Disclaimer: The characters aren't mine, the plot isn't mine, heck, even this chapter isn't mine. None of it's mine. Zero. Zilch. Nada. (But I did rewrite it)

The chapter belongs to ShellyCullen.

And I don't own Shugo Chara.

Prologue

The War

The year was 2012, the very year everyone agreed with the Mayan's claim that the world would end. And true to their prediction, the world as everyone knew came to a screeching halt. However, the end didn't come with a shattering economy or the spontaneous combustion of the planet, or practically anything people assumed would ruin their lives. The end began with what the world never saw coming: war.

It ended quickly. No one knew what they were up against.

The two worlds were in battle. They called themselves Angels of Darkness and claimed they were discovered in the early years of the second millennium. Many were fascinated by the new species.
They resembled humans greatly, with characteristic properties of humans; however, these similarities did not bring the two species together.

The years dragged on as the king of their kind, Johnson Dark, declared war on humans and demanded for them to surrender and allow him to be the king of all. The humans, who believed they knew of greater power than the Angels, refused. This outraged the king, and he sent his soldiers to earth to kill off nearly everything that lived.

"Kill all, but save the last for your king," Dark told them.

The war began on the twenty first of December in the year 2011.

The humans futilely fought back to keep their independence, but they were no match for these creatures, for they kept a dark secret.

In the fierce battle for dominance or independence, as the sun would disappear below the horizon, black wings spanned from their backs. This revelation left humans in such a state of shock; no one was able to do a thing as the Angels mustered up their strengths of numbers and finished the war.

And the world fell into panic and chaos.

Leaders of the world urged their countries, practically pleading the people to hide while they still can, escape while they had the opportunity, and survive with all they had. Many people did try, with every ounce of strength they had, but many were confused and disorientated. During the day, the Angels blended too well, and no one could tell humans and Angels apart. It was only in the darkness, where humans were at their most alert, but weakest state, did the Angels have black wings to let their true colors shine.

The world was now in a state suspicion and tension.

Humans were willing to kill all they saw. Strangers, neighbors, friends, family. It didn't matter anymore, now that humans and Angels couldn't be told apart. Humanity was killing itself off and was disappearing.

The end was coming.

By now, only a few hundred humans survive, scarcely dispersed in every area. They walk the day, unseen, for the Angels of Darkness have won, and the world is nothing less than doomed.

Amu shivered violently as she sat under an awning of an abandoned shop. She had found refuge under it in a particularly violent storm. It was cold, no doubt about that, and the rain fell like bullets. It stung when the wind blew the rain into the small area that she curled up in and hit her. Amu wore only a thin t-shirt and a pair of nylon sweatpants from her gym class in school. She had a black backpack on her back filled with two more shirts, three pants, undergarments, bottles of water—that were sitting in front of her, nearly full from collecting rain water—and packages of dried foods and snacks she found around the house.

When the bottle were full, she pulled them back under the awning, screwed the caps back on, and put them back into her bag, uncaring whether or not the clothes in it would get wet. She continued shivering, waiting for the storm to blow over soon.

Amu closed her eyes, and when she opened them again, unsure of how much time has gone by, a teen stood in front of her, seemingly only a few years older than her. He wore a pressed military uniform, and had a stern but soft look in his eyes. An air of authority surrounded him, and he was standing in the rain.

Numbly, the pinkette gestured to the spot beside her under the awning. It wasn't much; she knew she was dripping wet, but it was better than just sitting in the rain. He shook his head and offered a hand out, instead.

Reluctantly, she took it and stood. The boy gave her a slight smile, and she gave a small nod in greeting.

"I'm Kee," he said.

"Amu," she squeaked.

"Last name?" he questioned.

"Hi-Hinamori." She chewed on her bottom lip as she avoided eye contact. "And yours?"

"Hm?" He gave her a questioning look, but then realized what she meant the next moment. "Kee is my last name. I don't really remember my first."

"Oh."

"Anyways," he continued, "I was told to come and find people, and I found you. There's a survival camp a mile from here, and it only takes about twenty minutes to get there if you don't walk well."

"I can," she mumbled.

"Okay."

The two made their way to the camp, where Amu had human contact for the first time in weeks.

"Hi!"

Amu turned around, a bit surprised at the high-pitched voice. A small girl with brown hair looked up at her with tired yet excited eyes. A blonde boy trailed after her with a shy blush on his face.

"I'm Yaya! And that's Tadase behind me," she explained. Tadase shot a small smile and waved.

Amu gave a short nod. "Amu."

"Hinamori," Kee called from the other side of the room. He was standing with a man, not much older than he was, probably. Amu looked up from her game of cards with Yaya and Tadase.

"Yeah?" she answered.

His eyebrow twitched. "What did I tell you about informalities...?"

Sheepishly, she laughed. "Sorry, sorry. What did you need?"

"Come'ere," he said as he gestured towards himself.

Amu jogged up to him, and responded with a short, "Sir?" Kee felt a bit of self-satisfaction.

"This guy," Kee said as he pointed a thumb to the man beside him, "is Nikaido. He's your mentor for combat and some survival skills."

