April 2, 2012.

A/N: Greetings, reader, and welcome to a very personal novel. :3

A little bit of necessary history: A long time ago, way back in ye olde 2009, I wrote this for my NaNo (National Novel Writing Month) challenge. I wrote it for a friend who was going through a really rough time, in the hopes that it might lift her spirits a bit. Sadly, a complication shortly after fractured our friendship, and it's never been the same since. Nowadays, we barely have contact. So this story holds a lot of personal meaning for me; it's very special, very significant, and very nostalgic.

I should have posted this a long time ago, but I was always afraid nobody would read it. I guess it just doesn't matter anymore; I think for all the love and time that was poured into this story, it deserves its own little place on the internet. My writing has improved a lot since I wrote this, but I'm going to leave it un-edited, for the most part, to preserve its authenticity. :)

Info: Minto-centric splice-of-life (but does include other Mews at various intervals), post-Mew Project, set 7 years in the future. Contains OCs. Rated T for mature themes, occasional language (I think; can't really remember!), and implied sexual themes later on.

Disclaimer: I do not own Tokyo Mew Mew. I do, however, own every OC that appears in this fic - and they're all very dear to me.

To Ascertain | Chapter One

For Immortal-x-Snow

Because life was hard, she was a dancer, and I loved her.

"Miss Aizawa?"

Minto glanced up wordlessly, obediently extracting herself from the depths of her Contemporary Japanese Economics essay. She absent-mindedly folded the top corner of the heavy volume she was poring over with nimble, delicate fingers.

"Yes?"

The girl standing at her desk wasn't someone she recognised. This meant she was probably a freshman. Minto glanced up and down her small frame; she was definitely someone from wealth, like ninety-eight percent of students at the lavish university, but she wasn't of any significance. It came as no surprise that the girl had known who Aizawa Minto was without having met her; the young heiress found that it happened increasingly more often the older she grew. It seemed that everybody simply knew of her. Sometimes, she indulged herself in the fantasy that she was a celebrity.

"Lady Miyabita would like to see you."

"Now?" Minto asked, her voice low and smooth, so as not to interrupt any of the other students studying in the prestigious library. The place was a huge octagon, with an enormous domed roof of sparkling glass panels, clear as crystal. Natural light filtered down to the circular oak desks, around which students worked, silent as the night. The antique lamps sitting atop the polished wood wouldn't be used until dusk fell, and then the place would be filled with warm, velvety golden light, subtle and cosy.

"Yes."

Minto nodded dismissively and quietly packed away her things. She removed the neat, rectangular frames from her delicate, pointed nose, carefully folding them away in their case. She silently pushed out her chair and rose dexterously, allowing the younger girl to take a moment to fully appreciate her subtle beauty and aristocratic aura.

Twenty-one year old Minto was quite a sight to behold. Over the few years since her life had been restored to peaceful normality, she had grown the remaining few inches, and her body was slender, lithe and neat. Her arms and legs were slight and pale as snow; the result of a meticulously maintained diet consisting of only the strictly healthiest delicacies, of the absolute finest quality. A lifetime of dedicated ballet rehearsals shaped her slender form, smoothing her contours and hardening her muscles.

Two large, almond-shaped chocolate-brown eyes emanated charisma and dignity from beneath thick, curled black lashes, stark against her ashen, snowy skin. Her lips, small and elusive, curled subtly – the slightest smirk of arrogance. Her rich, blue-black hair tumbled down her back when left as nature intended; today it was carefully braided and twisted into a feminine spiral at the back of her head, held in place with pins studded with tiny pearls.

Minto allowed herself to be led from the library by the freshman, who quite obviously felt inadequate as they traversed the length of the third floor corridor towards the mahogany staircase; she seemed at an utter loss for words. Minto didn't feel obliged to lighten the atmosphere between them; she silently pressed a non-existent crease from her navy silk frock with her fingers. The dress was sleeveless, and had a wide, curving neckline. It pulled in sharply at the waist, with a pure-white ribbon – tied in an utterly perfect bow – at the back. The skirt fell loosely, falling short about an inch of the knee, with subtle sunray pleats and a simple chiffon petticoat beneath. She wore a skin-tight white lace top with wrist-length sleeves and white stockings underneath, with a pair of stylish patent leather Mary Jane heels and pure white silkworm gloves. The entire outfit, like all of her outfits, was designer-made especially for her. There were no exact copies of it anywhere in the world. Aizawa Minto, with her Egyptian silk dress, her Italian leather heels, and the Schwarovski diamonds in her ears, was a walking fortune.

