Muted colors swirled around the older teen, his cat-like eyes piercing through the mire. There was nothing. There was never anything worth seeing, the dark-haired boy found, not anymore at least. With most of his friends scattered to the winds – his hyperactive friend frolicking in flowers, the joker of the group languishing in an American jail, the nutjob back to drifting, the anti-hero a searcher, the assumed leader wandering with his wife around the world – the dreamless one, the destructive one was left adrift in Funbari Hill.

Something kept him there. He should've just gone home, like everyone had told him to. But something was in the air in Funbari Hill… something waiting to be bottled up and captured, an essence to be found.

When the destroyer tried to tell that to his friends, the best friend scoffed. The joker shrugged and the nutjob laughed. But the leader seemed to know. He always seemed to know exactly what was going on in the destroyer's head. And he nodded his approval.

That was the last time the destroyer saw any of them.

The sky was dark, sucking in the faceless, formless people around the destructive youth. No one saw the weapon snapped into pieces in his backpack, or the ghost swirling around his head… nor the tracks he left in the snow with his Oxford loafers… he was a wanderer, someone no one cared to –

SLAM!

A girl skittered a few feet in the snow after slamming into the destroyer. The boy also landed on his rump, stunned. How distant had he gotten? But then he noticed the girl had orange hair. Most people would call it red hair, but it was too dark to be red, and so obviously not the color of the blood the destroyer was used to seeing. It was an entrancing dull orange, the kind of color that stood out in a crowd, not because it was so odd, but because it was so bold, poppy, vibrant. The destroyer couldn't help but stare as the girl pulled herself out of the inch-deep snow, dusting powder off of her tights and Mary Janes.

"Oh my God, sumimasen, I'm sorry…!"

And then she looked up, and the dark teen gazed into her eyes. Like her hair, they were orange, but a light orange, almost yellow in their appearance. Their eyes locked for a second or so before the girl busied her light eyes with gazing at her snow-covered jacket and skirt. The destroyer tried to take in details on the clothing – the little safety pins holding swathes of fabric together on the dull grey coat, for instance – but his eyes kept traveling back to her sleek orange hair. Not since the battle over the Shaman King had the destroyer seen such a lively color on anything or anyone.

"It's fine," the destroyer muttered, pulling himself out of the snow quickly and shaking the white dust off of him. He offered a hand to the splayed girl, doing his best to avoid staring into her eyes. She took the hand, and immediately his glove surged with warmth.

She lingered on his hand a little too long before letting go. She gazed into his eyes, and once again, the destroyer was sucked into that light, airy shade of orange. The girl flipped her hair a bit, to dislodge some snow stuck behind her ear, and shivered in the cold winter air. "I'm really sorry about that."

"It's fine," the destroyer repeated, nodding. He heard her foot shuffle and looked down at them immediately. She was just shaking some snow off of it.

The girl grinned, embarrassed. "See, I'm lost. I've never been this deep into town before…" She stuck out her hand. Some beads and bracelets dangled off her wrists. "My friends call me Mikan."

"Mikan – like an orange?" the destroyer questioned as he shook her hand.

Mikan nodded, blushing.

The destroyer awkwardly took her hand, and warmth once again crept into his cold fingers. While they shook, he murmured, "Tao Ren."

"…So you're Chinese?" Mikan asked as she let go. Ren, the destroyer, immediately drew his hand to his side rigidly, biting his lip.

"Yes, actually."

"It's just that… well, Tao isn't a very common Japanese name, is it?" Mikan wondered as she ran her fingers through her hair. The snow in it was being stubborn, as Ren had noticed; he couldn't bring himself to turn away from that curtain of life. It was made even more obvious by the varied shades of gray swirling around the pair of them.

"I love that scarf of yours, though," Mikan complimented.

Ren looked down at the scarf he was wearing, a muted sash tied around his neck to keep it from freezing. "…Thank you. But I can't see why anyone would like such a thing."

"The yellow is so cheery," Mikan told him. "Brilliantly cheery. Really stands out in a crowd." Mikan shrugged and gave a thin but warm smile. Ren looked down at the scarf again. He didn't see anything cheery. He recalled washing his spastic friend's blood out of it, remembered how he'd used it to stop his own hemorrhaging while trapped in his father's torture chamber.

"So does your hair," Ren answered unthinkingly.

Mikan blinked, looked at her feet, and began tracing a pattern with her shoe. Now the two of them were biting their lips in tandem.

"…It's natural."
"And?" Ren didn't understand. He was still cold and callous at heart.

"You think you're funny, don't you?" Mikan interjected heatedly. Ren could only gape at her.

"…No."

"Then why'd you say that?"

"Because it's true. Your hair stands out. It's… well, it stands out." Ren felt like the biggest idiot on the face of the earth. Usually he was so good with words, swift and smart. Yet saying that her hair was the only thing he'd seen worth looking at since the defeat of Hao seemed not only esoteric, but weird. Really weird.

Mikan blinked before giving an easygoing smile. "Oh, I see. I get it now."

"That makes one of us."

"Would you mind telling me where I could find the Mi-sun Hotel?" Mikan finally asked, handing Ren a slip of paper with an address written on it in some bright color. Ren looked it over.

31-021 Ten-en Street.

Ren sighed before nodding to Mikan. "Yes, I know where this is."

Why do more and more people dream of another world?

The snow began to fall again. Ren shivered once before pulling his scarf over his head. It looked ridiculous, but there was no other way to keep his ears warm. He looked behind him to see if Mikan was still there. Indeed she was, pulling her orange hair close to her heat and shoving the ends down her coat, as if she expected it to keep her warm. Ren cracked a very slim smile before turning back.

"What was that?" Mikan questioned lightly.

"…What was what?" Ren said, pretending not to understand.

"Your smile."

Ren turned again, foot shuffling against a mound of snow. Mikan stared at him blankly, hands to her sides and eyes watering from the wind.

"…I smiled, yeah. And?" Ren responded.

"You don't open up much, do you, Ren-kun?" Mikan inquired as she walked up to his side. "You're distant. When you smiled it seemed like… like maybe I was seeing something you didn't want to be seen."

Ren froze. He couldn't have formulated a response even if he wanted to. Instead he looked forward. Right before his eyes, the looming megalith that was Mi-sun Hotel glittered with fallen snow and cleaned windows.

"So that's it," Mikan murmured.

Ren gulped. "Yes."

