirror as she drove away, but had to turn away from it to prevent any tears from breaking through. They both were still recovering from the events that had happened at her performance and while Anzu was improving with all the hard work she was putting in, she had days where she felt inconsolably unhappy that she had only been allowed the chance to dance at one performance.

But I'm not the only one who is unhappy, she reminded herself. Yami is almost more unhappy about it than I am.

She saw it in his face when he watched her practice, when she faltered or the pain in her calves was too much. She tried to stay strong for him in those moments of frustration, but she knew that she was not the only one who shed tears over her new disability. On days he was gone on business, she would raise herself into en pointe and instantly crash down to the floor. She often broke into frustrated tears and if he noticed her swollen eyes later that night, he respectfully was silent. They both knew the reason for her tears lately – it was an unspoken sad truth between them, as if they had lost a child.

Even with all the frustration and sadness, Anzu never told him that she regretted it and never blamed him. She would always miss dancing, but her words had been honest in the hospital room. After everything that Malik and Yami had shown her about the dance world, she had no longer wanted to dance professionally and while she lost her unique skills, she had gained an impossibly strong love, something she had never thought she would find in this world after seeing so many relationships fail around her. She knew that she was happy, but the smallest part of her that was sad still came out from time to time, but even that part was not so strong that it lied blame anywhere else but on herself. She had known the risk and had taken it, sacrificing dancing for it. She had no regrets, only a wistful melancholy remembering the way their eyes would watch her as she turned in a graceful pirouette or stretched into en pointe. She missed the way Yami's eyes would watch her during practice.

One day, she would get that again. She would make him proud of her and be her own person again.

"It's so nice to meet you," the woman greeted Anzu as soon as she stepped into the office. Anzu smiled, her eyes gravitating towards the studio where small girls were lacing up their shoes. One of the girls looked up, meeting Anzu's gaze before the door was shut on the scene. The girl's face was still in Anzu's mind when she returned her gaze to the older woman. She appeared to be about in her late thirties, her hair scraped up into a severe bun where streaks of gray had already begun to form at her temples. Her face, however, was soft and welcoming, her smile stretching across her lips, causing smile lines to crinkle at the edge of her eyes. "That was our basic fundamentals class. Our advanced class comes in later. Most girls graduate into that class before they move into the older division."

"They remind me of myself when I was younger," Anzu admitted with a smile. "There used to be at least one girl that broke down crying during class every time when I was a girl – frustrated they kept messing up or feeling embarrassed. I remember I didn't tie my laces once and smashed my face right into the floor, ended up with a bloody nose. I was mortified."

"Haven't we all had moments like that?" the woman laughed. "I think most of mine were when I was older – or maybe I just blocked the ones out from when I was a child because they were more traumatizing."

Anzu smiled, instantly liking her. Asahi Saito had called Anzu in for an interview the day after she had submitted her application for a dance instructor, an application she had submitted on a whim, not expecting any response. She had no experience as an instructor and doubted her dance experience alone would pique any interest. Asahi, however, was affable and seemed to genuinely be interested in Anzu as a potential employee.

After answering some generic questions regarding dancing, dance style, and previous education, Asahi flipped the page over, saying, "I'll be honest, your name was familiar to me and is a big reason why I was excited when I saw your application."

Startled, Anzu's gaze flew to her face. "I'm sorry?"

"I saw you perform Swan Lake before your accident," Asahi explained, an apologetic smile crossing her face. "It was one of the most breathtaking productions I had ever seen. You truly encapsulated Odette – I was in awe. And after that massacre that happened at the theatre, with you being injured as a result..." She shook her head. "It was tragic. I am so sorry for what happened."

"It's okay," Anzu said, aware that she had said the same words to Yami just that morning. "But...I'm afraid I'll never be able to dance like I used to. They had to put pins in my leg and I'll never be able to dance en pointe as a result. I'm a much less graceful dancer than I used to be."

Asahi nodded. "Yes, I know all too well." She swept a hand towards her feet. "I got in a car accident and my feet were crushed. I tried to dance en pointe after physical therapy and I screamed because it hurt so much. I tried a year later, same result." She shrugged. "We are like athletes and our careers are stolen from us before they truly begin, but that does not mean we cannot inspire others to further their career. You worked with some of the greatest dancers and were one of the greatest, in my opinion. You can teach that to others."