Amu turned to look at him. Nikaido was a disheveled man with messy hair that looked like it was never combed once in his entire life, wore a raggedy t-shirt with a white wife beater underneath, and grey pants tucked into large army boots. "Hey," he nervously greeted.

Amu quirked an eyebrow as she gave a nod in greeting. "Hello."

"Anyways," Kee interrupted, "I want you two to start immediately tomorrow morning. Set the schedule with her, Nikaido, and I'm sure she'll follow it." Kee gave her a somewhat stern look that said nothing but, 'Or else.'

"Okey-dokey," he said. "Then, Himamori—"

Amu winced. "It's Hinamori."

"Right. Anyways, Himamori," Amu's eyebrow twitched, but she didn't bother to say anything about his mispronunciation this time, "I think we should start weapons training first, hm?" Reluctantly, the pinkette nodded. "And then we can begin hand-to-hand combat, don't you think?"

"Uh, sure?"

The pinkette gave another frustrated sigh. "Freaking knives."

"Aw, c'mon, Himamori, throwing knives can be easy!" Nikaido encouraged.

"Hinamori!" Amu corrected, "It's Hinamori!"

"Same difference," the mentor said as he laughed. "I'm serious, though! If you just practice when you can, you can do it! Trust me!"

Amu groaned. "Whatever." Carelessly, she threw the knife that flew across the room to dig into the target. It didn't hit the bull's eye, or anywhere relatively near it, but it hit the target, and Nikaido laughed.

"See? It's easy."

Amu's jaw dropped as she gaped at the silver knife.

"Just practice. We're learning how to shoot with aim next week, and shooting without aim next month," Nikaido explained to her. "So just make sure your aim is spot-on, or we, and possibly some other people, will get into some big trouble, okay?"

Amu gave a short laugh at his implication, and he laughed with her. "Thanks, Nikaido," she smiled.

"You're welcome, kiddo."

"I'm never gonna start this fire!" Amu threw the sticks across the room.

"Don't worry, Amu, I'm sure you'll get it at some point," Yaya said. The girl sat next to her blazing fire, most likely larger than everyone else in the room got theirs to be.

Amu gave her an, 'Are you serious,' look, and Yaya laughed.

Furiously, Amu hit the stones against each other, and occasionally, she saw small orange sparks. Holding it closer to the pile of sticks, she hit the stones even harder. The fire flared in her face and nearly engulfed her hands. She cursed under her breath as Yaya cheered.

"Okay, Himamori," Nikaido said, ignoring Amu's corrections of, 'Hinamori!', "let's start target practice with the knives one more time."I'll be your sparring partner this time, okay?"

Amu gave a nod as she put the small knives into straps lined with pockets. She tied the straps to her waist, hidden under her shirt, and her thighs. She strapped one to each of her wrists and slipped one in the back hidden pocket on her pants.

"You ready?" Nikaido asked.

"More or less," Amu shrugged she stood in front of him.

"Let's go ahead and start then."

Hours later...

Amu panted, nearly completely out of breath. One of her eyes was shut due to the blood that streaked from her hairline, over her eye, and to the edge of her face. Sweat streamed down her face and through her hair. Her shirt was ripped in multiple places and some had small stains of blood, and her face held hairline cuts.

Nikaido wasn't in much better condition, either. His shirt was torn to almost pieces and blood from a cut on his face ran from his cheek to his chin. He weakly stood, barely able to keep himself on his feet. Sweat made his long hair cling to the sides of his face, and in the heat of combat training, he felt the need to cut some of the locks of hair away.

"Not bad," he mumbled before they both fell from exhaustion, "not bad at all."

One year later...

"You know, Himamori," Nikaido began; Amu didn't even bother trying to correct him, "I think it's about that time."

"Hm? What time?" Amu asked as she looked up from the knife she was polishing.

"I don't have any more to teach you."

"...I know."

"You do?" Nikaido gave her a questioning look.

"Yeah. All we've been doing is sparring lately, and I always feel like I'll end up killing you during weapons practice if I can't hold back," Amu explained as she continued rubbing the cotton cloth on the smooth metal.

Nikaido gave a short laugh. "I knew there's been something off your game lately."

"More or less," she shrugged as she put down the knife to grab another one. "So what are you going to do, now that you don't have anyone to mentor anymore?"

"You forget," he said, "new kids come in every week or so. I get to teach them."

"Ah." Amu continued to polish the set of knives as Nikaido began cleaning his gun.

"Why did you learn to fight?" Nikaido asked her.

It took her by surprise, and her hand slipped, making her nearly cut her thumb off. "What?" He repeated the question, and she gave him a strange look. "It's obvious, isn't it? We have to have a way to defend ourselves?"

Nikaido continued scrubbing the barrel. "It's not just that, Himamori."

"Eh?" Amu stopped polishing her knife and looked up at him. "What do you mean by that?"

"If I told you, it'd be too easy," he teased as he waved the gun in a teasing manner.

"But—!"

"No buts," Nikaido said as he got up and patted his pants.

He reached over to ruffle her hair. "See you around, kiddo."