Learning To Fly: Chapter 2

 

 by:

 The Amazoness Duo 

 amazonessduo@hotmail.com

 

 G.P. 

 pearsong1954@yahoo.com

 

 =====

 

 Shifting uneasily in his chair, the hospital administrator glanced

 at the two young women while shuffling distractedly through the

 paperwork on his massive desk. He had seen the one girl many times

 before, assisting her mother in charity work. As Acting Director of

 the Tokyo Medical Center Children's Hospital, he was fully aware that

 the presents for pediatric patients were but a tiny fraction of the

 Daidouji Foundation's generous contributions. Very generous

 contributions. He knew the younger Daidouji as quiet, sensible and

 hard working. But her companion was something new altogether. He

 peeked sideways at her, as if to confirm just what he was seeing. She

 was young, rather pretty, and looked deeply embarrassed. Embarrassed,

 no doubt, by the outlandish costume in which she was dressed. 

 

 Her blouse was tightly wrapped and bare at the shoulders, leaving

 little to the imagination. Made of a curious fabric, she shimmered

 all the colors of the rainbow with every hesitant movement. Her

 skirt, made of glossy white taffeta, was distressingly short,

 revealing a pair of athletic legs clad in silvery pantyhose and

 lavender garters. Her hair was bedecked with ribbons and bows, and on

 her back were…wings. She had to lean forward to keep from crushing

 her delicate, diaphanous butterfly wings against the chair. Most

 peculiar of all they seemed to flutter now and then all on their own.

 It was of little comfort that the girl seemed as embarrassed as he

 was, though their mutual emotion seemed to make little impression on

 the cheerful Daidouji woman. In a reluctant voice he spoke,

 

 "Ehhh, well, it is a bit unusual, you see. The children, are, well,

 easily upset by changes in their routine."

 

 Oblivious to his concerns, the dark-haired woman sang out, "But

 we're merely delivering the presents, so there really is no change to

 the routine. And I'm sure they would be delighted by Sakura's

 costume, don't you think?"

 

 This allowed him the chance to look directly at the young brunette,

 though he quickly looked away with a blush. Haltingly, he spoke

 again, "Perhaps, umm, if I had some of the nurses deliver the

 presents…"

 

 Tomoyo replied with a sweet smile, "I wouldn't want to trouble your

 staff with such a little thing. I'm sure they are very busy with

 their regular duties. Perhaps, if there is a problem, you and my

 mother would be the best ones to work it out?"

 

 This hit home. The last thing he wanted was to explain to the Board

 of Directors why the primary donor of the Hospital was upset. Almost

 too hastily he answered, "Oh, no, no, no, I'm sure there is no need

 for that, heh-heh. Umm, yes, well, why don't you and, umm,  Kinomoto

 san go ahead with your good work, then?"

 

 "Splendid!" The Daidouji woman rose and bowed, pulling up the still

 dazed Sakura by her bare arm. "I believe we are scheduled for the

 second floor today."

 

 "Yes, well, the best of luck to you both." The Acting Director

 slumped back in his chair, watching the peculiar pair exit the door.

 Holding his head in his hands he slumped back, longing for the life

 of a simple ward doctor working 48 hours straight.

 

 Sakura and Tomoyo strained to pull the wagon full of gaily decorated

 packages. Passing nurses and orderlies doing their utmost not to

 stare, Sakura mumbled, "Tomoyo chan, he's right, you know. Why am I

 dressed up in this….costume?

 

 Tomoyo, amazed as ever at Sakura's strength, replied cheerily,

 "Because Sakura looks very cute in it, and if it makes the children

 half as happy as it makes Tomoyo, they will be ecstatic."

 

  After trundling down the long 1st floor hallway, the girls stopped

 in front of a massive freight elevator. Tomoyo pressed the "2" button

 and waited. With a mechanical ka-chunk the doors opened, and the cart

 was wheeled in. As the doors shut, Sakura marveled,

 

 "It's sooooo big! Do they use it as a freight elevator?"

 

 Tomoyo nodded and answered quietly, "Yes, and it has to be big for

 the gurneys, for carrying children to and from the operating rooms.

