A/N: This is probably the hardest pairing I've ever written. And currently, it's midnight and I'm nackered, which certainly doesn't make it any easier. But I finished it! :D I've been working on this a while now, for True Colours' Alternate Pairings Competition. You can take a guess when I started it, because I've left a complete giveaway in the first few paragraphs. But I've had GCSEs, and I've had to revise for HOURS on end for them all. It was hell. ;_; Thank goodness they ended today. Now I just need to cross my fingers for the results in August! :D

Anyway, I really hope you like this oneshot. I'm gonna apologize in advance for any spelling or grammar errors, because my head hurts right now and I can't concentrate properly. If the ending's naff, I apologize for that as well. ^^" Oh, and a warning: extremely cracky pairing, with slight OOCness perhaps. I dunno - maybe the two of them would act the way I've written them when together? I really have no clue - I don't think they speak one-on-one/directly to each other in the series... though I could be wrong. Feel free to correct me and point me to a place in the series where they do interact, so I can learn how I should have written them. ^^"

Thanks to XxXChiharu-Chan-1000-SpringsxX for keeping me motivated to continue. I possily would have fallen asleep earlier, had it not been for her.

Disclaimer: The only thing I own here is you. ^_^

~Utterly Incomprehensible~

Sometimes it's the silence that holds all the answers. Sometimes it shows us the things that sound misses; the things that no word need tell us, no voice need say. And in that silence, and that silence alone, we find what we are looking for. And when we do look, we look with our eyes and not our hands - but sometimes the overwhelming urge to reach out and touch what we think we are seeing, to make sure that it's real and it isn't just a dream, overcomes us. And so we reach, brush the object, let linger cautious fingers, until we are sure. Sure as the clarity of looking through such a looking glass, a shard of crystal, a transparent window. Once sure, certainty gives way to reaction.

And that's exactly the situation Zakuro found herself in, that early April evening.

It was dusk; the sky had bled from its glorious blue into luscious hues of red and gold, and melting from those into deep purples and light navy. Several streetlamps were beginning to alight; dim, artificial yellow glowing just enough so that the people still wandering around the outside world had something to guide their way home. The suburbs of Tokyo were no exception to this. However, it was away from this lighting, in the shadows behind the old church, that Zakuro was unexpectedly sprawled.

Her lips were still locked with that of her attacker's, dark, indigo eyes wide with surprise and utter confusion. Her arms were propped behind her back, keeping her up in some haphazard sitting position, her legs spread out awkwardly atop the dusty ground. He hovered over her, his own lips clamped forcefully down on hers and eyes squeezed tightly shut, as if scared she would pull back and break the embrace too suddenly. His arms pressed down firmly on either side of her head, trying to make it so that she felt trapped. He didn't want her escaping, after all. Although… he knew, deep down, that she had the strength to escape if she so wanted to. She could easily transform into her Mew form and fight him off. He had no back up. He had no weapon. She was bigger, physically stronger… and yet… she remained motionless.

In fact, it was only when he finally felt the substantial need for air that the kiss was broken. It was abrupt, more of a tear than a parting, and left both gasping sharply. Whether that was for air or from shock, not even they could tell, but either way, it concluded as the only sound that both made. For some reason, he continued to hover above her, piercing golden eyes gazing, startled, into her dark irises. She stared back up at him with equal alarm.

Before long though, she was beginning to doubt if he were actually there, and if what she was seeing was merely a dream's delusion. Finding some force left within her, she managed to shift the weight of her body onto one elbow, freeing the other arm enough to pull it out and reach upwards. Her hand rose until it was level with his huge, pointed ear… But as soon as her fingers brushed it, he vanished, teleporting away quicker than she could react. Her eyes bore into the air that had once held him, and she was more bewildered than ever. His expression… had he meant to kiss her? He himself had appeared just as baffled by his actions as she was.

