Ha ha... A Cannon said this reminded him of Pinky and the Brain. And some said it was an amusing aspect of Sakura as a genius and taking over the world. I find this chapter quite odd... found myself thinking about my mother trying to kill me.

CLAIMER: MY SISTER'S PLOT! NO ONE DARES TO EVER CHANGE THE PLOT INTO THEIR OWN! IF ANYONE! AND I MEAN ANYONE DOES THAT... FEEL MY WRATH AND MY SISTER'S LECTURE ABOUT PLAGIARISM!

DISCLAIMER:Characters are not mine to claim though... neither my sister... CLAMP does though.

PEOPLE to ThAnKK:

Vampire Peaches: I'm so sorry if it's so 'bloody confusing'! And sorry... but I don't like annonymous reviews... my apologies. Thank yoU!

Silver Blossom: Good job? Good job! GOOD JOB! Ahem... anyways, I probably am NEVER going to get to the end of this story... ha ha... I don't have any idea how my sister planned the two geniuses to take over the world! ThAnk YoU O sO mUch.

dbzgtfan2004: Cute? Hm... I wonder what's so cute... COOL! Yeah this story better be cool! I mean... it is... isn't it? ThanX A LoT.

Illusions of Myth: An actual REVIEW FROM ONE OF MY FAVORITE STORY AUTHORS! Or... alerts... or... I dunno... anyways... WOW! This story... why do you have to come to this story? Go read another one! And another! And another! This story is not good enough for your eyes! Or anyones eyes! (bursts out laughing) THaNX...

Platinum Star: A favorite I see? Cheese I think I ate too much cheese! Impossible! Impossible! What's so GREAT about this story? Tell me... all of you tell me! What's so great! What's so GREAT?

Ah dear... must stop eating pickles and bitter cucumbers... or rotten cheese...

He had to come up to me.

"Hey."

I don't look up from my textbook.

"You're a genius, why do you still need to read the textbook?"

I hate questions. I hate answers.

"Are you still going to talk to me?"

No. I will never talk to you. I never wanted to talk to you in the first place.

"You want to take over the world, don't you?"

He said it unlike a question, but it still was a question. My eyes race across the textbook, then enters the second line of words.

"Well… I guess I'll help you then."

My eyes stop. I hadn't even been reading anyway, just scanning across. My eyes now laid on the word 'motion'. But I wasn't in motion at all.

I don't dare look up at him. What did he want?

I wanted him to leave me alone. I don't need his help in anything. I don't need any help. I don't need his pathetic pity. I don't need anything. I have myself to rely on. Myself. Nothing else.

His fingers are tapping and moving across the table like they were his feet. He's waiting for my answer.

My answer? I don't need help. Now scat.

How do I show it? I won't answer him at all. I don't want to, and I won't. It's final. I never change my mind.

But he has to insist. He clears his throat a bit loudly, as though there were a large apple in his throat and he were trying to cough it up.

As though there was a giant fur ball in his throat that he was going to throw up.

I don't care. I don't care at all.

Let him pretend he's choking, or that something is in his throat.

What should I care? I don't care a thing about him.

Let him die, I won't rejoice or cry.

Let him have his head cut off. I won't scream or mourn.

Let his arm be ripped off by a machine. I won't laugh or sob.

There is noting in the world about him that I care about him. I don't care about anything. I don't care about anyone. There is no such thing as 'care' in a genius's mind.

At least not in mine, nothing like that can be found in my head. Nothing.

I feel his eyes rolling around, searching for something.

He always looked like that. He always looked as though he were searching for something.

"Well, just to let you know, I thought about taking over the world too." He gave a small chuckle, "I thought it sounded just crazy..."

He dares call me crazy.

There's a loud slam.

He jumps back a bit.

I stand up, lift my closed textbook, and walk away just like the day before.

"Go away."

Just go away.

Leave me alone.

What I want to do is what I want to do. Why do you need to know?

He follows me.

Why doesn't he just leave me alone? Stop questioning me? Stop… looking around like he's… searching… searching…

He has been searching for something. Rather someone.

He's been searching for someone like me.

A genius.

Another genius.

So that…

He does want to do it too.

"Two heads are better than one." He tries to chide me, "I could really help you know, like, two geniuses are better than one…"

His voice faltered into a question.

What's his problem?

"Get away from me."

He stops, thinks, then continues to follow me. I can see all his movements from the back of my head.

Besides, he walks the same every day. He does the same thing every day.

He's been looking for me every day.

He's been looking for a genius.

Like me.

I don't want to come join his pathetic 'take over the world'. I do it by myself.

I'll do it by myself.

I don't take any help.

I never did.

And I never wanted to be a genius in the first place.

I never wanted to be here anyways.

But I couldn't decide it, I was born a genius, whether I liked it or not.

And it was my duty to be a genius, whether I wanted to or not.

I'd rather be stupid.

I'd rather have him do it himself.

I'd rather live in a world where nothing makes sense, than a world where things are clearer than water, and where invisible things and be seen. Where unseen things can be seen, and where I can see things that others cannot.

I hate it.

I hate being a genius.