 That happens on the third floor."

 

 Sakura was silent as the elevator stopped with a little jolt, and

 the doors opened. Operations, she thought with a shudder. It must so

 scary for the poor children. She realized Tomoyo was struggling to

 get the cart over a little bump between the doors, so she helped

 muscle the cart onto the second floor. The hospital was impeccably

 clean, characterized by a distinct antiseptic odor. But this smell

 was somehow sharper and less cheery than the scent of a freshly

 cleaned house. Sakura felt an odd sense of unease, but she shook it

 off as the cart rolled forward. Finally, Tomoyo gasped out

 breathlessly, "This is it, 21, the first Ward. Oh, my, I'm so glad

 you came, Sakura-chan. This is much harder to do without Oka-sama."

 Tomoyo opened the door and the two pushed the heavily laden cart into

 the large room. 

 

 Sakura looked up from her labors and saw a long room, with beds on

 either side. Suddenly, the boys and girls rose up amid squeals and

 chatter, nearly overwhelming the nurse in their eagerness.

 

 Contrary to Sakura's expectations, Tomoyo proved to be exactly

 right. The children were more excited by Sakura and her fairy costume

 even than the cartload of presents. They huddled around her, gaping

 in awe at the remarkable sight, a few brave ones reaching out

 tentative hands to touch her. At first overwhelmed, she quickly

 adapted to being the center of attention, and was soon chatting

 merrily with her appreciative audience. They showed her scars and

 hurts, some healed, some not. They peppered her with questions,

 unable to suppress their astonishment at such a fantastic sight.

 Tomoyo and the nurse struggled to bring order out of the happy chaos,

 finally managing at least a modicum of order. Tomoyo organized some

 quiet games, and a sing along, including one song about fairies that

 the children found especially delightful. Sakura again found herself

 the center of attention, blushing as the children laughed and sang.

 Finally, when it was time to go, the children rushed forward and

 hugged her, reluctant to loose the magic she had brought. With waves

 and smiles and shouts of goodbye, the two girls, with the grateful

 nurse's help, pushed the slightly less heavy cart out into the

 hallway.

 

 And so it went for 5 other wards on the 2nd floor. By the time they

 entered Ward 26, both girls were exhausted, but the excited children

 somehow gave them the giddy energy to continue. As Tomoyo passed out

 the last of the presents, Sakura wended her way to the bed-ridden

 children near the large window at the end of the ward. Finally she

 came to one boy, about 12 years old,  who stared at her curiously

 with dark, watchful eyes. She smiled and asked his name, but he

 frowned at her hatefully and turned away. Startled, she opened her

 mouth to say something, but found herself at a total loss for words.

 A little girl with a cast on both legs managed an apologetic smile

 and said quietly,

 

 "Don't mind him.. He's always grumpy about things," 

 

 "I'm not grumpy. I just hate her," he spat out.

 

 Sakura was taken aback, and whispered, "I'm sorry."

 

 Suddenly the boy spun around and glared at her angrily. In a venom-

 laced voice laced he shouted,

 

 "You should be sorry! Running around in that pathetic outfit,

 pretending to be something that doesn't even exist."

 

 The little girl in the cast recoiled and answered in a trembling

 voice, "That's not true. Fairies do so exist."

 

 The boy turned on her with an ugly scowl and shot back, "Don't be

 stupid. Fairies don't exist, and even if they did, she's just a

 stupid girl in a stupid costume." Suddenly, he reached out and

 tightly grabbed a diaphanous wing. With a smirk he brutally ripped

 off the shimmering wing, tearing the costume and leaving a flap of

 satin loose on Sakura's back. Triumphantly the boy held up his trophy

 and called out in a mocking voice, 

 

 "See? See? It's just a fake outfit. She's just a fake!" Then,

 turning Sakura he hissed, "Go back to your stupid cosplay, you

 stupid, lame, fake."

