He Never Meant To Fall In Love, a gakuen alice fanfic

He Never Meant To Fall In Love

For the NatsumeSeries Contest

By: Hyournihime

From these shores a cold wind blows

And no one knows where'er it goes.

Hidden, distant, in this sky

From the wind is nature's cry.

Listen, closely, to this spell

Secrets that it cares to tell

Music carried in the air

Quiet, distant, but still there

Meanings blurred and yet quite clear

Take away your hate and fear

Steal from you your heart's own light

Steal the joy into the night

Love is hanging in the sky

Tonight is your night to die

Dedicated to Shiro-Tenshi563, Luckystar222, minahoru, and last but not least, sora094 for being the best friends ever. Thanks.

Disclaimer: I do not own Gakuen Alice. No wayyy. If I did, it would be nothin short of a miracle. A wondrous, weird, miracle. But I don't.

Summary: "...Sakura supplies bombs to the other side. It is your mission, Black Cat, to kill her..." Not to fall in love. And later I'd wonder, if I hadn't, if I'd followed the rules...Would this still have happened?

Notes: My first oneshot! Yay! I don't know if I'll be able to fit this entire story in one chapter...Well, wish me luck! And give me reviews, if you please? Or support, if you may? Ahh. I've also never written a tragedy before. Ah well.

You're sure to hate it. So why do I even bother? *sigh*

luvs to you; reviews to me!

^,~ hime

I walked into the room quietly. As an assisnator, as a spy, you learn not to make sound. You learn not to get attached, to keep your friends at arm's length. Close enough to look like you're not alone. Far enough not to hurt...when they're sure to die.

When you have a job like mine, you no longer count the days of your life, but rather, the seconds 'till your death.

Persona looked up as I walked in the room. I think he's the only one who ever notices my presence. Like always, I did a little fake cough and all the other workaholics looked up as well. Ruka smiled at me, and gestured toward the sofa in the middle of their little transparent cubicles. I scoffed. It looked so out of place there, this splash of crimson against all the uniformed boxes lined up against all walls, like an outline of an office around the living room.

"Sit, Hyuuga." Persona's voice was sickly sweet. I sat and glared at him. Out of all the people in the world, only he and Ruka knew my first name -- a normal occurence in the life of a spy. Persona sighed. "So young, only twenty one," he hissed in a low voice, "and yet here you are, killing people." He raised his voice again.

"Sakura, a genius medical student, does not have money. Ever since her parents died when she was fifteen, she's been downright broke. Well, she's rich enough now, because she is selling her talents to the highest bidder. She is supplying bombs to the American-European side. Twenty years old, lives in Europe, and sources tell us that her agent and best friend is none other than the famous inventress, Imai Hotaru. People also say that nobody knows her first name -- isn't that quite like you, Natsume? -- so they call her Yuka."

"It is your mission, Black Cat, to kill this girl..."

"Sakura, huh?" I ran through the lists of Sakuras that I knew. Tsubaki, Kanato, Ruma, Atane, Konoko, Fucshia, Adelai, Ahali, Natsumi, Sakuno, Mihora...the list could go on forever.

So I don't know why my mind landed on her -- Mikan, whose last name I didn't know. The girl I had met at a religious conference when I was fourteen. The girl I had fallen in love with. I shook all thoughts about her out of my head. She was gone now, and forever. We would probably never meet again. That clumsy, endearing teen I once knew.

"Of course," Persona's sickening voice broke through, "if you can get her to supply our side with bombs, that would be even better! However, reports say that she is extremely patriotic. What a shame..."

I could see his eyes glinting with lust, lust for blood, bloodlust. I shivered a little, inside, because the great Natsume Hyuuga does not shiver. I slipped out of the office again, silent and mysterious, only a shadow flitting on the passing wind. And I was gone, off on a trip to Europe, where this... this Sakura lived.

In my pocket that night, on the plane, I fingered a worn-out slip of paper.

A photograph of two young children smiled at me.

There was a girl, with her hair down and her eyes sparkling, laughing as she said something. Her brunette-golden hair sparkled in the sunlight. The light caught it in that peculiar way when the light forms circles of color, and her amber eyes and pale, high cheekbones gave her a look of beauty, of royalty.

