Miss Hanamura: Since my partner's been taking awhile with the next chapter, and I'm bored and done with my work in Digital Design II, I decided to whip up a quick filler chapter. :3 This is just a flashback with a younger Suzaku with Erin; where they are, and exact ages are up to you (Though I pictured them about 14).

The brunette girl lightly sighs as she brings her hands up high over her head, and stretches them. It was especially warm that day, and she knew the reason.

It was autumn—birds flying overhead, blissfully ignorant to the world below them, leaves painted in vibrant browns, oranges, and reds, colored trees cascaded over busy roads—and for once, Erin Suzuki was at peace, with her medium length hair streaked with orange tied back, and a content smile on her face. She leaned against the newly blossomed permission tree on the school grounds—it's bark cool against her uniformed shirt—and began to doodle in her notebook, her mind drifting to elated thoughts.

She had always been in touch with the environment, even when she was a little girl. She found comfort in sitting outside, spending hours upon hours doing nothing, but drinking in the atmopshere. Her sister commented that it was a little weird; girls her age should be inside, playing dress-up, and hosting imaginary tea parties, but she didn't let it bother her. It'd be out of character to do so.

Erin feels something, or rather someone, brush her thigh, and she barely turns her head, already having a feeling who it was. Light blonde locks, and even lighter green eyes fill her vision, and she feels her smile widen as the figure sits beside her, and leans over to take a peak at the white page in her lap, which is smothered with rough, sketchy lines, and landscapes.

Acting was her passion, was one of the things she prided in because she was actually good at it. It came as easily as breathing for her, and she loved to slap on a different expression, and pretend she was someone else entirely. What some people didn't know was that she liked to draw from time to time as well, especially of nature. Nature was beautiful, nature was pure; it instilled in her a nostalgic feeling. On the page were multi-steemed trees, bleeding, and spreading like a pathogen; colorful flowers embraced another part.

But she found herself drawing less and less lately; the muse just wasn't there, I guess.

"You're getting better at that," The person comments off-handedly, and she nods her head in reply. Suzaku Todoh, her friend since elementary school. They were complete opposites—while he was intelligent, a bit more introverted, she was a dreamer, and had to surround herself with people to feel completed—and yet they fit together perfectly, like two puzzle pieces. She lets her head fall on his shoulder, and she can feel his hand swipe gently through her hair. She closes her eyes, and let's herself soften under the touch.

"My father's sending me to live with my grandmother for awhile..." She says after a long period of silence, and Suzaku shuffles, and repositions her so she's facing him; she keeps her eyes on her lap, "I... I don't want to..." Erin drifts off, bites her lip; he can tell that a frown threatens to break out on her pale face. She can't hide it. Even the mention of the man was enough to lace her previously airy thoughts with poison. She hated him, yet at the same time, ached for his approval, some sort of acknowledgement. She hated her mother even more because she never defended her, only stood idly by, seemingly blending into the background. Her mother was quiet, submissive; she went with whatever her father wanted even if it went against her desires. She was not warm, or nuturing. She was the wife of Satan, or moreso, the right-hand man.

Oh, how she hated them both...

Suzaku knits his eyebrows together, and tucks his hand underneath Erin's chin, forcing her to look up, "For how long?"

"A year, maybe... He... He wasn't really specific." Her voice is barely above a whisper, and is muffled by her hands shrouding her face; any other time he'd scold her about the mumbling, but he let it slide since this was a special situation, and instead, wrapped an arm around her.

"It'll be okay."

"H-How do you know that?"

He freezes, and for once, has no words to say. They stay like that for awhile—neither of them making the effort to speak—until the bell rings, and he moves away from her; Erin silently protests, but follows suit, dusting off the grass blades that cling to her black skirt.

"Listen, I..." Suzaku starts, stops, and she can see the gears shifting in his head as he comes up with something to say. If he did have something or not, she'd never know. Instead, he pulls her into a tight hug, and she gasps, her arms automatically clinging to his shoulders. His gaze on her is intense, his lips centimeters from her, and he's leaning in, closer and closer until there's no space left between them, no boundary, and she feels like she's suffocating. She's forced to breathe him in. His tongue is warm as it dances, and trails over her lips. She parts them, and he deepens their connection.

When they break for air, his hand moves to cup her face. "It'll be okay, and do you know why?" She shakes her head, "I'll get back to you."

"I know." She smiles, and it's sincere this time, "I trust you."