 

 With that, he hurled the severed wing at Sakura and lay down,

 turning his back to the room. She stood stunned and paralyzed, her

 mouth open in disbelief. She heard sobs and one child nearly

 shrieking. Suddenly she felt a gentle touch on her arm, and saw

 Tomoyo bending down to retrieve the fallen wing. Calmly, the dark

 haired young woman escorted her out into the hall, leaving the nurse

 to try and restore order. As the door closed, Sakura's composure

 finally shattered, and in a furry of tears she slumped to the floor.

 

 Tomoyo's suffered her own agony as she cradled her sobbing friend.

 Sakura's pain was always her own, amplified by the intense love the

 Daidouji woman bore her. Worse was knowing that she was responsible

 for bringing her dear friend into all this. Unaware of her tears that

 fell silently on Sakura's soft brown hair, Tomoyo struggled to keep

 from completely breaking down. Time enough for tears later, she

 scolded herself. Feeling the head burrowing into her breast, Tomoyo

 cooed reassurance, desperately trying to mask her own shattered

 heart. For a long time they hugged each other, oblivious to the

 figure that stood beside them. Finally, Sakura glimpsed the neatly

 starched white skirt, and struggled to her feet. Wiping away the

 tears, she rose unsteadily, helped by the Tomoyo. The woman offered a

 handkerchief that she thankfully accepted. Sakura stammered  an

 apology, but the nurse cut her short,

 

 "Please, it's my fault for not warning you about him. He's, well,

 he's a bit of a problem child here, and there's no way to predict

 just how he will react."

 

 Sakura looked at her, verging on tears again. Confused and hurt,

 Sakura felt a stirring of anger at the injustice of it all, "But

 why/? Why did he do that? Why is he so mean? What a horrible boy." 

 

 The nurse let out a heavy sigh, and stared at the wall, looking for

 the answer there.

 

 "He didn't use to be like that. He was actually one of our

 favorites: bright, curious, and always so helpful."

 

 Sakura looked at her, genuinely baffled. The nurse answered the

 girl's pained question before she asked it,

 

 "Well, I suppose no one really knows why. But last winter, he got a

 hold of his medical file. We never let the children see their files,

 of course, especially children like him. But he was always the

 curious one, and clever enough to find a way."

 

 Sakura and Tomoyo gazed at the woman, her features clouded in silent

 pain, an echo of some past storm of agonized regret. She smiled

 bitterly and continued, "I'm the one who left the charts out where he

 could get them. So all this really is my fault."

 

 Sakura's voice shook as she asked, 'But why…" Her voice trailed off,

 as if she dared not ask. The nurse answered in a detached, clinical

 manner,

 

 "Because he's terminal. And now he knows." 

 

 Tomoyo looked at the brightly polished floor, eyes fixed on the

 black and white checkerboard tiles. Terminal. The nurse said the word

 as her Mother once said it, when describing what it was like when

 Nadeshiko was in the hospital. Terminal. The cold, metal finality of

 the word cut the heart like a dagger of ice.

 

 Sakura stared, the slow comprehension mirrored in her tear-streaked

 face. Again the nurse spoke in her best professional monotone,

 

 "He has maybe 6 months, at most a year."

 

 A dipping sun painting the hallway shades of pink and orange. Three

 figures standing silent. Nothing more to say.

 

 II.    

 

 Sonomi served the tea herself. Eager to hear how the first day went

 for the new member of Daidouji Foundation, she had urged Tomoyo to

 bring Sakura over for dinner. When she heard her daughter's

 reluctance over the phone, she insisted. No one knows a daughter like

 her mother, and no one knew the enigmatic Tomoyo better than Sonomi.

 Something was wrong, and she would find out what.

 

 Dinner had been delicious, but strained. Both girls tried to put on

 a stolid front, but it was apparent the day had not gone well.

 Normally a gratifyingly hearty eater, Sakura picked at her food with

 distracted disinterest. Tomoyo bravely kept up a stream of

 conversation on every imaginable topic but the day at the hospital.

 Sonomi let her ramble, sometimes nudging the conversation in

 directions her daughter did not want it to go, watching for her

 reaction, probing, testing, reconnoitering. The older woman was

 anxious to know, but patient as a cat by a rat hole. She bided her

 time and waited for dessert.

