A Quick Note:

I would like to thank all of you lovely readers who have reviewed and left questions for me, because those questions have actually given me some direction as to where this fic will go next. I went through this chapter with a theoretical fine-toothed comb, and I think I was able to weed out all of the grammatical mistakes and plot hiccups, so I hope this reads smoothly! Another thing worth mentioning is that in this world; Kenshin does not have the fabulous ponytail that he retains for the majority of the manga. Instead, I would think it to be quite a bit like the shorter style he adopts after the Jinchuu arc. If you absolutely cannot live with this, feel free to use your imagination to make it grow luxuriously long again. By the way, I finally created a cover for my story! If you need any clarification as to what it means, don't be scared to ask - although I think it shouldn't be too hard to decipher. As always, thank you for reading, and please leave any questions, constructive criticism, or comments you may have in the 'reviews' section as you see fit!

Greatest Regards,

Sardonyx Rosetta

Chapter Four: Got it Covered

"Wakey wakey eggs and bakey!" a bright voice squealed in my ear, and I let loose an unearthly groan. Sleep. I needed sleep. Bed. Warm. Mmm.

"Kaoru! Hey!"

Nope. No, this was definitely not happening. I was staying put. I was –

"If you can get ready to go in the next seven and a half minutes, we'll have enough time to stop for donuts. The GOOD kind."

I sprang up immediately, covers flying this way and that in a flurry of white and violet cotton. "Donuts?!" I cried, eyes wide with excitement.

Misao stared at me blankly for a few seconds. "God, you're pathetic. Yes, donuts. Provided you do something about that rat's nest you call hair."

I blinked. "Hey, weren't you sick? How come you aren't puking anymore?"

"It's called a 24-hour bug." Misao glowered darkly, my early-morning stupidity finally getting the best of her patience. "The last time I puked was 24 hours ago. Therefore, I am fine. Now get your ass out of bed, because if you aren't ready in time I am going to leave without you and get the best freshly-baked pastry I could possibly buy and eat it in Saito's class. In front of you. Slowly. With no regrets."

I blinked again. "Saito doesn't let us bring food-"

"SHUT UP AND GET READY KAORU."

Six minutes and forty-two seconds later, I was pulling on my windbreaker and ready to fly out the door.

"Wait!" Misao cried, grabbing my wrist. "What happened to your arm?!"

"Can we walk and talk?" I asked, shrugging free of her grip and zipping up my jacket. "Because I really, really want a donut."

Once we reached the main elevator of our apartment building, Misao began to chatter once more. "How come I didn't notice that?! It's enormous. And ugly."

"Thank you, Misao."

"Hey, you want me to compliment you on how lovely your monstrous bruise looks? Oh golly gee Kaoru, I sure am jealous of that large, disgusting blotch on your arm." She batted her eyelashes daintily as she clasped her hands to her chest. "Wherever did you get it? I want one juuust like it!"

"If you're not careful, you'll have one – don't worry, I'll be gentle." She huffed, rolling her eyes. "Actually, Enishi would probably be more than obliged to help you in receiving a bruise as lovely as mine."

"Enishi did that?!" She gaped. "Are you serious?!"

"Entirely," I sighed, wincing as the elevator grinded to a stop. "There was an incident yesterday in theater."

"Kaoru, did you get in a fight again?!" Misao cried, looking horrified. "If you're not careful you're going to get kicked o-"

"Quit being such a drama queen, Misao," I huffed, walking out the front doors and down the row of stores that lined our path to the Art and History building, where our first class of the day was located. "We were playing capture the flag. With people. Hiko's dumb idea, not ours. Enishi tackled me, and it resulted in the achy arm I have been blessed with today. I never told you because you were passed out when I got home from practice, and I didn't want to wake you up and risk being sprayed with your vomit."

"Practice..." Misao trailed off, her pace slowing. "Wait a second – was Kenshin there last night?" Her eyes narrowed into her characteristic interrogation face. "Did he see your bruise? What did he say?! Oh, I bet he was furious."

"He wasn't furious," I said calmly, holding open the door to the Sweet Treats bakery for her. A crowd of fellow college students huddled within the small shop, consuming their sugary confections and coffee with great appreciation.

"You can't tell me he didn't say anything," Misao grumbled, glaring at me as she passed through the doorway. "There's no way."

I bit my lip, following her in and lining up behind a short preppy girl with a neon sports bra shining through her white shirt, blue earbuds dangling from her neck. "He was kind of mad, I guess. But not at me. At Enishi. It was weird."

"Kaoru, we've had this discussion before. It isn't weird. He's just being protective, and you know why."

"Do not. One glazed donut, please." I handed over my money and took a bite of my delicious breakfast, savoring the sugary rush flowing through my veins. Misao paid for her chocolate cake donut and followed me out the door, shaking her head as she went.

"He likes you. And you know it, too." Misao hurried to catch up with me, her short legs pumping as I speed-walked towards the school. "He LIKES you, likes you."

"No, he doesn't. He's just concerned about my health, that's all."

Misao managed to cut in front of me, walking backwards so I had no choice but to slow down and pay attention to her. Little weasel. "Right – because most boys are really interested in how you're feeling. They just can't wait to make sure you're in tip-top shape. Face it, Kaoru. You have a brother. You know how they work. Yahiko would be much more likely to go on about how cool your 'battle scar' is than ask if you'd like an ice pack."