And there was a boy, quiet and aloof, with crimson eyes and a slight smile playing on his face as he watched the girl twirl in the sun. There was something in his eyes that reached out to me, a longing, a sort of emptiness that needed to be filled up.

That night, when I slept, I dreamt of two fourteen-year old teenagers, meeting just once, when they'd probably never meet again, and falling in love.

Hotaru paced the room like an angry wildcat. From behind my ivory mask, I could see how her fingers hesitated as the brushed the trigger of her "BAKA" AirGun II.

I grinned, as I, myself, fingered the handle of the suitcase beside me, filled to the brim with bombs. Special bombs, at that. A fly, remote controlled, a leaf, a hair, and all sorts of things that you'd never suspect -- not until it was too late. My fingers brushed a control, straying temptingly on the button. Internal combustion, a bomb that spread a sort of powder attracted to red and gold, their insignia colors. A disease.

"Sakura-sama demands a total sum of 1000 pounds for this delivery of bombs." I could see the way she choked slightly, adding '-sama' to my name. The poor guy had realized, long ago, that we were from Asia, born in China and raised in Japan, precisely. "You know that her bombs are the best in the world," Hotaru added.

"But the last case only cost 900 pounds!" the miser exclaimed. I shook my head pityingly.

At these meetings, I never spoke. Besides, have the Imai Hotaru as your spokesman says something about you. And Hotaru insisted, for part of my profit. The rest went to tuition, and renting, and food, for me.

I just wore an ivory sakura mask and sat there, with my undeniably loud support. I mean, I was holding a suitcase of bombs, with the detonators to all of them!

I did a fake cough and lifted a matching ivory-framed button. It was red. That says something about the button. Hotaru caught on immediately.

"That button sets off all the bombs we have placed around your office. You, of course, will not be harmed," she grinned, a savage smile, "but rest assured that all the rest of this building will be annihilated. We have carefully calculated the timing of the bombs so that you, and anyone in the room, will not be harmed, and this room will remain intact while everything else will be thoroughly destroyed."

"You can't do that to me!" the war commander shouted, "I am the government! I am in charge of all of the military division of America and Europe put together! I am the key person in the war against Asia-Africa-Australia! I will lead the defeat of the Triple-As!"

We stared at him together. He was too full of himself.

"Remember who it was that brought your first five large victories. Remember why you are ahead in the war," Hotaru hissed, "then think again. And, we will not hesitate to push this button, because we will never harm you. Just everyone slightly below you. And if you die of shock," she smiled, a fake smile, "why, then, it can't be our fault, can it? Just the terrorists that blew up the building..."

We walked out of the office with 1500 pounds in a considerably heavier suitcase.

I walked into the airport terminal exactly on time. A nondescript man lifted his hand and waved. His hand only had four fingers. I moved quickly toward him, and thrust my bags at him, stepping swiftly into the everyday, dark green car. It had the look of a Toyota Camry on the outside, the windows tinted just the slightest, enough that the passerby wouldn't look inside.

Inside, however, was a different story.

Racks upon racks of guns and weaponry, knifes, poisons, and the like. Assassination tools. There were uniforms, masks, disguises, a makeup stand, foods, pills, and assasinator poisons. Poisons to kill myself with, if I ever got caught.

I felt the car start to move. I heard the sound of the wheels echoing off of the curb. I heard the trees passing by, the birds chirping, the occasional person, the other cars. I could make a rough map of practically everything that mattered. By the end of the trip, I knew all of the turns and roads by heart. Even without looking outside the window, and busying myself by gathering tools, I knew.

I stuffed a knife in the lining of my coat, placed small finger guns and darts in the compartments on the rugged soles of my shoes. I put a needle in the sewing of my shirt pocket. I hid minuscule poison-dipped shuriken in my socks with painful caution. I put a real pistol Air in the fake binder in my bag. It shot shock waves instead of bullets, harming instead of killing. I stuffed bottles of poisons in random hiding places. I put a box of poison pills in my belt pouch along with the treasured photograph.

It felt as if a pack of 40kg had been added to my clothes. That meant that about 50kg of metal had been really added. Training does things to your strength. I stuffed another bottle, one of steroids, in my pack.

That was when I felt the car slow down. The moment it stopped, I jumped out, leaving without a trace, without even the slightest backward glance at the plain driver.

