Happy Valentine's Day, everyone! Thank you for each and every review, favorite, and follow. I promise I haven't stopped writing New Leaf. Until my next update, here's a little something for Valentine's Day.

Loneliness. That was the only word that came to K.K Slider's mind when he heard the word "Valentine's Day." Not for him, obviously, but for his fans. Each year, on this infamous day of February Fourteenth, there were girls around the world who would never get a single valentine. Perhaps it was because they were not as visually appealing as other animals. Perhaps their personalities weren't looked highly upon. Perhaps both. Whatever the reason, it always happened each year—thousands flocked to his concert, if only for the reason of wanting to pretend that his song lineup was just for them. He strummed his guitar strings, not needing to practice. His hands were as seasoned as a fine Thanksgiving dinner, his sense of rhythm impeccable. The act was purely therapeutic, since the thought of all those fans being ever-so-lonely was almost too much for his hippie heart to bear.

"This place will be packed tonight!" His buck-toothed "boss", a pink axolotl by the name of Shrunk, remarked with glee. "Ooh, the missus will be so happy! I can almost taste the money."

"You know my groove's are too pure for that scene, Jean."

The poor salamander practically deflated like a balloon. "Come on, K.K! You know I need this. She'll have my head if I don't pay the rent this month." At that statement, a rather large sack of bells was tossed at his feet. "Yipes!"

"That enough lettuce to make a salad?"

"G-gee. . .th-thanks!" He was shocked, an act of such kindness foreign to him.

"Happy Valentine's Day, Doctor Music." Money hardly meant a thing to K.K, though his albums kept selling so many copies that he was surrounded by the stuff. He was no stranger to charity. In his early days as a wandering musician, he hadn't had a possession to his name aside from his guitar. He had been able to keep going only by the kind hearts of others. Mostly women for some reason. At one point, he had even had to put his dreams on hold, thanks to the familiar conflict of war and a desire to be useful. A producer had finally found him after he had gotten back to his craft, and the rest was history. He had made it his life's goal to spread music and happiness ever since.

"Take the money and spend this day with your honey. I can take it from here."

"You sure? You don't need me to check the sound system or anything? I could always be an opening act."

"If you like."

Shrunk thought twice about that one. "Haha! Just kidding. I don't wanna make those lonely hearts even more sad with my jokes. Heh." He smiled sheepishly. Though, maybe they could take out their anger at their exes by throwing tomatoes at me? "Well, just make sure to lock up when you leave, okay?"

"Heard you loud and clear, Shrunk man. You can count on me."

"I know!" He grinned happily, then made his way out the door with the money. Do your thing, K.K. Make those girls feel like they're worth something. It sucks feeling anything but that.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0

The small club was packed tight. It had only been a few minutes since it had opened, but it was already holding way more than its recommended capacity. Some looked miserable. Others were hyperventilating. Most, however, just looked happy to be there. Though the sight of so many fans was nothing new to him, K.K felt a deep joy in his heart, a love for the animals that had come from towns near and far just to see him. This feeling was what pushed him to make each concert better than the last, especially tonight.

"Say, Groove City," His fans all became silent, "why don't we take this train onto different tracks. Go out into the air as cool and free as us." The vote, or, rather, the screams of enthusiasm, was a unanimous "yes." The doors were opened and the fans flooded out like a small, happy tidal wave. He followed them, strumming absentmindedly. K.K knew just the spot—the huge tree in the plaza. Though the trees were still covered in a cold, white powder and the ground was icy, the general temperature was mercifully pleasant. The stars above decorated the night sky like tiny spotlights, making the atmosphere seem calm and inviting. The crowd took on a few more members as they headed for the tree. Once they reached their destination, K.K sat on the small brick edge that surrounded the tree. This had an unexpected effect. He suddenly felt the strangest urge to reflect back on his life, at all that had happened and all he had done. He had heard that these trees—tall and dignified with many rings telling the story of their towns—had that sort of effect, but he had never experienced it for himself.

Sir, are you okay? Do you need a blanket? It's awfully cold here.

Why am I doing this? I need to be serious about my life.

Throw the grenade, man! Why are you hesitating?

Sure is lonely here. I never liked war, anyway. Why did I do this?

Oh, are you a traveler? You can stay with me and my family if you like.

Am I wasting my time? Still, such a beautiful country.

Your concert begins in five minutes, Sir. Do be quick about it. The next composer is very impatient.

Just another voice, I guess.

Um. . .your name is K. . .something, right? I. . .I like your music, sir. It speaks to me.

Maybe I am going somewhere.

Arr! Ye ever had yerself a cucumber drink? Say, I wanted to write me a shanty about cucumbers and such. Think ye could lend me a paw?

Yeah, man. I think I could help you out. Strange song idea. It's all cool with me, though.

I believe in you, mr. K.K. You inspired me and my sister. We'll be backing you up any way we can.

Thanks, Madam Grooveville. Want me to play you a tune that'll take you to the moon?

". . .K.K?"

He opened his eyes once he realized that someone was talking to him.

"Um. . .Mr. K.K? Are you alright? You kinda spaced out." He saw that most of his fans looked concerned. He had been loved back then, and he was loved now. He saw that the fan that had been talking to him was the girl from one of his memories, albeit a considerable amount older.

"I'm as cool as the ice on the ground. Don't worry about me." This was enough to relieve her worries, as well as the worries of the others. On this day, this day of love, he knew exactly what to do. He would give them each a song, as each of his memories had given him. As the people in those memories had given him. They wouldn't have to pretend that his lineup was for them this time.

"So, Madam Groovesville, want me to play you a tune that'll take you to the moon?" He repeated his familiar words that he had said to this exact fan years before, hoping that she, too, would remember. If the nostalgic look on her face was any indication, she did. It made him happy. His memories didn't just matter to him, it seemed. He offered to let her pick, as he would let each and every fan that was there, but she couldn't think of anything.

"To tell you the truth, I can't think of much right now." She shrugged her shoulders dismissively, but her eyes showed a sadness that stung K.K's heart. He wondered what could be wrong, though he didn't want to pry. Thankfully, she cleared it up for him. "Heh. Just a break up is all. Just feeling kind of, well, lonely. Kinda on the worthless side." She quickly covered up her statement. "B-but that's okay! That's just life. Besides, you always make me feel better with your music. I'll be fine." She smiled, pushing past her emotions. "So, whatever you play will be fine. I'll let you pick."

"Cool, cool. My guitar is ready, so sit and be steady." He kept his voice calm, though the news of his fan's troubles had injured him. He felt it was best not to break down in front of her, as this would most likely make her feel awful. Instead, he would let his music be the medicine for her ailing confidence. He wasn't sure if the others were feeling as terrible, but he would put just as much soul into their requests, just in case. My tunes are my voice, and this voice has something to say.

"This one goes out to an old fan of mine. It's called 'I Love You.'"