At the end of the hallway, a single staircase coiled up to the next floors. Kazuo scaled the steps with haste, driven by the sense that he was in a strangers house and shouldn't loiter. Just as he had been told, he saw the bathroom door in the corner where hallways met. With a few rapid paces he'd closed the distance to the door and went in.

The bathroom was large, and clean. The high end sink, shower and toilet fit perfectly amongst tiles of natural stone and minimalistic geometric shapes. It made him feel even more like he was trespassing into some sort of well-planned, private sanctuary. He tried to be as respectful as possible of the space, touching nothing not absolutely necessary.

A few minutes later, and with his head cleared after the initial hurry, he left the bathroom to head back. A noise caught his attention – one he'd perhaps missed over his own hurried footsteps. Muffled, soft sobs filled the hallway, away from the stairs.

Should I help? But… what about the meeting? If I'm not there it'd strike a terrible image. It's not my place to intervene… He tried to steel himself against the sound, balling his fists and straightening his back, as if posing stoically would make him so. With a step towards the stairwell he tried to commit himself to the act – but then stopped as the sobs continued to ring through the hallway.

Is that really who I want to be? Because I want a promotion? At least just check… I can apologise. Find something else…

With a deep sigh he deflated again, and slowly turned towards the hallway from where he heard the crying. Still not sure of himself, he took several apprehensive steps while trying to pinpoint where the noise came from.

It was closer than he had expected: only two rooms further the sound was the loudest. Now he heard it better, it appeared to be either a woman or child. I can still leave… the thought crept to the foreground, but he shook it off, knowing that being a coward would come to haunt him. Slowly he tried the doorknob, and felt the door open with surprising ease.

The room was dark, aside from the sliver of golden light now slipping in from the hallway. He heard the crying stop instantly, and instead something moved on the floor. It startled him, all the horror comics he'd ever read flooding to the foreground.

「Eh… hello?」He asked softly, as he opened the door a bit further. The light now shone on what appeared to be an unused guest room. A large, neatly made bed stood in the centre. A dusty hint of pine soap hung in the air, betraying the disuse. There was no sign of whomever had moved and cried.

A shiver ran down Kazuo's spine, but he committed to the act, not wanting his fear to be in control. He opened the door entirely, and took a step inside the room to get a good view. When he did, he saw the light switch beside him in the wall. Immediately he turned it on, and suddenly the room was flooded with bright light.

It caused a soft, frightful noise from below the bed. Everything suddenly made sense, and realising what was going on, Kazuo spoke softly again.

「I'm very sorry… I just wanted to make sure you were okay?」The question wasn't answered, and instead he heard the noise of someone shifting their position below the bed. In truth he had no idea what to do; whether to go get someone, or stay here and make sure that this child was alright. Leaving didn't seem a good option, but staying would look bad too. Realising that he didn't want to get caught alone in a room with a child, he had been about to turn around – but then a book slid out from under the bed towards him.

It confused him immensely. For what felt like minutes he stared at it, even though it could only be a few seconds. It was a comic book, one he recognised as a popular hero story for boys.

「What do you… do you want me to read it?」Once more he asked, and again there was no answer. The strangeness of the situation both unnerved and intrigued him. But then another sob filled the room, and it tugged at his doubtful heart. A memory of his older brothers reading him stories filled his head, and although he knew he was making a mistake, it was a very compelling one.

He decided to walk further into the room, closing the door behind him.

Very slowly and carefully, he knelt beside the book and reached for it, while at the same time trying to see under the bed. It was fairly high up from the ground, allowing enough space for a familiar child in red pyjamas to move under it on all fours. His eyes locked onto the boy, and in the shimmer of light he saw both fright, and the glistening of tears on his cheeks – with surprising speed he crawled backwards and out of his sight. Several heavy, scared breaths told him he'd made a wrong move, and that he was perhaps dealing with more than he could handle.

Yet he felt like he should try. The book had been given to him after all, so he opened it to the first page. There were several scribbles in different colours of felt pen on the inside of the cover. He couldn't tell if they were all addressed to him, or to different people at different times.

Read to me – bad dream – go away – hate you – scared – get dad – don't leave – read to me

The words hurt and frightened him, and he frowned for a moment trying to decipher what circumstances led to this, but didn't like the possibilities his mind gave him. Everything felt strange and slightly surreal, like he'd been dragged into this child's world.

Slowly he sat down on the very corner on the bed, and in response he heard some shifting in the corner furthest away. Why am I doing this… with a shake of his head he flipped a few pages further, ignoring several more colourful words to instead read the first speech bubble.

He didn't know if he did it right, and he took a deep breath before trying it again with the second image. A shifting noise under the bed was all he got, and he couldn't tell if it was positive or negative – but it was something. So he slowly and softly continued, nearly whispering and awfully aware that what he had thought would take a few moments was quickly turning into an ordeal spanning minutes.

As the first few pages passed by, the noises got more frequent. Behind him he heard the boy slowly crawl out from under the bed, but when he stopped speaking, the motion stopped as well. It emboldened him slightly, even if it scared him that he had his back turned to a possibly unstable child. He began to read again, still whispering, but this time with a bit more flair and storytelling.

The mattress shifted from a weight moving onto it, and it startled Kazuo again – but this time he tried to keep reading. He could only hope that this was a positive development, and that he'd intrigued the boy enough to make him not scared. Each page he read, meant a small bit closer. He tried to interpret this strange situation of silent observing, by moving the book to his side bit by bit so perhaps the boy could see the images that belonged to the words.

From his very peripheral he could see the boy looking on, and curiosity got the better of him. Even just a small motion of his head was enough to cause the child to move back and let out a scared little whine. So he snapped his own gaze back to the book and mumbled a soft apology.

It took another few pages before the broken trust was slowly restored again, and they were both in the same position as before. This time he continued to read, not making the same mistake twice despite his instinctual desire to look behind him. Until from his peripheral vision and the shifting of weight he could tell that the boy had laid down.

He began to get used to this unspoken arrangement, reading the comic like he imagined he would for any other child. Here and there he added little remarks, pointing out things and adding a small comment or joke. The first few times they were awkwardly left ignored, but then a few soft chuckles and laughs broke through. The fright he'd felt changed to pride.

And then he heard footsteps run through the hallway. Immediately the boy let out a terrified noise, ducking behind the bed and crawling underneath it – and part of him wished that he could join. Instead he was left sitting on the bed, the book still in his hands to incriminate him when the door flew open and two large, angry looking guards burst in. I'm done for.