And in front of me stood Europe's most prestigious medical school; Alice Academy. It was probably even the best in the world. Every student had studied all their lives to enter. Yet here I was, entering and not even knowing a single thing about paperwork and the notwhat.

I was only here to kill 'Yuka' Sakura.

So why, when I thought the name 'Yuka', did my mind come up with that memory of a long-ago religious conference, before the war, when I fell in love with a girl called Mikan? And why did my heart seem to throb when I thought that name, that name that should not exist, of a girl I knew too long ago, of a time that was too far away to really feel real anymore?

After all, it could be her name, a little tangerine, with pigtails and a loud, whiny voice. A little girl who hadn't yet really hit puberty, an idiot, clumsy, brave, strong-hearted. Who would fall for her? Me.

It couldn't be her. It couldn't be. She was an idiot; she couldn't get into Alice Academy. She always wanted to save lives.

She never told me her last name; what are the chances? Fate works in mysterious ways.

She never knew how to make bombs, she was kind-hearted. She's out of money.

She was rich, only rich people went to the conference. Her parents died.

They would leave all their money to her. What do you know of these things?

Out of all the six billion people on earth, there's practically no chance of us meeting again. Fate works in mysterious ways. Mysterious ways.

I heaved a sigh. In the end, my mind was the strongest. And even though, I'll admit, I wanted to see her again...

What are the chances, right?

But I couldn't help, as I thought of her, to wonder if she ever thought of me. Do you think of me?

I turned, and walked toward Alice Academy, my mind still roaming memory lanes of years gone by, of a boy and a girl who had fallen in love.

.: Six Years Ago:.

That day was a sunny day. It was the second day of the WRC, the World Religious Conference. The conference was held in an experimental environment zone, located on a large island in the middle of the Pacific Ocean.

There was a landing deck, made of floating machinery, not far from the island. The island itself was monitored, from the amount of sunlight and water to the amount of pH, and the animals and humans it had. A lush tropical paradise, it had no harmful animals, and its bugs included only the necessary ones for an environment.

Cultures from around the world were gathered here. Like a miniature map, one section was devoted to Asian pavilions and curved rooftops with gold and red decorating them, surrounded by a 'Great Wall'. There were structures like Egyptian pyramids and Mayan architecture. There was a mock 'Sun City' and a 'Buckingham Palace'. There was even a 'White House'.

Around the island, boats of different nations were docked. Canoes and kayaks from Native America. Junks from Asia. Longboats for the vikings. Liners, galleons, and frigates from the English, and Europe in general. A reconstructed corvette, from the 18th century. There was even the 'Yamato', the largest battleship in history, from Japan.* Every boat imaginable -- and some not even -- was docked, floating, around the island.

That particular day, many lives would intertwine. In a paradisaical setting, many people would fall in love, many people would come to make friends, to share their life stories. People came to know all the cultures of the world, all the religions, whether Christianity, Muslim, Buddhism, Islam, Hinduism, Jainism, or any other religion, they all came together and made friends.

There was a young girl there, going by the name of "just Mikan, just call me Mikan."

Mikan loved the sea, loved nature, and really...loved everything. She had explored every ship, gone through every temple and building, examined every piece of art, and practically climbed every tree. It would even be safe to say that she'd befriended every person there, as well.

Anyways, that day was a sunny day. It was the second day of the WRConference, a day like any other. But it was a very special day for our beloved brunette and mysterious fire-eyed assassin. It was a day in which, two people from different corners of the world would meet and fall in love. But don't let me ruin the story for you.

This is how it happened:

The breeze brushed the tips of the stalks of grass, bending them ever-so-slightly. The meadow was like a rolling scape of waves of green, flowing along, a sea of life. Butterflies fluttered lightly in the golden sunlight. All was well.

She was sitting on the ground, laughing, singing. Like no other could, she found the beauty in the smallest, slightest things. She took the time to see the wonder in the butterfly's landing, and in the rippling of the silken flower petals. She watched an ant climb a bit of bent grass, and a grasshopper make its way through the maze of green.

She wasn't aware of the keen crimson eyes watching her as she slowly stood up and stretched, fists pointing to the sky. She heaved a sigh. "I wish we could all live together in peace," she murmured. Her voice carried to the sakura tree where he sat.

