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.