Chocolate Fic for gachapin18
To: gachapin18
From: pipsqueaks
Title: Moving Forward While Standing Still
Pairing: Ueda Tatsuya/Kitagawa Keiko
Rating: G
Summary: AU. 'Jin-sensei' frequently calls on Ueda to help out at the BUTTERFLY pre-school playgroup, where a certain Kansai-born paediatrician is occasionally summoned to look after children in need of medical care.
A/N: gachapin18, I truly hope that you have a wonderful White Day and that you enjoy reading this fic! ♥ Many thanks to my Queen of Pirates for help in the planning, and to B who held my hand near the end. Approx.3500 words.
"No, Jin. Not again." Ueda held the vintage Bakelite telephone to his ear by supporting it with his shoulder as his fingers stroked silently over the piano keys. He could hear the music in his head, he felt, it just helped to touch the corresponding keys even if they produced no sound. "It's not possible."
"You said that last week." The voice on the other end of the line sounded faintly tinny, but the amusement was clear enough. "They'll be disappointed if Uebo-niisan doesn't come and sing to them. Airi might even cry."
"Well," Ueda said, trying not to sound as uncomfortable as he felt, "it will just teach her to be a stronger individual when she grows up, then."
"Stronger indiv-- Tat-chan, she's three."
Ueda folded; it was not as though he ever thought this was a battle he could win. Jin and children was a formidable combination. "I hate you, Akanishi."
"I'll see you on Wednesday!" There was a click as the line went dead, and then nothing but the monotonous buzz of an ended call. Ueda set the receiver back in its cradle and stared at it, as though daring it to ring again.
And then he grinned. It may not be his constant quest to find The Song, but at least some of the children were beginning to learn the words to The Wheels on the Bus at last (which was a definite improvement on the first week where he'd had to play the Ponyo song solidly for an hour and then endure Jin's laughter the whole way home).
::
The best part about getting sick, Naoki decided, was Keiko-sensei. Jin-sensei was a perennial fixture of the daycare centre at their end of the small suburb, like Ohkura-sensei, and they were almost always fun, but Keiko-sensei only appeared if you were poorly. She was pretty and had soft hands and nice hair that smelled like the mango shampoo that 'kaasan used. If your mother was at work and couldn't give you cuddles, then Keiko-sensei was the next best thing. Naoki quite liked getting sick, if only for the fact that it meant Keiko-sensei visited. He didn't get sick often - he knew this, because 'tousan was proud of him, but when he did feel his tummy hurting from too much running around, or when he bumped his head against the doorframe by accident, Keiko-sensei was never too far away with her kind smile and mango hair.
Of course, Naoki couldn't express this properly, being only two and a half years old, but just as he knew that When You're Happy And You Know It means hand-clapping, he knew that being poorly means Keiko-sensei means feeling better fast.
If you weren't sick, though, the next-best part of Playgroup was Uebo-niisan and his guitar. The first time Naoki had seen Uebo-niisan he had dark hair that was all spiky like a character in the anime shows he liked to watch, but then Naoki's parents took him on holiday to Okinawa and when he came back Uebo-niisan's hair was all coppery-gold and he had a sparkly smile that was more like the Ohime-sama-types, which was funny because Uebo-niisan wore underwear on his head and made silly faces using the modelling clay, and that wasn't ohime-sama behaviour at all.
::
"Where did Naoki-kun go on holiday?" There was the soft sound of guitar music as Ueda played a couple of experimental chords while he waited for the children to settle on their mats after lunch.
"Okinawa," Naoki replied, full of warmth and rice.
"Did you climb any trees?"
"Nuh-uh," Naoki shook his head. "They were all too high."
"That's okay," Ueda nodded. "Climbing trees can be dangerous. What's the thing you remember most about Okinawa?"
"Mm," Naoki lay down and stared sleepily at the branches of the trees outside swaying. "The wind. And the waves. You can always hear the sea in the air, even if you can't see it."
"Let's go there right now, then," Ueda said, picking out notes on his guitar as he thought. "With the peaceful sound of the wind and the waves, let's ride to Okinawa in our sleep, okay?"
::
"That was a good one," Jin said, his voice barely above a whisper as the children dozed quietly. "I liked it."
Ueda just shrugged, and pulled a face. "It wasn't right," he said, sliding the guitar back into its soft case for a moment. "It was almost there, I think, but it wasn't it."
"What makes you think you're gonna find the song, anyway?" Jin asked, putting the finger-painting pots back away in the craft cupboard. "Your book theory again?"
"Books get lost. There are thousands, millions, billions of books out there in every language imaginable, right? Even standards of 'good writing' change over time. If I said to you civil blood makes civil hands unclean, would you be able to tell me where it came from?"