 

 Chirping crickets made more noise than the sad little party of three

 sipping their tea in the massive Daidouji Estates garden. Finally,

 Tomoyo broke the silence and announced that they should be leaving.

 Her voice sounded relieved that the night was over, and whatever

 secrets lay hidden would stay that way. But Sonomi, with an inward

 smile, pounced. In a purring voice she asked,

 

 "Yes, I'm sure you two are exhausted after your big day at the

 Hospital."

 

 At this, Sakura stiffened, and Tomoyo glanced to the side, all hope

 of avoiding discovery dashed. Sonomi regarded the two with cat's

 eyes, inwardly smiling at their discomfort, knowing she had hit close

 to the mark. With her daughter, as well as the daughter of her

 beloved cousin, she was a typical mother, all love and affection. But

 when their welfare was at stake, she turned into a deadly predator.

 Sometimes love had to hurt before it could help. Sonomi let the

 uncomfortable silence do it's work until her daughter struggled to

 break it,

 

 "Well, it was, eh, very interesting for Sakura." As soon as she

 spoke, Tomoyo regretted her words. Her mother's eyes turned to Sakura

 as she blandly asked,

 

 "Oh, and what was so interesting today, Sakura-chan?"

 

 The girl stared at her for a moment, then her lip trembled and she

 began to cry. Not the wild sobbing of late afternoon, but a slow,

 soft, sad sort of sorrow, the sorrow of regret and loss. The sorrow

 that comes with the night. Tomoyo enfolded her friend in her arms,

 looking at her mother, silently begging her to stop. Sonomi's voice

 was kind but insistent,

 

 "Tomoyo-chan, what happened?" 

 

 Before she could speak, Sakura broke in, "It's all my fault. I'm

 sorry. I'm so, so sorry." Slipping from her chair she fell to her

 knees, bowing her head to the ground like a suppliant. Sonomi stood

 up, walked over, bent down, and gently lifted the girl to her feet.

 Holding her close, gently stroking her hair and back, the woman spoke

 in a motherly voice that Sakura only dimly remembered,

 

 "It's all right now. It's all right."  

 

 It took time, and some gently probing questions, for Sonomi to find

 it all out. She gave the girls time to calm down and talk among

 themselves when she went out to make more tea. Upon returning, she

 poured the steaming liquid into cute little yellow cups. Finally,

 Sakura whispered resignedly, 

 

 "It really is my fault. I made such a scene. I'm deeply sorry. I

 will of course resign from my duties at the Daidouji Foundation."

 Tomoyo looked stricken, but Sonomi replied calmly after a pause,

 

 "Of course, you are free to resign anytime, as you are under no

 contractual obligation. But the Foundation," and here Sonomi spoke in

 her most dignified, Voice-Of-The-Foundation tone, "Sees nothing wrong

 in your actions."

 

 Sakura looked at her with surprise, "But I…"

 

 "But you did everything right". Sonomi smiled, placing her arm on

 the beautiful girl's shoulder. Her voice was almost mirthful, "You

 didn't break down in front of the children, and further upset them.

 You got out of the room and then started to cry. There's nothing

 wrong with crying, dear."

 

 Sakura stared into the woman's crystal blue eyes, and felt all the

 hurts of the day wash away. For the first time in many hours, Sakura

 managed a genuine smile.

 

 And so they talked, the three of them, sipping tea late into the

 night. A crescent moon swung into view, dancing amid the far away

 stars. The crickets stopped, and a cool breeze caused Sakura and

 Tomoyo to huddle together. Shortly after midnight Sonomi suddenly

 spoke up from the shadows in a voice fraught with emotion,

 

 "Just now, the moon reminded me of her. It was that sort moon on

 that night. No, it was that moon exactly." She sounded distant, her

 voice strange and far off. And so it was, for she was lost in memory.

