Morino Ryoshi is haunted.

Not by a ghost. That would make more sense than the reality of his haunting; Ryoshi has always found his house a little creepy. But no. Instead, he is haunted by her.

Every now and then, in the evenings when he gets home, he hears—or imagines he hears-soft laughter downstairs that he could swear belongs to her familiar voice. Once he even ran downstairs, through the servant's quarters, but Ryoko wasn't there, just a bunch of kitchen boys who looked at him like he was nuts. He left wondering if they weren't right.

It wasn't just her voice either. He saw someone in the halls yesterday who had her same height and posture and was dressed exactly like her—but no, when he had walked closer, she had had blue hair. That wasn't right.

Most disturbing of all were his dreams. Every night, he imagined deep in his sleeping consciousness that she visited him, and whispered secret conversations that he couldn't remember. Once he had even dreamt that she had kissed him. He knew then that it couldn't have actually happened. Ryoko would never do that.

Ryoshi sighs, staring up at his bedroom ceiling. His teachers are irritated by his lack of interest at school, and his mother is worried. He knows he's fine. He just misses all of them. But of course, he mostly misses Ryoko.

How was she? Did she care he was gone? Did she cry when she found out? He doubted it. She probably cared (they were friends, at least) but there's no way she cried. Ryoko only cries when she can't hold up her world anymore, and Ryoshi is sure that he is in no way 'her world'.

He hoped she was happy. He hoped she was doing well. Getting stronger.

He knew they would meet again, someday. He loved her, and as soon as he was old enough to go back to Otogibana, he was out of here. Ryoshi wonders why his mom even wanted to live in the old Morino house. Out in the middle of Nowhere.

Ryoshi rolls over and looks the digital clock perched on his nightstand. The bright red digits flash that it's almost midnight. The servants are still making a commotion downstairs, but that's not why Ryoshi can't sleep.

It's true that he can't forgive himself, either. He promised Ryoko that he would stay by her side forever, but then he abandoned her. True, his mom forced him to move, but something inside him relentlessly shuns him for leaving. And he agrees with it. I should have argued more. No, I should have just left. Gotten a job and paid rent to live with Aunt Yuki like a normal citizen. I should have at least told Ryoko that I was leaving her. No, I just abandoned her like a coward…!

Ryoshi frowns at the ceiling. He doesn't know if Ryoko ever returned his feelings, but even if she didn't, she did care. She trusted him. They trusted each other. Ryoshi is disgusted and ashamed of himself.

I failed her when she needed me.

This thought is the last one he has before turning off his lamp, and sinking into a fitful sleep.

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I slowly, sickly, open my tired eyes against the dying light of the hallways that is spilling into my room through the crack between my door and the wall. I can hear the sounds of hungover servants turning of the lights with a flick! Darkness follows, accompanied by the weary shutting of the doors of the kitchen and the shuffling of feet as tired people go back to their rooms to pass out.

I lie in the darkness. I am almost too weak to move, to turn and check the time. My head, and every muscle, throbs. There's no way this is just a fever, is there?

It is two o'clock in the morning.

I'll have to wait about another thirty minutes, to make sure the house is asleep, before I can leave. My bed is drenched in sweat. My long chestnut hair is tangled around my arms and neck.

With a soft groan, I roll to the left, to a drier part of the bed. It's a very small bed, so… yeah, not much isn't sweaty. I sigh. My head is burning, my thoughts are swirling. Violent chills rack my weak body.

I wish someone would make it stop. I actually miss Ringo's meddling. Who would have thought? I chuckle weakly.

I wonder how she reacted when she woke up and I was gone. Why didn't I leave a note? I should have left a note. It only would have taken, what… five seconds?

Then again, The President has probably been told about my mission by Aragami by now. I'm sure… I'm sure it's fine. Ringo will still kill me when I get back though.

It's only been a week, but I miss them all. I hope they aren't too worried. The ceiling fan whirs round and round and round…

How long have I been staring at my ceiling…? It feels like five minutes, but a glance at my clock tells me it's been twenty-five.

I train my ears to scan for sounds of movement in the rooms. None. The halls are pitch black.

Close enough.

I pull myself from the bed. My body lurches.

Okay… okay… okay….. keep it together, Ryoko. You want to see him, don't you?

I slide off the bed, and stumble a few steps. The room, the entire world, dips and spins in infinite circles. A wave of shadowy spots swarms over my entire field of vision. I crash to the floor, my head knocking against the bed post.

Whoa…

I gasp, and squeeze my eyes shut to stop the dizziness. Blindly, I fumble for the door knob, and lean against the door, the breath leaving my feverish lungs with a whoosh.

One step at a time.

The hallway seems like it is a thousand feet wide, a thousand years long. I stagger every second of the way. My arms wrap around my chest, a feeble attempt to stop the shivering.

The stairs loom over me, mocking me as I lie weak and crippled at their base. I scowl at them, and press my lips into a hard, thin line. I will conquer you.

Leaning against the banister, I fight my way to the top, vertigo slamming into me without a trace of mercy. I stumble down the left hall, tripping over myself. I feel for the third knob. First one… second… third.

