He loves her.
It's a simple statement backed up by complex emotions and thoughts, all leading back to the same obvious conclusion: He loves her unconditionally, uncontrollably, and undeniably. He'd do anything for her: suffer at the hands of his so called "masters" (What master does an alley cat have?), ostracize himself from family and what little friends he had, anything to make her happy.
She doesn't fully appreciate it.
She will thank him, a blush adorning her cheeks and a stutter accompanying her tough exterior, but she knows not how to fully appreciate what he does. But he continually shrugs it off knowing that she is only a child (A child he loves and craves for every day), and children cannot fully comprehend the complexities of adult appreciation. Sure, she may be far more mature for her age then others, but adult matters still threw her for a loop; still made her eyes widen and sparkle with awe as he only dismissed them with a wave of his hand.
He cannot so easily dismiss her affections for a fellow child.
The boy continually hurt her, saying he loved another (Even if it was technically a part of her) right to her face. He couldn't possibly imagine a more painful blow to a person's pride: A highly respected and loved one continually saying he only loved one-third of who she truly was. All the while he loved all the thirds, eighths, and sixteenths about her. Yet she fawns over the boy; she stutters and blushes and all be damned if he didn't want to show his jealousy to her on multiple occasions. But he doesn't, and instead bides his time until the day when she is old enough to understand, old enough to be his in any way that he wants her.
The jealousy lies in waiting though, and he believes that's how they got him.
How they got him to do horrible things to others; to transform into a hideous creature of the night with a soul as black as death. When they asked, he always just shrugged it off to the mind control; if they asked further they may have found that the device merely caused his emotions to come to a head. He appeared lifeless in that state; yet each and every second spent in that form would cause him physical pain and mental anguish. The only release he could get from such agony was surrounding himself with the broken souls of others.
He'd never admit that it was almost therapeutic.
That darker side of him, the side that continually was trampled down, reveled in being able to harm to others. It practically celebrated in joyful exhilaration at the chance to break those who broke him; made him feel alone, a liar, hated. Maybe that's why he fought even harder when going up against her and the boy; maybe he was fighting for control so that his darker self wouldn't kill them, wouldn't bathe itself in their blood. He still loved and treasured them both, never intentionally doing something to harm them (Unless of course it was for the obvious greater good). Maybe, just maybe, when he fought twice as hard against them as he would have against anyone else, it was merely of just a reflection of his inner conflict.
He'd always deny having been aware of the situation at the time.
He would never admit the guilt that wracked his body as he stole hearts: He would just say he was too busy fighting to regain control to have noticed. He would never release the secret that, during that final battle he was scared out of his mind at the prospect of what would happen. That if he won they would all die, or that if they won he would ultimately die at their hands (And hopefully in her arms). He would possibly disclose the immense relief he felt as his past was shown to her and the boy; that finally they could understand he never meant to hurt either of them, he just wanted to protect and save them from his ultimate fate. He may announce that he felt almost hopeful as she became that bright shining star, his own self practically beating down the darkness and screaming at her to end it now before he lost what little control he had regained. But there was one thought and one feeling he would always keep to himself, maybe one day disclosing it to her.
He felt an insurmountable amount of joy as she forcefully embraced him; a sign that she had always been his and only his.
A/N: Um...Because I was reading fanfiction and felt like doing an angsty one-shot instead of an Anatomy paper (Or writing story chapters). So yeah...I hope you enjoyed! Leave a review and you'll receive a plush doll of Ikuto! Until next time, JAA MATA!
Disclaimer: Ha, I own nothing. I barely own the clothes on my back.