Zakuro lay there a few minutes, her mind reveling over what had just occurred. Her usually emotionless, blank face was twisted in puzzlement and confusion, nose scrunched up and eyes narrowed. At last, when she had finally regained some of her senses about her, a word came to the forefront of her thoughts. Before she could stop it, it escaped past her still tingling lips, perplexity thick in her questioning tone. It was a name. His name.

"Tart…?"

"-and then Ichigo turned and gave Shirogane-san a completely evil look - oh, she was so angry! Lettuce and Pudding just stopped. Froze really. It was so amusing, Onee-sama-"

The café's usual buzz was dull to her; words washed in one ear and flushed out the other quicker than they had time to register. Her companion's remarks were wasted on her - she didn't even realise she was being spoken to, let alone hear anything that was being said.

"-oh, yes, you should have been there! …I guess it would mean more to you if you were? …Um, anyway… oh! My ballet recital went fabulously well, Onee-sama! I landed every move perfectly-"

Her chin was rested in the palm of her hand, glazed eyes staring emotionlessly out of the café window. Outside, everything was in full bloom. Delicate, pink cherry-blossoms adorned the trees, like priceless pieces of jewelry the plants had been blessed with; flowers of all kinds and colours sprang up from the ground everywhere; clouds, white and fluffy, chugged across the sky with a slow and gentle ease. It truly was a beautiful day. However, Zakuro found that her mind was on one thing, and one thing alone.

"-so how did your modeling shoot go, Onee-sama? … Onee-sama?"

Him.

"Onee-sama?"

He was the forefront of her thoughts, and the only thing she seemed to be able to think about. In all honesty, she didn't see the world outside - she could only see his face, baffled and confused and… hopeful?... as it was the previous evening, wherever she looked. Closing her eyes simply succeeded in making the image brighter, clearer, stronger in her mind's eye.

"…Onee-sama? …Onee-sama!"

Whenever she tried to shift her train of thought, she merely managed to recall the events of the prior night, and they would play through for her, as though they were a film stuck on a looped repeat. She'd long since given up attempting to cleanse her mind of him, and had taken to just sitting idly at one of the café tables by the window, claiming she was on break. That was over twenty minutes ago, though, and she was only vaguely aware of the fact that she hadn't moved even an inch since then.

"ONEE-SAMA!"

Zakuro jerked backwards, startled by the sudden cry from beside her. Her eyes remained still and focused on the air in front of her face, wide and bewildered though they were. Her breath drew in sharply, sounding like it cut clear through her chest. Zakuro's hands lay almost flat on the edge of the table - the only exception being her thumbs, which were curled over and under the rim, gripping the table with a lethal force. She stayed like that, so in shock that she daren't move.

Until Pudding's face appeared in front of hers. Gasping, Zakuro almost fell off the chair - the only thing that stopped her from doing so were the two hands that grasped her shoulders, pushing her back upright.

"Ok - Mint, Pudding, back to work. Zakuro, could you come with me please?" A vague nod was the only response the model seemed to be able to execute as she rose to her feet shakily, turning her head a fraction but refraining from looking directly into her blonde boss' eyes. If she was honest, Zakuro had no idea where everyone had so suddenly popped up from - she was sure they weren't all there a moment ago, so why were they now? She scoffed beneath her breath as she made her way to the kitchen, noticing out of the corner of her eye the two other Mews scurrying away. Mint turned in curiosity, but blushed and spun back round when her idol paused and raised an eyebrow at her. The ballerina dashed through the gaps between the tables until she was on the other side of the café, and therefore out of Zakuro's view; the elder girl sighed as she watched this, before rotating her body and continuing in the direction of the kitchen. However, as she went to place her hand on the door, Ryou grabbed her wrist. This caused the violet-haired girl to whip round rapidly, some of her long locks smacking him in the face.