"Die Hard 2," Jin guessed. Ueda fixed him with a look, which Jin returned, unblinking.
"…Whereas if I go Hey Jude, don't make it bad~ you will-"
"Take a sad song, and make it better~"
"Exactly. Music has 'no borders, nationalities or gender'! I don't want to be one of the 'everyone' who has a novel inside them, I want to produce The Song. The one that will put me on the map of musical history."
"Isn't it enough making the children here happy playing Ponyo?"
There was a pause. "I refuse to answer that on the grounds that it may incriminate myself."
"Jin-sensei…"
Conversation halted as a small voice spoke up from the mats on the floor. "Airi-chan? What is it?"
"I don't feel very well…"
Jin carefully picked his way across the floor and crouched down next to the small, dark-haired child. "Can you tell me what's wrong?" he asked, and pressed the back of his hand to her forehead. "Did you eat too much at lunchtime?"
"I wasn't hungry," Airi replied, shaking her head a little and then wincing.
"No problem," Jin said, encouraging the girl to stand and then picking her up as she wobbled, face pale. "Uebo-nii will call Keiko-sensei right now, and she'll come and see if she can make you better, okay?"
"Un," Airi nodded, resting her head in the curve between Jin's shoulder and neck, half-asleep again already.
"Doctor's surgery, number's in the book by the phone," Jin said, looking at Ueda over Airi's sleeping head. "She's the paediatrician."
It was only when Jin was at the other end of the room settling Airi comfortably in a giant bean-bag and giving her a glass of water that Ueda realised he did not actually know 'Keiko-sensei's' real name.
"Can I help you?" the voice on the other end of the line heightened Ueda's sense of anxiety, and he stared hard at Jin's back, as though that would help him draw her name out through telepathy. "Hello?"
"Ah, hello, I'm sorry," Ueda stumbled over his words. "Please forgive me, I don't know her name… I'm looking for Keiko-sensei?"
A laugh, and then, "That's me. Speaking?"
"Ueda Tatsuya, from the BUTTERFLY playgroup in--"
"Ah, of course. You need me there? Please give me the name of the children who need my care and their symptoms as best as you can describe them."
"Uh," Ueda stared at Jin's back some more as the younger man wrapped the child in a blanket. "Uehara Airi, seems to have a fever and a headache… suspected loss of appetite? I don't know, I'm sorry."
"That's okay," Keiko-sensei said in a professional tone. There was a distant clatter of typing. "Have you observed any sensitivity to light or a rash on any part of her skin?"
"Um, no? I… I don't know? I'm sorry, Akanishi just…"
There was faint amusement in her voice. "I understand. I know Akanishi-san too. I'll come over right away."
::
"Keiko-sensei," Airi said, pulling a face and squirming as the in-ear thermometer tickled her. "Am I sick?"
"Only a little bit," the young woman smiled as she noted the child's raised temperature. "Did you go out playing in the rain yesterday?"
"Not a lot!" Airi protested, eyes wide. "I didn't get very wet…"
"It's given you a cold now," Keiko said, "so it's best if your mother comes to collect you and you can have plenty of sleep in your own bed, okay?"
"But it's Wednesday," Airi said, tearing up. "Uebo-niisan plays songs for us on Wednesdays. Won't I get to hear him if I have to go home?"
"Ue… Uebo-niisan is in the main room right now," Keiko said, adjusting the rectangular-framed glasses on her nose. "He might be busy, but I will ask him if he can come and play a song for you here as well, okay?"
Keiko stuck her head out of the room that made up the nurse's station and glanced about. The children were moving away from the carpeted area and heading across the room to the various activities going on - painting, building things with toy blocks, playing in the sandpit. The reddish-haired guitarist had stood up and seemed to be packing his guitar away, but looked up when she waved and walked over.
"Excuse me, but can you play a song for Airi-chan before her mother arrives?" she asked, stepping outside the nurse's room and pulling the door to. "She's really sad at the thought that she won't get to hear Uebo-niisan playing this week."
"Is she contagious?" Ueda eyed the door warily.
"If she was, would I be inviting you in?"
Ueda had no answer to that, and so he reluctantly nodded and went to fetch his guitar once more. Keiko slid the door open once more, and the two adults stepped inside.
"Uebo-niisan~" Airi croaked from within her bundle of blankets. "Are you coming to pl--"
"Shh," Ueda said, sitting down and putting his fingers to his lips in an 'x'. "You have to keep super-quiet so nobody knows I'm giving a special concert just for you. It's going to be a secret between you, me, and Keiko-sensei, okay?"
"Un," Airi nodded, and mimicked Ueda's crossed fingers to show her silence.
