Before Hayashi left that night, he insisted I eat the supper he'd brought to me and watched my every mouthful. Then, unceremoniously, he collected all the plates, even those with my untouched meals still on them, along with cups, glasses, and cutlery, and left my room.

Downstairs, I heard the prescribed audio of washing dishes: the tinkle of the first water from the faucet hitting the steel sink basin and the gradual deepening sploshes as the suds foamed. Every so often, I heard the clinking of dishes as they were set onto the draining rack. Amidst his domestic undertaking, he hummed a tune; the low and calm rumble of his voice helped me settle back into bed.

The first roll of thunder roused me. I don't know how long I'd been asleep, but since the moon had barely moved in the sky, I wondered if Hayashi had made it home before the rain came.

From then on, Hayashi and Kenichi would come to the nest for dinner every night.

On the third night, they brought a chicken for everyone to share, and while it roasted, I sat with my legs hung over the side of the mezzanine, watching life play out below.

The four youngest children played some variation on a game of T.A.G. while Juniper, Aster, Kenichi, and Alder played cards at the kitchen table. The eldest boy, Calix, sat in the lounge with an old acoustic guitar, and Hayashi sat opposite him, providing a lesson. The instrument was passed back and forth; Hayashi would demonstrate a chord pattern, and then Calix would attempt to mimic it. Sometimes, Hayashi would reposition the boy's fingers over the strings and frets until his rendition neared perfection.

The music, the laughter, and the cheerful calls of the children made me smile bittersweetly. I remembered how Eli and Lottie used to play together as little ones before Benji was born. The thought that I might never get to witness my baby girl, Emma, playing such games had me wiping stray tears from my cheek. Thank goodness that Kenichi's defeated wail interrupted my train of thought. He'd lost his fourth game of cards and was displeased. The twenty-five-year-old had patience nearer to that of a five-year-old; it was no wonder he threw down his cards and gave up. He stomped over to the lounge to cheer on Calix instead.

This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

After the boy had finished his song, he offered the guitar to Hayashi, and then a new game began, trying to convince him to play for them. Everyone joined in the coaxing.

"No, no. After dinner," he insisted, holding his hands up and surrendering the instrument back to Calix.

"Come on now, just a little tune." Calix pushed and looked to his father for support. "Da' tell him to play for us."

"He'll play when he wants'ta. Let the poor man be, Cal'." Lowel chuckled.

"Bah, come on, June. Tell him, won't ya?" He turned to his sister, who was checking the oven.

"There's time before dinner..." Juniper smiled sweetly. "Play for us, 'Yashi, we'd love it."

I'd forgotten my own presence watching the scene below, but then his eyes found mine. It felt intimate, like a character from a T.V. show had noticed me through the glass. I smiled in encouragement, though I felt almost sure that he'd meant to give into them after his modesty ran out.

"Okay. Okay. I will play." He nodded and took the neck of the guitar into his hand. Once it was cradled in his lap, he paused a moment in thought, no doubt thinking of a song to play for us.

It barely took four chords to play before I knew the song. It was such a well-known piece and instantly set a certain kind of mood. Written for an acoustic guitar and ideally without accompaniment, just like tonight's setting, it was a perfect choice. He strummed the tender love song into life, tapping the beat off the guitar's body and setting a rhythm by which he bobbed his head. His silky hair swayed down one side of his face; the ambient glow of candlelight was caught by the black curtain and reflected back into his face, highlighting his cheekbones, the smooth length of his nose and deep almond-shaped eyes. All the while, he modestly kept his eyes from his audience, but it was a blessing that Kenichi jumped in to encourage him to sing before the intro had played out. The humble smile he shot the young demon-kin inspired everyone to start applauding and cheering in encouragement, too. Despite shaking his head, he continued playing, repeating the intro as if he were considering singing to us. He glanced upward and found my eyes were already transfixed on him; they had been since he'd started playing. I don't know if my smile or applause convinced him, but I was eager to hear his voice, and this was the lightest my mood had been in months.

About to sing, his chest swelled when he drew breath. For the first few words, his eyes remained on mine...

"Saying I love you is not the words I want to hear from you-"

... And I couldn't have anticipated how instantly it would move me.