He pulled a face, but let any comments formulating in his head pass. Exhaling rather noisily to display his growing frustrations, Ryou opened his mouth to speak. She tilted her head to the side to show she was listening. "Lab," was all he said. But really, he needn't say anything more - unlike the rest of the girls that worked at the café, Zakuro could follow simple instructions. She swiveled on her heel and headed towards the stairs. Reaching them, she took hold of the handle and flung the door open - making sure to keep a hand stretched out flat on it so that Ryou could follow through. Her feet danced down the steps in sets of three - cha cha cha! cha cha cha! - until she reached the bottom, and proceeded to glide along the floor. Clasping her hands down in front of her body, she stood respectfully and waited for her boss to catch up with her.

He did so quite quickly, throwing himself down into a slump on his office chair and leaning back. Ryou propped one elbow on the armrest, sinking his chin into his open palm. He studied the patient Mew a moment, trying to assess if there were anything obvious that had been causing her so much distress. However, he sighed when, after a couple minutes, he deemed her as unreadable as ever. Spinning the chair around to face the computer - and away from her, as the case was - he sighed once more, before speaking. "Alright. I give. What's bugging you?"

She stayed silent a moment, running through the question in her head and pondering the correct way in which to answer. She didn't really… want to give everything away - it was such a… a… well, Zakuro didn't really know what to make of the dilemma just yet. This moment lasted too long however, when she caught Ryou turn his head to gaze at her, eyebrow quirked in patronizing expectance. She rolled her eyes. Maybe merely a slight incline into the problem that had overtaken her entire thoughts would suffice.

"Nothing. Just… unexpected boy trouble," she stated blandly, unclasping her hands and letting them drop limply to her sides, shifting her footing so that she leant heavily on her left leg. His eyebrow lifted even more - nearly disappearing into his hairline. A sign of disbelief.

"Maybe you ought to sit down," he offered, gesturing to Keiichiro's vacant chair next to his own. "You may find sitting to be more comfortable whilst explaining."

She could have cursed at him. She should have, really. But Zakuro was above stooping to such childish activities as throwing a tantrum whenever she was caught out… even if the arrogant boy deserved it sometimes. So she did as she was told rather gracefully, crossing one leg over the other and placing her hands on one knee.

Ryou chuckled at this. "You needn't be so formal, Zakuro." She simply continued to stare at him, unfazed. "Alright then, suit yourself …" he muttered with a curt shake of his head, before kicking his feet up and placing them on the computer desk in front of him. Letting his head loll to one side in order to look at her, he smirked. "Now, how about you tell me the real reason for your lack of focus, hmm?"

"I've told you," she stated bluntly, voice void of emotion. She shuffled a little in her seat, breathing in sharply as he scoffed.

"Well, yes - you've told me… definitely a baseline of what it's about. But really: you expect me to believe a person of your status, used to dealing with press and paparazzi and countless fanboys - and girls in Mint's case, I suppose - is unable to handle a little boy trouble. Is he just another admirer who seems to be stalking you?"

A brief expression of fear swept over Zakuro's face, but it was gone within an instant. From this, her eyes narrowed. "What are you getting at here, Shirogane-san?"

"Nothing, really. I'm just trying to figure you out, Fujiwara-san."

"There's nothing to figure out."

"Testing your wit against mine, I see. It won't help you, y'know. I'm offering nothing more than my assistance," he remarked, smirk still twisting up the corners of his lips.

"Well, thank you Shirogane-san, but your help is not required. I can handle my problems on my own - not that this is even big enough a glitch to be called a problem. But all the same, if you're done, I'd like to get back upstairs so I can continue doing my job; if I'm correct, my break is quite obviously over." She stood elegantly in one swift movement, nodded to him and made to turn and leave. But his voice halted her.

"Your break was over quite some time ago, Fujiwara-san. You didn't seem bothered by that then. Perhaps that was your silent offering to work overtime? Or maybe you were just distracted-"

"Look, Shirogane," she snapped, cutting him off fiercely as she slammed her hands down on the two arms of his chair, causing him to jump, startled. "I'm fine. Yes, for God's sake I was distracted. That, however, should mean nothing to you. You are my boss - the only time you should be concerned about anything to do with me is if it's affecting my work."