 Still and faceless in the darkness, she spoke like a ghost from the

 long past,

 

 "It affects everyone differently, those it takes and those it leaves

 behind. Some are afraid, so very afraid. Some are sad, overfull with

 regrets. Some are so in pain that's all they know. Some are angry,

 cursing the hospitals, and the doctors and nurses who can't do

 anything, and all the living that walk about as if nothing had

 happened. As if no one had gone forever, as if no bright light had

 been extinguished in the filthy darkness. As if everything was just

 the same, even though it will never be the same again. I was angry

 like that. I guess I still am. But she wasn't."

 

 Sonomi paused, and Sakura could hear her own heart beating. Tomoyo

 listened, her heart breaking for her beloved mother. But Sonomi only

 laughed,

 

 "She wasn't angry. Not once, not ever in her whole life. At least

 not that I remember. She wasn't afraid at all. They always said she

 was too stupid to be afraid, climbing up trees and skiing down

 professional-only slopes. But it wasn't that she was stupid. It was

 just that she didn't care. About the danger, I mean. Nothing ever

 frightened her. She loved the whole world." Here the woman paused,

 and when she started again her voice was filled with wonder, "She

 even loved leaving it." 

 

 "She told me, near the end, not to be afraid, or sad, or angry. She

 said she'd had a wonderful little visit. That was exactly what she

 called it, that short, sweet life of hers: the little visit. She said

 she had had a fascinating career, two wonderful children, and a

 cousin who adored her." Sonomi paused her, straining to keep the

 loathing out of her voice, 

 

 "Oh, yes, and a wonderful husband, too. Anyway, she said with all

 these things, her life felt very complete. And she was curious about

 what came next. She really was. But I was still angry. So very, very

 angry. And anger is a terrible master. It makes you say and do things

 you don't really mean, things that hurt and break. You hurt so bad

 yourself that's all you want to do: hurt and break."

 

 Sonomi leaned closer to Sakura, gently taking her hand. In the dim

 light the woman's face seemed to Sakura almost ghostly, but she was

 too entranced to be afraid. The woman smiled and broke the spell,

 then she spoke in a plain, matter of fact voice,

 

 "Try not to blame the boy. He's probably afraid, and full of regret,

 and very angry. But he doesn't mean the hurt he causes. It's just

 that, when you have no hope…"

 

 Sonomi smiled a sad, knowing smile. Sakura nodded, and suddenly felt

 very, very tired.

 

 III. 

 

 The next night, Sakura and Tomoyo stayed up late studying together.

 Even going to different schools, their classes were similar, so

 mutual study was a helpful exercise, especially for the frequently

 perplexed Sakura. Taking a break, Tomoyo brought out the torn fairy

 costume and began to sew. Sakura sat on the floor at the seamstress'

 feet, knees brought up together under her chin. The dark-haired girl

 knew her friend was deep in thought, so she worked quietly. Sakura

 looked up and saw the pale girl, her nimble fingers deftly stitching

 the torn material. Entranced, she watched the silver needle slip

 through the satiny fabric, every stitch perfect and precise. Tomoyo

 had always been a marvelous seamstress, garnering praise and

 attention all through school. She would kid that with all the

 practice sewing costumes for the Card Mistress, anyone would be good.

 Sakura was unable to look away from the slender fingers, the smooth

 flow of flawless craft. Tomoyo used a little desk lamp to light her

 work. The room was dim, save for the glow that bathed the costume on

 her lap. Sakura's green eyes wandered, beholding Tomoyo's placid

 face, illuminated by the little glow. She felt her heart flutter at

 the sight. 

 