She was making her way across the field then, walking across the sun-kissed meadow. That was when she spotted the resting boy. "Hi!" She called, her voice carrying.

"Hn." His only response was a grunt, but she was not discouraged.

"Where are you from?" She asked, her eyes shining gold in the noonday sun.

He glanced at her, and looked back down at his manga. "Japan."

"Oh, really? I'm from Europe, but I live in China right now. I think I was born in London, but I dunno." She smiled, a sunshiny smile that could probably light up all of London. "This island is amazing, isn't it? There's even a seaside cliff. Have you seen it?"

"Hn." It sounded like a 'no'.

"Here." She grabbed his hand and pulled him up, laughing at his surprised face. "I'll show you."

"Let go of me--"

"Oh yeah." She turned to him, tilting her head adorably, smiling an innocent smile at his grumpiness. She had a dimple in her right cheek and a half-dimple in her right. "What did you say your name was?"

Startled, he answered, "Natsume." He didn't even say 'Hyuuga', like he usually did. He cursed himself for not remembering...He couldn't tell his name to anybody.

She beamed at him. "Hi, Natsume!" The way she said his name made his spine tingle. "I'm Mikan," she added, giggling. Normally, she thought to herself, I wouldn't tell people my first name. But he told me his. First name, that is.

With that, she tugged his hand and dragged him to the seashore.

I guess you could say that it was a testament of true love, for two such different people to fall in love, for the duration of one month.

And at the end, goodbyes were said. Kisses were exchanged, hugs held for longer than necessary. Nobody can deny that, while in love, we are like the drunk. They didn't even think to exchange contact information.

They didn't even think. Because, like a retreat from reality, the WRConference only lasted one month, on a faraway island in the middle of the Pacific. Full of people you would probably only meet once in your life, the beauty of it was that, no matter how different people there were, they could make friends.

We, after all, have need of nothing more in this life than love. Love, which will always find us, no matter where we are, no matter where we stand.

I put down my books carefully. I turned to the teacher, who looked slightly bewildered.

"Th-this is highly irregular," the bespectacled, frog-bearing man stammered. "Students do not become--"

"Do you need to see my papers again?" I hissed at him. Trying to control my temper, I moved in sharp, quick movements as I sat down. With a slow intake of breath, I let peace fill me. Calm.

Stupid, stubborn teacher.

The teacher -- was it Minna? Minno? Kinno? Ginno? Ginny? -- made a twitchy, sort of angry face and turned away, inevitably to start the lesson. I turned to the girl beside me.

A cascade of silken, brunette-golden hair covered her face as he bent her head low over her notes. I coughed a little. "Do we have textbooks for this class?" I whispered softly.

She looked up, her eyes obscured by the shine of wire-rimmed glasses, glasses that looked laughably out of place, balanced precariously on her nose. "Uh, no," she said in a low voice. "I mean, yes. You have it in your stack. The greenish blue one. The one with a picture of your caecum** on it."

I looked for a greenish blue textbook and tried not to look confused. I mean, what normal person would have any effing clue what a...a caykume is? "Thanks." I whispered.

"Hyuuga and Sakura!" the teacher barked. "Stop talking!"

"Jinno-sensei,--" so that was his name! "--Hyuuga-san had problems finding his textbook." Several people tittered at that. "I was helping him." I nodded, but my brain wasn't really in it.

When the teacher had turned around again, I whispered to her, "say, your first name isn't Yuka, is it?"

She turned, grinning, with a dimple in one cheek and a half-dimple in the other. What did that remind me of? "No, but you can call me that, if you'd like."

A seaside walk. Polka-dots. Dimples...dimples...right...half...left... "What is your first name, then?" I asked, my heart thumping in my throat.

Her grin was almost feral. "Well, I dunno. But maybe," she leaned closer, shaking her head, "it isn't time for you to find out...yet." At that precise moment, her glasses teetered off the edge and fell, clattering to the floor.

Rays of light pierced her amber eyes.

That night, I dreamt of a golden-haired girl with amber eyes and dimples.

Months passed by. It was frustrating, really. Sometimes, I was tempted to just kill her. But Ruka would never let it go if I let such a precious supplier slip by. After all, she could still work for the Triple-A side. But who knows.