Mikan glanced at him. He tried to figure out what her light eyes were probing for, but he couldn't. Was that what trying to figure himself out was like? Looking for something you weren't going to find, no matter how hard you searched?

"…I'd like to buy you a cup of coffee, if that's all right with you," Mikan offered. "As my way of thanks."

"I'm not really into –"

"Tea, then," Mikan corrected. "I know a nice place near here… just because I got lost in Funbari doesn't mean I got lost in the suburbs." Mikan giggled. "Why not come here tomorrow at ten?"

Ren let his hands slip into his pockets.

"Sure. That sounds good, Mikan." Saying her name without honorifics seemed a bit rash, but responding with one would have been wrong. After all, she'd seen right through his act.

Mikan's turn to have no response. She turned her head many times, opened her mouth, but then shook her head and said nothing. Finally she waved and entered her hotel, leaving Ren in the snow.

"It's been quite some time since that's happened, eh, Bason?" Ren asked as his guardian ghost materialized around him. The Chinese warlord floated in the air above Ren, arms crossed and brows furrowed.

"I believe the last person to catch you that off-guard was Horohoro," Bason hypothesized in his deep voice.

Something snapped in Ren's brain, and he hunched over, retreating into himself. "I don't want to talk about that."

"Of course, bouchama," Bason answered quickly. Ren looked up at him, thought about elaborating, but decided against it.

"Come on, Bason. We should go back home."

Let there be light!

Ren sat in front of the Mi-sun Hotel, reveling in the sudden burst of sunshine. Compared to last night's torrent of snow and hail, this was heavenly. Ren loosened his tie a bit, wondering why he decided to wear it anyway. It didn't match his jacket at all. For that matter, why was he wearing shorts? Oh, right, the sun. Where was that girl, anyway? Ren had been plagued in the night, wondering why he even agreed to go for some tea with Mikan.

Because she figured you out, remember?

Ren inhaled slowly, letting the scents of exotic flowers fill his head. The Mi-sun hotel really was beautiful – with its dark marble faces, gleaming entryways, and especially because of the myriad of flowers crowding its walls. From poppies to daffodils to orchids to casablancas to coltsfoot –

Coltsfoot, or butterbur. Ren looked away quickly from the plant. Horohoro wasn't going to taint his mind, not now.

"You like butterbur plants?"

Ren looked up. Mikan was wearing some sort of weird outfit – a knee-length dress with light-colored tights and combat boots, topped off with a sunbonnet that didn't match at all. He snickered. Why was he worried about his clothes?

"Not particularly," Ren responded.

"I figured. You were looking at it like you wanted to kill it."

Ren couldn't believe it. Again – again with the perception! She was a regular Anna Kyoyama!

"Bad memories," Ren said plainly before getting off of the railing he was leaning against. "So where is this little place you wanted to take me to?"

"Oh, it's a cute little store. Kokkuri Asuna Coffee – have you been there?" Mikan asked.

"I don't go out often," Ren admitted, voice as level as before. He couldn't let Mikan see through him again – it would get too dangerous, that was certain. She wouldn't understand the shamanic abilities, the Shaman Fight, Horohoro… "Lead the way."

And so she did. Her hair was done into a high ponytail, something very becoming on her. In the sunlight, her hair was even more brilliant, the orange shining and flashy. Ren had grown used to his attraction to it; now if only he could figure a way to avoid the attraction, he'd be set for life.

Mikan turned sharply every so often, head swiveling around in an effort to locate the mysterious Kokkuri Asuna Coffee.

Cool Asuna Coffee? That makes absolutely no sense in the grand scheme of things, Ren noted with another small, hidden smile. This time, he was certain Mikan couldn't see it. She was too busy cradling a – what was she doing, anyway?

"We're here," Mikan cooed to Ren, fingering a small yet luminous petunia. It was the same soft orange as Mikan's eyes… or so Ren thought. In a second or so, he realized it was dark yellow. Mikan's hair was reflecting off of it and making it look orange. Ren took a mental inventory. This yellow was the second color he'd registered since the end of the Shaman Fight. The first was Mikan's hair. Conclusion: unknown at the moment.

Mikan pointed up to a sign with a cute anime chibi painted on it, holding the words "Kokkuri Asuna – Coffee" in a mixture of kanji and hiragana. Ren strained a bit to read the "coffee" part as Mikan sauntered straight towards the swinging door. The whole building was open and airy; it had a faux wood front, but there were so many glass windows that it was almost stupid to call it a 'wood building'. Ren glanced up. It was the first floor of a taller building, the second floor containing a gym and the next highest with a fancy Italian restaurant.

Ren felt a tugging on his hand. He glanced up and saw Mikan, grinning like a lunatic.

"Come on! Asuna-chan isn't on duty for much longer!" Mikan told him excitedly, pulling him into the coffeehouse.

The inside resembled any number of new-age coffee-houses: terra-cotta tiles on the floor, stucco on the walls, a good number of fans moving slowly and rhythmically, a 'random things you might need with your drink' cart that also had napkins and straws, a counter where drinks were ordered and picked up, and, to the far left, a patch of open floor where a bunch of yuppies with lattes were gathering.

This yuppie gathering was where Mikan proceeded to drag Ren.

"Why are we going over there?" Ren asked in a low but bitter whisper.

"Because you need to see Asuna-chan," Mikan said matter-of-factly. The two pushed to the front of the men-in-suits crowd, and Ren quickly sucked in a gulp of air.

It was like a billboard come to life. There was the picture-perfect pleats on a dark skirt, wherein a frilly lacy apron was tied around it and pulled into the most proportional bow Ren had ever seen. These two items, along with a stainless white blouse, were fastened onto the body of a lanky girl with flowing hair tied into twin buns. Just as Ren was done taking in how anime-esque the outfit – and the girl – was, she performed a high kick against a nearby table, sending three coffees into the air. Ren stared mindlessly at the coffees as Mikan inhaled, already excited. With rapid speed, the girl caught them all – one for each hand and one resting on her outstretched foot, adorned with sparkly socks.

"Ladies and gentlemen, once again I have received a request for none other than a frappacino!" the girl called to the crowd, which snickered and booed. The girl handed one of the coffees, with 'decaf' written on it, to a quiet girl of about fifteen before continuing. "So, in the tradition of the Takino family, it is time... FOR FRAP-DEATH!"