His smirk was gone, and he blinked. Unlike him, the next words to leave his lips weren't smug or sarcastic, but held genuine confusion and care. "But you weren't working, Zakuro. And for you to be so distracted must mean something significant is weighing on your mind. I'm only doing my job."

She pushed back, taken by surprise at his answer, and for once a hint of emotion slipped onto her face. "W-well," she began, stuttering as her cheeks tinted pink. "I-"

Ryou folded his hands in his lap as he cut across her. "Going to tell me what happened now?"

Her fingers toyed with the ends of her long plait absentmindedly, twirling and twisting the silken violet. The steaming cup of tea placed in front of her went unnoticed as she stared into the distance, not really taking in the busy Tokyo streets and the crowds of people that trampled them. A gust of wind blew past, earning a reflexive shrug of the shoulders from the supermodel. Releasing her hair with one hand, she moved to tug the fleece around her tighter. A small sigh escaped her lips, before she suddenly seemed to switch back into reality. Her hands left whatever they were preoccupied with and darted to curl around the mug. Propping her elbows onto the edge of the café's outdoor table, Zakuro brought the drink to her lips, blew once over the boiling surface, and then took a graceful sip. Her eyes, however, remained locked on the rather bleak streets. The sky was grey, blanketed over with what looked to be promising rain clouds, and the air held both a chill and a moisture that was rather unpleasant for all outside.

Days like this were the only ones Zakuro really bothered to come out on. Any other time, when the skies were clear and the radiant sun shone down from high above, everywhere would be packed to bursting with people. Not only did this bother Zakuro because of her dislike of people in general, but it also meant more who would recognize her, and thus bother her for autographs and pictures. On rainy days, the weather meant people were more concerned about themselves; staying dry and getting places quickly were the number one priorities. Plus, there were a higher number of those who would use vehicles than leave their transport to foot. So really, Zakuro found this situation perfect.

The waitresses at the small café would often give her baffled looks as she ordered her usual tea and positioned herself outside under the material sunroof. When they ever tried to comment, or get the girl to sit inside the warm room, Zakuro would just raise an eyebrow - but otherwise ignore them. Their efforts were pointless; perhaps if it were Café Mew Mew, she would think twice, reconsider and recoil inside - but this place was nothing like that. Too up-market, too sophisticated and posh.

The model could feel herself drifting away with her thoughts, and consciously snapped herself out of it. Now was not the time to be thinking of such things. She should be focusing on what she had spoken with Ryou about the other day, and how to solve the dilemma she had been faced with. The blonde boy had reacted nothing like the ay Zakuro had expected him to; upon learning that she was fretting because Tart had stolen a kiss, he had erupted into a fit of roaring laughter, falling off his chair accidentally in the process. After composing himself, Ryou had explained the only way for her to get over it would probably be to confront the youngest alien about it. And… that was that. She had thanked him and left, positive on following through with his advice. Although… she had heard him mutter a near-inaudible sentence beneath his breath. Something containing the words, "Obsession", "You could be" and "falling for him". Needless to say she'd swiftly spun on her heel and glared, knowing that she could do nothing more; his words had caught her off guard, and still, several days later, she was taken aback by them and continuously mulling them over.

However, she blamed this on the fact that she had seen neither hide nor hair of Tart since the incident a few nights ago. Part of her - the reason and logic side - wondered if he'd been ashamed or embarrassed by his actions, and had disappeared off back to his home planet. But there was a nagging feeling inside her that she couldn't seem to shake, telling her that he was long from gone. Her eyes narrowed as this occurred to her, and out of instinct she whipped her head from side to side, plait swishing as she checked to see if he were lurking anywhere. Just as she was about to deem that no, he wasn't stalking her, she became aware of a presence slightly to her left. Slowly, cautiously, she turned to scrutinize the area - and immediately saw what she had been looking for.

Tart.

His eyes widened upon realising she'd discovered him, and out of habit he attempted to teleport away. But the delay that lasted from her first sighting to his relalisation was far too long. She was over to him before he was able to go anywhere. Her hand snatched his upper arm as he began to faze out. Tart's face paled drastically, his stomach clenching into a tight knot. He shot her a fearful look. And a second later, they had disappeared, Zakuro's still steaming cup of tea left to sit idly by on the tabletop.

