Maggie doesn't want to be seen. She walks among the library's rows, unnoticed. She wants it this way. She has everything planned, but sometimes life has other plans. She's a different kind of mild-mannered librarian, but she didn't want her life to change. [Kurama/OC]

I only own my OC and her family, as well as coworkers, etc. If I owned the YYH Universe I would not be writing FanFiction on a shitty laptop.

This story exists in the same universe as my other story, Waking Dreams. You don't have to read that one first (or at all), but you will miss out on the occasional nod to the other story. I exist only to write for you, dear reader, so please take the time to review the chapters, and let me know if you love or hate it!

I've always loved libraries. My mom was never really enthusiastic about many things, but I could always get whatever I wanted from a library. It was a regular activity for us – every Friday afternoon, after she got off work, we would go to the library, and she would follow me around as I selected my reading for the next week. I learned early on that she wouldn't stop me from leaving the children's section and heading towards more adult themes – war, sickness, politics, and classical fiction. She never encouraged it, nor discouraged. My mother had opinions on almost everything, but never on my reading selection. It's very encouraging for a ten year-old.

I had big dreams for my future, mostly because of all that reading. I saw in those books a beautiful, adventurous world. I wanted to be a Marine Biologist. I wanted to be a firefighter. I wanted to own a horse farm. I wanted to be an astronaut.

Those books were full of real people's secrets, too. Have you ever checked out a book and found someone's grocery list tucked in the last page as a bookmark? I kept those little items in an old tin lunchbox under my bed. They were my treasures – peeks into hidden lives.

At some point I decided - at a very young age, mind you – that I wanted to be a historian. I would get a bachelor's, and a master's, and finally a PhD. I was going to record people's lives before stories were lost to time and memory.

But circumstances change.

I didn't get my bachelor's degree, and didn't apply to graduate school. I got a job at a library working the circulation desk in my last year of high school. It was run by three little old ladies, and one particularly creaky gentleman. They didn't have the energy to get up and down (and up and down and up and down) from the desk to help patrons.

I worked there for a year and a half before I was given an honorary position as a librarian. Most libraries want you to have a Master's in Library Science, but they didn't have the budget for a "real" librarian. And they liked me, which helped.

My days rarely varied, and I liked it that way. I would help someone find a book, shelve a few hundred books, and read another dozen. I didn't want to make an impact on the world around me. I didn't want to make a mark.

I just wanted to fade away, unrecorded and never remembered.

I think that the opening shift has always been my favorite time of day. There's a peace and power in it. My keys jingled too merrily in my coat pocket, chorused by a rushing autumn wind picking up on the streets. I pulled my coat a little tighter as I quickened my steps, rushing for the warm shelter of the Library.

The front door lock stuck – like it always did – at the half-turn, and I nudged the door with my foot to jiggle it in the doorframe. There was a permanent dent in the wood from where every librarian had nudged the door with their own shoe. It was hard to pull the door against the wind, and I had to strain a little because of my choice of footwear – why had I worn heels today? Oh, right, because I wanted to feel pretty for once.

Once inside I shook off the cold, locking the door behind me. I was early, but I was always early. The other librarians weren't due in for another half-hour at least. I hung up my coat in the little room behind the circulation desk, and pushed the power buttons on the computers as I passed, both humming to life in response. The main bank of lights was next, their heavy switches clack -ing loudly, and bright lights flickering on high above.

I took an easy stroll through the rows of books, only briefly glancing around to make sure that books hadn't been left on the floor or tables by the night shift. Finding everything in relatively good order, I ascended the back stairs, and returned to the circulation desk.

I logged into the computer, checking to see if any inter-library loan books were scheduled to arrive that day, or if requested articles had been sent. Sometimes libraries needed a little prodding to send their works, but it generally got done in a timely fashion.

"Maggie!" I looked up sharply as my name was called across the quiet library floor. My coworker – Mrs. Kimura – was waving enthusiastically from the front door – cheerful to a fault. I waved back timidly. "You look cute today!" She commented as she hung up her coat, as I had done only a few minutes before. "Hot date later?"

