Point of Intersection

Chapter 1: Live and Breathe

Disclaimer: I don't own Gakuen Alice.

. . .

It was raining that day. It was raining when he saved her.

. . .

The two wound their way across the cemetery, heading for Sensei's grave. They had come upon her request…because, by some twist of fate, she had just encountered her daughter. She needed Sensei now.

Yuka looked up at the cloudy sky. She could hear the distant rumblings of thunder. It was going to rain.

It was raining when Sensei saved her from her dark life.

To think someone could love a thief like her—it freed her soul. She'd thought she was condemned to that kind of living; that she was born to be a criminal, that she was sentenced to die one. But Sensei changed her life.

But after Sensei's death, the gears got so out of control.

. . .

It was embarrassing, that first time she met him. She had been merely seven years old, scouring every possible household she could at the dead of the night, all in the name of food. She had successfully entered an apparently empty house, and made her way to the refrigerator.

"Aren't you a little bit too young to be thieving, little girl?"

Yuka yelped and bolted for the door, but the young man, probably in his late teens, easily picked her up. She thrashed and kicked, but his hold was too firm.

"Let go of me, you pervert!"

"Pervert?" laughed the young man, setting her down and blocking the doorway. "See here, kid, you were the one scavenging around my kitchen, and you have the nerve to call me a pervert. Kids these days…" he shook his head and ruffled his already tousled ash-blonde hair.

"Well, what are you here for? I'm pretty sure you did not come here to steal my silverware," he continued, crossing his arms.

Yuka refused to answer, but her stomach growled for her.

The man laughed. "I see, you're hungry. Good thing I came down for some hot cocoa. Wanna have some?"

And with a carefree smile he offered the little girl his hand, and Yuka, wondering who on earth this strange man was, took it.

. . .

Shiki and Yuka continued to where Sensei was, passing by a young man and a nimble girl. They looked so alike: they had to be siblings.

The lass tucked a strand of raven hair behind her ear and arranged some flowers in front of a tombstone. The dark-haired boy was sitting on the grass, inspecting a silver necklace in his hand. With a thief's eye, Yuka knew it was an expensive piece of jewelry: sterling silver; the ruby in the pendant was genuine. And it seemed vaguely familiar…

She shook her head; everything brought nostalgia to her now. She must be getting old.

She never imagined her life to be like this: everything she ever wanted, everything she planned for since Sensei changed her life—everything was shattered the day he died.

. . .

The carefree young man she met was named Yukihira Izumi—and he was then studying Elementary Education. Yuka tried to imagine him as a teacher, but because she or any of her brothers and sisters had never been to school, she could not. She told him this as he walked her to the door, her rucksack now filled.

"What? You've never been to school? At all?"

Yuka blushed and nodded. Her family was poor, and her father was an unemployed drunkard. Yuka was the third among eight children, and this was how they coped.

Izumi clucked his tongue sympathetically and patted her head. "For such a young child like you to be dealing with these…I wish I could help you somehow,"

. . .

He did help her. In so many ways.

She and Izumi had become quite good friends a few years after their first meeting, and about four years after he graduated from college, he picked her up from her house.

After talking to Yuka's parents for quite a while, Izumi led the way to his car. Yuka jumped in.

"Where are we going, Sensei?" she asked earnestly. She had started calling him "Sensei" ever since he landed a job in the village school. She said she wanted to feel what it was like to have a teacher.

Sensei laughed, his eyes sparkling. "You'll see,"

It turned out he enrolled her to Middle School.

"I just wanted you to experience a normal life," he said, seemingly apologetic, as Yuka stayed silent, surveying the red-brick building that was to be her school in a few months.

"Sensei," the girl turned to her companion, her brown eyes sparkling with tears. "Thank you. I can't tell you how much,"

Sensei enveloped her in his arms. "You're welcome, Yuka."

. . .

But Middle School did not turn out as she expected.

She was shunned because of her known reputation as a thief and as the daughter of the village drunkard. Nobody would mingle with her, because of her appalling family. She was the constant object of gossip and ridicule because of the clothes she wore and how she acted.

She thought she was alone in a world surrounded by people. She thought she had no friends. She thought she was on her own.

. . .

Her drunken father was beating up her mother. Two of her siblings were caught stealing by the police. And she had been given a written warning by the school because she'd been seen fighting the classmates who taunted her.

