Enji: Age 35

Shiori: Age 21

~Enji's POV~

I headed into the office early. The past two nights after hearing Shiori sing, I'd gotten restful sleep for the first time in a long while. As the car drove past the hospital, I spotted a familiar young woman with shoulder length dark ashen brown hair. Her skin had a sickly pallor to it and she appeared to be struggling to stay on her feet and was half using her guitar case as support. There was a hospital band around her wrist. Normally, if I'd seen someone struggling in such a manner, I'd keep going but the girl had been haunting my every waking thought.

"Stop the car." I sighed.

The car came to a gentle stop outside of the hospital. I got out of the car and made my way to the entrance where Shiori was currently struggling to walk. She looked up as my shadow passed over her. Her warm caramel eyes were filled with pain and grew wide as she spotted me.

"What happened?" I grumbled as I glanced down at the hospital band on her wrist.

"I donated some bone marrow last night." She said with a shrug and picked up her guitar case and moved it a few inches before trying to use it to support herself so she could inch forward.

"I'm not a doctor, but I'm pretty sure that's kind of serious." I growled at her.

"It's not that bad." She tried to inch forward a little more.

Growing tired of watching her struggle, I took the guitar case from her and quickly slung it over my shoulder before reaching out to catch her as she teetered forward once her crutch was gone. She fell into my arms with a gasp and her pale cheeks reddened as I lifted her into my arms.

"W-what are you doing?" She protested feebly. It seemed like she hardly had any strength. From the ravenous way I'd watched her nearly choke herself to death on a crab cake the night before, I had a feeling she didn't eat very often and was undernourished.

"It'll take you a week to get to the end of the sidewalk at your current pace." I noted as I carried her to the car. I deposited her into the back seat before putting her guitar in the trunk and going to the opposite side of the car. She looked like she was in pain as I got into the backseat beside her. She was trying to hide it. "Where to?" I asked her.

"My shift starts at the music store in 20 minutes." She winced.

"You're going home." I growled at her.

"I can't." She protested with another wince of pain.

"You're going home, that's final. What's the address?" I snapped.

She let out a soft sigh of defeat and quietly mumbled an address. My driver pulled away from the curb and headed for the address she'd provided without a word. Shiori leaned back against her seat with a grimace. In a matter of minutes, the car slowed to a stop outside of an apartment building, it looked horribly maintained and was in a terrible part of town. She reached for the door handle slowly, still appearing to be in a lot of pain.

I got out of the car with a sigh, retrieved her guitar from the trunk, slung it over my shoulder and reached her door by the time she got it open. Her caramel eyes grew wide as I pulled the door open wider. She lost her balance as the door left her grip and fell into my arms. A soft squeak escaped her as I lifted her into my arms and carried her inside. The entrance to the apartment building had no lock or way to keep out people who weren't tenants. The lights inside the entry hall didn't appear to work. The elevator had a worn sign that looked as if it had been there for years saying it was out of order.

"What floor?" I looked down at the girl in my arms and felt my heart stutter in my chest as I saw her eyelids begin to leaden and start to drift close.

"5E." She murmured in a sleepy daze.

I hesitated before stepping into the stairwell. Only a few of the lights in the stairwell seemed to work. There was a trash can next to the door that was overflowing with trash. It appeared there were squatters living under the stairs, this place wasn't safe. The higher up I went, the more maintenance issues and fire and safety hazards I witnessed. The building was falling apart.

The 5th floor wasn't any better. There was a hole in the middle of the floor in the hall, not big enough for anyone to fall though but still big enough to be a hazard. How could someone willing live in such a place? I reached her door and shook her gently; she'd drifted to sleep. Her warm caramel eyes fluttered open.

"Do you have a key?" I asked though it looked like the door was barely hanging on to its hinges if I pressed on it hard enough it'd probably fall completely off its hinges.