The girl, who Ren reasoned to be a Takino, thrust her leg into the air, sending the coffee on her foot flying into the air. Tossing her other coffee to a delighted middle-aged Germanic-type, Takino leapt into the air and readied her palms for some serious martial arts. With two well-timed diagonal swipes of her hands, the frappacino burst, bits of cup falling to the ground instantly, along with puddles of whipped cream slush.

Ren couldn't help but clap as Takino came back to the ground and bowed, thanking everyone for their time. Mikan turned to Ren, a huge grin on her face, made even bigger by the small smile growing on his.

"I knew she would cheer you up," Mikan smirked. "Takino Asuna-chan is the shop's mascot girl. Of course, she's Takino Asuna the Fourth. Her mom was the mascot girl before her, and her mom's mom before that…"

Ren turned to Mikan. He couldn't hide the smile on his face… for whatever reason, he felt he didn't need to hide that mystical expression away.

"That was Dao Dan Do," Ren noted.

Mikan nodded. "Indeed. The form created and honed by Li Pailong." Mikan gave Ren a quizzical look. "Are you a fan of his?"
"You could say that," Ren explained briefly. His eyes met Mikan's. One second… two seconds… the two of them looked away quickly.

"Let's get that tea," Mikan said, her face red. Ren turned red as well… a third color to add to the growing palate. It was as if life was reemerging from a long slumber, right before his eyes. In that moment, Ren made up his mind.

"Mikan, would you mind terribly if we did this again sometime?" Ren asked.

Mikan stared at him, gaped at him. Finally she beamed. Ren would've given a smug grin, but he was too love-struck to care.

"No, I wouldn't mind at all, if you're asking me out," Mikan whispered, so that the milling businessmen and mothers wouldn't hear her.

Ren leaned in closer to her, and adopted her tone. "Why aren't you the smart one."

"I have to ask though… why me?"

Ren jerked away slowly. He wasn't quite ready to tell her that.

"…You will find out," Ren promised. "Now, what kind of tea is there to be had?"

My old man was talking to me

Weeks passed. Ren, the former bastion of coldness and isolation, was growing closer and closer to that orange-haired girl. And, as Ren awakened from his post-Shaman Fight in Tokyo lull, he saw other beautiful aspects of her. Granted, they were only beautiful to him – no one else would find the demented Gothic-Lolita-meets-neo-punk-meets-schoolgirl outfits remotely wearable, much less becoming; no one Ren had seen ever tolerated Mikan's frequent bouts of speechlessness. But when she smiled, when she laughed, when she tied her hair back into a ponytail and sighed, Ren felt like the luckiest person in the world.

Colors were now bursting everywhere. The orange of Mikan's hair was still his favorite color of all, but the cheery yellow of his scarf had come to greet him in the cold winter mornings, the dull green of grass trying to grow had popped through the snow, and on that day in spring, the pink cherry blossoms had fallen into his hair and left Mikan cackling, calling him 'moe', whatever that meant.

He and Mikan walked past a line of cherry blossoms. They seemed to be closing up, their petals furrowing, and flowers falling at a rapid rate. It would be one of the last good viewing days, something that slightly saddened Ren.

"They really are beautiful, aren't they?" Mikan commented off-handedly, gesturing to them. A little blue bauble jingled on her wrist as she moved. Ren smirked.

"I wish they lasted longer," Ren admitted.

Mikan sighed, letting Ren put an arm around her waist. "We should just be glad they're here now. It's selfish to want any more."

Ren snickered, but didn't explain himself. The more he was with Mikan, the more she sounded like someone from the past. Mikan rolled her eyes – she knew not to ask.

"Ren?"

"Yes?" he responded.

"This is going to sound bizarre, but… have you ever been rock-climbing?" Mikan asked.

Ren stopped. He glanced at Mikan. Once again, her yellow-orange eyes prevented him from formulating a rebuttal, and he shrugged.

"Well… not for recreation." Ren's home in China was surrounded by rocks that he'd often climbed to get back home, something he liked to do before the jiang-shi bodies were sent out. "Why do you ask?"

"Well… actually, it's really stupid," Mikan admitted, letting cherry blossom petals settle in her hair and on her skin. Ren, in contrast, brushed them off whenever they fell on him. "It's just that… where I grew up, there's a lot of places where you can climb rocks and stuff like that. I mean, I've been living on the outskirts of town for a while now, and I'd really love you to see… where I grew up."

Mikan stared directly at Ren. Ren bit his lip and, without warning, kissed her. After a few seconds, he pulled away.

"…Well, that's new," Mikan said, dazed.

Ren couldn't quite believe he'd done it either. Especially since it had been their first kiss since they started dating three months prior.

"Can't say it's ever happened to me before," Ren admitted.

They stared at each other, a prolonged but gentle silence emerging. Ren put his head down. Mikan looked into the sky and pulled at one of her many layered dresses nervously. Ren wrung his hands. Mikan played with the blue bauble.

"Where's your hometown?" Ren finally asked.

Mikan's eyes darted to him, and her knees locked. "Northern Japan."

"I'll go with you," Ren agreed. "And… remember when we were in that coffee shop, and you asked me why I asked you out?"

The two began walking again, oblivious to the stares and giggles Mikan's outfit was garnering.

"Yeah," Mikan responded.

"Can you wait a bit longer for me to tell you?"

Mikan pouted before giggling slightly. "Well, I've had to wait for everything else. You just told me about your sibling last week."

The two wandered down the lane aimlessly.

"I'm just not very open, is all," Ren told her.

"Well, I figured that one out."

Kaze yori hayaku kimi no kokoro he

"I cannot believe you're into rock climbing," Ren admitted as he stopped to catch his breath.

The pair of them were scaling countless rocks and ducking into little passages Mikan seemed to have intimate knowledge of, and they'd been doing it for a couple of hours. Mikan seemed very intent on leaving the first town they stopped at, and Ren noticed that a few people had given her dirty looks, different from the usual "what the hell is she wearing?" looks.

Ren didn't ask about it, instead following Mikan and her bright green tank top. She'd tied navy blue hand, wrist and elbow guards onto her arms, as well as kneepads over her ripped-up jeans. Ren didn't do the same. Instead, he wore something he thought he'd never pull out again – a maroon sleeveless shirt, with black fasteners all down the front, and black pants. A relic from the Shaman Fight. Ren gripped the strap on his backpack tighter.