"Keiko-sensei tells me you were playing in the rain yesterday ne," Ueda said, looking out of the window at the wind still stirring the branches of the tall trees at the edges of the playing field. "I think that's a perfect excuse to play Amefure, right? Close your eyes for me and imagine your mother holding a really big, beautiful Japanese umbrella that will keep you nice and dry, okay? Just nod a little bit when you have that picture in your mind."
Airi nodded.
Plucking the accompanying chords from the strings, Ueda started to sing:
"Rain rain fall fall, 'kaasan will
come for me with an umbrella, I'm so happy~
Splish splish splash splash
la la la~"
As he continued to play, Airi's breathing evened out and, by the end of the song, she seemed to have drifted off to sleep. Quietly, Ueda set the guitar down and pressed the palms of his hands on his thighs, giving a half-bow as he pressed his lips together.
"So you're a musician?" Keiko asked quietly, looking up from the desk where she was writing up her notes.
"I want to be," Ueda nodded, his voice also soft to avoid waking the child. "At the moment, I just play songs."
"I wanted to be like David Bowie once," Keiko said. "But I could only play the violin. You can't be very 'rock' with a violin."
"Yeah," Ueda nodded, grinning his understanding. "I can see how that would be a problem. When did 'becoming David Bowie' turn into 'becoming Keiko-sensei'?"
"My father was keen on me pursuing a good education," Keiko began, "so when I was selecting my major at college, I-"
"Airi-chan's mother is here," Jin said, knocking on the door and sliding it open in the same motion. "Tat-chan, can you come and entertain Naoki-kun for a moment? Hiroto hit him and he needs cheering up."
"We'll talk more later, right?" Ueda said, standing and looking at Keiko. "Sometime?" His fingers slipped on the neck of his guitar.
"Of course," Keiko nodded with a small, patient smile. "Now, go on."
::
"Are you hitting on Kitagawa-san?" Jin said as Ueda's rendition of Will Be Alright came to an end, fixing the older man with a look that did not come across as particularly stern in spite of his best efforts.
"No?" Ueda looked bemused. "Who?"
"Keiko-sensei, naturally," Jin stacked plastic chairs on top of each other in the corner of the room. "Good," he said. "I don't have to beat you up, then."
"As if you'd even stand a chance against me," Ueda snorted, and then held his hands up to show he wasn't being serious as Jin glared. "Why would it matter to you, anyway?"
"She's like my little sister," Jin said. "It would be wrong."
"Ah. Thank you for that outstandingly logical explanation, Akanishi."
"Shut up, Uebo. I mean it, yo. Don't go coldly ending things with her, not like the other girls."
"But I never even said-"
"Whatever. Come and help me with this."
And, just like that, the conversation shifted back to how it always had been.
::
The next day, Ueda woke up feeling like his head was about to explode.
With a groan, the aspiring musician dragged himself out from under his blankets (and accompanying musical scores and sheets of lyrics), shuffling into his slippers and towards the telephone.
"Jin," he snuffled into the phone as the other end connected. "I'm dying of the plague. Or pneumonia. Or consumption. Or the Black Death. Or typhus."
"The Black Death and the plague are essentially the same thing," Keiko said, amusement evident in her voice. "Akanishi-sensei is currently discussing the day's activities with Ohkura-sensei. Would you like me to get him for you?"
"No, he'll just get mad at me," Ueda wilted, feeling even more sorry for himself. "I think I caught Airi's cold."
"I'm afraid I'm a paediatrician," Keiko said, "which means I look after children. Not grown-ups. If you're certain it's cold though, I recommend warmth, bed rest, hot drinks and a supply of low-dose painkillers. I promise you won't die."
"My kettle's broken," Ueda said. "I can't afford a new one. I'll go back to bed to die quietly. Why are you there?"
"Head lice," Keiko said, and then clarified before Ueda started to panic: "Just a routine inspection, that's all."
"Okay," Ueda said, then: "You can come to my funeral too, if you want."
Keiko laughed. "You aren't going to die."
::
When Ueda woke again four hours later, there was a vaporiser plugged in to the socket in the wall and he could breathe through his nose. This would not have been an insurmountable problem except that he did not own a vaporiser, and that wall socket was normally used by the plug for his treasured Tiffany lamp. Even pushing back the blankets led Ueda to the realisation that an extra quilt had been added, and when he shuffled out into the lounge Ueda saw a folded note on his coffee table, and heard the sounds of movement and the smell of cooking from within his tiny kitchen.
"Hello," Ueda called out. A thief could not be all bad if they gave him blankets and soup.