And to top it off, it was raining buckets, and she had no umbrella.

"Yuka? You stupid girl, get out of the rain! You'll get sick!"

"Sensei?" It had been months since she heard his voice. She'd been so busy with school that she almost forgot him.

"Are you alright?" Izumi reached her side and sheltered her with his umbrella. When Yuka turned to face him, he cursed under his breath.

"What the hell happened to you? You're bleeding, you're covered in bruises…" he swept her sodden bangs out of her eyes. "…and you've been crying," he realized.

"Yuka, tell me what's wrong,"

But she couldn't tell him. He'd worry and think that enrolling her to school was a bad idea. Yuka shook her head.

"Please, Yuka?" Sensei pleaded.

"Sensei, you're so kind," she blurted in reply. "I wish everybody was just like you,"

"Did you get into a fight again?" he asked, concerned.

Yuka shrugged. "I'm used to it,"

Sensei chuckled, but his worry marred his laughter. "You're a scary girl, Yuka-kun. Girls shouldn't get into fights."

"But if I let them beat me up, I'd end up like my mother," muttered Yuka.

"Point taken. But if you keep on fighting them, you won't have any friends,"

"Sensei," she rolled her eyes, "I'm used to having no friends. Everybody hates me,"

"Silly girl," laughed Sensei, kissing her forehead. "I don't hate you,"

And despite herself, Yuka smiled.

. . .

"Sensei?" said Yuka one afternoon as they hung out at the village's elementary school. "What's your dream?"

Sensei grinned. "You."

Yuka laughed and shoved his shoulder. "I'm serious,"

He shrugged. "I guess I could say that I'm living my dream. I'm a teacher, I earn a good salary, I'm healthy as a horse…and I have you,"

Yuka blushed and turned away. She was not used to this kind of thing.

"Sensei…my dream…is just a small one. I want to graduate like Kaoru-senpai," she sighed, fingering a necklace given by her best friend. "And then build a small, happy family. It's a small dream, but to me, it's everything,"

"SENSEI! Subaru's picking on me again!" a blonde little boy interrupted them, bounding across the playground and attaching himself to one of Sensei's legs.

"I did not! Sensei, Shuichi started it!" his classmate protested, running after Shuichi, who stuck his tongue out at the black-haired bespectacled boy.

Shuichi looked up and noticed Yuka. "Sensei, who's that?"

"Oh," Sensei laughed at Yuka's reaction to being addressed like a thing. "Yuka, these two are Sakurano Shuichi and Imai Subaru, my students. Top students, but they don't get along too well."

"I can see that," Yuka muttered, watching as Shuichi made a grab for Subaru's eyeglasses.

"Knock it off, you two. This is your onee-chan, Yuka. Be nice to her, okay?"

Subaru ran to Yuka's side and clutched her hand, tugging her. "She's going to be MY onee-chan, not Shuichi's,"

Shuichi grabbed Yuka's leg, puffing his cheeks. "No, she's MY onee-chan!"

"Mine!"

"MINE! Four eyes!"

"Pretty boy!"

"Nerd!"

"Jerk!"

Yuka glanced at Sensei for help, but Sensei was laughing his head off. It was just a peaceful, golden day…

. . .

A flash of lightning—crashing thunder—screeching tires—glaring headlights—pouring rain—

"YUKA!"

"SENSEI!"

. . .

"It was an accident, Yuka. These kinds of things happen,"

Yuka shook her head. If only she had the sense not to go out in the rain…if only she had seen the oncoming truck…if only Sensei hadn't dropped by to visit her…if only he hadn't pushed her out of harm's way…if only—if only—

Sensei was killed saving her worthless life.

Sensei…

. . .

The wind blew fiercely as they reached Sensei's grave. A single drop fell, not from the sky, but from Yuka's eyes.

It was raining that day.

It was also raining now.

That day, Sensei's warmth was tangible, real. He saved her life in so many ways.

Now, she could do nothing but break down and cry.

. . .

They made their way back to the car despite the rain. Yuka spotted the siblings from earlier; they had taken refuge in the trees. The young man raised his head and observed them, brushing his wet black hair from his gleaming red eyes.

Suddenly, Yuka knew why the necklace seemed so familiar.

But why on earth did the boy have it?

. . .