"You know, Ren, maybe now would be a good time to talk about my past," Mikan called to him from within a damp cave. Ren followed her in, and immediately slipped on some water. He quickly caught himself on the wall and was able to steady himself before Mikan turned her head over her shoulder to look at him.

"Whatever you're comfortable with," Ren said. He knew that, eventually, he'd have to tell Mikan everything, but if she wanted to go first…

"Well… are you sure?"

Mikan stopped in the middle of the cave, water dripping off the ceiling and hitting her head and the ground and Ren. Her face looked pained, like she was afraid her explanations would unleash a bombshell.

"I'm sure," Ren said.

This seemed to solidify Mikan's resolve. She inhaled slowly and continued on. "There isn't much more of this cave… and when we get out… you'll see something amazing."

Ren was used to Mikan changing the subject abruptly, so he just let it go and followed her, in silence, for a couple hundred feet. She suddenly began to dash – Ren, confused, dashed after her.

"Why are you running?" Ren asked loudly.

"Because! I don't want you to -!"

She flew out onto an open plateau, hundreds of feet off the ground. She skidded to a halt and looked out. "Ren, LOOK!"

Ren got out of the dark, dank cave a bit after her. And immediately, he saw it.

Mikan was pointing at the sky, particularly the fantastic sunset before him. Colors of all kinds exploded onto the air, pinks and reds and purples saturating the sky and mingling with each other. Mikan grinned widely, the yellow streaks in the sky catching her attention. But Ren was drawn to one color, seemingly layered over the rest – a beautiful orange, the same as Mikan's hair, settling over the clouds like a layer of bright dust. Ren stared, transfixed, at the sight. A dark blue was beginning to tear at the orange, far above Ren's head, and stars were fighting to be seen through the bright bursts of color.

Mikan grabbed Ren's hand. "See the orange?"

"It's hard to miss," Ren replied.

Mikan squeezed Ren's hand. "That's where I got my name. My mother named me Kakeru Midori, but kids in the town saw my orange hair, and mandarin oranges growing on trees, and the sunset – so we all became Mikan. Me, the sunset, and the oranges."

Ren couldn't turn away. "Mikan… it's…"

"This is the best place to see it," Mikan interrupted before her face darkened a bit. "Besides… it's away from the rest of Sunaomi."

Ren finally turned to Mikan. "…The townspeople were looking at you oddly."

Mikan sat down on the giant cliff, grabbing her legs and staring into the splattered sky. "That's because I let them down."

Ren was silent, sitting down next to her.

"When I was born… I was supposed to be great," Mikan murmured. "My entire family… please, please don't think any differently of me because of this, Ren, I – it's crazy, but it's true –"

"Just keep going," Ren interrupted. Mikan nodded and faced the sunset again.

"…My family is a shamanic family," Mikan stated plainly.

Ren stared at Mikan. "…what?"

Mikan bit her lip. "That's the problem. I can't see ghosts. I can't use Hyoi Gattai; I can't use the Over Soul. My family tried. They really did. But when I turned ten, they figured there was no way I could –" Mikan sighed loudly. "So I'm supposed to be this supreme freak of nature, and I'm not. And I was my parents' last hope for a female shaman. I have an older brother who could see spirits, so he got the town's glory… and I was nothing more than a runt." Tears glittered in Mikan's eyes. "And the stupid thing is, you have no idea what I'm talking about, and I'm just blathering on about Over Souls and shamans…"

Ren took his finger and wiped the tears away from Mikan's face. "Actually… I know quite a bit about that."

Mikan watched Ren wipe the tears away from her eyelashes as he spoke. "See, my family is full of Chinese shamans – the Tao family is nothing but shamans. Our family was persecuted mercilessly for being 'supreme freaks of nature', in your words, and bloody wars were fought. The Tao family was nearly annihilated. The only reason I was born was to win the Shaman Fight in Tokyo and destroy the people who sought to kill my family. My own rage turned me into a time bomb – but I was aware that I didn't want what my family… what my father wanted." Ren didn't pause to see if Mikan was still listening. But she was. She was riveted to his every word. "I wanted to be Shaman King to rid the world of those menaces who shackled others to their destinies, people like my father. But something odd happened. I met a boy very similar to you. Yoh Asakura."

"Yoh Asakura – the… the Shaman King?" Mikan repeated. Ren wiped her tears on his pants.

"He helped me with my extreme rage, helped me take down my father without obliterating him," Ren explained. "But after the Shaman Fight… things happened. Someone I trusted… well, he kind of… long story short, I separated from him. And I slowly retreated back into resentment."

The two of them were silent for a long time.

"You asked me out because I showed you kindness for the first time in a long time?" Mikan guessed.

"Close," Ren replied. "After I left Yoh and the others, I started to see everything in shades of gray. I'd suffered through so much that people were mere annoyances, and colors ceased to exist. I only saw the negatives in everything. But then…" Ren laughed. "This is going to sound ridiculous, but I ran into you, and I saw your hair. And the color."

Mikan pieced things together. "So I brought you back to life."

"Basically."

Ren turned back to the sunset, but Mikan still looked at him. "I find it odd… the Chinese, they persecute shamans?"

"Not all Chinese. The government, mostly. And Yoh was badly treated as a child as well… in fact, a case like yours would probably be fairly rare," Ren admitted.

"…Isn't it funny? People can be so intolerant," Mikan mused.

"Not really funny…"

"I mean bizarre. Strange. It's also kind of funny… I was stressing out over telling you I was related to shamans, and here you are, full-fledged shamanic warrior – probably have your own guardian ghost, too…"

"I don't think any less of you for not being able to see them."

Mikan's face flushed completely. Ren stole one last view of the sunset before kissing Mikan passionately, as if to reinforce his point. Mikan let go of her legs, moving her hand towards Ren's neck, gripping it. Ren leaned over her, and pretty soon they were both lying on the cliff, staring at each other, unsure of what had just happened.

"Are you…?" Mikan began.

"I have no idea," Ren interjected, face bright pink.

His hand snaked around hers.

"You think anyone can see us up here?" Mikan wondered breathlessly.

Ren tore himself away from her and looked over the cliff. Besides lush fields of grass towards the east and the tiny visage of Sunaomi far to the south, there was nothing worth noting.

"I doubt it," Ren responded eventually, crawling back over to Mikan. She turned on her side, leaning towards him. He looked over at her.