"Oh, you're awake already," Keiko said, sticking her head out of the kitchen. Her hair was piled on top of her head in a knot, with thin, untidy wisps tumbling down. "I'm sorry, did I wake you?"
Ueda shook his head, looking around at his semi-untidy lounge. "How did you get here?"
"Akanishi-kun told me. I'm so sorry for intruding! He said he'd come along too, so it wouldn't be such a shock but he left to buy something and… ah, your soup is ready!" She disappeared again into the kitchen and Ueda tentatively walked nearer, looking at the crossed straps of her apron and the strands of hair escaped from the up-style curling by her neck.
"I'll tidy up in the kitchen and leave right away," Keiko said, setting the soup and large chunks of bread down on the table. "To go and murder Jin for abandoning me."
"You don't have to go," Ueda said, picking up a hunk of bread and pulling at it with nervous fingers. "Unless you want to, of course."
"I don't have to go," Keiko confessed. "You should rest, though."
Ueda supposed she was right, as he blew a little on the hot soup. He was entirely certain that he did not look his best, with bed-hair and a stuffy nose and croaky voice and-
"Oh my god," Keiko suddenly spoke up, and Ueda almost dropped his spoon as he looked up to find her staring at his wall. "You like Escher?"
"Yes!" Ueda nodded. "That's an artist's proof, it's one of the first ones I found. And I have a Chagall original being restored by specialists right now, actually."
"Wow," Keiko breathed, her eyes saucer-round before she frowned, and turned back to Ueda with her eyes narrowing suspiciously. "You can afford M.C. Escher proofs and Chagall originals, but can't afford a new kettle?"
"Um." Ueda swallowed his bread, and breathed. "It's sort of complicated." He braced himself as Keiko sat down on the rocking chair opposite. "My grandmother was a master of the Tea Ceremony, and when she died she left me a substantial amount money but under the condition that I would use it only to further my 'cultural education' - books, art, antiques, theatre, and so on."
"So you have money for art but not for food?"
Ueda ducked his head, embarrassed. "Pretty much, yes. And being a musician doesn't pay well, on the whole."
There was a pause as Ueda returned to his bread and chicken soup. Keiko looked thoughtful.
"Why music?"
Ueda glanced up, and then set his spoon down, thinking about his choice of words before he responded. "It… It's what feels right. 'No music, no life', right?" He carried on as Keiko nodded, finding confidence in his words. "I'm no academic or deep philosopher. I don't want to be dragged down by the daily life of a salaryman. This is what makes me happy, with or without financial success."
"I respect you for that," Keiko said, looking up at the technical accuracy of the print on the wall. "I thought about acting, when I was younger, but I'm perfectly happy doing this work, instead."
"It must be a good feeling, to be able to bring happiness to someone's life every day," Ueda mused, returning to his food. "So many children must be living healthy lives now, thanks to you."
"I guess we each seek to bring happiness to other people, in different ways," Keiko nodded.
Ueda shrugged, not so sure. "I'm not certain my motives are quite as altruistic as yours," he confessed.
"I think it would take a fair amount of altruism to play the Ponyo song twenty-five times in a row," Keiko grinned, and Ueda found himself grinning too, albeit more in embarrassment.
"I had that song stuck in my head for three days afterwards," he said. "I caught myself singing it at the conbini, and the cashier stared at me like I was crazy."
"Everyone's a little crazy," Keiko shrugged.
There was another pause, and then she spoke again: "So, with your money available only for cultural expenses, if I told you that there was a traditional production of Kanadehon Chuushingura at the National Theatre next week…"
Ueda caught on surprisingly quickly; "I would be able to get tickets without a problem, just without the ability to take you out for a meal beforehand."
"That's a shame," Keiko shook her head sadly. "I like food."
"Me too," Ueda said, unable to look up from his bowl of soup. He didn't realise he sounded as miserable as he felt until Keiko laughed.
"It might be unconventional, but I don't mind paying for the food," she said with a small grin. "After all, it would be worth it to see classic Kabuki theatre in such good company."
"Is that so," Ueda said, with an answering grin that he hid by finishing his soup and shoving the remainder of his bread in his mouth. "It could probably be managed, somehow."
::
When Jin finally, finally returned from buying a new kettle, he found Ueda fast asleep. He was sprawled out on the couch with a blanket covering him, with his head in Keiko's lap. The long-haired Kansai woman looked up from the first-edition copy of 1Q84 she had taken from Ueda's bookshelf, and held a finger to her lips, telling Jin to be quiet.
Jin grinned and ducked his head, setting the new kettle down in the now-tidy kitchen. When he walked back into the lounge, he saw that Keiko had once more become engrossed in her book, the fingers of her left hand idly threading through the sleeping Ueda's hair.