"I...would like to be frank, if I can?"

"Of course."

"I would rather have a job based on my ability to teach, not my dance skills, which I don't even have anymore."

The older woman gave her a knowing smile, appearing amused by Anzu's words. It angered her a bit, as she was utterly serious, even if she was desperate for a job. Asahi seemed to sense her agitation, as she said, "I understand your concern, but you are selling yourself short. I want you as an instructor, because I believe that you will excel at teaching. If you are willing to take it, I would like to try you out for a test period of 30 days, let me see how you teach these girls, and then we can go from there."

Anzu hesitated. The offer felt too good to be true, but she had been applying for work for some time without any call back aside from coffee stands and shops, which Yami insisted she ignore so that she could get a more meaningful job. He had insisted she search for career jobs instead of part-time work.

"Alright," she replied at last, smiling. "I would like that very much."

Asahi smiled, her warm face easing any anxiety that had been building in Anzu's chest. "You won't regret this, my dear," she told her. "The only thing I need you to remember is this, though – you are as good as you were, simply in a different way. Now, let's get some paperwork done and introduce you to some of your students when class is over!"

After a few hours of paperwork, introductions, and a tour of their studio, Anzu was free to leave, asked to return tomorrow to help alongside another instructor. "It will give you a basis for teaching younger students ballet," Asahi had explained to her. Anzu had been expecting a cold studio leader, not a woman like Asahi. It seemed too good of luck after so many rejections and polite emails starting with, "Thank you for your interest in the position of..." that end with felicitations and, "We wish you the best of luck in your career endeavors."

This had been one of the few advantages of her accident.

When she returned home, it was noticeably quiet and when she called upstairs, she received no answer. Wearily, she walked to the kitchen to find a note posted on the fridge from Yami, "Kaiba's in town – settling some old accounts and will be home soon. I love you, get some rest when you get home. Love, Yami."

She smiled at the note. He never fails to tell me to get some rest, she thought warmly, and is always looking out for me. I'm lucky to have him.

X

"What is this?" Yami asked, flipping through the papers Kaiba had brought to him. Kaiba had sent him a text saying he was in town and needed to resolve some last minute financial business, something that Yami had assumed meant his taxes were off again or some other small thing. He had not, however, expected Kaiba to hand him a box full of papers.

"I've just finished closing Hanazawa's estate," Kaiba explained. He gestured towards the papers. "This was what he left to you."

"I thought you said everything belonged to Sakura?"

"Everything except for this. It was in one of his villas and was specifically set aside for you. He made sure to indicate exactly where it was and what was in it. I haven't looked through it – I didn't need to because he was so specific, so I couldn't tell you what's in it."

Yami stared at him a long moment before turning away and digging through the box, pulling out papers. Much of them were sleeves of paper with Hanazawa's familiar script handwriting, but there were many folders that were filled with sheet music, as well. There were other folders that were filled with playbills. Rifling through one such folder, Yami found that they were all worn playbills from his concerts. In each of them, his name was printed boldly on the top with the date. As he looked at each of them, he realized that Hanazawa had attended nearly every concert he had ever hosted. Pulling out another folder, he realized they were categorized by years. There were a few years where he must have been more occupied, as he had only been to a handful of his concerts, whereas other years he had been to far more. The last year Yami knew Hanazawa had been alive, he had been to every single concert across the globe that Yami had played in, including the one where Hanazawa had spoken with him in his home.

You said you had only been to one of my concerts, Yami mused, closing the folder and setting it back inside the box. He pulled out some of the sheet music and recognized it as one of the songs he would practice with Hanazawa. Turning away from the sheet music, he pulled out one of the sheets of paper with Hanazawa's handwriting upon it.

"...some days are better than others, but my son is what I look forward to the most. He has become my brightest star, even if he does not know it. As long as I can give him some small happiness, my life feels fulfilled..."

Yami hastily replaced the sheet of paper. This would need more time to peruse. Even so, the word 'son' stuck out in his mind, whirling around in his head, spinning like a top. Hanazawa had never had children and Yami had been the closest to a son. Had he been talking about him?