The teleportation took no more than a moment, but even so, Zakuro was left feeling dizzy and sick. Upon landing safely on solid ground, she collapsed to her knees, hand clutched to her chest over her pounding heart. Her other hand reached up and grasped her head to make sure it was still there - she felt light-headed, spacey and not all-together. A few seconds passed, and, once she was sure she was alright, Zakuro rose to her feet, eyes automatically beginning to search for the small alien. She located him immediately; he was standing near her, looking hesitant and nervous as though he didn't know what to expect next. Raking a hand through her somewhat disheveled hair, Zakuro composed herself and brushed her clothes down, despite the lack of dust and dirt wherever they were anyway.

She cleared her throat in a means to both prepare herself and gain his full attention. He blinked and whipped his head from side to side, before returning to focusing on the taller human.

"We need to talk."

She watched his eyes go wide and his mouth fall open then snap shut. He took a step back. She took one forward, determined to ask her questions and get the answers she needed to settle this dilemma. But the movement had been the wrong action to take; like a startled deer, Tart vanished into thin air. Groaning, Zakuro slapped a hand to her forehead. How was she going to find him now?

Glancing at her new surroundings, Zakuro came to the conclusion she was possibly in the Cyniclon spaceship. Well, it would make sense for Tart to have retreated here, of all places. She sighed, rubbing her temples with one hand whilst placing the other against the metallic walls and leaning on it. If she was in the aliens' spaceship - which she was almost certain she was not supposed to be - then that would mean other Cyniclons would be lurking about somewhere. Perhaps… if they were truly 'at peace' with humanity as they had so claimed upon they're leaving after the world domination mess up… she would be able to worm out of them exactly what it was that had made Tart act the way he had. And perhaps they'd be able to lead her to where he had disappeared off to, as well. Not that she wanted to see him for anything other than to probe about his actions, or so she told herself.

But… despite her reasoning being solely about answers, a small part of her couldn't let go of what Ryou had said. Oh no, she knew she definitely wasn't falling for him - love didn't work like that. It was more the way he had gone about it, and the fact that it was him who had even done it in the first place that was intriguing Zakuro. Yes, admittedly, there was something… different about the way she perceived him now, but that didn't mean she was falling in love with him. She was smart enough to know that much, at least. Maybe she was just beginning to harbor a crush on Tart- She smacked her head off the wall. How could she have even thought that? He was… He was Pudding's age! Ten, or something round-aboutish. She was seventeen now - having a crush on someone of his age would be perverted. She whacked her head off the wall again, managing to catch the attention of the occupant sat on the other side of it.

The large, metal door slid open with a soft swoosh, and Zakuro nearly jumped in surprise. She composed herself quickly and remained calm, however, watching intently for whoever emerged from the entrance. She was satisfied immediately upon seeing Pai step through. His purple braid swung as he twisted his head to and fro to pinpoint the cause of the disturbing noise; his dark eyes narrowed in confusion upon seeing the eldest Mew leaning her forearms against it, head turned and directed at him. They observed one another a moment in silence, one confused, the other patiently waiting for the appropriate time to speak. The opportunity came not long later, when Pai gestured at her to explain her being there.

"Tart," was all she said. And from the way he reacted, she realised he already understood the situation completely.

Pai nodded, folding his arms across his chest. "Has he been bothering you again, Fujiwara-san?"

She blinked, but otherwise kept her expression blank as she contemplated the answer. "…Yes…" she began slowly, her tongue stopping between her teeth and her eyes averting diagonally upwards as she thought. "To some extent… But what's bothering me more than his following of me, is the fact he seems to not want to talk and explain what happened the other night."

Again, Pai nodded. "Kish told me about that." Upon seeing her puzzled look, he pressed further, "Tart made the mistake of telling Kish; that idiot is a blabbermouth and therefore told me."

