“He is not eating?”

Sadly, the monk shook his head. “Iie, Subaru-san,” he replied. His tone was quiet, an oddly grave feel to it, a great contrast to his usual cheery and light-hearted tone of voice. Even his stance showed that the emotion in his voice was affecting him as much physically as it was mentally. He stood with his head bowed, hands clasp before him around a baseball cap. He twisted anxiously at the object in his hands, showing how he was uncomfortable with the situation facing them, and even more so, showing that he did not know how to act at this time.

“He’s barely touched a thing since you . . . since it happened.”

His head lifted, revealing his clear, thoughtful brown eyes. Those eyes were met and greeted by another staring out at him, a single green orb. The other was masked behind the layers of bandage around it. He doubted he wanted to see what was beneath those bandages. He doubted that there was even anything there at all. Yet the young man those bandages were wrapped around only stared back at him, his expression oddly serene. Of all of them, Subaru was the one that had been least affected by the entire incident, and /he/ had been the one it happened to.

“I noticed,” he said quietly.

The monk looked up at Subaru, done tracing the design of the floor’s tiles for now. Subaru did not return the gaze. The Onmyouji’s head was turned toward the open window, watching the wind ruffle the long, thin white curtains. There was a distant look to the one eye he had been spared. Rather thoughtful, the monk noted, as though he were seeing something that the young Dragon of Heaven knew he would not. Yet still his eyes were drawn to the place Subaru watched and met only with the cheerful songs of the doves outside the window. They fluttered their wings and danced along the branches of the small tree planted out there. The monk smiled slightly, finding it amusing how one would have needed to look closely to see the doves at all. The tree had white sakura blossoms. They blended in as if they were one of those flowers.

Seemingly broken from his daze, Subaru’s head turned to regard the young monk. He exhaled a brief breath of air, one he must have been holding in while his mind wandered elsewhere. He smiled faintly. “You will have to get him to eat, Sorata,” he decided. He was quiet for a moment, and almost as an afterthought, added a soft, “Please.”

For Subaru’s sake and for his own, Sorata grinned. A hand came up to tip Subaru a light-hearted salute. “Don’t worry, Subaru-san, I’ll have him eating again in no time,” he announced. “There’s not a person in Tokyo that can refuse my cooking.” His smile grew, and a hint of pride danced in his lively eyes.

Eventually, the smile melted away to be replaced by a thoughtful frown.

“Kamui doesn’t smile anymore.”

Subaru looked at him, startled by his announcement. “No?”

“He smiles,” Sorata said slowly, “but none touch his eyes. You can tell he’s doing it for the sake of all of us around him.” His voice trailed off for a moment. Considering his words, he shrugged lightly, including, “And probably for Yuzuriha.”

A faint smile creased the young Onmyouji’s face, his gaze turning to regard the stuffed animal Yuzuriha had brought for him yesterday morning before she was expected to be at the CLAMP Campus Academy. It sat now near the bouquet of flowers Arashi and Sorata had been thoughtful enough to bring. It was a small, stuffed rabbit, and against the collection of yellow, red, and pinks of the flowers, it was an odd but welcome contrast. The rabbit looked out at Subaru and Sorata with deep, black and shining eyes. Its carefully stitched paws sat in its lap as though it were in the most leisurely and comfortable place in the world. The mouth, stitched with as much care as its paws, was turned upwards in a delighted, friendly smile. Almost as though it were mocking them in their troubled times . . .

“I’m sorry,” Subaru whispered, “for what I have put Kamui through . . .” His head bowed, his dark lashes falling to conceal his faint green eye. His mouth was set in a sad, straight line, only the corners beginning to tug downward in the signs of a frown.

Sorata frowned. “Don’t do that, Subaru-san,” he said, his tone sharp. “Kamui will be alright. Until you’re well enough to come back, I’ll -- Arashi and me -- we’ll take care of him.”

“It’s beginning to rain.”

The monk watched Subaru intently for another moment, shaken by his dismissive comment, before he moved across the room and to the open window. Raindrops, falling here and there across the lawn of the hospital, had sent the doves that had been in the sakura blossom tree to search for shelter. Some huddled beneath the long, drooping branches of the tree; others fluttered away to find their sanctuary from the rain elsewhere. Sorata reached out and pulled the window closed silently. He folded the curtains over the glass, and his mind a blur of thoughts, stared out through the transparent white and to the darkening skies. The streaks of blue and gray in the sky foretold that this would be no shower, but a storm. It would be best for them to return to the Campus grounds soon.