"Anything interesting?" Kaiba asked in a voice devoid of any emotion. Glancing up, half of his face was obscured by cigarette smoke, but his cobalt eyes peered at Yami curiously, analyzing him and his reactions.

"Concert playbills, sheet music, and little quotes," was Yami's proffered half-truth. Kaiba seemed to know there was some bit of falsehood in the reply, but he uncharacteristically allowed the subject to drop.

"How is Anzu doing?" he asked instead, blowing out a stream of smoke.

"She went out on a job interview today. She's feeling restless, as you can imagine." Yami closed the top of the box securely, promising to keep Hanazawa's writings to himself. He did not want anyone else to look too deeply into them.

"She's not one to be idle," Kaiba agreed. "I hear Ryou and Malik got themselves a year contract close by. Sounds like you'll be having company again."

"What?" Yami cast him a blank stare.

"Don't look at me so stupidly. I'm speaking clearly, aren't I?"

"But doing what?"

"They're working at a theatre that does contract-based work rather than traveling, so they'll be performing with another group for an entire year, room and board included and it sounds like they're getting good pay, as well. They found their perfect gig."

"How did they find that?"

"Malik has good contacts over here now. Seems like he made himself some friends while he was in Domino."

Yami nodded absent-mindedly, turning away from the box that was set beside him, looking out the balcony that was attached to Kaiba's hotel room. This was the last thing that Hanazawa had left, the last small piece that would end a long life of confusion and emotions. He felt at peace, albeit a faint one at that. He could not recall the last time he had ever received closure for anything in his life – he rather doubted he ever did.

"I'll be here for a few more weeks," Kaiba continued, putting out his cigarette in the ashtray, "in case anything comes up in those papers that you need me to take care of."

Yami smiled gratefully. "I doubt that there will be, but thank you."

"No thanks are needed." Kaiba folded his arms across his chest, frowning. "I just want to know that I can wash my hands of this bullshit. It's not done out of the kindness of my heart, I promise you that."

"Don't worry, I never forget how little kindness there is in your so-called heart," Yami dryly remarked. He picked up the box, heading back inside the hotel room to leave, then paused. "Anzu will be wanting to see everyone, will you come and see her?"

"You have my number," Kaiba said mildly, not rising to follow him to the door.

That's a Kaiba response if I've ever heard one, Yami thought to himself, smiling as he left the room.

After leaving the hotel, Yami drove to the other end of town to a quiet park that overlooked a lake. There, he removed the sheaf of papers with Hanazawa's handwriting and perused them. Many of them were dated. Others, that were scribbled frantically, were undated and far more darker, delving into some of the deeper struggles Hanazawa was handling internally. In all of the letters, he referred to Yami as his son and Sakura as, "my love," or "dearest angel." Everyone else he referred to ambiguously as "that person" or "they," as if he did not want their names to sully his inner thoughts.

Yami picked out the papers where Hanazawa spoke of Sakura, some of which he rather suspected were early on in their relationship, and set them aside. These, he decided, he would give Sakura as a keepsake. All of the others he kept for himself. Now, more than ever, he regretted not being more open with Hanazawa. He had always viewed him as closer to a father figure than his own father, yet their world had created a paranoid mind where he did not feel safe expressing such to Hanazawa, fearful that there were some machinations involved where he might be betrayed. It was clear, even in these lines, that Hanazawa had been aware of his own paranoia that showing any further affection for Yami would put either of them at risk.

"Today I spoke with my son after his concert," Hanazawa wrote in one of his last letters, "and it will be the last time I will see him. I have gone to all of his concerts, but I am tired of supporting from afar, from seeing everything from afar. My love tries her hardest to comfort me, to make me feel better, but she does not understand the depth that I am drowning in. I cannot explain to her how much I want normality. I was happy to sit and play with him again. It reminded me of his youth. I am not younger or stronger anymore. I cannot fight my demons forever. I hope they all understand how I love them, how well I miss them, even in my dreams. I feel attached, but I cannot show attachment. What a life to live, to never show love when you feel it. I hate it."

In tears, Yami set the letter aside and wiped his face, gazing out at the park. His heart felt heavy, pressurized, as if he a great weight had fallen upon him. He wondered if Hanazawa ever knew that he had felt a similar angst, a great undying love without the ability to reveal it. Hanazawa had been able to control it better than Yami had been with Anzu – he never would have been able to live life as Hanazawa did.