"What?"

"Oh come on, you've got to be smarter than that," Mikan grumbled.

Ren inhaled sharply. "…I just have to ask you one thing."

"What?"

"Do you love me?"

Mikan rolled her eyes. "We climbed a mountain, watched the sunset, told each other our worst secrets, and you're worried about something stupid like that?"

"It's not really stupid," Ren protested. "I have… we both have issues, obviously."

"Isn't that why we're together?" Mikan retorted. "I woke you up, remember?" Her voice grew to a whisper, as if she was afraid of saying anything. "To be honest… when I ran into you, and I saw your eyes, I… I was enthralled. I needed to see you again, I knew it."

Mikan laced her fingers into Ren's. He shifted himself to face her, and slowly, his lips met hers. Once again, they lost themselves, this time for hours.

Yomigaere

Ren woke up the next morning with a tremendous backache. He sat up wearily before realizing that Mikan was attached to his waist. Ren smirked, embarrassed. So this was what Yoh and Anna… Ren stifled an embarrassed giggle before very slowly and gently wiggling away from Mikan's grip.

Ren basically fell away from her. He scrambled upwards and looked down at her. She slept peacefully, face slightly pink. Ren grinned earnestly before going into his backpack, pulling out Bason's memorial tablet.

Immediately Bason popped out from it, floating in the night air. "Bouchama?"

"Good morning, Bason," Ren greeted.

"…Are you all right, bouchama?" Bason questioned, not used to Ren being so genial.

"I'm… really good," Ren admitted with a smile. "But I'm thinking I should find some food for Mikan."

Bason floated over to where Mikan laid, vague traces of words coming out of her mouth. Bason glanced from Ren to Mikan, then back to Ren.

"So she's really special to you, then," Bason commented. Ren threw a white tee over his bare chest, staring into the still-dark sky.

"As special as Yoh," Ren admitted in a low voice before becoming himself again. "Bason, can you see if there's any food in that field down there?"

"Do you wish for me to search for food there, bouchama?" Bason inquired.

"If that's doable."

"It's doable."

"Then I'll wait for you up here," Ren informed Bason.

As Bason floated away, into the distance, Ren sat on the cliff face and watched the faint rays of the rising sun peek over the earth. He was convinced, now more than ever, that Mikan was meant for him. There was an idea forming in the back of his mind… maybe he should just tell her that last secret he was hiding from her. If he was contemplating this new idea…

"You don't understand, Ren! You just DON'T UNDERSTAND!"

"How can I understand if you won't explain? All I know is that you told him a blatant lie –"

"You said it yourself! 'I love Yoh'- "

"I said 'I love the way Yoh is' -"

"That's the same –"

"IT'S NOT THE SAME, HOROHORO, YOU MORON!"

Ren rid his mind of the argument just as Bason peered over the edge of the cliff. Ren noticed him fairly quickly.

"Is there?" Ren asked.

"There's berries and such," Bason explained, "in a field about a half-hour's walk from here."

Ren grinned. "Well then, let's go."

Ren dove into his backpack and yanked out a pen, paper, and his kwan dao. He quickly wrote Mikan a note, explaining that he was looking for some food. He contemplated writing something more, but he was so bad with words that it would've looked stupid. He simply drew a heart on the paper, slipped it under Mikan's curled hand, and turned to Bason.

"Ready?" Ren asked with a devilish grin.

"Of course, bouchama."

Ren stepped off the cliff nonchalantly, threw his kwan dao out, and used Bason as an Over Soul to cushion his fall.

Up on the cliff, a little rattle shook Mikan a bit. She stirred but fell back asleep.

Shinjiteru

Ren wandered amongst the field of butterbur, weaving his way towards a low-growing patch of berry bushes. The morning mist hung over the budding plants like a cloak, and before long Ren was soaked with dew. Nevertheless, he reached the berry tree with little ado. He glanced back at the cliff. It was impossible to see anything up there. Mikan would be pleased. He had to tell her when he got back.

Ren wondered if maybe he should start calling her by her actual name. Midori Kakeru…

As he snapped some more berries off of the bush, a shadow descended upon him. Ren immediately flung himself out of the way. Just in time – the shadow belonged to a man with an Over Soul. The mana-drenched attack slammed into the berry bush and shattered it into tinkling pieces of what appeared to be crystal.

Ren armed himself and jumped into the air. Swinging his kwan dao downward, he cried, "COWARD! FIGHT ME FACE TO FACE!"

And so the assailant turned and blocked Ren's frantic attack. There was a bit of a struggle for a few seconds. Ren focused on keeping the berries in his pocket safe and uncrushed.

"Ren?"

Ren looked away from his pants pocket and at his attacker. His jaw dropped.

"Horohoro," Ren mumbled. "Horohoro."

Horohoro backed away, a scowl lingering on his face. "What are you doing in my field of butterbur?"

"Looking for food," Ren responded coolly. "It's been quite a long time, hasn't it?"

"Not long enough," Horohoro spat. Kororo, Horohoro's diminutive guardian spirit, popped out of Horohoro's ikupasuy weapon and began to float around Horohoro's head, clutching a butterbur leaf.

Ren put down his weapon, and Bason dropped out of the Over Soul as well, choosing to hover menacingly over Ren.

"You're still sore, aren't you?" Ren asked coldly.

Horohoro nodded jerkily. "How would you feel, out of curiosity, if your best friend just up and left?"

Ren's shoulders dropped, and his lip twitched. Bason didn't move.

"I didn't just 'up and leave'. I had to go. I knew it was time." Ren glared at Horohoro. "It was your own fault, you know. If you weren't so bent up over mishearing everything I said –"

"What was there to mishear?" Horohoro practically screamed, disturbing the morning air substantially. Kororo recoiled and floated to the ground, where Bason followed her. Ren saw her shaking and fighting an urge to cry, but kept his eyes as far away from the suffering spirit as possible. Bason could handle it.

"You know exactly what I said," Ren hissed in a low voice. Horohoro's booming pipes could carry for miles, and Ren didn't want to be as insensitive as him. "And it wasn't what you turned it into."

"I had to say something to get my point across," Horohoro responded before a hand clamped to his mouth.

Ren stared quizzically at him, his weapon's handle sliding out of his hand.

"Horohoro… it appears you've grown even more moronic," Ren finally said, dismantling his kwan dao and letting it fall into the fields. Bason was still floating near where Kororo had gone to hide, except he was now trembling as well.