Nobody noticed him leave.
::end::
From: pipsqueaks
Title: Moving Forward While Standing Still
Pairing: Ueda Tatsuya/Kitagawa Keiko
Rating: G
Summary: AU. 'Jin-sensei' frequently calls on Ueda to help out at the BUTTERFLY pre-school playgroup, where a certain Kansai-born paediatrician is occasionally summoned to look after children in need of medical care.
A/N: gachapin18, I truly hope that you have a wonderful White Day and that you enjoy reading this fic! ♥ Many thanks to my Queen of Pirates for help in the planning, and to B who held my hand near the end. Approx.3500 words.
"No, Jin. Not again." Ueda held the vintage Bakelite telephone to his ear by supporting it with his shoulder as his fingers stroked silently over the piano keys. He could hear the music in his head, he felt, it just helped to touch the corresponding keys even if they produced no sound. "It's not possible."
"You said that last week." The voice on the other end of the line sounded faintly tinny, but the amusement was clear enough. "They'll be disappointed if Uebo-niisan doesn't come and sing to them. Airi might even cry."
"Well," Ueda said, trying not to sound as uncomfortable as he felt, "it will just teach her to be a stronger individual when she grows up, then."
"Stronger indiv-- Tat-chan, she's three."
Ueda folded; it was not as though he ever thought this was a battle he could win. Jin and children was a formidable combination. "I hate you, Akanishi."
"I'll see you on Wednesday!" There was a click as the line went dead, and then nothing but the monotonous buzz of an ended call. Ueda set the receiver back in its cradle and stared at it, as though daring it to ring again.
And then he grinned. It may not be his constant quest to find The Song, but at least some of the children were beginning to learn the words to The Wheels on the Bus at last (which was a definite improvement on the first week where he'd had to play the Ponyo song solidly for an hour and then endure Jin's laughter the whole way home).
::
The best part about getting sick, Naoki decided, was Keiko-sensei. Jin-sensei was a perennial fixture of the daycare centre at their end of the small suburb, like Ohkura-sensei, and they were almost always fun, but Keiko-sensei only appeared if you were poorly. She was pretty and had soft hands and nice hair that smelled like the mango shampoo that 'kaasan used. If your mother was at work and couldn't give you cuddles, then Keiko-sensei was the next best thing. Naoki quite liked getting sick, if only for the fact that it meant Keiko-sensei visited. He didn't get sick often - he knew this, because 'tousan was proud of him, but when he did feel his tummy hurting from too much running around, or when he bumped his head against the doorframe by accident, Keiko-sensei was never too far away with her kind smile and mango hair.
Of course, Naoki couldn't express this properly, being only two and a half years old, but just as he knew that When You're Happy And You Know It means hand-clapping, he knew that being poorly means Keiko-sensei means feeling better fast.
If you weren't sick, though, the next-best part of Playgroup was Uebo-niisan and his guitar. The first time Naoki had seen Uebo-niisan he had dark hair that was all spiky like a character in the anime shows he liked to watch, but then Naoki's parents took him on holiday to Okinawa and when he came back Uebo-niisan's hair was all coppery-gold and he had a sparkly smile that was more like the Ohime-sama-types, which was funny because Uebo-niisan wore underwear on his head and made silly faces using the modelling clay, and that wasn't ohime-sama behaviour at all.
::
"Where did Naoki-kun go on holiday?" There was the soft sound of guitar music as Ueda played a couple of experimental chords while he waited for the children to settle on their mats after lunch.
"Okinawa," Naoki replied, full of warmth and rice.
"Did you climb any trees?"
"Nuh-uh," Naoki shook his head. "They were all too high."
"That's okay," Ueda nodded. "Climbing trees can be dangerous. What's the thing you remember most about Okinawa?"
"Mm," Naoki lay down and stared sleepily at the branches of the trees outside swaying. "The wind. And the waves. You can always hear the sea in the air, even if you can't see it."
"Let's go there right now, then," Ueda said, picking out notes on his guitar as he thought. "With the peaceful sound of the wind and the waves, let's ride to Okinawa in our sleep, okay?"
::
"That was a good one," Jin said, his voice barely above a whisper as the children dozed quietly. "I liked it."
Ueda just shrugged, and pulled a face. "It wasn't right," he said, sliding the guitar back into its soft case for a moment. "It was almost there, I think, but it wasn't it."
"What makes you think you're gonna find the song, anyway?" Jin asked, putting the finger-painting pots back away in the craft cupboard. "Your book theory again?"
"Books get lost. There are thousands, millions, billions of books out there in every language imaginable, right? Even standards of 'good writing' change over time. If I said to you civil blood makes civil hands unclean, would you be able to tell me where it came from?"