Every time I tried to get close, however, she pushed me away even farther. And whenever I was near her, my mind was filled with memories of times when I was fifteen. I groaned mentally. Another day in torture. It's not as if I knew any of this medical whatnot.

Another week slipped by before I got my chance. The teacher had assigned Sakura and I to a project. Truthfully, I didn't even understand what the project was, much less how to do it. But that was okay, because the girls loved me, and on any joint projects, I never really had to do anything anyway. For individual work...well, the ladies practically tripped over each other's feet trying to let me copy their answers.

Everybody but Sakura. Seriously. How can she be immune to my charms?! Not that I'm complaining. It's nice to find a remotely...sensible girl once in a while. But having her as a nonsensible fangirl would make my job an awful lot easier.

"We can do the project at your house," was my immediate decision.

"I don't see why we should. I hear that your house is a large mansion in the Upper Division," and that was her reply.

"You can't believe everything you hear," yeah, that was my philosophical answer. Take that, annoying Sakura-girl!

"What, then, should I believe?" Is there really a way to answer to that?

"Of course, what I tell you," oh, yes, there is always a witty comeback line.

She scoffed. "I'm sorry," she smiled, that angelic, dimpled smile, her eyes sincere, her voice overly sweet. "I find grapevine rumors much more... believable than anything you have to say."

Ouch. That smarted.

"I still think that we should do the project at your house." She threw up her hands, her eyes rolled to the heavens, shaking her curls about. I was pleased to note that she had, in fact, found time that morning to put in contacts. Painfully pleased -- Sakura's face reminded me too much of Mikan's.

"Ai-yai-ay!" she cried, just like an asian parent would, "Will you ever stop?!" Her nostrils flared slightly as she shot a glare at me. "What-ev-er. My house it is."

Then she stormed off. I swear, as she passed by, I smelt the scent of cherries and strawberries come off of her. The scent of Mikan. But she couldn't be, I mean, there's no way. Just a coincidence. Oh, there were so many coincidences here. ***

As the faint breeze from her passing reached me, the poison bottles in my coat pocket clattered.

They reminded me painfully of what I had to do.

That day was a sunny day. The Saturday of our project, one Saturday in our existences. But that day, that lone, single moment in the passage of time...that day would decide the fates of everybody in the world.

Literally.

And I know, you people all think, oh, wow. Cool. But it isn't.

And the worst thing is, at that time, I didn't even know. But let's not get into that. It was just a Saturday, and as far as I was concerned at that moment, it would decide Sakura 'Yuka's' fate.

I arrived at the creme-colored, slightly antique-looking building. It had ivy climbing all over it, a cracks stood out in the pure color of the house. It was a small, timid, dilapidated condo with a modern twist and an old, comfortable feel about it.

There was a long, frayed rope hanging beside the door. I thought for a while, and decided to pull it. It's what you do with long, frayed roped hanging (rather conveniently, I might say) right beside you. Or maybe that's just me.

The sound of a bell reverbrated through the house. So it's not just me.

She opened the door, her hair falling all around her shoulders, her contacts in, but her eyes still half-lidded from sleep. Her dress was wrinkled, a summer gown of sorts, probably a ball gown. Who would wear that to sleep? Obviously only this idiot.

She glared at me. "You're..." a check at her watch. Her face fell. "...late..." Not early, like she'd thought, huh? I smirked.

"Yah."

Her glare pierced me again. "Well, come on in. You're letting the flies in."

It was easier than I thought to get settled. She began to work at once, building some image of a grisly-looking internal organ or something else. The only thing remotely medical I know is where to hit, that is, to take a life. Is your center of gravity considered medical? What about...

Oh, never mind. I know nothing about health. Well, I do know how to kill...

As she worked like a nerd and spilled some complicated-sounding medical terms and the such, I took a look around her room. Was there anything incriminating? Anything remotely bad?

It was the typical room of a girl. It's not like I could peek under the bed or anything, to check.

Why not just be straightforward? I got a knife out of my pocket. "Sakura," I said, slowly, quietly, "I know you provide bombs for the AE **** side. Now I want you to listen very carefully. I have been sent here to kill you. If you do not comply to the AAA's wishes, I will kill you. Othe--"

"What are you talking about, Hyuuga?" Her voice was just perfectly innocent, a convincing mix of confusion and innocence. "Are you playing a prank on me? You should put that knife away, you know. It could really hurt someone."