"Did she say what this was about?" Minto broke the chilling silence as the pair ascended the grand staircase towards the fifth floor. They did not exchange greetings with any of the other students they passed; the boys and girls of the Okuyukashii Institute of Academic Excellence were far too refined for pleasantries. Attending one of Japan's wealthiest private universities, each of the mere one thousand students was heir to some kind of prosperous fortune. Competition was extremely fierce between them; behind the polite, well-rehearsed pleasantries were thoughts of resentment and judgement. Here, it was all about whose father had the most power.

Miss Aizawa Minto was one of the few names even the newest of freshmen knew almost better than their own.

"No."

Minto nodded again, once, and fired a quick, subtle look at the girl, dismissing her as she raised one white-gloved hand to rap against the oak door. After a few moments, a distinguished voice answered.

"Enter."

Minto turned the golden handle and pushed the door open. Behind an enormous mahogany desk, in a crisp, gunmetal-grey tailor-made suit, was a birdlike woman with jet black hair swept up in a French knot. She flicked her cool eyes up at her student from behind neat, oval frames, and put down the golden-nibbed fountain pen in her bony fingers.

"Miss Aizawa," she greeted graciously, with a tight smile. "At last. Please, take a seat."

Behind the desk, the huge French windows portrayed the view across the traditionally-designed Japanese gardens, and the sweeping scenery of the vast, classic cityscape of Kyoto. A man-made creek snaked between the lawns of cream stone, sparkling in its bed of marble.

Minto sank gently into a high-backed oak chair, maintaining her flawless posture, resting her arm delicately on the rich brown arm.

"How can I help you?" she asked politely, already heavily suspecting of the words to issue from the headmaster's lips. This was by no means her first trip to the Dean's office; usually it happened around semester break, when her parents were meant to be returning from wherever in the world they were to spend it with her. The emphasis was, of course, on the words 'meant to be'. With Minto's years of experience, she was well accustomed to preparing for it not to happen.

"I've received news regarding your parents," Lady Miyabita, the sixth generation of the Miyabita women to inherit and maintain the university and its estate, announced. Minto's expression remained impassive. She sat like a statue, awaiting the newest excuse for their upcoming absence.

"If you're going to tell me they won't be home for Christmas, I'm well aware already," she said lightly, rising from the seat. "You need not waste your time with these messages, Madam. I thank you, however, for your time in doing so."

"Please be seated, Miss Aizawa. I'm afraid it's not about the coming winter celebrations," Miyabita said calmly, though her eyes were hard. She glanced away from Minto's bemused face, and rose from her extravagant chair, as Minto reluctantly made herself comfortable again in hers.

"It is with my deepest and sincerest apologies," Miyabita said, gazing thoughtfully out the windows, "That I regretfully inform you that your parents will not be coming home again."

"What on earth do you mean?" Minto demanded, growing quickly tired of the airy-fairy formalities. She might have been raised with them spilling out of her mouth before she could even properly count, but that didn't mean she minded tolerating them twenty-four-seven.

"There was an accident, Miss Aizawa," Miyabita explained, her back still turned to her student. "Their plane crashed into the south pacific ocean on their return from Brazil. The government is arranging for them to be returned to Japan as soon as is legally possible."

"Legally…" Minto trailed off, speechless. The news of her parents' untimely demise did not come as upsetting, considering she couldn't even remember a celebration of birthdays or Christmases that they'd actually attended, but it did come as quite a shock.

"Unfortunately, Miss Aizawa," Miyabita continued, staring at the maintenance men as they raked the beds of stone into the patterns she desired for the day, "Your parents had been keeping quite a secret from us. It seems the Aizawa clan fell into quite a spot of financial hardship in recent years."

