-Note: This is my first fanfiction story... Please write a review so that I'll know what you think about it. Thanks!-

Fifteen-year-old Sakura Mikan is a poor girl, living on the streets with her gambler of a father and a sick mother. Hyuuga Natsume is a rich, handsome, almost-perfect guy who had no worries in life - or so everyone thought. He's a heartless playboy, according to rumor. But then, the two cross paths - more than once. Will Fate ever bring the two tortured souls together, or will they remain far from the other's reach, as things were meant to be?

Prologue

Natsume stared blankly into the distance, outside his twenty-room mansion. The rain was pouring quietly against the windows; the sky was gray and the roads deserted.

The city was surrounded with a gloomy air, as always. There was nothing about that city that was exciting; most of its inhabitants were always grumpy, cranky, or moody because of the rainy season. That would mean that it would be harder to find work, and with no work, they wouldn't have food to eat.

But Natsume didn't have to worry about that. He was born rich; his father was a successful merchant, and his mother was a well-respected doctor. He always had things easy. He rarely had to lift a finger to work; even squirting toothpaste onto his toothbrush was done for him. Naturally, he was oblivious to the fact that there were people starving out there.

He touched the cold glass of the windows. His own fingertips were cold, and, though he wasn't conscious of the fact, so was his heart.

He shifted his gaze to the huge billboard across the street. There was a picture of the Hyuugas, all smiling. Indeed, it was a picture-perfect moment.

Or so everyone else thought. Natsume sneered at that banner, knowing that all of them there had plastered fake smiles on their faces, knowing that their family wasn't a happy one.

The Hyuugas may seem like the ideal family. Once a week, there's a picture of their family on the newspaper: Mr. Hyuuga, with his arm around his wife, smiling, then the two children, Natsume and Daisuke Hyuuga, standing on either side of the couple. But what they don't see behind all that grandeur and glamour, all those smiles, all that money, those mansions and flashy cars, is the absence of real love and care in their family.

Mr. Hyuuga was always away from home, and he barely spent time with the family. Mrs. Hyuuga woke up very early in the morning and went home late at night working in the hospital, or sometimes, she didn't even come home. So, the two children were virtually parentless.

Moreover, the two siblings never said a word to each other. But both were the same: they were always out partying, spending their cash left and right on expensive, useless things and getting drunk. Although Natsume wasn't as bad as his brother, as he still studies with his tutor every morning, he still copied the things Daisuke does.

He breathed on the cold glass, fogging it up. Then, with one finger, he wrote on the fogged-up portion, "I hate this life" in capital letters.

After awhile, the fog faded, and so did the words he wrote. At that moment, a delicate hand tapped him lightly on the shoulder.

He turned around and came face to face with a gorgeous teenaged girl. She was wearing a black pleated skirt and a fitted red spaghetti-strapped top. Paired off with that was a pair of black Manolos. Her hair was messy and her pale blue eyes dazed as she smiled at him.

"Well?" she said, curling her fingers around his, "Let's go. They're waiting for us."

"I'm not in the mood, Rina," he mumbled coldly, withdrawing his hand from hers.

"Please?" she begged. "You promised. There's guaranteed to be a lot of people there waiting for your appearance."

He sighed. He took his jacket off the rack and walked out the door, into the bitter rain, heading to the pub. Rina, the girl and his muse, followed him, a smile playing on her lips.

The next morning, Mikan woke up early in order to find some work. It was a hard time for their family, especially that her mother was sick; her father, on the other hand, was out gambling their life savings with the other drunken men, not lifting a finger to help.

She quietly got dressed, covering up the bruises and wounds on her petite body. Every night, when she came home without money, her father would beat her up cruelly; sometimes, out of his drunkenness, he would use a cigarette butt to burn her arms, or he would use a wooden stick to hit her. Then he would make her sleep outside the cold, rainy night, with only a small cot. But she endured these tortures without complaint.

It used to be her mother who defended her, who stood up for her. Now, the illness was slowly draining both the strength and life out of her once-strong, capable body.

She tiptoed into her sick mother's room and crept to her side, making sure her father wouldn't wake up.

"Ohayo," she whispered.

"Ah, Mikan," her mother said weakly, not attempting to open her eyes.

"Don't move, mother," she said. "I'll bring home some food for you to eat tonight. We'll have a feast."

Mrs. Sakura laughed softly. Her daughter certainly had an amazing imagination. She slowly moved her hand to hold her daughter's trembling, bone-thin one.

"Your hands are cold, Ma," Mikan said, shocked. "Would you like me to warm them for you?"

"No," she said. "You're not eating well, are you? Your hands are thin."

Mikan clasped her mother's hand with both her small ones and said, "I told you, don't worry. You have to focus on getting well now. I have to go now. Take care."

She kissed her mother's cheek and left the house.

She shivered uncontrollably as she walked under the rain. They had no umbrella, and she had no coat, since she lent it to her mother to use as her blanket.

She stared longingly at the stalls of luscious fruits and fresh vegetables, wishing she could sink her teeth into at least one of those. She watched the butcher spread out his choice meats and the baker open up his shop. The delicious smell of fresh bread wafted over the surrounding streets.

She smiled a warm smile at each of them, none of whom returned her smile back.

But nothing would stop her from spreading cheer into the gloomy town. Every turn she went, every corner she turned, wherever there were people, she would smile or say an encouraging word to them, then ask them if she could work for a minimum wage.

Still, none returned her greetings.

She sighed, and, turning to the corner of a wide but crowded alley, she plopped down on the floor, still shivering.

"Hey, you there," she heard a voice call.

Mikan turned her head. A fat woman wearing a dirty apron was beckoning to her. She smiled at the woman and said, "Ohayo."

"Lookin' for work?" the woman said, ignoring her greeting.

"Yes," she replied politely, walking towards her.

"Good. I need you to wash these two bundles of clothes in the river."

Mikan was intimidated by the two huge bundles of dirty clothes that the woman handed to her. She staggered under their weight.

"I expect them to be done by four o'clock. If you manage, I give you money. If you don't come on time, I don't pay you."

"Yes, ma'am." Mikan walked away quickly under the soft drizzle, thankful for the job offer. She wasn't entirely sure, though, if she could manage to wash all of them by four o'clock, but she was willing to take the risk of her efforts being put to waste if she wasn't able to accomplish it. There was only one thing on her mind now: her sick, starving mother.

well, sorry if the first part is boring. All introductions I make are, anyway.. :) Please review