Tadashi and Cass left Atsuo in the hospital two days later with little news on Meiko's, or the baby's, condition. If they could have, they would have stayed, but Cass had a café to run and Tadashi had to return to school. Not that it would have mattered; the boy was too distracted by the events of the last week to focus on his schoolwork. Cass found herself in a similar condition. She remarked during their fifth dinner at Cass's apartment, where Tadashi would stay until Atsuo was released from the hospital, how she had given a customer a cold coffee, and another a salad instead of a donut. Tadashi giggled when she explained how the customer had thought, 'Is this supposed to be a joke? 'You calling me fat?'

"Then he stormed out, not paying for the caramel latte I'd made him, yelling about bad service! I swear, people these days!" she exclaimed, throwing her hands in the air.

The circles under her eyes were more defined than usual tonight, and Tadashi had caught her glancing at the phone on the wall more than once. He knew she was waiting for a call from the hospital to tell her something, but couldn't figure out what exactly the doctors were going to tell her. Probably if his parents were well enough to leave the hospital, he mused. And then there was his baby brother, who he had also lost sleep worrying about.

"I'm sorry you had a bad day today Aunt Cass," Tadashi started, noticing how his Aunt's face softened as he spoke, "I had a tough day too. I couldn't pay attention in class, and I forgot to take notes like Otou says I should."

He watched as his godmother stiffened at the mention of his father's name, her eyes turning back down to her plate as she began to eat again. Aunt Cass wouldn't look up at him, and the silence that followed made Tadashi anxious. He realized that his parents must be a touchy subject as they both almost died last week – Tadashi still couldn't wrap his head around the idea of it – and that Aunt Cass would like to avoid talking about them. Yet, his parents' conditions seemed like the only thing important there was to talk about, besides how difficult life was now that they were temporarily gone. Glancing up at her tired face, he made a decision.

"When will Otou and Oka come back home?" he asked.

Aunt Cass's fork clattered against her plate. She was looking at Tadashi again, which is what he thought he wanted, but not with the look she was giving him. The woman across from him appeared so much more haggard and tired than she did before the accident, and her face had started to break out in pimples. Her hair was duller and messier than he had ever seen it before, and the purple smears under her eyes seemed even more exaggerated than they did five minutes ago. Cass stared at her godson with eyes he hadn't seen on an adult before, eyes full of fear. Her expression quickly changed though, anger suddenly replacing fear, and then frustration, and finally defeat. She slumped back into her chair, letting her neck hang loose over the back, staring up at the ceiling. Carefully, she took a couple deep breaths, Tadashi staring at her wide eyed and worried. He'd never seen this reaction in his godmother; he'd never seen this reaction in anyone. It was new, it was bad, and it scared him. It scared him horribly (but not as horribly as when he first saw his father attached to all those machines that checked if he was even still alive), yet he cared about his godmother dearly enough to push aside his fear and attempt to comfort her.

"A-Aunt Cass? Are you okay?" Tadashi's soft tone inquired from across the table.

The woman scoffed, lifting a hand to cover her eyes.

"I just, I'm really, really pissed at this whole situation. Meiko didn't deserve this, she and Atsuo did nothing but good to people, and this happens. I don't get it. Why did it have to be them?! Out of all the people who could've gotten hurt, why did they . . . they don't . . . ." his godmother trailed off, her voice quivering. Her shoulders shook ever so slightly, and she kept her hand over her face to hide it from her godson. Look at me, she thought. Crying over nonsensical things like fate.

Cass heard Tadashi push his chair out from the table and leave, running over to the counter behind her. Immediately regretting her confession, Cass whipped around in her seat to apologize when she saw her godson already in front of her.

"These always make me feel better, um, I don't know if they work on adults, but I want you to have it anyways. To make you feel better," Tadashi held a red, clear-wrapped lollipop out to her. Cass stared at it in surprise, and Tadashi took it as a sign of confusion and continued explaining, "I know the accident was bad, and that it shouldn't have happened in the first place, but . . . ."

Tadashi took a deep breath, catching his godmother's attention. Her eyes widened when she saw his miserable expression, she herself barely holding back a sob.

He continued, "But it did happen, and now we have to make it better, and I think a good place to start might be this lollipop, so-"

Before he could finish Tadashi was pulled into a tight hug from Cass, whose body trembled against his small frame. His arms found themselves around her as he hugged back, nestling his head into her shoulder, and eventually wept along with her. They stayed there for what seemed like forever to the young boy, softly crying to each other. Aunt Cass eventually pulled herself away from her godson, smiling down upon him with red puffy eyes. He grinned back as she wiped a tear off his cheek.

"You're right, it'll get better. Your father's doing fine, Meiko's recovering fine, and the baby's still alive, worse things could happen but they're not going to. I . . . ." Cass took a breath, "I'm sorry for yelling at you, Tadashi. That was wrong of me."

"It's okay Aunt Cass. It's not your fault," Tadashi spoke, giving his godmother one last squeeze before standing and handing Aunt Cass the red lollipop. A soft smile played on her lips at the sight of it, and she soon tore the wrapper off and popped the sweet into her mouth.

The rest of the night went calmly for the two, and as they crawled into their respective beds they forgot to fear about the future, and slept peacefully for the first time in a very long week.

Room 392, ICU, San Fransokyo Hospital

Unbeknownst to the staff of the hearth of healing, to the brother he had never known and even to his beloved parents, a small boy writhed in unimaginable pain. He rolled and fought against the invasion of his frail, tiny body, but his efforts were wasted. It only provoked the pain, its sharp talons digging into his very soul as he desperately tried to cry out. His eyes rolled back in his head and he screamed once more. Why couldn't his mother hear him? Why wasn't she there for him? Had he been abandoned? He could no longer feel anything but the slow torture encasing his body. Gasping for breath, he found that he could only inhale more of the pain, razorblades cutting his throat and lungs, and clawing through his miniscule veins and finally his delicate heart.

For the next few moments he had left, he was a fire. The pain became pure and consumed him until there was no longer a difference between the boy and the red, blaring pain. It was then that his body gave out and gave in. He ceased his cries and his useless flailing. With any and all resistance gone, the origin of the flaming pain smoothly flowed through the rest of the small, small child until it was thoroughly incorporated with the boy's own blood.

If the boy had still been conscious, he would have felt the pain ease off slowly but surely. The next morning he awoke healthy and alive without any flicker of memory from the traumatic events of the night before.

On the contrary, he felt better than he ever had before.