“Thank you, Sorata.”

The monk shrugged his shoulders and smiled.

//Subaru-san, what are you thinking . . . ? What was that look in your eyes as you looked on the doves? Was it even them at all . . . maybe the sakura petals . . . ?//

The door to the single-patient hospital room began to push open slowly, only its quiet, protesting creak against the movement alerting Subaru and Sorata of another presence. Both heads turned toward the door as a head peaked into the room.

It was none other than the very person they had been speaking of moments before. Kamui offered them a faint, friendly smile as he stepped into the room, but as Sorata had told Subaru, that smile did not reach his eyes. Once he had properly greeted them, he crossed the room to come stand at Subaru’s bedside, his feet making the sounds of a cat’s padding paws. In many ways, Kamui was like a cat, Sorata had seen. His movements were rather feline in nature, his slender, athletic body, even the way he jolted at a loud sound such as cupboards banging shut. Kamui was a small kitten, one that needed to be taken care of. He was the runt of the litter and the mother had discarded him. It was Subaru he seemed to have chosen to be his comforter through this difficult period of adolescence.

“Kamui,” Subaru greeted. He smiled, bringing a hand from having been flung casually over his stomach to extend to Kamui. The young boy stepped nearer, his own hand coming up to close around Subaru’s. The Onmyouji’s smile became reassuring.

“I’m fine,” he said. “I mean that.”

Kamui smiled shakily. “I’m glad, Subaru.”

To lighten their sudden solemn expressions, Sorata bounded across the room to fall in beside Kamui. He grinned and flattened his hand against the top of the young boy’s head, and he gave his hair the ruffling of a lifetime. Kamui squirmed against him, struggling and demanding that Sorata stop, though his tone showed that he did not mind the treatment at all. At last, Sorata released the boy and smiled playfully at him.

“You need a haircut,” he seemed to decide. The hand that had been tussling Kamui’s hair came up to stroke his bare chin thoughtfully. “I think a crew-cut would do just nicely.”

Kamui’s eyes widened. “No way!” he exclaimed. He shook his head vehemently to show his displeasure with such a style change to his long, untamed dark brown hair, but he was smiling. For a moment, Sorata thought that smile had even touched his eyes.

//See, Kamui, it’s not so bad. We’re all here for you. We want you to smile. Subaru-san, too.//

“Will you be going back to the campus?” Subaru asked, the traces of his smile not yet fading away. He was still amused by Sorata and Kamui’s antics a moment ago.

“Hai,” Sorata said, and nodded. “We’ll come by tomorrow morning after school, though.”

Subaru nodded.

“I’d like to stay here with Subaru a little longer,” Kamui announced. He looked at Sorata. “If you and Arashi don’t mind, that is. I’ll come back tonight.”

Sorata frowned a moment. “I don’t know . . . what if you just skip out on Subaru-san here to go out on some hot date, huh?” he demanded, his eyebrows wiggling suggestively. Kamui burned an embarrassingly adorable shade of pink, to which Sorata grinned. The monk shrugged his shoulders absently. “I don’t mind if Subaru doesn’t.”

Subaru shook his head. “That’s fine,” he said. His tone gave away that he would enjoy having the company. Hospitals had to become rather lonely, depressing places when night fell.

”Then I’ll leave you two alone,” Sorata replied. “See you later tonight, Kamui. Sayonara, Subaru-san.”

The two exchanged their own farewells with Sorata as the young monk was sliding out the door. He closed it softly behind him, leaving Subaru and Kamui to their own private discussion, while he stole a look around the bare hallway of the hospital.

Arashi was no where to be seen, telling Sorata that she must have moved on from this hallway to perhaps sit in the main lobby. He shrugged dismissively to himself and burrowed his hands deep into the pockets of his blue jeans. Wherever she was, he would find her. He had gained quite the talent for searching out Arashi Kishuu.