Once his tears had abated, he left the park and returned home to find Anzu cooking dinner. She flashed him a bright smile when he walked in the kitchen with his box and her face quickly turned to alarm upon seeing his expression. Setting the large spoon aside, she rushed to him and hugged him. When he walked in the door, all he had wanted was alcohol, but as soon as she took him in his arms, the feeling dissipated and he was reminded why he hadn't drank heavily in months.

"Sometimes," he told her later, after he had found his voice, "I feel like you are the only one who was able to truly complete me, Anzu. You have made me a better man than I really am."

"No, Yami, you were always a good man." She pressed her lips to the palm of his hand. "You just needed the courage to prove to yourself that you could be a good man."

His lips curved slightly at this observation and he brushed her hair from her face. From the corner of his eye, he saw a collection of papers on the edge of the table and, curious, he withdrew from her, picking up the papers as she returned to the stove to turn down a pot to simmer. The gloom that had settled over him stirred when he read through the lines of the papers and he swung around in surprise. "You were offered a dance instructor position?"

Anzu smiled sheepishly at him. "It didn't seem the right time to tell you. A lot seems to be on your mind."

"But Anzu, this is wonderful!" He went to the kitchen and wrapped his arms around her waist, pressing her into a warm embrace. Even with his regretful thoughts of Hanazawa and lingering guilt from a lifetime of poor decisions, feeling Anzu against him, knowing that she was there, real, and an integral part of his life was able to lift his mood. "I'm so happy for you."

"It's...so different from anything that I was expecting."

"I think you'll find that you'll love it. You'll be a good teacher." He withdrew, clapping his hands. "We'll need to have a celebration!"

"Yami." She put a hand on his arm, stilling him. "Don't put aside your feelings because of this, please. You need to mourn properly." Her eyes drifted to the box, which she seemed to already know was in regards to his previous master.

"I will," he reassured gently, "but I cannot mourn and regret forever. I need to also move on, and living in the now is the only way I can do that."

She smiled, but there was an edge of sadness in it that he took note of and knew that, in the same way he felt her frustrations and moods, she was feeling his intense sorrow at missing out on a lifetime of a close familial relationship. Rather than speaking of it, however, he hugged her again and pressed a kiss against her hair, breathing in her scent, and reminding himself of what he had gained over the past months. He knew he needed to appreciate this now, while he still had it and was living.

X

There was an explosion of laughter from the living room that caused Anzu to turn from her conversation with Shizuka, the two girls watching as Jounouchi, Honda, Miho, and Mai laughed at Otogi and Yami's re-enactment of some story they were telling. Kaiba was sitting at the edge of the room with Ryou, both of whom glanced over at the group, Kaiba with a sour expression, giving Anzu the impression Otogi might be impersonating the business man.

"It's so good to have everyone back together," Anzu told Shizuka, returning her attention.

"It's hard to believe it's been a year and some time since you moved here," Shizuka observed with a smile. "So much has changed...I never would have thought that Mai and Jounouchi would get back together, let alone anything else that has happened over this year." She tucked her hair behind her ear, her gaze straying across Otogi fondly. Anzu could not help but giggle at her friend's clear adoration. Knowing the reason for her amusement, Shizuka blushed and hastily cleared her throat. "I'm glad that you'll be teaching dance now, though, Anzu. After everything you've been through, you deserve it."

"And," a familiar voice said from behind, "she can turn out some good dancers rather than the garbage half these dance teachers present."

"Malik!" Anzu turned, her face lighting up. "You made it!"

"I told Ryou to say I would be late." He accepted her hug with his own, wide-armed bear hug. "You look a lot better than the last time I saw you. Not green in the face."

"I was not looking sickly," she replied petulantly.

"How would you know?" he quipped, arching a brow. "And, by the way, I brought a friend." He gestured to the male that was standing a few feet behind her. "He's the reason I was late."

"I was tying a few things up," Bakura grunted from behind him. "I wasn't planning to come to a damn party." In spite of his tone, however, he gave Anzu a side-arm hug while glaring at the blonde beside him. "Staying fit, I hope?"

"Fit and a little more cautious," Anzu answered with a pat on his shoulder.