"Die Hard 2," Jin guessed. Ueda fixed him with a look, which Jin returned, unblinking.
"…Whereas if I go Hey Jude, don't make it bad~ you will-"
"Take a sad song, and make it better~"
"Exactly. Music has 'no borders, nationalities or gender'! I don't want to be one of the 'everyone' who has a novel inside them, I want to produce The Song. The one that will put me on the map of musical history."
"Isn't it enough making the children here happy playing Ponyo?"
There was a pause. "I refuse to answer that on the grounds that it may incriminate myself."
"Jin-sensei…"
Conversation halted as a small voice spoke up from the mats on the floor. "Airi-chan? What is it?"
"I don't feel very well…"
Jin carefully picked his way across the floor and crouched down next to the small, dark-haired child. "Can you tell me what's wrong?" he asked, and pressed the back of his hand to her forehead. "Did you eat too much at lunchtime?"
"I wasn't hungry," Airi replied, shaking her head a little and then wincing.
"No problem," Jin said, encouraging the girl to stand and then picking her up as she wobbled, face pale. "Uebo-nii will call Keiko-sensei right now, and she'll come and see if she can make you better, okay?"
"Un," Airi nodded, resting her head in the curve between Jin's shoulder and neck, half-asleep again already.
"Doctor's surgery, number's in the book by the phone," Jin said, looking at Ueda over Airi's sleeping head. "She's the paediatrician."
It was only when Jin was at the other end of the room settling Airi comfortably in a giant bean-bag and giving her a glass of water that Ueda realised he did not actually know 'Keiko-sensei's' real name.
"Can I help you?" the voice on the other end of the line heightened Ueda's sense of anxiety, and he stared hard at Jin's back, as though that would help him draw her name out through telepathy. "Hello?"
"Ah, hello, I'm sorry," Ueda stumbled over his words. "Please forgive me, I don't know her name… I'm looking for Keiko-sensei?"
A laugh, and then, "That's me. Speaking?"
"Ueda Tatsuya, from the BUTTERFLY playgroup in--"
"Ah, of course. You need me there? Please give me the name of the children who need my care and their symptoms as best as you can describe them."
"Uh," Ueda stared at Jin's back some more as the younger man wrapped the child in a blanket. "Uehara Airi, seems to have a fever and a headache… suspected loss of appetite? I don't know, I'm sorry."
"That's okay," Keiko-sensei said in a professional tone. There was a distant clatter of typing. "Have you observed any sensitivity to light or a rash on any part of her skin?"
"Um, no? I… I don't know? I'm sorry, Akanishi just…"
There was faint amusement in her voice. "I understand. I know Akanishi-san too. I'll come over right away."
::
"Keiko-sensei," Airi said, pulling a face and squirming as the in-ear thermometer tickled her. "Am I sick?"
"Only a little bit," the young woman smiled as she noted the child's raised temperature. "Did you go out playing in the rain yesterday?"
"Not a lot!" Airi protested, eyes wide. "I didn't get very wet…"
"It's given you a cold now," Keiko said, "so it's best if your mother comes to collect you and you can have plenty of sleep in your own bed, okay?"
"But it's Wednesday," Airi said, tearing up. "Uebo-niisan plays songs for us on Wednesdays. Won't I get to hear him if I have to go home?"
"Ue… Uebo-niisan is in the main room right now," Keiko said, adjusting the rectangular-framed glasses on her nose. "He might be busy, but I will ask him if he can come and play a song for you here as well, okay?"
Keiko stuck her head out of the room that made up the nurse's station and glanced about. The children were moving away from the carpeted area and heading across the room to the various activities going on - painting, building things with toy blocks, playing in the sandpit. The reddish-haired guitarist had stood up and seemed to be packing his guitar away, but looked up when she waved and walked over.
"Excuse me, but can you play a song for Airi-chan before her mother arrives?" she asked, stepping outside the nurse's room and pulling the door to. "She's really sad at the thought that she won't get to hear Uebo-niisan playing this week."
"Is she contagious?" Ueda eyed the door warily.
"If she was, would I be inviting you in?"
Ueda had no answer to that, and so he reluctantly nodded and went to fetch his guitar once more. Keiko slid the door open once more, and the two adults stepped inside.
"Uebo-niisan~" Airi croaked from within her bundle of blankets. "Are you coming to pl--"
"Shh," Ueda said, sitting down and putting his fingers to his lips in an 'x'. "You have to keep super-quiet so nobody knows I'm giving a special concert just for you. It's going to be a secret between you, me, and Keiko-sensei, okay?"
"Un," Airi nodded, and mimicked Ueda's crossed fingers to show her silence.