Sorata wandered aimlessly around the hospital before arriving near the lobby, though his heart’s content lied not with the dark beauty he saw seated there, but with the dark candy he found in the adjourning hallway. Fishing around his pockets, he dug through the collection of lint he had acquired, pieces of paper with numbers scrawled out on them girls at the campus seemed intent to shove in his pants, and at last came up with a hefty amount of change. This he popped into the vending machine. His eyes searched it for a moment, hunting for the perfect evening snack, and fell upon a Snickers bar. Sorata’s mouth watered, begging to taste that sweet candy. He quickly punched in the access code for the Snickers and was soon devouring it with a self-satisfied smirk on his young, roguishly handsome face.

“Good evening, beautiful,” he said after taking care to chew vigorously and swallow before he dared open his mouth to lady. It would not have been very gentlemanly of him to speak to a woman with a mouthful of candy and chocolate on his teeth.

Arashi glanced up from the rather dull magazine she had picked up, dark eyes passing over Sorata briefly. Her head bowed forward in a polite greeting. Or perhaps bowing her head was a way to cause her long, silky black hair to fall over her shoulders and cover her cheeks from the blush that dared to rise there. Sorata’s greetings were always casual, smiles softening the meaning of his words, but he always had a compliment to add to them. Be that beautiful or something as outrageous as the only woman for him, it was always something. It was a wonder it even affected her anymore. Yet it seemed to have become worse lately, when she wondered what true meaning was behind his words . . . she always thought he was playing. But now she was beginning to doubt it was only child’s play.

The thought of their being truth in those compliments caused her cheeks to flare with a light blush. Mindful of Sorata’s presence and not willing to give him an opening to pounce upon her, she bowed her head even further, pretending to find the magazine in her lap as interesting as the shoelaces of his tennis shoes.

Sorata grinned and plopped down alongside her, peering at her thoughtfully through the strands of hair concealing her face, and most of all, her cheeks.

//Is she blushing?//

“How is Subaru?” she asked.

“You know as well as I do this isn’t going to keep him down for much longer,” Sorata replied, smiling. “What are you reading?” He reached over before Arashi could react and snatched the magazine in her lap. He looked it thoughtfully for a moment before beginning to thrum through the pages. It was a fashion magazine. That was one of the /last/ things he would have ever imagined to find Arashi reading. He looked up at her, expression skeptical.

Arashi stared back impassively. She shrugged and flipped her hair over her shoulder. “It was just something I picked up,” she dismissed quietly.

“I’ll bet,” Sorata replied, grinning. He opened the page to a rather hideous ad for one of the more amusing dresses he had ever seen, this one shaped in a perfect heart and completely engulfing the person modeling. “I think you’d look ravishing in this one, dahling,” he drawled dramatically.

The Miko’s eyes narrowed almost dangerously. “Sorata . . .”

He laughed, a light, hearty chuckle.

Arashi watched him. The way his face lit up, how dimples appeared in his cheeks, how his eyes seemed to shine even more when that laugh escaped his throat. His face was turned away from her, allowing her but a moment longer to watch him as his laugh faded away, but its memory left with the smile on his lips. Sorata always had a smile ready for any of them. He refused to let anything to drag him down. For every situation, he had a grin, a remark, a laugh, a joke. That was Sorata. She wondered what made him so . . .

“Happy.”

Arashi looked up sharply. “Hm?” she asked, attempting to show that she was not startled by his question.

Sorata was grinning mischievously. “The way you’re looking at me,” he said. She began to open her mouth to deny having been watching him, but his smile only grew, and he lifted a hand to stop her before she could even draw out the first syllable of a word. “It’s that way that says, ‘Geez, what IS up with this guy?’ I’ve gotten it before.”

“It wasn’t that . . .” Arashi began to dismiss.

“I’m happy,” Sorata said, catching up to where her sentence had begun to trail away. “That’s all.” He grinned.

Sorata stood suddenly and extended a hand to Arashi. She looked at his hand for a moment, looked at him, and her eyes fell again to his hand. After another moment’s hesitation, she accepted it and allowed him to pull her to her feet. She was surprised with herself when she was reluctant to have him release her hand. His own hand could have dwarfed both of her small ones in its palms. And he was warm. Arashi was almost always abnormally cold. It would have felt nice, she startled herself by thinking, to have a warm and comforting arm around her for one night. One night would have been all she asked for. Just to know what it was like.