I prowled the room. She had to be lying. But the room was clean. Typical. I was just about to bend and check under the bed when I saw it. A flash of silver metal sticking out from the couch cushion. I whirld toward the leather sofa.

"What do you think you are doing, Hyuuga?!" Her infuriated voice followed me, too late. My name sounded like a curse word, coming from her mouth.

I tugged the metal corner out. I smirked once again, in her direction. I brought it up to my face and took a look.

A photograph of two young children smiled at me.

No. No. No. I thought wildly, my mind whirling, my eyes searching. "No. No. No. No." Not me. Not me. Not her. Not her. Not her. Not Mikan. Never. No. Please... I clutched the silver frame, my heart beating rapidly. Just like her, on the picture, was drawn MxN, under an umbrella. My fingers wrapped around the carefully framed snapshot.

"Where did you get this?" I asked, my voice hoarse.

"What do you mean?" Her eyes narrowed. "Give it back! Idiot! Hyuuga!"

"Where...Oh, no. I mean, you can't be." I looked into her face, grabbing it, letting the picture clatter to the floor it bounced once. Her eyes widened.

"Natsume?" It was more of a question than a statement.

"Mikan?"

Oh, no. No. No. NO.

What have I done?

Cross that.

What do I have to do?

.: Two Months Later :.

"I just got a call from Ruka," I whispered in her ear. "And I have to go back soon."

"Do they think you've killed me?" Her eyes full of worry, she leaned heavily on my side.

"No. It's your choice. You can supply to our side or just...disappear. You'd have to do one of the two." I saw the fear in her eyes. "When this war is over, I'll come back to you." I promised. It was all I could do.

If I hadn't seen that picture...I shuddered at the thought. It was amazing how we came to know each other, how we cme to be in two short months. Surely that was true love. And even fate couldn't deny us that, right?

"When this war is over..." she broke from my side. "What if it never ends, Natsume?"

"It will." I said it with more confidence than I felt. "All things come to an end."

She leaned back in. "Then I'll wait for you," she murmured, "as if I really were dead." I sighed at her decision.

"Okay, then." I kissed her on the forehead and turned to the plane. "I'll see you later."

"Later," she whispered. Then she was lost in the crowd. And I had gone on my way back to Japan.

After the war, I'd wonder. If I had not gone back, if I had stayed with her, would that have happened? Would she still be here?

It was almost a year later before I heard of her again. And this time not from her, but of her. She had completed medical school and was a nurse... in the front lines. In my mind, I cursed her compassion and stupidity.

Ruka was the one who told me. He had found her again, and he was worried. For even he had thought her dead. Even my best friend.

Still an assassin, I had killed many since that day one year ago. The longest a job had taken was in the case of Sakura, which had taken a good half of a year.

Secret reports told me she had a child, with dark grey hair and stormy eyes, which turned crimson in rage and golden in joy. His name was Youichi. She had given birth to him a mere month or two ago, and he was her pride and joy. She still lived with that nasty inventress, Imai Hotaru. I honestly think that Ruka has a crush on the cold girl.

So all was well, in my life and in hers. I didn't like only one part of the report.

She went out of her way to nurse everybody. Even enemy soldiers, even civilians hurt in battle. Even useless american children and babies with barely a chance of survival. The battleground set in America, she nursed anybody and everybody. People called her the Saint with the Healing Touch.

She also had followers, nurses and doctors like her. They traveled all over the U.S., helping people who didn't deserve to be helped. Helping killers, easing the passage of those beyond help. Killers. They could hurt her!

Not that I'm one to talk, but still!

But I payed no attention to it. I mean, even Sakura wasn't stupid enough to get into real trouble, on a warfield, no less! Oh, little did I know.

So little did I know.

The war was over when she came. Eyes filled with unshed tears, impeccable and disheveled at the same time. My heart skipped a beat at the sight of her.

Or rather, at the sight of who wasn't with her.

"Where is she?" My voice sounded hoarse, even to my ears. I'd spent months searching for her after the war's end, but I'd blamed it on the phone lines, on the war, on the devastation.