"Keiko-sensei tells me you were playing in the rain yesterday ne," Ueda said, looking out of the window at the wind still stirring the branches of the tall trees at the edges of the playing field. "I think that's a perfect excuse to play Amefure, right? Close your eyes for me and imagine your mother holding a really big, beautiful Japanese umbrella that will keep you nice and dry, okay? Just nod a little bit when you have that picture in your mind."
Airi nodded.
Plucking the accompanying chords from the strings, Ueda started to sing:
"Rain rain fall fall, 'kaasan will
come for me with an umbrella, I'm so happy~
Splish splish splash splash
la la la~"
As he continued to play, Airi's breathing evened out and, by the end of the song, she seemed to have drifted off to sleep. Quietly, Ueda set the guitar down and pressed the palms of his hands on his thighs, giving a half-bow as he pressed his lips together.
"So you're a musician?" Keiko asked quietly, looking up from the desk where she was writing up her notes.
"I want to be," Ueda nodded, his voice also soft to avoid waking the child. "At the moment, I just play songs."
"I wanted to be like David Bowie once," Keiko said. "But I could only play the violin. You can't be very 'rock' with a violin."
"Yeah," Ueda nodded, grinning his understanding. "I can see how that would be a problem. When did 'becoming David Bowie' turn into 'becoming Keiko-sensei'?"
"My father was keen on me pursuing a good education," Keiko began, "so when I was selecting my major at college, I-"
"Airi-chan's mother is here," Jin said, knocking on the door and sliding it open in the same motion. "Tat-chan, can you come and entertain Naoki-kun for a moment? Hiroto hit him and he needs cheering up."
"We'll talk more later, right?" Ueda said, standing and looking at Keiko. "Sometime?" His fingers slipped on the neck of his guitar.
"Of course," Keiko nodded with a small, patient smile. "Now, go on."
::
"Are you hitting on Kitagawa-san?" Jin said as Ueda's rendition of Will Be Alright came to an end, fixing the older man with a look that did not come across as particularly stern in spite of his best efforts.
"No?" Ueda looked bemused. "Who?"
"Keiko-sensei, naturally," Jin stacked plastic chairs on top of each other in the corner of the room. "Good," he said. "I don't have to beat you up, then."
"As if you'd even stand a chance against me," Ueda snorted, and then held his hands up to show he wasn't being serious as Jin glared. "Why would it matter to you, anyway?"
"She's like my little sister," Jin said. "It would be wrong."
"Ah. Thank you for that outstandingly logical explanation, Akanishi."
"Shut up, Uebo. I mean it, yo. Don't go coldly ending things with her, not like the other girls."
"But I never even said-"
"Whatever. Come and help me with this."
And, just like that, the conversation shifted back to how it always had been.
::
The next day, Ueda woke up feeling like his head was about to explode.
With a groan, the aspiring musician dragged himself out from under his blankets (and accompanying musical scores and sheets of lyrics), shuffling into his slippers and towards the telephone.
"Jin," he snuffled into the phone as the other end connected. "I'm dying of the plague. Or pneumonia. Or consumption. Or the Black Death. Or typhus."
"The Black Death and the plague are essentially the same thing," Keiko said, amusement evident in her voice. "Akanishi-sensei is currently discussing the day's activities with Ohkura-sensei. Would you like me to get him for you?"
"No, he'll just get mad at me," Ueda wilted, feeling even more sorry for himself. "I think I caught Airi's cold."
"I'm afraid I'm a paediatrician," Keiko said, "which means I look after children. Not grown-ups. If you're certain it's cold though, I recommend warmth, bed rest, hot drinks and a supply of low-dose painkillers. I promise you won't die."
"My kettle's broken," Ueda said. "I can't afford a new one. I'll go back to bed to die quietly. Why are you there?"
"Head lice," Keiko said, and then clarified before Ueda started to panic: "Just a routine inspection, that's all."
"Okay," Ueda said, then: "You can come to my funeral too, if you want."
Keiko laughed. "You aren't going to die."
::
When Ueda woke again four hours later, there was a vaporiser plugged in to the socket in the wall and he could breathe through his nose. This would not have been an insurmountable problem except that he did not own a vaporiser, and that wall socket was normally used by the plug for his treasured Tiffany lamp. Even pushing back the blankets led Ueda to the realisation that an extra quilt had been added, and when he shuffled out into the lounge Ueda saw a folded note on his coffee table, and heard the sounds of movement and the smell of cooking from within his tiny kitchen.
"Hello," Ueda called out. A thief could not be all bad if they gave him blankets and soup.
"Oh, you're awake already," Keiko said, sticking her head out of the kitchen. Her hair was piled on top of her head in a knot, with thin, untidy wisps tumbling down. "I'm sorry, did I wake you?"
