Rocket to Alice

Disclaimer: Gakuen Alice is not mine. I can still wish, though.

Inspiration: A friend who sort of provided the random idea, and original composition topics on English exams (certain events change our impressions of life).

Side Note: I like writing and generally am good at writing formal essays and not so much stories. Yet I love reading them and randomly attempt to pull one off whenever prompted an original composition. And probably fail, as demonstrated in this story.

Very loosely connected to Gakuen Alice, so enjoy? (characters such as innocent Mikan, deteriorating body is reference to fourth form Alice, etc)

First fic or one-shot/pretty short. I know that Mikan is somewhat OOC here, hell Natsume is, but it's total AU and that's the way I want it to be. So suck it up. ;D

Dedication: I'm probably going to sound like a horrible, spoiled person in this dedication, but the story is definitely dedicated to My Hopeless Romantic, who essentially was my first good friend on this website. I was disheartened when I didn't get a random birthday drabble from her (that sounds SO BAD, I know - I get too attached on small details like that), but regardless, this story is for her. Because she rocks to her own tune; because she is inherently awesome; and because I will never forget her. Perhaps as a UBER-belated birthday? present for you. Although it's really nothing in comparison to your stories. WHICH I TOTALLY SUGGEST for everyone to read. Under my favorite authors - My Hopeless Romantic.

The whole story is reference to choosing university and majors and such. So grats on graduation! To both of us! Stay in touch.

When people ask me what I want to do when I grow up, I tell them that I'm going to be an engineer. It's a nice, safe job that makes my parents proud.

But honestly, I want to be an astronaut.

All I can dream about is floating around inside a spaceshuttle, watching the moon grow bigger and bigger while that familiar swirling mass of blue, white, and green becomes more and more distant.

I haven't told anyone this, not even my best friend, Hotaru. But it's not because I'm ashamed.

It's because I'm scared.

I'm really scared.

My parents have been going on about my career as a successful engineer ever since I showed an aptitude for math and sciences. I knew that after the day I built my first machine (which happened to be a talking flower) on that dreary, raining Sunday, my parents would urge me to become an engineer. I don't even know if the flower was functional. Highly unlikely. Hotaru was the smart one.

I was three when I wanted to be queen of crayons. At age seven, I thought bungee jumping was a professional sport, but it was age nine that I decided that anything smaller than an office in outer space would suffocate me.

Because, when I was nine, I met Natsume.

He was a pale, sickly boy who sat in a wheelchair at the park near my house, and I would see him there almost everyday during the summer.

I had hidden something in the bushes nearby that I snuck out of the house at every open opportunity to work on. To the ordinary observer, it was a used-cardboard box with tinfoil patches, pillows and construction paper, but to me, it was the rocket ship that would take me away from the Earth all the way to Alpha Centauri and beyond.

It was the afternoon, I remember, when I heard the tell-tale rustling of grass behind me. I had taken out my masterpiece to work on at a picnic table when my mother and father were out on errands. Annoyed that someone had broken my concentration, I turned around with an icy glare.

It was the boy with frail arms and bent legs, sitting in his chair, chest rising and falling quickly as if he had just expended a great deal of energy to come and see me.

It was Natsume.

"How's the spaceship coming?" he asked me.

I hid my surprise at his recognition of my project and snootily replied, "It's a rocket ship."

"Right, rocket. Sorry." He grinned, not the least bit offended.

I turned and went back to my work.

Days went by and every time I arrived to fix the accelerators or mend the gas container or build a button that would initiate warp speed, the boy would come over and we would talk.

"Why are you so interested, anyway?" I asked him one day while mounting a seat made of foam.

"Because I'm an alien," Natsume responded, offering me a piece of tape.

"Really? From where?" I asked.

"Alice." He replied.

"Never heard of it."

"Well, we call it Gakuen Alice, but the details are too complex for you to understand."

"Do you miss home?" I asked.

Natsume lifted a hand and examined it against the cloudless, blue sky.

"Yes," he said wistfully. "My body's deteriorating rapidly. If I don't go home soon, I'll die."

I froze.

Die?

"No!" I exclaimed. "You can't!"

Natsume looked surprised.

"You can take my rocket when it's done," I insisted. "It won't fly yet, but it will! Just you watch."

I stared at him with the intensity that only a nine year old can muster up.

"Thank you," Natsume said. "Is that a promise?"

"It's a promise." We pinky-sealed it.

Natsume was about fifteen, by my guesses and he had a friend that came to visit us every now and then. Her name was Sumire, and I thought she might have been his girlfriend, but I never asked.

"Is Sumire an alien, too?" I questioned Natsume.

"Of course not. Make sure you keep her company when I'm gone, alright?"

"I will," I nodded vigorously.

That was a promise too.

It was August, I remember clearly, because I was working on the rocket in air that was noticeably cooler, even if the sky was still the same endless blue.

I heard footsteps and thought perhaps Sumire had come looking for Natsume, who was probably at home. His temporary body had become incredibly weak, and I was working feverishly to complete the final finishing touches of my shuttle so that he could return to Alice.

But it would turn out that it was not Sumire behind me.

It was Natsume.

"Your chair is gone," I noted.

"It is." He agreed, stepping towards me. "I need a favour. Do you remember your promise?"

I nodded, a rock forming in my stomach.

"I need to go home now." Natsume smiled.

And that's when I burst into tears. Because I knew. I knew that my construction was nothing but paper and tin cans and that it would never fly and that my promise had been a lie from the very beginning.

"But… but… it won't fly!" I exclaimed.

"Yes it will." Natsume smiled. "It's ready."

He climbed into the box. He was so thin that his limbs, all bent and folded inside stuck out at sharp angles that looked as thought they would spear me if I reached out to him.

"Natsume…" I began.

"Sorry I'm stealing your rocket, kiddo," Natsume apologized. "But tell you what."

He leaned towards me.

"You become an astronaut, alright? Ride in one of those big white shuttles over to Alice and then I'll return this to you then, okay?"

I sniffled.

"Promise?" he asked.

I could keep that promise. I could.

"I promise."

And then Natsume looked at the sky and closed his eyes. I felt like I should do the same, so I did.

There was a sound like a sigh, and when I opened my eyes, I was lying in Sumire's arms.

I wanted to tell her that Natsume had finally gone home and that he would be alright provided that he could find more apple juice as fuel, because he might run out, but I found myself crying so hard I was unable to speak. So instead, I choked as the tears poured from my eyes and let Sumire's muffled sobs lull me back to rest.

And now, I'm standing outside the kitchen where both of my parents are talking, holding the brochure for a university with the most prestigious space program in my hands.

I'm seventeen and about to make the most important decision of my life so far.

But my knees have gone to jelly and there's a lump in my throat the size of my fist and my heart's beating so fast I feel as if I'm vibrating.

The paper's shaking so bad that I'm surprised that I don't tear it.

I close my eyes and picture my cardboard box with that lone, thin figure sitting inside, head filled with stars. Natsume.

I close my eyes and think about the promise I made.

"Mom? Dad?" I say, stepping into the kitchen. "There's something I have to talk to you about."

Because, hey. That pathetic excuse for a rocket, made of stolen cans and brown paper flew.

Who knows what will happen?

Thanks for reading the story! I hope you enjoyed it. Please review!