Imai Hotaru shook her head slowly. She licked her lips and squeezed her eyes shut. Holding out a cd case, she murmured, "this is for you. It's a record of what happened. I planted the camera on her."

She led Ruka and I to my TV room. I followed, dumb and numb from disbelief.

This wasn't happening. It couldn't be. One minute later, I would wake up from this nightmare, and she'd be standing there. Because she...couldn't die. Couldn't have. No, she just couldn't get here right now. She was in the hospital. Imai never said that she died. Did she? No. No. No. Never.

She pushed the cd into the trajectory. And pressed Play.

She was in her room, just like I remembered it. Her golden hair cascaded around her shoulders. Her amber eyes roamed over endless volumes of books and posters. I could hear her murmuring to herself as she worked.

"...and mix the biotoxins and the coluimin, dilute with nitrogen? No, more effective with oxygen. Cross that. Hydrogen. Yes, that's it. Stimulate child's brain..." Almost as if explaining it all to herself, reassuring herself of something she narrowed her eyes and looked up.

My breath caught in my throat. She looked to be staring right at us. She had horrible bags underneath her large eyes, and worry lines etched into her face. She began to speak again, softly, slowly.

"The child's brain is inclined to peace, yes, yes. And a child's brain is larger than an adult's. When passing adolescence, the extra parts of a child's brain fall into disuse. The peace-inducing chemicals in the frequently used parts of the brain wear out. Using hydrochlorophyte and oxytymorphiliate, along with diluted biotoxins and---"

My brain started to stagger.

"--can intice the brain into re-using the disused parts. At which point, the chemicals will flow into the used part of the brain and will last for at least...two decades..." Her voice trailed off.

The scene switched to a picture of two girls sitting in a comfortable, white living room. Mikan started to talk. "Hotaru, I've planted bombs everywhere I went as a nurse. After I plant them at the next battleground, I'll set them off." She leaned toward her best friend, looking down, her eyes half-lidded and her hair covering her face.

"...if something were to go wrong, Hotaru, take care of Youichi for me. The bombs would release the vapor upon my death, as well." Hotaru's eyes widened.

"--Mikan!" But Mikan had already gone.

Once again, static filled the screen and the scene switched once more. A picture broken slightly by static, her voice was rough as she shouted commands. She stopped every so often and dropped a piece of metal on the ground. Drums could be heard in the distance.

Then her voice came distincly, so faraway and yet so clear. "Go! Go! All of you, go! Leave me!" She ran to the center of the field, dropping bombs. There was a gunshot. She kept on running.

Suddenly, my room was filled with cracking noises. I covered my face in my hands. Blood tore through the air. Her body fell, arcing, to the ground. The moon shone high in the dark night sky. The stars twinkled. The air seemed to glitter. Glitter with blood. Something echoed in the speakers.

"...I love you, Natsume, Youichi."

And I cried.

The full moon was high in the sky, fuller than I'd ever seen it. I raised Youichi to the railing. "See the moon, Youichi?" I whispered. He nodded, bobbing his three-year-old head enthusiastically.

"That's where Mommy is!" He cried happily. "And that's her eyes, those her mouth and noses!"

I laughed. "Yes, Youichi," I murmured, "that's where Mikan is."

I lifted him off and took his hand, leading him back home. But not without another glance at the moon. I smiled at the pearly orb of light. I whispered softly to the heavens,

"I love you, Mikan."

And I swear I could hear a whisper back, echoing in the sudden, slight breeze as I followed Youichi.

"I love you too."

Footnotes:

* In case you're wondering, all of these exist, and are real. Thanks to my trusty maps, right beside me in my study.

** This is a vermiform (wormlike) appendix that extends from the first part of the large intestine. It's part of your digestive system, I believe. lol.

*** It is the nature of main characters to be irrevocably, undeniably stupid. Don't blame me; blame Natsume.

**** American Eagle! lolz.

A/N:

I really couldn't write all of their relationship. I don't have enought time, patience, or words to write all of that. And as for the last, terribly medical-sounding part? Forgive me. I had no idea what I was writing by that time. Take it all in stride, no?

I hope you enjoyed reading this oneshot. I certainly enjoyed typing it. It's long enough -- 7,000 some words. ^^

Please support me in the NatsumeSeries contest and leave me a review, too.

Thanks for reading this,

^,~ hime 7/21/09