"That is not true," Minto all but spat in immediate protest. Struggling to maintain her poise, she closed her eyes, inhaled carefully through her nose, and released the breath in a long, calming sigh. "We have never experienced financial difficulty. Never."

"It is with regret that I must argue," Miyabita replied, sounding not the least bit remorseful, and now she turned. Her eyes were cold as steel; harder than diamonds. "Your father perished almost two billion yen in debt."

Minto's heart turned to ice in her chest. What little colour there was in her cheeks rapidly drained.

"It is with my deepest apologies that I must inform you that your education at Okuyukashii will be terminated from this moment forth," Miyabita said, watching her pitilessly. "Since you can longer afford to attend an institute of our status, we must ask that you remove yourself before the weekend–"

"But the semester is almost over," Minto exploded in horror. "I'm due to graduate in a few months! Can't I stay until I graduate? This university has always been paid the correct fees; can't you make an exception for the short time I have left?"

"I'm sorry, Miss Aizawa," Miyabita said. She seemed to be enjoying the moment far too thoroughly for the young ex-heiress' liking. "But rules are rules. If we made an exception for you, we'd have to make an exception for all the young girls with financial difficulty, and then we just wouldn't be us, would we? Okuyukashii does not make exceptions."

Minto glared furiously at the headmistress, unable to believe that this ill fortune was really happening to her.

"Does Seiji know?" she demanded.

"Your brother will be informed shortly," Miyabita replied. "Our contacts are trying to reach him in Moscow. He is proving to be quite elusive."

"So what will happen to us?" Minto asked, the first creases of worry encroaching the boundaries of her well-maintained countenance. Miyabita gazed at her wordlessly.

"That, my dear," she said softly – almost vindictively, "Is for you to work out now."

Minto sat rigidly in her seat, her body frozen.

"Fortunately for you," Miyabita went on, "Your parents already had everything organised for you before they died. According to their written requests you will be taking up whatever remains of your college education at Kihonteki University in Tokyo. Accommodation has been organised and the university is aware and supportive of your immediate transfer. A room will be prepared for you when you arrive."

"Wait–" Minto stammered, the first onset of panic setting in, but Miyabita steamrolled over her.

"A limousine will be waiting for you on Sunday morning to take you to the station. Your itinerary is already in your quarters as we speak; you will find your train ticket and a printed document with all the relevant details ready for your convenience. Please ensure your quarters are vacated by nine o'clock sharp."

Minto's head swirled with all the sudden information. She finally gathered her scattered thoughts enough to raise her head and look at the headmaster.

"You are dismissed," Miyabita said simply.

Minto dragged in a strengthening breath and rose as calmly as possible. She unleashed the iciest glare in her power upon the uncompassionate woman before her, and, retaining whatever dignity she had left after being utterly humiliated and degraded in the worst manner possible, swept from the office.

The phone rang endlessly in her ear. She stood by the window-seat, gazing out absently over the vast city of Kyoto. The skyline sure was pretty in the morning, but she'd always preferred it with a sunset backdrop.

The phone rang out for the third time in a row. Minto sighed in frustration and hung up, dropping her latest-technology cell phone on the four-poster double bed. The drapes were pulled back and tied with the golden rope-cord, the tassels dangling towards the floor. The plush gold and maroon covers were pulled up neatly, the bed re-made for the last time.

Several jumbo-sized suitcases sat unzipped on the bed, packed neatly to the brim with an assortment of designer clothing. The oak wardrobe in the corner was, for the first time in almost three years, completely empty. Minto had never been one for elaborate decoration, but even with the few small touches she'd added now gone, the place felt unfamiliar and sad.

"Where shall I put this, Miss?"

Minto turned to the meek little maid who worked for the university and eyed the velvet black travel coat in her arms. She held out one slender hand.

"Give it to me. I'll wear it on the train."

She pulled her arms through the sleeves and buttoned it up to her collar, hiding her blue-plaid-pencil-skirt, cream-satin-blouse ensemble from sight, glancing at the solid gold, diamond encrusted watch around her wrist. Ten to nine. She would have to get moving soon.