I just glared at her. "Quit jumping to conclusions already. Has he ever said he liked me?"

"No, but guys don't like using their words, especially around girls."

"Kenshin uses his words with me all the time. It's called being a friend." I flinched as Misao narrowly missed hitting a tree. "Walk like a normal person, why don't you?"

"So you're friends," she continued, ignoring my advice. Oh well. If she got hurt, I wasn't going to hold myself responsible. "Friendship can sometimes develop into – "

"MORE friendship!" I cried, grabbing Misao and turning her around. Kenshin was waiting with a cup of coffee in his hand, standing with his back to the entrance of the history wing. "Good morning, Kenshin." I beamed at him, as innocently as I could.

"Kaoru. Misao." Kenshin was a man of few words until he had finished his first glass of pitch-black liquid bitterness, much like how I couldn't function as a regular adult human until I had consumed some sort of caloric confection. "We're going to be late soon.

"Nonsense, we'll be absolutely fine," Misao sniffed, finally recovering from the initial shock provided by our close encounter. "Just gotta walk fast."

"Well you'd better walk faster, shorty, because your legs are about half as long as me and I'm ALWAYS late," Sano chuckled, joining us as we hustled through the entryway.

"Whatever, Sano," I huffed. "Where's your clingy little fox, anyways? Leave her at home?"

"She opted out of this class, Tanuki, so you just be quiet. I believe her direct words were 'I'm SO much better than this, anyways.'"

"Sounds like Megumi," Misao grumbled. "Leaving all of us stupid people to suffer in Saito's terrible World History class."

"Watch what you say, Misao," Kenshin chided gently, draining the last of his coffee as he jogged along with us. "Saito has ears like a wolf, that he does."

We filed through the door in record timing, dropping our empty cups and pastry wrappers in the garbage on the way to our seats. Saito watched us with narrowed eyes, outraged at the mere idea that something that used to contain an edible substance was being disposed of IN his ROOM. Drama Queen. All four of us slid into our seats just as the minute hand hit eight o'clock, and the glare we received screamed his dissatisfaction. One of his favorite things to do was lock all of the late people out of his classroom, and we had so selfishly deprived him of that.

He began his lecture on the French Revolutionary War, flipping through the white, picture-less slides and black text at a painfully slow pace. Everyone yanked out their laptops and notebooks and began to take notes feverishly, and I followed in their footsteps, pulling out my purple binder and a pencil. I raised my arm to the open page and winced, pain shooting from my shoulder down to my fingertips. Damn. It was slow going, my hand dragging across the page like a dying animal. Eventually I just gave in, realizing I was focusing more on the pain my shoulder than the actual lecture – and that, in itself, would be a terrible idea.

After twenty minutes of incessant droning had commenced, Saito finally locked eyes with me. "Kamiya!" he barked. "If you aren't going to take notes, get out of my class." I straightened awkwardly, opening my mouth to explain, but Saito would have none of it. "No excuses. I only want serious students in this class."

"She hurt her arm yesterday, Sensei," Kenshin piped up beside me, effectively cutting him off. Saito's hard expression froze. "She's in too much pain to move it much at all." I glanced at Kenshin appreciatively, then carefully pulled up my sleeve to prove he wasn't lying. Saito didn't even have to move from his spot at the front of the lecture hall to see my black-and-blue shoulder, and mild surprise graced his tense features.

"Is that the result of the tomfoolery you were involved in yesterday, Kamiya?" he asked, crossing his arms. "I seem to recall hordes of rambunctious thespians cavorting about through the hallways, screaming terrible Shakespearean at each other while I was trying to grade the majority of the class's papers."

"It was all Hiko-sensei's idea," I said defensively, resisting the urge to shrug.

"I see." Saito murmured, obviously reserving that information for later so that he could give out lectures where lectures were due – meaning, yelling at Hiko the next time the two teachers locked eyes. "Then do tell me how you plan on getting the notes for today, Kamiya."

I stared at him blankly. Saito was such a pain in the ass.

"I'm taking notes for her, Sensei." Kenshin smiled sweetly, and my gaze caught his. He held up the other notebook resting on his desk as if to illustrate his point. "She asked me to."

Of course I had.

Wait. What? Since when was Kenshin so eager to cover my ass?

Saito raised an eyebrow, paused for a moment, and then returned to his lecture as if nothing had happened. I sat there for a moment, dumbfounded, until I glanced at him again. Soft crimson bangs covered his violet eyes, and he pushed them out of his face with a quick flick from his nimble fingertips. He was scribbling diligently on both sheets, and I marveled at how hard he seemed to be working for my sake. He caught me staring at him and smiled, mouthing a snarky "you're welcome" at me.

I stuck my tongue out at him, then whispered "thank you" as softly as I could. His smile grew wider, soft lips curling upwards, and he hid behind his bangs again. God. Those lips. I wondered vaguely how it would feel to kiss them, maybe wind my fingers through his mess of reddish locks and pull him close, breathing in his musky scent with my eyes shut tight.

I snapped to attention, pulling my gaze away from him and trying to control my breathing. What was wrong with me today? Maybe I needed a break from Kenshin for a little while. Thank goodness this was the only class I had with him today. For once, I was grateful Hiko hadn't cast his son in the play, because there was no way I could deal with three hours of trying not to look at the incredibly attractive boy sitting next to me.