"About time."

Shizuka slipped away to join Otogi and Anzu lingered with the two men for some time before she saw Yami sneak into the kitchen where she knew her parents were seated. Malik also took note of Yami's entrance and the bundle in his hands, and raised his eyebrows in question towards Anzu. She shook her head, but left them to follow him into the kitchen.

"...give it to me?" Anzu heard her mother ask. Sensing the tension in the room, Anzu hastened into the kitchen to find that Yami had laid a collection of papers in front of her mother. Seiji caught Anzu's eye and shrugged, apparently unbothered by the conversation that had begun between them.

"I think, when you read them, you'll understand why," Yami said to Sakura. Anzu stepped next to him, touching his arm. He smiled at her in acknowledgement, but did not move to take her hand.

Sakura eyed him, a weary suspicion in her gaze, and then dropped her eyes to the papers, lifting them slightly to read through the one upon the top. Her shoulders drooped as she read and Anzu caught the subtle tremble in her lips as she smiled. After a time, she released a short laugh, shaking her head. "I remember this," she said, blinking away the tears that had begun to build in her eyes. "It was the first time I met Jiiro. He always felt things so much more strongly than anyone I knew." She rested a hand on the paper, caressing it as she lost herself in the memory. After a few moments, she raised her head and smiled. "Thank you, Yami. And...I am sorry for everything I've said to you. Please know it was out of jealousy and grief, nothing more."

"No apologies needed. We've all had a rough time." He glanced towards Seiji, though the older male seemed unaffected by the insinuation behind his look.

Sakura collected the papers and released a long breath. "I think I'd like to go home and read through these. I'm feeling a little emotional. You never really finish grieving for a person, do you?" The question was rhetorical and nobody in the room answered her. She hugged Anzu, whispering, "Congratulations. I knew you would land on your feet." Their relationship, while repairing, was still tenuous and Anzu could only nod to her.

"I'll walk you to the door," Yami said, following Sakura out of the kitchen.

Anzu crossed the kitchen to Seiji where he was sitting at the kitchen island and looped her arm through his, resting her head against his shoulder. "Are you okay?" she asked him quietly.

"It happened a long time ago," he said, his weathered face wrinkling with a smile. "I'm okay."

Later in the night, they all made their way outside the house to lounge with music blasting. Mai and Jounouchi danced in the grass together, fueled by alcohol, and Malik and Bakura began a card game with Kaiba and Ryou on the patio, with Bakura cursing at the business man and Ryou attempting to hold the peace and dispel any fights about potential cheating with their high-stakes gambling. Seiji bade Anzu a goodnight once the crowd had become rowdy and soon she was able to settle next to Yami, surrounded by their friends.

"Can I show you something?" he asked her, watching as Honda barreled into Jounouchi and Mai, ruining their romantic dancing. Jounouchi bellowed after him, chasing him with Mai laid in the grass, gasping with laughter.

"What is it?"

"It's a piece I prepared for you. I think now would be the best time for you to hear it."

Anzu smiled and held out her hand to lead him into the house. "I'd love to, Yami."

They left their friends temporarily to go to the studio room where Yami's piano was laid out. He settled on the bench and rifled through the sheet music there before drawing out a hand written one. Anzu sat on the bench beside him, facing the other way and when she heard the first notes, her heart swelled up. Closing her eyes, she let the music notes flow through her, imagining a graceful dance playing out in her head. It was if the music was created for a delicate ballet dancer, pirouetting across the floor in graceful turns.

The song was brief, but even after the last note had faded out, Anzu could feel it stuck inside her chest, emblazed in her in the same way Yami had imprinted himself in her life.

"It's beautiful," she whispered, opening her eyes, dimly aware that she had cried at some point during the song.

"It's cheesy and cliché," Yami admitted, "but I've called it The Notes Of My Heart." She looked at him in question. "It makes me think of you, my beautiful dancer that pulled me out of that dark place in my life. It's the melody that matches you best."

"Maybe someday I can teach someone to dance to it," Anzu told him, smiling. "I could see the dance in my head."

"No," he leaned forward, pressing his forehead against hers, "someday you will be the one to dance to it. I am confident of it."

She laughed and then he kissed her, his fingers buried in her hair, pressing her face close to his own.