"No, you're the idiot this time, Ren," Horohoro snickered, shoving his ikupasuy weapon into his pocket. "There was no better way to say what I felt."

"So you were feeling 'Ren loves Yoh'?" Ren responded callously. "You're such an idiot, Horohoro. An idiot who too many people listen to."

"You made me angry with what you said. It was only natural I try to get back at you," Horohoro defended himself. He ran his fingers through his blue hair, which Ren noticed was quite a bit longer than it used to be, not to mention that it wasn't spiked in a ridiculous fashion. Ren found himself unable to respond. He mulled the words over in his mind.

It was only natural I try to get back at you.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Ren muttered, getting more and more fed up with Horohoro. "And you're disturbing your spirit ally – this isn't like you."

Horohoro snapped. "How do you know what's 'like me'?! For two years I put up with all the shit you piled onto me, and you never questioned why, arrogant bastard you were! And you knew – you knew that I could never be that! A girl like Yoh… a girl like Yoh! You idiot, you stupid, stupid bastard…!"

Ren watched Horohoro flail about. Bason floated away from Kororo, who looked calmer and collected. She flew over to Horohoro's shoulder and sat down on it, nodding once to Bason. Bason nodded back.

"…Horohoro, I've forgiven you," Ren reminded him. "If you could –"

"Go… away." His glare was more piercing than a hundred daggers.

Ren made a small noise before turning on his heel, picking up his compacted weapon. "Horohoro… you know that one day we'll all be back with him. We'll all have to return, because it's the will of the Great Spirit. And Yoh will beat the crap out of you if you don't go back to the Onsen."

Ren walked away quickly, wanting desperately to just come out and say that he had known all along.

"Bouchama, Kororo-chan says that Horohoro…" Bason began as soon as Horohoro, angrily returning to tending his garden of Eden, was out of earshot.

"I figured it out as soon as he said he wanted to get back at me," Ren finished for him. He suddenly became pensive. "Maybe if he'd spoken up sooner…"

Ren and Horohoro sat in the bath at Yoh's house, practically falling asleep in the cool of the evening. Neither of them was ever much for conversation this late at night, mostly because they crashed after nine. It was eleven.

Horohoro looked bleary-eyed at Ren. "Why do you think I don't have a girlfriend?"

"Because you're an idiot," Ren answered matter-of-factly.

There was another silence. Ren noticed that Horohoro was pondering his words and snickered.

"Analyzing that will get you nowhere," Ren said coldly.

"I'm not," Horohoro countered childishly. "It's just… I was wondering if I came off as… different."

"You come off as special, sometimes." Ren was pulling no punches, but everyone knew he got angrier at night. The lack of sleep fueled his rage. "Do you really care that much?"

"It's just annoying that you guys have girls falling all over you. Ryu, even."

"Have we ever considered any of them?"

"Well, Anna…"

"We aren't counting her. She was Yoh's from the beginning."

"…No."

"Good job, Horohoro. Do you want a prize?"

Horohoro crossed his arms, letting warm water lap over them. "That's not funny, Ren. I mean, let's look at you. Do you know how many girls think you're gorgeous?"

He was hanging on Ren's every word. Ren sighed. "If it's that important to you… I really don't care how many girls are after me. All I know is that none of them are even remotely close to what I want."

Horohoro blinked. His face turned pink – of course, now Ren understood why – as he formulated his next response. "So… what do you want?"

Ren looked into the stars. "I am nothing more than a destroyer, Horohoro."

"That wasn't –"

"And the only thing I want is my antithesis," Ren continued. "Someone who can create something from nothing at all. Someone like Yoh – a girl like Yoh. I'm pretty much resigned to the fact that I will never have someone like that."

There was a long silence. Horohoro mulled it over in his head.

"A girl like Yoh?"
"Yep. I love Yoh, but I can't say I'm inclined towards a relationship like that."

Another silence.

"You love Yoh?"

"Not like THAT, you moron." Ren got out of the bath. "God, Horohoro, selective hearing much?"

And like that, he was back to normal.

"If he'd just said something…" Ren mused.

Bason sighed. "But you never –"

"Not him. I wouldn't have thought, of all of that lot… not him." Ren placed his weapon back into his pack, pocket full of berries. "I suppose… he has reason to be angry, then. I basically told him he would never be what I wanted."

"What about Mikan-san?"

Ren didn't have to think. "I know exactly what I'm going to do about her, Bason."

There's no place like you for me

Mikan rubbed her eye sleepily, staring into the swirling fog.

"Mountain air," she murmured before she heard crunching noises. She turned her head to see Ren, crushing berries with a makeshift mortar and pestle. He smirked. The berry juices oozed into the pestle, clumps of pulp mingling with the reddish liquid.

"What are you…?" Mikan inquired.

"Making breakfast," Ren interrupted.

Mikan glanced into the pestle. "Berry juice?"

"Resourcefulness is something I had to learn," Ren shrugged. "I just went down into a field a few hours off and gathered some berries."

"You idiot, you stupid, stupid bastard…!"

Mikan beamed at him. "You did that with your Over Soul, didn't you?"

"…Couldn't have really gotten off the cliff otherwise," Ren admitted with a shrug before turning himself to the west. "I noticed another mountain over there."
Mikan looked over to it and sighed. "We can't go climbing that one."
Ren stared at the huge mass of rock, where moss and trees seemed to compete with one another for space. A jagged shadow loomed over the land around it, asserting its dominance as the highest peak in the area. Ren couldn't help but think of the crags surrounding his own home, in China.

"Why not?" Ren inquired.

Mikan glanced at the peak, then the sky, then her dusty feet. "…The townspeople wouldn't like it if I brought an outsider up there. Not at all. That mountain is sacred. Only the best of the town can go up there." Mikan paused. "The last person to climb it was my older brother. The idea of the stupid one climbing it would be… well, it wouldn't sit well."

Ren blinked and returned to squishing berries. "But if I went with you, what then?"

"Looks a lot like where you live?"

Ren dropped the pestle into the berry juice.

"How did you -?" Ren asked in a hushed voice.

"I had a feeling. You were kind of glancing at it earlier." Mikan paused, contemplating. "I saw you, last night. I mean, before –"

"I figured," Ren cut her off, turning a deep shade of red. The pair didn't speak for a long time as Ren resumed crushing berries.