She reached into her pocket and pulled out a keychain with a single key on it. Her hands were shaking too much to unlock the door. I managed to balance her with one arm and took the key from her to open the door. The door let out an unhealthy groan as it swung open. It, like the rest of this building, was on its last leg. It opened into a tiny studio apartment. There was a small kitchen area with a fridge that was making an obnoxious squealing sound that didn't sound safe, a single countertop next to a sink. There was a microwave cart that looked as if it had been rescued from a dumpster though looked like it should have been left behind in its current duct taped to hell state. Beyond the tiny kitchen was a small open room, there was a horribly uncomfortable looking twin bed next to a falling apart nightstand tucked in one corner, a plethora of instruments in the opposite corner and a small floral curtain along the wall next to the bed that appeared to lead to the world's smallest bathroom.

"You can just leave me on the floor, it's more comfortable anyway." She mumbled as I was about to carry her toward the bed.

I glanced down at the floor and sighed as I spotted a fat grey rat scuttle across the floor, "there's a rat on the floor."

Her eyes opened and she turned to look before shrugging, "he doesn't bite unless you step on him in the middle of the night."

I prayed she was joking but I had a feeling she wasn't. "This place is a shit hole."

"Yes, it is. But it's my shit hole." She murmured in a sleepy daze as her eyelids fluttered closed again.

I reluctantly laid her on the bed and draped a thin fleece blanket over her. My gaze fell on a photo sitting atop her nightstand of her and the boy I'd seen her with at the hospital. I had a lot of questions about her relationship with the boy and the circumstances for her needing to bribe the hospital staff to let her see him in secret. I also had a lot of questions about her and why her music seemed to affect me as it did. When I glanced back down at her to question her, I realized she was sound asleep.

Sighing in frustration, I set the guitar case down with the other instruments and scanned the tiny apartment for some kind of schedule. There was a calendar on the back of the door, it was on the wrong month but when I flipped it to the right month it had her previous shows listed on it and a few upcoming ones. I snapped a picture of the calendar before stepping out the door. I locked it before dropping the key in the mail slot. I heard it clatter to the floor on the other side.

I hesitated a moment before returning to the car. So much for being early today. I looked to my driver as I got into the car, "One more stop. There's a music shop around where that bank robbery took place yesterday."

"Yes, Sir." My driver bowed his head politely and put the car in gear.

I wasn't sure why I was intervening or why I cared. The girl was a mystery to me, she frustrated me but her music was so calming. She started to occupy my thoughts, I couldn't stop thinking about her or her haunting voice when she sang. I felt a need growing inside of me to hear more, wanting to feel that transcendent state of peace and calm again and again. Her music was like a drug.

The car came to a stop outside of a small music store. I stepped into the small shop to see an older gentleman wiping down a display case. He grumbled softly to himself, "she's late, that's it, I'm firing that useless girl."

"I'd advise against that, Old Man." I growled, the flaming beard on my chin flared a little startling the old timer.

He looked at me bewildered, "I beg your pardon?"

"Consider my visit Shiori's excuse of absence." I folded my arms across my chest, "she'll be out of work the rest of the week, official hero business. If you fire her there will be legal action taken against you." I snarled causing the man to take a shaky step back. "Understood?"

"Y-yes, Sir." The old man paled.

I turned to leave but paused, this man knew her, at least a little, "what can you tell me about her?"

"I'm sorry?" The man seemed confused.

"What do you know about her?" I asked again, growing impatient.

"Not a lot." The old man admitted, "she's a high school drop-out was homeless for a time and is a skilled musician, and about six months ago she missed nearly a week of work, I almost fired her then and there but I felt bad." He grumbled.

"Did she tell you why?" I pondered.

"She said she was sick; I didn't believe her. Probably drugs." He scoffed.

I shot a scowl in his direction before taking my leave. It was probably another bone marrow donation. I thought I'd heard it takes about 6 months to completely recover and be able to donate again, but she pushed it a little close. The shop keeper wasn't worth my time. He didn't have any answers for me. She was probably very secretive, perhaps no one but those involved knew the truth.