Ueda shook his head, looking around at his semi-untidy lounge. "How did you get here?"
"Akanishi-kun told me. I'm so sorry for intruding! He said he'd come along too, so it wouldn't be such a shock but he left to buy something and… ah, your soup is ready!" She disappeared again into the kitchen and Ueda tentatively walked nearer, looking at the crossed straps of her apron and the strands of hair escaped from the up-style curling by her neck.
"I'll tidy up in the kitchen and leave right away," Keiko said, setting the soup and large chunks of bread down on the table. "To go and murder Jin for abandoning me."
"You don't have to go," Ueda said, picking up a hunk of bread and pulling at it with nervous fingers. "Unless you want to, of course."
"I don't have to go," Keiko confessed. "You should rest, though."
Ueda supposed she was right, as he blew a little on the hot soup. He was entirely certain that he did not look his best, with bed-hair and a stuffy nose and croaky voice and-
"Oh my god," Keiko suddenly spoke up, and Ueda almost dropped his spoon as he looked up to find her staring at his wall. "You like Escher?"
"Yes!" Ueda nodded. "That's an artist's proof, it's one of the first ones I found. And I have a Chagall original being restored by specialists right now, actually."
"Wow," Keiko breathed, her eyes saucer-round before she frowned, and turned back to Ueda with her eyes narrowing suspiciously. "You can afford M.C. Escher proofs and Chagall originals, but can't afford a new kettle?"
"Um." Ueda swallowed his bread, and breathed. "It's sort of complicated." He braced himself as Keiko sat down on the rocking chair opposite. "My grandmother was a master of the Tea Ceremony, and when she died she left me a substantial amount money but under the condition that I would use it only to further my 'cultural education' - books, art, antiques, theatre, and so on."
"So you have money for art but not for food?"
Ueda ducked his head, embarrassed. "Pretty much, yes. And being a musician doesn't pay well, on the whole."
There was a pause as Ueda returned to his bread and chicken soup. Keiko looked thoughtful.
"Why music?"
Ueda glanced up, and then set his spoon down, thinking about his choice of words before he responded. "It… It's what feels right. 'No music, no life', right?" He carried on as Keiko nodded, finding confidence in his words. "I'm no academic or deep philosopher. I don't want to be dragged down by the daily life of a salaryman. This is what makes me happy, with or without financial success."
"I respect you for that," Keiko said, looking up at the technical accuracy of the print on the wall. "I thought about acting, when I was younger, but I'm perfectly happy doing this work, instead."
"It must be a good feeling, to be able to bring happiness to someone's life every day," Ueda mused, returning to his food. "So many children must be living healthy lives now, thanks to you."
"I guess we each seek to bring happiness to other people, in different ways," Keiko nodded.
Ueda shrugged, not so sure. "I'm not certain my motives are quite as altruistic as yours," he confessed.
"I think it would take a fair amount of altruism to play the Ponyo song twenty-five times in a row," Keiko grinned, and Ueda found himself grinning too, albeit more in embarrassment.
"I had that song stuck in my head for three days afterwards," he said. "I caught myself singing it at the conbini, and the cashier stared at me like I was crazy."
"Everyone's a little crazy," Keiko shrugged.
There was another pause, and then she spoke again: "So, with your money available only for cultural expenses, if I told you that there was a traditional production of Kanadehon Chuushingura at the National Theatre next week…"
Ueda caught on surprisingly quickly; "I would be able to get tickets without a problem, just without the ability to take you out for a meal beforehand."
"That's a shame," Keiko shook her head sadly. "I like food."
"Me too," Ueda said, unable to look up from his bowl of soup. He didn't realise he sounded as miserable as he felt until Keiko laughed.
"It might be unconventional, but I don't mind paying for the food," she said with a small grin. "After all, it would be worth it to see classic Kabuki theatre in such good company."
"Is that so," Ueda said, with an answering grin that he hid by finishing his soup and shoving the remainder of his bread in his mouth. "It could probably be managed, somehow."
::
When Jin finally, finally returned from buying a new kettle, he found Ueda fast asleep. He was sprawled out on the couch with a blanket covering him, with his head in Keiko's lap. The long-haired Kansai woman looked up from the first-edition copy of 1Q84 she had taken from Ueda's bookshelf, and held a finger to her lips, telling Jin to be quiet.
Jin grinned and ducked his head, setting the new kettle down in the now-tidy kitchen. When he walked back into the lounge, he saw that Keiko had once more become engrossed in her book, the fingers of her left hand idly threading through the sleeping Ueda's hair.
Nobody noticed him leave.
::end::