Mikan gripped her bare legs, wiping the morning dew from her kneecaps. She shook her head, getting the moisture out of her bright hair.

"Midori, I want to marry you," Ren finally said.

She froze.

Tokidoki wa setsunakutte

Ren stepped gingerly off of a rock. The two were descending the mountain slowly, but surely. Mikan, however, was going at the speed of light. Amazing how energetic she had gotten. Ren pretended to remain oblivious to the glee he'd caused, staying aloof as ever.

"Are you sure about going into town?" Ren asked her for the billionth time.

"There's no other way we'll see my parents," Mikan responded again.

Ren was shaking with nerves. Bason watched him rather blankly, unsure of what to say or do. His foot slipped on a pocket of sand, and he landed flat on his back. Mikan looked behind her and laughed airily. Ren had never been so proud of himself.

"But you said your parents…"

"I refuse to get married to someone my parents haven't met," Mikan said stubbornly, walking down a narrow pathway on the mountain, a huge jutting rock face to her right. Ren walked closely behind her, relishing the privacy afforded by the shadow of the rock. He glanced up at it, awed by its sheer size.

"We must be close to the bottom of the mountain," Ren noted. "If that face goes for about a thousand feet."

"You calculate quickly," Mikan joked. Ren glanced up again, but this time noticed something odd. It seemed like something from above was rattling… Ren realized what was happening just as the rocks came tumbling down the mountainside.

"MIDORI!" Ren screamed. He yanked her arm and pulled her into his embrace. Within seconds, he'd yanked his disassembled kwan dao out of his bag. Rocks were thundering down the hillside; Ren cursed as he shoved the kwan dao into the crook of his arm and grabbed Bason's memorial tablet.

A rock landed with a harsh crunch not two feet from Ren and Mikan. Ren ran a good distance away from it as he held Bason's memorial tablet to his flailing weapon.

"BASON! OVER SOUL!"

A blinding flash of light, just as a rock soared over the pair's head. Ren jumped out of the way, holding onto Mikan like his life depended on it. There was a crash of impact and a crunch, and a strangled scream. Gravel fell to the ground.

As he opened his eyes, he noticed that he was unharmed. But she was whimpering. He looked at his golden Over Soul. It had shielded their entire bodies – or so he thought.

Mikan looked up to him, tears welling in her eyes. Ren looked down.

Both his foot and her leg had been crushed. He wasn't bleeding, just numb.

She, on the other hand… there was something very wrong.

He said so

Ren must have been quite the sight. Running into the town's doctors office, covered in a girl's blood, her limp leg dangling out of the crook of his arm, bone splinters seeping out of her jeans, his own foot flattened and blue, eyes lined with frightened tears – this was not the Ren most people were used to. Seeing as no one in Sunaomi even knew who he was, it wasn't a great first impression.

The doctor took Mikan in right away. But there were a lot of questions. For one, who are you, and why were you with Mikan?

Ren explained as calmly as he could exactly who he was, exactly what had happened, exactly why he was crying softly. He was her fiancé, or was to be, he'd proposed to her, at least. The doctor was skeptical, especially when Mikan's parents appeared.

Her mother was the redhead. Her father was blonde. Ren had envisioned meeting these people on better circumstances. Mrs. Kakeru inquired about the massive ghost floating, worried, around Ren's head.

And Ren had to recount the entire story again. He cried a bit louder.

Mrs. Kakeru did something strange – she put her hand on Ren's shoulder and smiled, pityingly.

"She's not a shaman, you know," she explained in a soft voice. "Just because she's a Kakeru doesn't mean she's –"

"I know she isn't," Ren interrupted rather harshly. "Does that mean I can't love her?"

Mrs. Kakeru was silent for a long time. Mr. Kakeru had long since retreated into Mikan's hospital room. Ren was a ball of bad emotions, waiting to explode. He turned to a nearby window, where light streamed in on a flower of some sort. Ren couldn't tell what color it was in the white glare.

"You love her… even though she's not a shaman? And you're… you're a Tao?"

Ren nodded, not willing to waste any more energy on trying to explain the intricacies of love to her. He sat down in a chair, crossed his right leg over his kneecap, and looked into his lap, biting his lip to keep from crying again. Mikan was hurt and all her mother could think about was whether she was good enough for him.

Bason floated around Ren's head, arms crossed.

"Bouchama…"

"Everything will work out," Ren murmured to him before a little trail of blood leaked out of his lip. His teeth were tainted pink. He'd bitten too hard.

"Hey, Ren."

Ren turned around. He was hoping to escape the En Inn unnoticed, but the one person he didn't want to see had popped up behind him in the garden. Ren closed his eyes, afraid of what needed to be done.

"Bouchama, that really isn't good for you."

"I'm aware of that," Ren hissed. He wiped his lip. Blood on his hand. Mrs. Kakeru's eyes moved between the ghost and the boy.

"Did you believe that nutcase?" Ren asked coldly. "Better make this quick, before Anna gets jealous."

A sigh. Yoh seemed a bit exhausted, a bit weary, a bit confused. Ren didn't blame him in the slightest. Horohoro was hard to deal with when he got riled up, like he had earlier that evening, and Ren was sure Yoh had spent at least an hour getting him to calm down.

The confusion could be explained, too. After all, Ren wasn't supposed to love Yoh. Not that he did. Horohoro and his selective hearing.

"Ren, I think Horohoro didn't understand something you said," Yoh admitted.

"As usual," Ren responded acidly.

"That's what Yoh used to say," Bason noted.

"He probably still says it," Ren reminisced. He looked up to the sky, as if searching for Yoh.

"Well, I love you too, Ren," Yoh told him.

Ren crossed his arms. "Is that why you're attached to Anna? Because… because she's a girl like me?"

"I guess you could say that." Yoh looked up at the stars. "Ren… I think you're looking for someone with endless optimism."

"Not really," Ren sighed. "And you were looking for a sadist?"

The two smiled at each other.

"Not particularly," Yoh answered. "Why not wait until tomorrow to leave? Maybe Horohoro will understand in the morning."

"I doubt it."

Ren's eyes moved back to his feet. He folded his hands over his bleeding lip, aware that he was still coated in the blood from Mikan's crushed leg.

"Midori said that she was considered a bit of a runt," Ren said to no one in particular. Mrs. Kakeru perked up.