"And this, Miss?"

"Whatever it is, just put it in the case," Minto snapped, reaching for her cell phone to try Seiji one more time. He was becoming so unreliable.

Well, not that he's ever really been around much…

She listened to the maid zipping up her cases as she waited for the phone to connect. Again, he didn't answer. Giving up for good, she dropped her cell into her bag and busied herself with arranging a powder blue cashmere scarf around her neck. She pulled on her white travelling gloves, picked up and shouldered her bag, and turned her gaze to the window, taking care to examine it, and the view it offered, closely, so she could preserve the image in her memory.

As it turned out, Mr and Mrs Aizawa hadn't left her in complete ruin. The family financial advisor had paid her a visit the previous day to discuss how to approach her sudden situation, and where to take her options. As a result of the terrible debt her father had somehow landed them in, the Aizawa orphans had so little money remaining that most of their staff had been 'let go', including him, he had added, with the explanation that he couldn't bear to leave two kids entirely on their own at a time of such terrible loss.

Minto didn't really understand where he was coming from with that, but she was glad he was still around to sort out whatever money issues they had to deal with.

An account had been set up, Ishida explained, one each for her and Seiji, with enough money inside for education fees and rent (Minto hadn't, until this conversation, ever used or heard of the word) for a while, but definitely not enough for any sort of permanence. She couldn't live forever on what was in the account, was how he basically put it. Minto found this news distasteful, but she supposed there wasn't exactly anything she could do about it. Besides, she would just sort everything out later, when the time came.

The Aizawa estate, with its glorious gardens and manor, was still under the siblings' possession, despite most of the furniture being repossessed. A 'hollow, empty shadow of its former self', was how Ishida described it.

"I wouldn't go back there just yet," he had advised, pushing up his very square glasses and peering at her seriously. "I wouldn't go back for a while, actually."

Where Minto was supposed to live, she had absolutely no idea. Staying in those on-campus dormitories was utterly out of the question; she would have no more considered that a legitimate option than fly to the moon. No, living on campus was not a level she was willing to sink to. She had no contactable relatives; her father had been estranged from his siblings, and as for grandparents, she couldn't remember ever meeting any, so it wasn't as though she had any place else to go. But again, it was something that would have to be dealt with at a later date.

"Miss? We're ready…"

Minto turned away from the window. The maid was standing by the open door, looking nervous. The cases had been removed from the four-poster bed; most likely packed already into the trunk of the limousine.

"Very well," Minto sighed. She cast one final glance at the window, tightened the scarf around her neck, stood up straight, and tilted her chin up, preparing for the walk that would most likely be the most shameful of her entire life.

It was not often an heir or heiress suddenly came to the horrible realisation that their lavish lifestyle was lavish no more. But it did happen. Every now and then, rumour would sweep around the campus that Koretada Hime's father had gambled their fortune away and he was pulling her out of the institute. Or Toroko Makio's family had turned out to be connected to some form of corruption, and suddenly his inheritance was being spent on legal fees and bail money.

But no one in the history of the university would have ever expected bankruptcy to happen to an Aizawa.

There were no whispers behind her back. There were no dirty looks; no glares, sneers, scowls or haughty pouts. Nobody turned their backs on her. Nobody laughed at her. Nobody even dared speak.

But the disbelief, the incredulous tension, the sudden division between their classes – for now Aizawa Minto (the Aizawa Minto; the last of her lineage) was one of them, a commoner – was almost unbearable. Nevertheless, Minto held her head high and strode with all the dignity she'd ever been taught to hold, all the way down the enormous staircase and across the marble-tiled entrance hall, past dozens of shocked students and out the double-doors to the front gardens.

Without a backward glance, and without looking at anybody once, Minto slid straight into the awaiting limousine.

With almost a thousand pairs of awed eyes fixed upon it from various rooms, windows, and classes, the limousine snaked its way down the poplar-lined stone driveway, and out the twisted iron gates, disappearing into the depths of the city lying beyond.

To be continued...

A/N: 2 Billion Japanese Yen equals about 23,900,500 Australian Dollars. Which is quite a lot. :P

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