She released a silent 'ah', and nodded her own head. "Do you possibly know where I could find him?" she asked, pushing off the wall and crossing her arms. He closed his eyes in concentration and inhaled deeply - deeper than a human could have, she noted. When he finally reopened his orbs again, Zakuro could have sworn she saw him smirk… But it was too brief for her to conclude anything by, and she shrugged it off, paying attention to what he had to say instead.

"I suppose I could… on one condition."

"And that would be?"

"If he asks, tell him Kish sent you."

"Deal," she agreed, sticking her hand out for him to shake. He took it and gave it a jiggle, effectively sealing the compromise.

When they parted and stepped back, he uttered, "Next corridor on your left; third room on the right." before turning swiftly on his heel and walking away. As he did so, she swore she saw him smirk again - blinking to make sure it was real however, caused her to miss a chance at closer examining it, and so she couldn't be sure. She shook her head and swiveled around, heading in the direction he'd sent her. Surprisingly, the ship wasn't too hard to figure out; the interior layout wasn't a maze of endless hallways and corridors, nor was it confusing in the slightest as she had so expected it to be. The walls were all the same metallic grey - the Cyniclons clearly didn't think too much in the way of decorating. Still, the automatic doors and the control panels lining the walls were legit space crafts. She barely managed to stifle a giggle at that thought, and scolded herself straight after. Giggling like a ditsy schoolgirl was uncharacteristic of her.

So caught up was she in her thoughts and admiration of the surroundings, that Zakuro didn't realise she'd reached her destination until she was right outside it. Her eyes briefly wandered over the tall door in front of her, taking in the inscribed 'TART' in the centre of the metal panel. Other than the fact it was excessively large, there wasn't much to it, and she quickly tired of merely standing and staring. Hoping that the boyish alien would be on the other side, she raised a hand, curling her fingers around into a fist. And rapped on the door three times with her knuckles.

A muffled shuffling of feet could be heard on the other side, before there were a few clicks and whirs, and from which the door began to open. But as soon as Tart caught sight of who was on the outside, the door was immediately slammed shut once again. She growled lowly and muttered a few choice curses beneath her breath, then brought both arms up and slammed them down on the door. The banging noise was almost deafening, and Zakuro even shocked herself at the force behind the motion. However, unexpectedly, it got the point across; a sheepish Tart opened the door less than moments later, adamant not to meet her gaze. He stepped to the side to allow her entrance, but as soon as she took a step, he rose into the air and began to float away. She narrowed her eyes, but concluded that at least he was only moving himself further inside the room. Perhaps the levitating was a Cyniclon self-protection-assurance thing, like the fetal position was for humans.

"So," she began in an attempt to both break the ice and get straight to the point. She was about to speak again when he interrupted her - Tart made a simple hand gesture for her to take a seat on his bed, which was, like the door, overly large. It could probably fit ten Tarts in quite comfortably. And it was orange. Zakuro's brow wrinkled at this; the bedspread, the pillows, the throw lying over the top - they were all a bright tangerine shade. If there had to be only one thing the model had learned from her young career, it was that her natural hair colour and orange did not go well together. All the same, she perched herself on the edge of the bed, considering there was a lack of any other seating material. She folded her hands in her lap, tucking one ankle behind the other in a formal position and straightening her back.

"Tart, this has got to stop," she stated bluntly.

He winced a little at this, a fang-baring scowl flickering to life on his face. His small hands curled into fists and he spun in the air, shouting, "Nothing has got to stop! Because nothing was even started in the first place, you old hag!"

Zakuro's eyes widened a flitting second, melting into a dark look that spread across her face. If he kept this changing, unpredictable behaviour up, she was surely going to snap. "Tart!" she scolded. "Do not speak to me like that! And don't you deny what you've been doing, either."

"Then you stop it! Stop treating me like a child! Stop thinking of me as a child!" he wailed, flailing his arms about in the air and kicking his legs.