 Tomoyo had always been pretty, the prettiest girl she knew. But

 tonight, she was exquisite. Her violet eyes were fixed on her task,

 long lashes fluttering now and then. A cute little nose, pale, fair

 skin, and little ears shrouded in that mysterious hair, sometimes

 black, sometimes gray, sometimes almost violet. An ever present smile

 hovered on  delicate cherry lips, making her seem as enigmatic as the

 Mona Lisa. Suddenly, Sakura was sweetly shaken by this ethereal

 vision of the girl she knew so well. A strange tugging at her heart,

 and a dizziness, like being on a great height looking down. Sakura

 felt an aching surge, a longing, an incomprehensible desire. She

 trembled like a fawn in the chill early dawn.  She felt her body

 floating like a little cloud, far above the world below. Slowly, as

 if she were underwater, Tomoyo lifted her eyes and gazed at the

 countenance below. Sakura felt her face on fire, a furious blush

 covering her entire body. But she could not look away from those

 eyes, those deep, violet eyes. Tomoyo's smile widened ever so

 slightly. She tilted her head, looking at her friend with a

 quizzical, elfin curiosity. Sakura opened her mouth to speak, but no

 words came. Suddenly, she tore her gaze away, staring at the floor,

 breathing raggedly. As if from some far off place, she heard Tomoyo's

 voice.

 

 "Sakura-chan? Sakura-chan, are you OK?"

 

 I was going to say I love you. 

 

 Had she actually said it out loud? Sakura's mind raced and wheeled

 in shock and confusion. No. No, but I was going to say it. I was

 going to say I love you.  It sounded like the strangest three words

 ever uttered by human tongue: I love you. What had happened to her?

 As if an explosion had gone off near her head, she was disoriented,

 torn from her normal, cozy world. Tomoyo's voice again, shot through

 with worry and concern.

 

 "Sakura-chan, are you all right?"

 

 With a violent shake of her head, Sakura fought to regain her

 composure. She somehow managed a disjointed, "Ummm hmmm," nodding her

 head furiously. What had happened? She was afraid to look up, afraid

 she might again go spinning wildly out of control if she saw Tomoyo.

 Calm came gradually, haltingly, and brought a numb, fragile peace to

 her thudding heart. Tomoyo, masking her concern, sat back and

 continued her sewing. Time passed like a lazy river between them,

 until Tomoyo at last broke the silence,

 

 "Sakura-chan, what were you thinking of back then?"

 

 "Umm, that boy. That boy in the hospital," Sakura lied. Well, not

 precisely a lie. The boy had been on her mind ever since. 

 

 "Ah, so," Tomoyo graciously replied. Her silence begged Sakura to

 continue.

 

 "I was so surprised, and then so hurt, and then so angry at him. I

 feel awful about that."

 Sakura remembered her righteous rage at the child, and the sickness

 that followed the nurse's revelation.

 

 "But Sakura-chan didn't know about the boy's condition. If she had,

 she would never have felt anger," Tomoyo looked intently at the

 fabric in her lap as she spoke; it was a delicate point in the

 mending.

 

 Sakura thought about this for a moment, and then replied, "Still, I

 shouldn't have gotten so angry." Then, mumbling to herself, "I wish

 there was something I could do."

 

 "There." A note of pride and triumph in Tomoyo's voice as she held

 the outfit aloft for Sakura's inspection, "As good as new."

 

 Sakura looked at the shimmering fairy costume. Tomoyo's work was

 impeccable: the tear neatly sewn and barely perceptible, the severed

 wing restored. Restored. Healed, fixed. Made whole again. 

 

 Made well.

 

 Sakura's smile froze, and then broadened into a crazy grin. Leaping

 to her feet she took the outfit in both hands, holding it aloft.

 Then, she turned to her friend with a beaming smile,

 

 "No, Tomoyo-chan. It's better. Better than new!"

 

 The boy woke slowly from his dream. A sound? A knocking somewhere?

 Bleary-eyed, he stared at the ceiling. Then he heard it again, an

 unmistakable rapping. Startled, he sat up in bed and turned to the

 side, towards the window. There, hovering with great, beating wings,

 was the woman from before, the one in the costume. With her was the

 lady who always delivered the presents, and both were astride a long,

 slender staff with a marvelous star at the top. His mouth opened in

 surprise, for they were floating, no, flying in the air. He let out a

 startled cry, rousing the other children. Instinctively he crawled

 away to a corner of his bed as the other children moved to the window

 with oooo's and ahhhhhh's. The costumed woman was smiling, pointing

 to the handles on the inside of the window. A girl tried to open it,

 but it was stuck fast. Pleadingly she looked at him, and with a frown

 he moved to the window and undid the lock. The children were starting

 to get loud, but the costumed woman placed her finger to her lips and

 that quieted them somewhat. 

