Summary: Hinamori Amu (or as she likes to call herself: 'Amy') is a level-headed girl who has always followed orders. How will she cope when her father assigns her to take care of Tsukiyomi Ikuto: a man with Stendhal Syndrome?

Disclaimer: I do not own Shugo Chara!.

"Father, are you sure that a young lady such as myself should be wandering about alone in an area such as this?" I whispered. I was always cautious whenever I came to this mental hospital. I'm not kidding. It really is a mental hospital I'm in.

This place was always so cold that it felt like my heart was going to stop at any time soon, now. I could almost feel it. It was as if I had swallowed a pebble and had not told my parents. And the smell was awful. Maybe some of these mental people are not only sick mentally.

"'Course I am," he answered me, writing on a piece of paper on his clipboard. "And you're not alone. I'm with you," he assured in his Japanese accent, grinning widely at me before continuing his walk to yet another patient. This one was supposedly diagnosed with a severe case of 'Stendhal Syndrome' or whatever that is.

While we passed by, I was always looking at the glass wall at my right, just watching the birds fly and trees sway. I just barely got out of school on this beautiful day and my dad wanted me to help him take care of some old guy who I didn't even know. Just great.

It's such a shame that I'm not allowed to use my cell phone whenever I'm in here or else he'll confiscate it. Me, of course, being the little-miss-goody-two-shoes I was, followed his orders and stayed out of trouble.

When I was younger and my dad was always working, I stayed at my grandma's house and played at the nearby park. I would usually be talking with the boy that lived straight across from grandma's. We accidentally kissed once, but no one ever caught that.

He was about five years older than me. I haven't seen him in a long time. We used to love swinging on the swings, going up and down on the seesaw, and even climbing through those colorful obstacle courses. Well, I'm in Japan, now. I doubt that I'll see him again, although it would be quite nice to.

"Alright, father. Alright." I continued to walk with him, hands in my pocket, when my dad stopped. "Father?" And in a flash, he was behind me, 'fixing' my hair.

"Father, what are you doing with my hair?" I asked, upset. He just kept grinning. I didn't need to see him to know that he was.

"I'm just fixin' your hair, Amu," he assured. I felt him pulling and tugging on my hair in so many ways that hurt, I don't think that there's a way that he hasn't pulled it in.

"Dad, dad, dad! Stop it!" I yelped as he attempted to fix my hair. He still kept on attempting to find a way to make it 'fixed,' but nothing in the world could have fixed it, now. He finally let go and looked at me while I was near bursting.

"Hmm… maybe you should've just left it in that pony tail…," he thought aloud. Oh, wow. You actually thought for once! Congratz, dad! I quickly fixed it into the original way I had it. Took about another minute as my dad kept on complaining about how girls take way too long to fix their hair. That hypocrite.

I wonder why he was even trying to pretty me up anyways. It's not like I'd meet some hot guy in the hospital and it's definitely not like he wants me to meet some hot guy here, does he? It wouldn't work anyways.

I mean, honestly. You could glance at me only once and say 'where the heck did she come from?' I wore glasses although I had 20/20 vision. My face was pretty clear. I was wearing my detachable elf ears along with my lucky tiger-colored bracelet.

"And my name is neither 'Amu' nor is it 'Amulet,' father. It's 'Amy Hinamori.' Now, let's proceed to room 713 as we originally planned, alright?"

Alright, so I admit it. My name really is Amulet (my nickname having been 'Amu'), but my mother always wanted to call me Amy… but she's not here anymore. Calling myself 'Amy' will be my… memory of her.

I looked at the door to my right and here the room was; room 713. Well, what could possibly go wrong, right?

I've dealt with all the patients my dad had me take care of so far, so I'm pretty sure that I can handle this guy. With a single sigh, I reached for the knob, completely unaware of what awaited my behind this door. And what I saw shocked me.

It wasn't the room that shocked me. It was what was on the bed. It wasn't even a 'what!' It was a 'who.' And this 'who' was on the bed; this beautiful blue-haired boy with stunning indigo eyes.

He was the most handsome man I had ever laid eyes on. He had creamy skin (with a few scratches here and there), eyes that neither sparkled nor seemed dim, and hair like a horse: messy, yet beautiful. He wasn't what you would call 'perfect,' but he's definitely the definition of 'perfectly simple' to me.

He looked upon me with quite an odd look. Not an unfriendly one, but possibly one of… interest? Well, what would one find interesting in an unattractive girl such as me? I have glasses and have quite a few pimples. I was even wearing my school uniform, so there wasn't really much to look at.

My dad walked in past me, breaking our gaze from each other. It felt like he just broke a glass barrier or something. The man turned the other way as to not look at me father.

"Well, sir, it looks like you are okay," my father stated, walking towards his bed with the black clip board in hand. He was scribbling some stuff down while constantly looking at some machine that counted his heartbeats.

I walked further into the room, examining the various objects in the room. There was a window with steel blinds locked into place, a clock that was encased in soundproof glass, a small bundle of flowers in a blue vase on a wooden desk. That was honestly as colorful as it got.

My eyes averted to the open bathroom. There was a shower with glass but no curtains, a toilet, but no mirror. Why is that?

I peeped my head out of the room to check for any mirrors in the main room. The total number of mirrors in the room: Z-E-R-O.

I walked out of the bathroom, playing with my thumbs behind my back. This was my first time ever going into a room this… this dead. How would I put up with this?

I was surprised when the man called out my name.

"Hinamori-san, come here," the man ordered. His husky yet soothing voice sent shivers down my spine. It made me feel… chill. It sounded a little muffled, though.

My dad seemed surprised as well. It's as if he's never heard someone talk before.

I said nothing, but cautiously walked over to the patient's bed. I had no idea who he was, but I felt like I should trust him. He is a patient, after all. It's the least I can do for him since he's trapped in this hell hole.

I finally got to the bed after about ten seconds, but he spoke again. "I meant to the front of my bed, Hinamori-san," he stated, not being able to stand… something. I don't know what it was. I, being the naïve girl I was, followed his directions. As soon as I did, I took the closest plastic chair to me at the moment and sat down right next to him, still playing with my fingers, but in the front this time. My father smiled at this.

"It looks like you and Tsukiyomi-san get along, well, eh, Amu?" My dad teased.

"Yes," the man answered from under the blankets. His hand crawled out of the blanket and onto my lap, holding my hand. I was about to blush.

His hands were so cold and soft. Doesn't he know that someone would pay millions just to have skin like his?

"Well, then, I'm going to go ahead and leave you two alone while I go take care of a few other patients," he informed. "Amu, you can do your homework on that couch or wherever you like," he said, walking out of the room, but stopped at the doorway. "Oh, and one more rule.

"Do not let him leave room 713," he said, finally walking out and locking the door… leaving me in the room alone with the older man.

When my father left to room, the man yanked off the covers, and looking at me wide-eyed as I saw the heart-rate counter thingy was beeping faster and faster.

I panicked. I didn't know what to do! So I did the only thing I could do: put the covers back over him and looked up his problem.

After finding it in the book that was on the side table, I read it, still confused as to why his heart rate increased so rapidly.

'Stendhal syndrome, Stendhal's syndrome, Hyperkulturemia, or Florence syndrome, is a psychosomatic illness that causes rapid heartbeat, dizziness, fainting, confusion and even hallucinations when an individual is exposed to art, usually when the art is particularly beautiful or a large amount of art is in a single place. The term can also be used to describe a similar reaction to a surfeit of choice in other circumstances, e.g. when confronted with immense beauty in the natural world.'

What does that mean?