And when I do take over the world, I'll destroy…

"So um…"

I almost forgot he was here.

I wish he weren't here.

"Go look somewhere else." My answer is final, and I'm sure he knows it's my answer.

And for once… he stops.

He stops following me.

He stops asking me.

He stops.

And it went on.

He didn't sit by me during lunch.

He never looked for me again.

He didn't choose me as his partner.

And he wasn't in any of my classes.

He had stopped.

He went somewhere else to look.

It amazed me… to realize how amazed I was when he did.

Hadn't I expected him to leave me alone?

Or had I expected him to keep bugging me?

Either one, I don't care.

I don't want to care and I don't.

At least I think so.

For once, I'm doubting myself.

I always know the answer to every problem.

I've never doubted myself.

I was right, always right, just the way I hated it.

And I hated questions.

So why do I miss… why do I feel so odd?

As though I were missing something?

As though I were missing questions.

Missing him.

No.

I can't miss him.

I can't miss questions.

I only feel odd because it's just a little abnormal.

But I had only known him for two days.

Yet now I am questioning myself.

Why?

Why was it that I was born a genius, not someone else?

Why is it, that I hate being a genius?

Why do I want to take over the world?

Why did my mother have to be… really not my mother?

And it brings me to a conclusion.

It was all her fault, my mother. It was all her fault.

She gave me my first breath of air.

She gave birth to me.

But what if she was not my mother?

And what if she really isn't?

And what if I hadn't found out, that day she tried to poison me?

Why did I find out?

And for once in twenty years, I actually remember.

I have actually put down the walls and let memories gush through.

I actually remember.

Especially that day she tried to poison me.

That day I found out she wasn't my mother.

That day she died.

I actually remember.

It started out with a bowl of cereal.

A simple bowl of cereal.

Rice Krispies to be exact.

My mother poured it into a bowl.

Then she poured in some milk.

And then she set it down in front of me.

And I was only two.

"You're forgetting a spoon." I pointed.

"You're right. I forgot." She ran back to get a spoon.

I never wondered how I was born a genius, and my mother was born a fool.

But my mother was not a fool. She had been planning, planning the years when I would die.

But she was a fool, because she failed.

"Here you go." She handed me a spoon.

I took it.

She watched as I ate my cereal by myself. She sighed, "I'm so proud to have a daughter like you."

I wasn't proud to have a mother like her.

But she was my mother.

And so I had to love her.

Even if I were a genius.

And she knew, that by disguising herself as my mother, I couldn't harm her, and I wouldn't think that she would be trying to kill me.

But that moment I put the spoon into my mouth… I knew something was wrong.

There was poison.

But why would my mother poison me?

So I continued eating.

That same day, I got sick.

My mother handed me some soup that night with the very same spoon.

I drank it without the spoon.

My mother frowned.

She asked me why I didn't use the spoon.

I told her, "You poisoned that spoon didn't you?"

She looked baffled, then laughed, "You silly, I'm your mother! Why would I do that?"

Then she went away, taking the bowl and spoon with her.

And I sat up in bed, thinking.

My mother would never try to poison me.

If she were my mother, she wouldn't poison me.

Either there wasn't poison on the spoon, or she isn't my mother.

The next day, I got better.

She gave me the same spoon.

But I threw the spoon on the floor.

She scolded me, slapped my hand, and gave me the same spoon.

"Wash it." I instructed.

"Why?"

I pointed at the spoon, "The spoon is dirty."

She laughed, "The spoon isn't dirty! I washed it!"

I stubbornly told her again, "Wash it again. It's dirty. Wash it."

It was dirty. It had poison.

Her mouth curved. She was mad.

I was mad too.

And so said, "You're not my mother."

Her face turned funny. She was angry. She was baffled. She wanted to laugh and say it wasn't true. But it was.

"You're not my mother. My mother wouldn't poison me."

She opened her mouth to laugh, but she couldn't.

"You're not my mother! You can't be my mother! Our eye color is not the same. Our hair color is not the same. There are no genetic features the same! I don't even have a father! You're not my mother! You're not!"

And then she looked a little scared.

Her face a little white.

Her neck craned back, and her eyes a little wide.

But then her face turned fierce and angry.

But I was not scared.

I was right.

I wouldn't doubt myself again.

I was right.

And then she died.

She died right there.

Because she wouldn't tell me anything more, she wouldn't tell me who was my real mother.

And that second she died, I knew I was right, and she wasn't really my mother.

But then… there was one thing we did have in common.

We were both stubborn.

Stubborn.

But that couldn't mean she was my mother… no, it couldn't. It doesn't.

Still now, I wonder what had happened.

I was right, wasn't I?

She wasn't my mother, she was never my mother, and she's dead.

She died because she failed.

And I know why she tried to kill me.

Because she knew it too, and perhaps she was my mother. Or maybe not.

Perhaps she was my mother, but I bet not.

But if she was or wasn't, it won't matter.

Because the second I came out of my mother's womb, or maybe not.

She knew I would take over the world.

And someone would try to stop me.

She would.

Even if she were my own mother, or maybe not.

She would try and stop me.

But no one will stop me.

Because I will take over the world.

I will.