"Well… we were hoping she would be the first female shaman in our family for three generations," Mrs. Kakeru admitted. "I can only see ghosts… I can't do anything with them. And every other child in our family was male…"

Mr. Kakeru suddenly walked out of Mikan's room, his face dark. Ren stood up quickly.

"Well?" he asked.

Mr. Kakeru didn't answer. Ren sat back down, eyes wide.

"Don't…" Ren murmured.

"They've done all they can," Mr. Kakeru told him. "She's alive." He acted as if he was leaving something off. Ren's breath caught in his throat.

"But?" Ren whispered.

Mr. Kakeru looked at him. It was as if he was being inspected. This wasn't the impression he wanted to make on them, not at all.

"You care very much about her, don't you?" Mr. Kakeru said with a grateful smile before continuing. "She's in a coma."

"…But she's alive," Ren said in a low voice. "There's hope."

"She's going to be missing a leg."

"But she's alive."

"There's no way to wake her now…"

"There will be."

"Don't worry, Ren," Yoh said with a smile and a laugh. "Everything will work out for you." He retreated back into the bowels of the inn. "I just know it."

The Kakerus could do nothing but stare incredulously at Ren. His eyes were sparkling with hope and – dare he recognize it – the endless optimism that Yoh possessed. Both Yoh and Mikan.

And who cared about Horohoro anyway? He didn't understand at the time, but maybe he'd understand now.

"Maybe I should introduce myself," Ren stated suddenly. "I'm Ren Tao… if you allow it, I'd like to marry Midori when she awakens."

Kaze yori hayaku kimi no kokoro he

And so Ren stayed in that hospital for days on end, Bason floating by his side. By the end of the week, everyone in Sunaomi knew who he was, where he came from, and why he was so devoted to Mikan. Of course, this also meant that Ren's proposal wasn't a secret anymore. Not that he cared.

Eventually the hospital had to make him leave, but Ren had nowhere to go. The residents knew as much, seeing as after he was kicked out, Ren spent a lot of time sleeping in weird places – near the mountains, in flower gardens, propped up against walls…

After a week of scattered living, Mrs. Kakeru finally went up to Ren on her own.

"Ren," she whispered. He jumped a little, waking up from yet another fitful night of sleeping. Bason still napped above Ren's head, being a dutiful yet not very protective guardian ghost. Ren gripped his backpack like a life preserver as his breathing slowed.

The Chinese shaman sighed upon seeing Mrs. Kakeru. The pale purple sky, covering the rising sun in a veil, provided an almost ethereal background for the lithe and shrewish Mrs. Kakeru, who still wore a thick dressing gown in lieu of actual clothing.

Then Ren noticed the crowd of people behind her. The people of Sunaomi, all in various states of half-dress, were crowding around her. Faces of light peach, of dark tan, of the white powder usually reserved for geishas, robes of splendid silk and plain wool, and clothing in just about every color under the sun melted together in front of Ren.

"…What's going on?" Ren asked, fearful for a split second. He jumped up defensively, snapping his kwan dao together. He held it in his hand, but didn't brandish it. But if they were trying to kick him out, like Ren suspected, he'd fight them off. Oh, he would annihilate them. "...Trying to kick me out?"

"Actually… no," Mrs. Kakeru murmured. "We just think we've found a place for you to go."

Ren gripped his kwan dao even tighter. "In town?"

"Here in Sunaomi."

Ren thought about her words for a second. "So why is the rest of the town here?"

Mrs. Kakeru gave a patient, calm smile. She looked behind her as Ren loosened his grasp on his weapon.

"Well, Ren… this place is on a separate level than the street corner."

My heart is… breaking!

Ren gripped the hilt of the Bao-lei Sword, used to hearing Bason's news. After all, it had been nearly five years, and nothing had changed. Mikan still lived in stasis, and Ren still lived atop the sacred Mount of Sunaomi. Whereas she appeared to not age, he had. Every time he looked into the thin stream by the tiny temple on the mount he called home, he saw more and more of his father in the reflection.

The lush trees tried to shield the brilliance of the setting sun, but they couldn't. They tried to stop Ren every day, their leafy branches falling directly into Ren's path of vision.

"A losing battle," Ren muttered at the willows, pushing aside some drooping branches in order to walk to the edge of the mountaintop. The sunset was the same as always, the same brilliant orange of Mikan's hair. Ren sighed contently, holding back a wave of emotion and fear. She wasn't awake.

Ren felt a tear slide down his cheek. This was normal. After all, the sunset was that color. That Mikan color. Ren smirked, and turned to the small Japanese-style Shinto shrine behind him, where Bason was floating amongst the memorial tablets. A few ghosts were talking to him, popping up occasionally and twittering. He turned back to the sunset, a faint smile still upon his lips.

Ren took in every inch of the sunset, entranced, transfixed. A soft breeze picked up, masking the sounds of nature and the ghosts. Ren sighed again.

"Midori…"

Ren still didn't understand why the residents of Sunaomi let him live up on their sacred mountain.

The crunch of leaves reached Ren's ears. He whipped around, Bao-lei in hand, before his breath caught in his throat. He dropped the sword with a clatter on the ground.

Yoh Asakura smiled warmly at Ren, his long hair being swept about by the breeze.

"It's been a long time, Ren," Yoh grinned.

Ren picked up Bao-lei quickly, glaring at Yoh. "Has the time come, then?"

"…Yes. But we have someone else coming with us, don't we?"

"I have no idea what –"

The words were stolen from Ren. From behind Yoh, emerging from the shadows, was a flash of orange, tied up with a splash of red fabric. Over a flesh-colored canvas, a matching red kimono had been drawn up, tied in the back with a clashing blue bow.

Ren didn't move or speak. There was no mistaking her. She was tearing up, and without warning she flung herself into Ren's arms. And he, overwhelmed with emotion, ran his fingers through her orange hair.

And Yoh continued to grin, heading down the stone steps.

"So she's the one," Yoh murmured to himself as he disappeared behind a curtain of green.

fin

A/N: So I only intended this to be a few pages long… and it turned into yet another one-shot of epic length. I'm sorry everyone! WHY ARE MY ONE-SHOTS SO EPIC?! Anyway, here's my return to the Shaman King fandom. I was inspired by the Funbari Onsen stories at the end of SK, in particular the shot of Ren with a panda atop a mountain. So this story was basically my way of answering the question, "How'd he get up there?"

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Shaman King. Sorry.