    

 She floated into the room, great wings beating, a flurry of wind and

 feathers announcing her arrival. The dark-haired one slipped off the

 staff, video camera in hand, filming the proceedings. The feet of the

 other woman, clad in little beribboned slippers, finally touched the

 floor. The children encircled her in awe, but she came before the boy

 and stood straight and still. Then, bowing low before him, she spoke

 in a musical voice,

 

 'Gomenesai. I'm very sorry if I disturbed you the other day. Please

 accept my apologies."

 

 He stood there, unable to reply. The fairy figure straightened up,

 tilting her head and smiling. Then she said,

 

 "You may be right. There may be no real fairies in this world. But

 there is magic, and it is real."

 

 With that she swung her staff, and a riot of colors lit up the room.

 Her voice rang out as she flipped a card into the air, " ***Sakura's

 chant here****

 

 Suddenly, a beautiful flower-clad woman appeared. She looked around

 the room, and with a wave of her arms showered the surprised children

 in a blizzard of sweetly scented petals.  Then she began to dance,

 with the giggling children, with Sakura, and finally, with the still-

 startled boy. In a giddy whirl they danced, she smiling, he blushing,

 both spinning away. Finally, she stepped lightly before the dark-

 haired girl with the camera. The woman dressed as a fairy giggled,

 "She wants to dance with you, too, Tomoyo-chan."

 

 Slowly the woman lowered her camera, looking a bit uncertain. She

 glanced at Sakura, who was busy with a gaggle of young children.

 Then, with a smile, she walked to the boy and leaned forward, "Would

 you please hold it for me?"

 

 He gazed at her sparkling eyes and felt his heart pound. Taking the

 camera, he watched her return to the mysterious flower woman, curtsey

 prettily, and begin to dance. Distressed to think such a beautiful

 sight might be lost forever, he swung the camera up and began

 filming. Through the viewfinder he watched her, graceful and fluid,

 her body flowing in rhythm to the music. Music? What music? Where was

 it coming from? He didn't know, but he could hear. And see.

 

 There were other amazing sights to see that night as the fairy woman

 tossed her cards and waved her staff: a bouncing plush toy, a

 mysterious, shadowy figure, and a strange flying teddy bear that kept

 up an incessant chatter about himself. Finally, one of the girl

 patients pulled on Sakura's sleeve, and whispered that it was nearly

 time for the night nurse to check up on them. The fairy girl looked

 panicky, but the one called Tomoyo calmly began tidying up, tucking

 the children in bed, and escorting Sakura to the window. The boy

 followed, feeling a mix of emotions. Wonder and awe clashed with

 shame for his past behavior. Clearing his throat, he watched the

 fairy girl,  Tomoyo, and the teddy bear stop and face him,

 

 "Excuse me. I….I ," It was hard to say. He could just let it go,

 but… "I'm very sorry that I tore up your costume. I…I would like to

 help pay for the new one you bought."

 

 The fairy girl looked confused, but Tomoyo smiled as she arched over

 him, "It's the same costume. I just sewed it up."

 

 Astonished, he turned and glimpsed her pale face, the color of

 radiant moonlight. He bowed and stammered, "Thank you for fixing it."

 

 She nodded and then slipped through the window onto the staff, aided

 by the fairy girl. The children gathered around, straining to keep

 their gleeful voices down. He waved, and thought he saw the beautiful

 dark-haired girl wave back. The pair swung into the starry night, and

 he watched them until they vanished. He stood and stared into the

 dark sky. 

 

 "Tomoyo," he whispered her name to himself, "Tomoyo."

 

 The little girl in the adjacent bed poked him in the ribs. With a

 mischievous grin she giggled, "See, fairies are real."

 

 He looked down ate her and smiled wryly, "Well, I don't know about

 that. But I guess magic is."

 

 The next morning, Sakura and Tomoyo slept late and missed all their

 early classes At that same time, the Acting Director of the Tokyo

 Medical Center Children's Hospital began his day by trying to figure

 out how to dispose of 12 bushels of flower petals in Ward 26.