III. An Uninvited Guest

Not a creature stirred on that dreary Tokyo night. Not a soul walked the usually busy streets that neighboured the Ootori estate, so no one was around to see the mysterious shadow on their roof. The eerie figure lightly lept from one portion of the rooftop to the other like a wild lemur. The figure stopped above a familiar window and casually stepped off the roof into thin air. If anyone were watching, he or she would probably have run into his or her house to call the police and report a suicide. But if anyone were foolish or awe-struck enough to remain still and watch further, he or she would have seen the boy float casually down to the window ledge as if he were suspended by invisible strings. The foolish spectator would probably have then rushed into his or her house to call the local psychiatrist, because he or she must clearly be insane. Luckily though, not a creature stirred on that dreary Tokyo night.

The floating boy was surprised to see the window firmly closed; it had never been closed before. The boy gently shook the window, hoping the latch could fall open without waking the sleeping children. Why was the window latched, anyway? Not many families have to worry about flying boy intrusions. The boy's efforts to remain quiet were failing, so he reared back and flew straight at the window with full force. With surprising luck, the window didn't break, but the latch did, letting the window swing open with the breeze. The boy tumbled into the nursery, making a great deal of noise and breaking a great deal of toys. He looked at both boys nervously, but they just turned over in their beds and continued dreaming. The intruder breathed a sigh of relief.

"Mirror?" he whispered, as if the mirror could hear him. "Where did they put you?" He rummaged through chests and drawers in the darkness until he felt a familiar shape. "Finally!" he gasped, pulling his beloved hand mirror out of a drawer. "I've found you!" he shouted. He completely forgot about keeping his volume low. "I didn't know how I'd go on living without seeing my beautiful face again!" The boy's rejoicing was interrupted when he noticed something strange. He drew in a quick breath of air and stared horrified at the dark glass. He couldn't see his reflection! "Mirror…why can't I see myself?" The child let melodrama get the best of him, and a tear formed in the corner of his eye. "Come on. Don't you like me anymore?" He asked the mirror, starting to sob. A small voice behind him made him jump.

"Boy," said a small honey-haired boy with tired eyes, "Why are you crying?"

The boy whipped around to face the speaker, hiding the mirror behind his back. He could barely see the little delicate boy in the darkness, but he remembered his voice. Still, he felt compelled to ask, "What's your name?"

"Mitsukuni Haninozuka-Ootori," he replied. "What's yours?"

"Peter Pan!" The boy said proudly. He stood up tall with his hands on his hips.

Mitsukuni's eyes widened and sparkled with astonishment. His mouth was suddenly dry. "K…Kyouya…" he whispered, not taking his eyes off the legendary figure before him. "Kyouya," he whispered louder. He picked up a wadded sock and threw it at his sleeping step-brother. "Kyouya!"

"Mmmm!" the shadow king groaned groggily. "What?!" He sat up blearily and prepared to glare at Mitsukuni for waking him. Before he could let out his anger, the foreign figure before him caught his eye. He jumped and quickly reached under his bed, pulling out the curtain rod sword from before. "Who are you?" he asked, trying to sound manly and dangerous.

"I'm Peter Pan!" The boy said again with the same confidence. By the light of the small lamp at Kyouya's bedside, Mitsukuni could see his brother's eyes widen in shock, only for a second. He fumbled for his glasses on the bedside table and shoved them onto his face, not taking his eyes off the boy in the middle of his bedroom. Kyouya relaxed his face and made his voice cool and calm. "Peter Pan? Is that all?"

"Well, yeah," the stranger responded.

"Kyou-chan!" Mitsukuni said misty eyed. "Don't you know who--?"

"Where did you come from?" Kyouya asked in a very businesslike tone.

Energetically, the boy lept onto the window ledge and gestured boldly at the night sky. He said triumphantly, "Second star to the right and straight on till morning!"

Kyouya didn't show the least bit of interest. Instead, he merely raised an eyebrow. "Is that what it says on your letters?"

Peter Pan stepped down from the ledge and looked confused. "I don't get any letters."

"Surely your father gets letters."

"I don't have a father."

"Oh no!" Mitsukuni cried. "How awful! No wonder you were crying."

"I wasn't crying about fathers," the boy snapped. "I was crying because I couldn't see my beautiful face in my mirror."

Kyouya was a little shocked when the boy said "my mirror." The same thought kept running through his head: "he really was here last night." His face and voice remained as emotionless as he'd practiced. Though he was only thirteen, he had the ability to make his face look thirty. "You're really an idiot, aren't you?" He asked the boy patronizingly. "A reflection is refracted light, which means there has to be light for you to see yourself in that mirror." He walked over to the wall and flipped the switch.

Just as the lights flicked on, Peter Pan's face illuminated. When his violet eyes met those reflected in the mirror they filled with tears. He gazed into the mirror as if it were a photograph of the love of his life. With every ounce of over-the-top theatrical flair he had in his body, the boy fell to his knees, sighing. Quickly, he jumped to his feet again. In the light, the Ootori boys could see that he was wearing nothing but a collection of leaves that were strung together with vines. Kyouya was surprised to see how beautiful the boy really was. His hair was tussled, yet somehow perfect. It was the colour of golden honey and it fell delicately around his violet eyes. Yes, his eyes were violet, and they shimmered like they were filled with tears that he wouldn't let spill. He stood a few inches taller than Kyouya, but his face was rounder and tinged with dirt, making him look more childlike and innocent. His hands were dirty too, like he never washed them.

"Oh, the cleverness of me!" the blonde exclaimed dramatically.

Kyouya rolled his eyes. "Of course, I did nothing," he said sarcastically. "You're conceited."

Peter Pan looked like he didn't know the meaning of the word. He ran toward Kyouya's bed and jumped onto it, landing a foot away from where Kyouya sat. "Conceited?" he smiled. "Not me! It's just that I am what I am. And I'm…" be bent down and playfully touched a finger to Kyouya's nose, "…me!"

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Enter: TAMAKI, BOY AT WINDOW

Yay! This is when things start to get interesting. Let me know if you find anything confusing. The only editor I have is myself, and I tend to know what I'm talking about, but my readers may not. Review and I shall give you honourable mentions. Favourite and I shall give you presents!

"Hit me with your rhythm stick. It's nice to be a lunatic!"

--RhythmStickLunatic