“It’s going to start raining harder soon,” Sorata said, nodding toward the hospital’s entrance. Raindrops had begun to flatten themselves against the glass in the windows. “Kamui is going to stay longer with Subaru.”

Arashi nodded.

With Arashi by his side, the two left the hospital, unmindful of the few raindrops that touched them as they walked along the sidewalk. Night was falling over Tokyo and the lights to buildings, apartments, and businesses were coming on. Sorata regarded the city surrounding them thoughtfully. He supposed it was when night fell over Tokyo, he remembered how much what they were doing meant. He was reminded of how beautiful this world honestly was, and he was reminded of what role he played in its end, or its new beginning. Looking around him, at all the simple things he would have taken for granted had he not learned he was a Dragon of Heaven, he realized that this was exactly what he wanted to do with his life. He wanted to protect something that was meaningful to him; he wanted to do something that might actually have an impact in the world.

Saving the Earth from destruction seemed like a pretty good way to get your name in newspaper, too.

Sorata grinned at that thought and shook his head. He was close to chuckling, but only a light-hearted sigh escaped his throat. Arashi’s eyes flashed to him. Sorata met those dark blue orbs of hers and smiled back.

“What is it?” Arashi asked, her interest piqued now.

“Nothing,” Sorata said, shaking his head, “just thinking that saving the world is the only way my name’s going to end up in something like the New York Times in America.”

Arashi stared at him, completely naïve to whatever had brought about this thought. Sorata grinned at her adorably oblivious expression and reached out to touch the top of her head. He patted her soft hair affectionately.

“Don’t worry about it, babe,” he dismissed, and continued walking.

That was exactly what made Sorata who he was, Arashi realized as she trailed after him. It was that light-hearted view of his on every situation. The weight of the world was literally on their shoulders, yet he only smiled and cracked jokes. She found that behavior rather amazing, and almost subconsciously, something to admire. She did not think she could ever have Sorata’s attitude when it came to their ‘situation.’

“Want to make a detour on our late night lover’s stroll?” Sorata asked suddenly.

Arashi inclined her head slightly to look at him, a slender eyebrow arching delicately.

Sorata grinned. “Come on,” he said. He turned left and began walking down the sidewalk that would take them away from their destination, only closer to the heart of Tokyo. Arashi remained stationary. Sorata stopped, looked back over his shoulder, and smiled reassuringly. “Come on,” he repeated, and held out a hand to her.

As she had done at the hospital, she stared at his outstretched hand, but did not hesitate any longer before accepting it. His fingers closed around her hand and began to tug gently at her. Arashi came along without presenting any resistance for him.

Sorata was not able to set a foot down on the other side of the street before a crack of thunder broke through the atmosphere. As though cued by that roll of thunder, those gentle raindrops became heavy sheets of rain, plummeting down upon Arashi and Sorata. Sorata turned around to face Arashi and he laughed. His grip tightened around her hand.

“Let’s run before we get electrocuted or something,” he suggested.

He was running before Arashi even had a moment to disagree with his idea.

They ran on along the sidewalk, through puddles, over cracks in the sidewalk itself, dodging over and around benches, and dancing around light posts. Not once did Sorata release Arashi’s hand. She matched each of his long strides with her own perfect ones, not even daunted in the slightest by the uniform skirt she wore. Sorata had a slightly better advantage, what with his blue jeans and t-shirt, after all, and he seemed mindful of that. At one point he began to slow his gait upon realizing Arashi had it worse off than he did, but the response was Arashi flying past him and tugging on /his/ hand. Sorata grinned and lengthened his strides to once again play leader in this little game.

He kept them running until he dodged beneath a tree and onto softened grass, made that way by the rain that was clinging to each and every single blade. At last, he slowed his gait, and pulling gently on Arashi’s hand, brought her to walk beside him.

They were in the public park now, walking along the cobblestone path that looped around the area. Each breath one took was matched perfect by the other’s as they desperately sought to find that oxygen that had been lost in the run. The rain continued to poor down on them, yet they did not seem to mind. After all, they were completely soaked now, looking much more like drowned rats than anything else, but they were smiling. Even Arashi, and that caused Sorata’s smile to grow even more.