I take a breath, and clasp it firmly. I silently open the door wide, barely strong enough to shut it behind me.

I sink to the floor. All my strength has abandoned me. It lies dead in my body, like a ghostly thing to be revived much later. Still, I crawl, painfully, to his bedside, as my foot knocks painfully into the brick wall on the side of his fireplace. How I will make it back down stairs, I don't know, but I also have a hard time caring. The fever fogs my mind. I can feel part of it slipping away from me.

"I came," I whisper. My voice is scratchy and small. A weakness is stealing me away. The darkness I feel swallowing me throws my mind into the sky, my eyes float back behind my open eyelids, and then I feel myself pass out.

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A huge thump shocks Ryoshi awake.

He jolts up in his bed and glances furiously around, but then realizes that it's almost completely pitch black in his room and so of course, he can't see a thing. He reaches out in the general direction of his nightstand to turn on his lamp, just as his eyes fall on a patch of moonlight, in the center of the empty floor of his room.

He freezes.

This can't be happening.

Okami Ryoko-her lips pink and perfect, pale face shadowed by the ghost of a wearied sigh, skin illuminated, her bronze hair splayed around her head—lies still. Her cheek is pressed into the soft carpet. Her ribcage rises, falls, covered by her shaking arms. They clutch around her weakly.

Ryoshi looks on her. He knows that this dream won't last, but he desperately wants it to. She looks so heartbreakingly real.

He doesn't know why, but he silently moves his left hand to his right, and pinches himself. Hard.

"Ow."

Ryoshi stares. Blinks. Stares.

He turns on his lamp. She is still there.

Ryoshi jumps out of bed and rushes over to her collapsed form. He slides on his knees beside her, leaning over her.

"Ryoko!"

She doesn't respond—although her lips move microscopically. Before Ryoshi knows what he's doing, he touches her.

He gasps softy. She's freezing. Her skin is like ice. Violent shivers run up her body. Ryoshi is suddenly aware of how cold it is in his room. He yanks the comforter off his bed, and desperately gathers her in it, before jumping up and throwing a few logs into his fireplace and lighting them. The flames slowly grow, and begin to consume the wood. Shadows flicker over his face as he examines her.

Ryoshi gently touches her face. Her cheeks are inflamed and too warm, as is her forehead. She's really sick...

How is she here? Does Mom know she's here? How long has this been going on?!

The fire catches, and blazes over the logs. A gentle heat pours from the hearth, but Ryoko's jolting shudders refuse to leave her. Ryoshi nervously stares at her.

I'm still failing her. She came here for a reason, didn't she? And like an idiot, I'm just letting her freeze to death!

On cue, Ryoko's eyebrows tip upwards, and she curls into a shivering ball against the comforter.

Maybe she will be more comfortable on the bed.

Ryoshi gently, carefully, slides his right arm under Ryoko's legs. He lifts her upper back with the other arm, and slowly scoops her up against his chest with a small grunt. He cautiously stands up, and gently places her body on his side of the bed, closest to the fire. He wraps her in the blanket once more, and sits on the edge of the bed, watching her.

He watches her for five minutes before he can't take it any longer. She looks more pale and miserable than ever. The chills continue to rack her body, her teeth chattering in her skull. Ryoshi frowns and glances around his silent room. He's out of options. What else can he do to make the shivering stop? Suddenly, it hits him.

Body heat. That's what she needs.

Ryoshi stares at her, and blushes. No, he can't hold her—she's passed out, for crying out loud, and it's totally inappropriate, and—

And she's going to get worse if he doesn't do it.

She's going to beat me up for this when she gets better. That's fine. I just hope she doesn't think I was doing anything weird to her while she was asleep…

Ryoshi sighs, and pulls away some of the blankets on Ryoko's back, and crawls in beside her. He rests one arm, carefully, over her side, holding her tenderly against his chest. For a moment, the air is still, all except for their rhythmic breaths, and the crackle of the fireplace. Ryoshi relaxes his body so that he won't disturb her.

This is not romantic. I am not enjoying this at all. I am just. Keeping. Her warm.

Suddenly, the shivers stop.

For a second, Ryoshi thinks she's awake. He leans over her just enough to see her face, but her eyes are still shut, face peaceful.

Having finished his job—to warm her up-he starts to gently pull away from her, but then she stirs, just a little. A soft, adorable noise escapes the back of her throat, and Ryoko presses into Ryoshi's chest, snuggling against him.

Ryoshi blinks. She must still be cold.

Smiling softly, he lies back down, and wraps her left arm around her, his hand resting near her stomach. Sleeping Ryoko's lips twitch, and Ryoshi feels her body relax against his, her back against his chest, their legs touching.

I'm just keeping her warm, Ryoshi reminds himself, as he allows himself to softly kiss her cheek.

I'll leave when she rolls away from me, he thinks, trying to ignore that her wonderful hair smells like cherry blossoms and that her slender waist is against his hand.

She doesn't really want me. She's just sick, Ryoshi tells himself. But he sighs happily and holds her anyway.

I want to marry her someday.