I laughed and shook my head – some things just sound strange when uttered by a 65-year old. "You know no one's good enough for my dad." I replied. Among other reasons… I thought to myself.

"Well, those shoes with those pants make your butt look amazing." Yet again, some things just shouldn't be uttered by anyone's grandmother.

"Ah, you've discovered my secret butt plan." I cackled evilly, and Mrs. Kimura burst out laughing. She quickly stifled it – library habit – and started her shuffle to her office behind the stacks.

I greeted the other librarians as they arrived, and exchanged the usual small talk. I considered it to be generally necessary to appease the people around me. Everyone remembers the surly, silent coworker. People don't think much about the generally cheery, but only moderately chatty, coworker.

The circulation desk is a great place to be invisible. I opened the doors on time, and a few people were already waiting outside. If you asked any one of those people what color my hair was, I promise you not a single person would be able to answer.

I checked out maybe twenty books over the course of a few hours. We are not a hugely popular library. We don't have a great selection of movies, especially not anything made after 1982, and no magazines to speak of. We have the daily newspaper available, and a few national and international papers. We do have a spectacular restoration room, but people aren't really interested in that.

The library was pretty quiet when a reserve request popped up on my screen. There was no reason for me to stay chained to the desk, so I tapped 'print', the printer chirping merrily under the counter.

I scanned the Dewey number, and walked downstairs towards the science section. Biology, plant biology… I sighed. Of course, it was on the top shelf, eight feet off the ground. I scanned the rows for a little footstool, shuffling it in position with my foot.

Even with my heels, I was still unfortunately short. I reached for the book – come on, I summoned. I envisioned the book shuffling towards me. No such luck.

My vision swam unexpectedly, and gravity seemed to turn sideways. I teetered on the little footstool, and my ankle twisted out suddenly to the side, and I lost all balance. Time slowed down, and then sped up rapidly as I landed hard on my side. I groaned, rolling over on my back. "Ow…"

I heard light footsteps, and a concerned voice. "Are you alright?" It took me a moment to focus enough to see his face – his rather astonishing hair color focused first.

"Fine, thank you. I just lost my balance." I patted my breastbone awkwardly, realizing my glasses had somehow come unhooked from their chain. Yes, I wore my glasses like a little old librarian on a chain around my neck. They had somehow stayed intact through the fall, and were just lying on the ground next to me.

"That was quite a tumble." He held a hand out to help me up, and I took it gratefully. With surprising strength he all but hauled me to my feet.

"Hazard of the job, it seems." I swept floor lint off my pants, my bracelet jingling merrily. "I haven't seen you in a while." He looked confused. "We've met. You went to Meiou, right? You pretty much owned a study room here for a while." I pointed to his vibrant hair. "It's hard to forget hair like that."

"My apologies, I don't recall." He looked genuinely concerned that he couldn't remember me – more than I expected.

I waved a hand dismissively. "That's alright; I don't remember your name. So we'll call it even." I offered him a small smile. That should have been enough for him to bow slightly and leave me alone, as is the typical gesture.

This particular man, however, stood across from me a moment too long for mere courtesy. He had that look – there's a very particular look – of someone who wants to ask for help finding a book but haven't yet decided they can't find it on their own.

I decided to rescue him from his indecision. "Do you need anything?" I asked gently.

"Could I ask you for assistance? I seem to be having a great deal of trouble locating a book." He tilted his head a little, smiling. It was almost apologetic, and endearing.

I couldn't help but smile."Of course, what's the title?" I gestured for him to follow me back upstairs. My heels clacked loudly on the stairs, and I tried not to wince at the sound.

He pulled a slip of paper from his pocket. "Manual of the Vascular Flora of the Carolinas. In English, if at all possible." He read as I slipped around the counter of the Circulation desk.

I frowned as I typed it into our search function – I could look forever, but I already knew we didn't have it. "That's an unusual book to find outside out of the United States, given the specificity; you won't find it here – especially not in English." I propped my elbows on the counter, fiddling with a pen.