//You’re just a teenager after all, aren’t you?//

He drew Arashi toward the edge of the path, where a wire railing prevented them from going near the intricate flower displays and the enormous city trees, railings that Sorata hardly paid any attention to. He released Arashi’s hand, suddenly realizing how long he had held onto her now that he was not, and grasped the railing with both hands. Vaulting himself over, he whirled around and faced Arashi. He held out both hands.

“I’ll help you over.”

Arashi stared at him for a moment, in that constantly skeptical way of hers. Sorata smiled reassuringly.

“Don’t worry.”

She slid into his open hands which closed around her waist. Hardly executing any effort at all, Sorata had her up and over the railing without a single thought of it. One hand came to fall at his side, but the other did not remove itself from Arashi’s waist. It remained there, supporting her, and she did not seem to mind at all. She even allowed herself to be guided by that hand on her waist as Sorata drew them near one of the larger trees in the park.

Still with that hand around Arashi, he settled down against the trunk of the tree. Arashi followed suit, moving to sit as he did, preventing him from being able to remove his hand had he wanted to. She did not lean back against the tree as he did, but was as close to being against him as possible. Her back did not touch him completely, but throwing her a glance, Sorata saw she was close enough to be able to, yet she was reluctant to become that close to him.

Without thinking, he used that grip he had around her waist to pull her nearer to him. She gasped as she was pulled back and against his chest. Her hair touched his lips. Sorata smiled.

“You’re cold.”

“Yes . . .”

“Sucks to be you.”

“Sorata.”

He grinned. He liked the way she said his name. That scolding, parental sort of tone she had when he was testing her patience. It was an almost reassuring sound. She had sounded rather lost and lonely when she had agreed to his assessment of her being cold, his reply had been meant to lighten the air around them. The tone she took with his name assured him that it had.

But he had no intention of letting her go cold.

His other came around, wrapped securely around Arashi’s waist, and drew her even closer to him. Little more than air would be able to escape between his chest against her back now, he thought with a rather devious little smile. He was not going to take advantage of this situation, though. Being this near to Arashi, actually having her in his arms . . . that was enough for him. He would have been happy to be able to simply sit with her like this until morning came and the rain subsided.

//Hell, I’d be happy to stay here forever with her.//

Arashi was able to smother the gasp that dared to escape her lips as Sorata drew her even nearer to him. She looked down, finding his fair hands locked around her waist, his fingers crossing each other. His hands covered her entire small waist. Had he only had one hand there, she imagined that he would have been able to touch his index finger to his thumb around her waist. Arashi did not think she had actually realized how much she was dwarfed by Sorata. He was taller than her, of course she had taken notice of this, but he also broader in shoulder, with long arms, limber legs . . . he was a rather masculine young man. When his boyish days were over (she doubted that would ever be) he would be a rather intimidating adult . . . . if his eyes were not so gentle. And his touch so soothing, like the hand of a mother on her babe. She had never realized this gentleness in Sorata.

She wondered how long Sorata could hold her this way.

Forever?

That would have been nice. Pleasant . . . and wonderful.

“The rain’s stopping,” Sorata said quietly. He did not need to speak up. He held her in a way that his cheek was pressed against her hair, his lips near her ear. His voice sent chills up Arashi’s spine and she shivered.

“Hm?” Sorata murmured. He looked down at the woman in his arms and smiled. As though by its own movement, as Sorata had not even thought when he made the move at all, a hand unlocked from his other and came up to touch her cheek. “You are cold,” he said.

Arashi did not still at his touch. He was surprised.

“You’re warm.”

“. . . I’ll hold you until you are, too.”

She felt a gentle pressure against her hair, and only when it was gone, did she realize that Sorata had kissed her. A gentle, nonchalant gesture of his affection, yet it meant so much to her . . . . it suddenly meant very much.

For this moment and until the next, he could hold her in his arms. He could hold her until she was warm, if that was what he wanted. Arashi did not care. He could hold her until morning came if he wanted. Just for this moment, she wanted the world to slip away, and there would be only Sorata . . . only the raindrops and Sorata.

. . . for this moment could be eternity for all she cared. She would live in this moment . . .

And it became everything.