When they returned to the patio, Malik walked up to them with a glass of whiskey in his hand. "Look at this," he said to Yami, gesturing out at the collection of their friends. "You wouldn't have seen this in your yard a year ago."

"Drunk people?" Yami asked.

Malik cast a sidelong glance to Anzu, who stifled a laugh at his exasperated expression. "That's true, as well, but I meant people in general, dumbass. You've changed." He took a drink of his whiskey and grinned suddenly. "The unfortunate part is you're not going to get rid of any of them." He swung an arm around Anzu's shoulders, knocking his knuckles lightly against Yami's shoulder and then giving Anzu a brief hug to his side.

"No," he agreed speculatively, "I don't think I will."

Epilogue

There was a collection of noise as girls chattered with each other after class, collecting their things and bidding Anzu a farewell, smiling up at her before meeting their parents. Anzu leaned against the bar, breathing out a long breath. She had been working as an instructor for two years now and even though she had grown accustomed to the energy of her students, she was still surprised at how much it took out of her after an entire day of teaching classes. As she pushed off from the bar, she noticed a familiar girl sitting in the door packing her ballet shoes up. She was one of the poorer students whose mother was routinely late to pick her up.

"Sara," she said, stepping towards the girl. She raised her head from her bag, blinking up at Anzu. Because her mother didn't know the other girls' parents, she had become the outsider of the group and was excluded from much of the after-class activities the other girls took part in. Upon seeing this, Anzu had taken to keeping an eye on her and had even introduced her to Rena, who she had become fast friends with in the past four months. Additionally, though, Sara had advanced through the classes more quickly than girls her age and had shown herself to be a passionate, determined student. She saw much of herself when she taught the girl. "I'm going to make some tea if you'd like some while we wait for your mom."

Sara hesitated and then a shy smile slid onto her lips as she nodded. She pulled herself to her feet and followed Anzu to the back where the kitchen was located. Anzu made them tea and biscuits and settled across from her at the table, watching her through the corner of her eye. Sara kept glancing up at her, seeming to collect some courage to speak to her. "Ma'am?" she finally questioned in a small, tentative voice.

"Yes?"

"Do you think..." She hesitated again. "I want to dance in a real ballet someday. Like the dancers on TV. The other girls tell me I'm not good enough." She lowered her eyes. "Do you think I am?"

"Yes," Anzu answered firmly. Her tone seemed to startle the other girl into returning her stare to her. One of the unfortunate features of the job was that she could see how ruthless younger girls were to each other, especially in regards to competition. Anzu could well remember the temperament of the dancers, even on Swan Lake, and even amongst instructors now. While Anzu could not dance as she had, she had trained herself well enough to once again perform en pointe¸ though now it was more for her own pleasure with Malik and Ryou than anything else. She knew the instructors spoke about her behind her back because she would not perform publicly; they were much like the girls they taught – judgmental and blind.

"But..."

"Dancing isn't about what other people think," Anzu explained to her, "but how much you want it." She tapped Sara's chest with a finger. "If you want it, you can get it. You're one of my best dancers. I know you'll get there."

Sara smiled dubiously at her, but her spirits seemed lifted, as she ate her biscuits and sipped at her tea contentedly. After a while, Anzu led her out of the studio to the front where her mother was waiting in her dining uniform. She knelt down and gave her daughter a big squeeze before ushering her into the car.

"I'm sorry I'm always late," the woman sighed, pushing hair back into her low bun. "I always hit traffic driving from the diner to here."

"It's alright," Anzu answered, shaking her head. "I don't mind staying a little later."

"About the dancing fees..."

"Don't worry about it, I want Sara to have this chance and my husband doesn't mind us paying them."

"But you're about to have your own little one soon." Her eyes drifted pointedly to the small bump that was forming on Anzu's belly.

"I was Sara once," Anzu explained to her, glancing at the little girl that was sitting in the backseat of the car peering at a magazine her mother had left there. "My father struggled to keep me in dance school and then I had to, as well. I'd like for her to have an easier time – and for you to have to worry about one thing less as a single mother."

She gazed at Anzu for a long time, then laughed, smiling and shaking her head. The smile transformed the tired face into a warm, pretty one that made Anzu aware this woman was probably not much older than herself. "I can't really argue against that," she admitted to Anzu, and then took her hand in hers, squeezing them. "Thank you so much. I'm sure you understand how much dance means to Sara without her father around."