He nodded, and bowed lightly. "I see. Thank you for your assistance."

He turned so abruptly I had to raise my voice above the usual librarian level. "Wait a second!" He turned back, and I could lower my voice again. "I can check the Interlibrary loan system and see if any libraries will lend us a copy."

"Ah! That would be wonderful, thank you." He smiled again, eyes sparkling a little. One man should not be so charming while saying so little. But I had a computer to focus on, which would help me ignore him, and would make me more invisible.

I felt strangely inclined to chat, though. "While I'm checking – do you mind if I ask why you want it? It's not every day I get an interesting request like this." I wanted to hear a little more of his voice – to confirm that even with that long red hair and strangely refined posture, he had a delightfully masculine voice. He spoke softly, which masked it well, but I've heard a thousand 'hello's and some are just more memorable.

I would later blame my tumble in the stacks for my poor judgement.

His soft voice carried across the desk without him having to lean on the desk, which I appreciated. "A friend of mine asked me to locate it. I'm not sure if it's more for sentimental or educational purposes, really." He smiled bemusedly, and I sensed that there was much more to the story.

A window popped up on my screen before I could ask more prying questions. "Ah! It seems a college in the United States is willing to send us a copy for a few weeks. Your library card?" I held out a hand, and he quickly produced the small piece of plastic. I scanned the barcode, inputting his information in the 'recipient' blocks. I gave him back his card. "Ok – you're all set. It'll take about a week, and you'll get an e-mail when the book arrives."

"Thank you very much for your assistance." He bowed again.

Inspired by some strange, rarely-present muse, I offered him a little smile, and a piece of advice. "If you want to make some librarian's day, tuck a thank-you note or something in the front cover when you return the book, before we ship it back to the States. We never get that sort of thing."

He returned my smile. "I'll keep that in mind."

Mrs. Kimura appeared behind the desk as he left – the woman shuffles along at a positively glacial pace until she sees a cute boy – at which she moves like a ninja. It's insane, truly. "Ooo – he was cute! What's his name?" she asked in a singsong voice.

I glanced at the scan record that I had yet to close out. "Minamino Shuichi."

She smiled appreciatively at his vanishing form through the window– lecherous old woman. "Well let me know when his book comes in – I want another look!"

I closed out the scan record. "You're incorrigible." I sighed.

"See you tomorrow." I waved to the relieving librarian, before venturing out into the freezing weather.

I felt like I lived in shades of beige. Camel-color coat, tan slacks, white shoes, white blouse, beige scarf, hair tucked up under a white knitted beret. Don't look at me. Don't come too close. Let your eyes glaze over when I speak and forget my name. I am nothing and no one and nobody cares.

I tugged a little at my hair as I pushed it up into the hat. I missed my long hair. It had been long – rich black waves tumbling in wild tides over my shoulders. Now it was… significantly shorter.

The wind whipped around my legs, and threatened to run away with me. Dance, it called, fly, it commanded. I walked on, indifferent to the joy of the wind. I took the long way home – a ten-minute walk, instead of an eight-minute walk. My world was very small.

Unlocking my front door, the wind whipped through, scattering my loose mail. Bill, bill, junk, bill, junk…I picked up the little envelope that always lived on my front counter, and tucked it into a drawer. It was a very nice envelope, linen paper and everything. "I died today" was written on the front. I moved it back and forth from that drawer every day.

My apartment was sparsely furnished. One could call it modern, but I just called it practical. I didn't even own a television. I had a lot of plants, though.

I cooked myself dinner with some light classical music floating from the radio. I ate dinner, did the dishes, and picked a book to read. I sat on my thrift-store sofa, feet tucked under a warm blanket, and read in silence.

Late in the evening I changed, brushed my teeth, watered my plants, and went to bed.

Another day gone.

A/N: I know it's just the first chapter, but please review! It lets me know that you didn't hate it, first of all, and that I should keep going. Otherwise I want to stick my head under the blankets and never come up again.