"It's hard not to when you act like that!" she yelled, finally losing her cool at his childish demonstration. She shot up to her feet, startling Tart enough to stop him making such awful noises. But… her anger melted away when she caught a glimpse of his eyes; shimmering, golden, watering eyes. Tart was starting to cry. Her shoulders - which she hadn't realised she'd been tensing - dropped, and her body slumped into a more relaxed stance. Her expression softened, and she sighed gently. "Ok," she said, giving a curt nod to accompany her speaking. "Let's start this over and be calm and rational. All I came here for was a few answers - that's all I'm looking for. Not an argument."

She watched him carefully to see how he would react to that. He seemed to take it well, his hovering body descending slowly until his tiptoes touched the floor. Then, gingerly, he walked over to her, stopping short just in front of her and looking upwards.

"Ok. Ok, I guess I'll… co-operate. But you swear you won't tell Kish about this?" he said softly. His big glistening eyes gazed up at her hopefully, and had Zakuro not been so good at keeping her emotions under check, she would have burst out into an "Aww!" and swept the young alien off his feet into a hug.

"No, I promise not to tell Kish; I haven't even seen him, so I doubt there'd be a chance for me to say anything to him anyway," she replied. But instantly she mentally slapped herself - she'd made a promise with Pai! Well… so long as Tart didn't ask about who had shown her to his room… She scanned him over to make sure he wasn't about to interrogate her.

"Ok. So… what are your questions?" He winced a little as he asked the question, knowing exactly what was coming. And he was right.

"Why did you kiss me?"

Tart tensed, body beginning to rise into another hover without his knowing. "I…" He couldn't meet her gaze, and rotated his head so that he could look at the wall instead. "I…" he tried again, still not managing to come out with it. Taking a deep, shaky breath, Tart readied himself again. "I…Ireallyreallylikeyouokand-and-IdunnowhatI'mmeanttodootherthany'knowkissyouandall!" he cried hurriedly.

Zakuro blinked. "Could you repeat that a little slower, please? I didn't quite catch it."

A scarlet blush burned his cheeks and he switched his gaze to the floor. "I really, really like you and I dunno what I'm meant to do, other than, yknow, kiss you and stuff," he mumbled.

Lifting a hand, Zakuro pat him on the head. "I know how you feel. When I was a kid, I had a crush on someone bigger than me, too. He was really awful to me about it - he kept teasing me and putting me down about it. It's not easy having a crush so young… and well, it never really gets any easier. Just stick it out, kid, just stick it out. Relationships like that don't always work the way you want them too," she explained, trying to be gentle and not hurt his feelings. She could remember how terrible she'd felt when she was younger and facing the same dilemma Tart was currently undergoing. But… what really perplexed her was the fact he was only staring up at her, an expression of complete confusion scattered over his face. She raised a brow at this in a signal for him to explain.

"Zakuro-sama… I'm not a kid," he said, blinking.

Taken aback, Zakuro asked, "Th-then how old are you?"

"I'm ten in Cyniclon years, yes, but I'd be eighteen in your human years."

The wolf-infused Mew almost fainted in shock. Her eyes bulged and she stumbled a bit as she moved a foot back. "B-but that's impossible! That would mean you were older than me!"

"Uh-huh," he nodded, face crumpling as though he was talking to a really slow person who couldn't quite grasp the point.

"Buh-buh!" The knowledge of this was too much for her, and she fell to the floor, blacking out.

Tart tilted his head at the baffling sight, not realising immediately what had happened to her. When it hit him, however, his finger flew into the air and a grin lit up his face. "It's ok, my love," he declared, "I'll wake you!" He fell to his knees, cupping a hand behind her head and lifting it slightly. From there, he leant the rest of the way, his lips closing around hers. Zakuro's dark, indigo eyes shot open wide with surprise, and she pushed her elbows back so that she was leaning on them awkwardly, her legs spread out gawkily because of her fall.

And just as it had started, it ended. In the same utterly incomprehensible way that leaves no room for reason or sense, nor any plausible explanation.

A/N: Pretty please review?

KO xoxo