"I really do."

After another grateful smile, Sara's mother returned to her and Anzu caught the beatific look she cast her mother. Even in their situation, Anzu could tell they were genuinely happy with each other and Sara worshipped her mother, much like how Anzu had worshipped her father as a child.

Once they had left, she turned off all the lights and locked the studio up, collecting her things and leaving to meet the car that was waiting outside for her. As she walked to it, she waved at Malik, who was leaning against the car. "Usually you wait inside the car for me," she said to him suspiciously. "You had better not have a surprise waiting for me. You know surprises are bad for pregnant women."

"That's for old people who are prone to heart attacks," he responded with a roll of his eyes. He reached out and patted her belly. "How's the fat mommy feeling, anyway?"

"Excuse you!" He laughed, jumping out of the way as she attempted to swat at him. When she turned back to the car, her heart lifted when she saw Yami glaring over the car from the driver's side. "Yami! What are you doing here? I thought you wouldn't be home until the end of the week from your concert tour."

"I wanted to return home early," Yami answered and then snapped at Malik, "Stop calling her fat!"

"All pregnant women are fat," Malik returned teasingly, opening the passenger door and ushering for Anzu to get inside before he climbed into the backseat.

"Watch your mouth or you'll be fat when you get older," Anzu warned.

"That will never happen to me."

Later that night, with Malik sleeping on their couch to be picked up in the morning by Ryou, Anzu knelt next to Yami in bed, running her fingers down his back as he lay on his stomach. His skin was soft beneath her fingertips, his body still slim and narrow in spite of his lack of physical prowess, as he often said. "I missed you," she whispered in the dark.

"It's hard being gone for so long from you, even if we do video calls," he said, turning around and sitting up in bed. He took her face in his hands, smoothing her hair from her face. Even in the dark, she could feel his gaze on her. The moonlight bathed him in light, allowing her to see every feature illuminated by a blue, white light.

Her eyes filled with sudden tears, but rather than become alarmed, he wiped the tears from her cheeks with his thumbs. "You mean the world to me."

"Anzu," he gently said, forcing her to keep her head up and meet his gaze, "you are my world." His smile was slow, warm, and familiar. She laughed breathlessly, accepting the kiss he pressed to her lips before they laid down next to each other, her head lying on his chest. He hummed a tune softly beneath his breath and she smiled, recognizing it as the one he had written for her years prior. "You've given me everything I could ask for, you know."

"What?"

"This," he murmured.

She did not prompt him to continue, knowing too well to what he was referring. Resting against him as she was, she could feel his breaths on her skin and hear the sound of his slow, steady heartbeat beneath her ear. "We're you're family now, Yami," she said after a time, taking his hand to rest on her belly. She could feel his smile against her forehead.

At last, he was finally content.

Finis

X

A/N: I threw all the inspirational juices I had into writing this last week and was somehow able to grind out this last chapter after too long of it being in my head. A story shouldn't take over 10 years to finish, but I'm glad that I finally was able to give Yami and Anzu the ending they deserved. This story has been a huge whirlwind of emotions for the characters and changed dramatically from what I thought it was going to be when I first started writing it in 2007. My biggest mistake in writing this was not outlining it like I should have, especially since this was my first attempt at this shipping for a chaptered story and it's not a main shipping that I write for – which isn't to say I don't love Yami and Anzu, because they are absolutely adorable together, but I had never written them into a long-story and only practiced a handful of one-shots with them, as well. Needless to say, I was unpracticed in this couple and felt that hindered my progress quite a bit .-.

I also want to apologize for not writing smutty scenes like I intended for some of the parts in this story, as it got derailed and simply didn't fit in the later portion of the story, so I ended up scrapping those scenes altogether.

As always at the end of a story, I want to thank everyone who reviewed throughout, and especially those who followed over from FanLib a long time ago, and everyone who has stuck with this story over the very long years of it being periodically updated only once a year... :')

As an aside, the song 'Faye's Theme, Piano Version' from Finding Paradise OST was the inspiration for Yami's song for Anzu. I recommend listening to it during that scene to get a better feel for their scene.