NaughtyAngel12: Er… Really sorry for the late update. See, I had one of those damn writer's blocks, and I couldn't seem to think of anything interesting to write. When I did finally think of something that seemed OK, I didn't know how to put it in words. Sigh. Anyway, I'd like to thank all my reviewers once again! I was really pumped up to try and update soon when I read your reviews, but my mind wasn't working properly. Okay, enough with my babbling… Here's chapter 5. Hope you enjoy it! Please review after.
Disclaimer: I don't own Gakuen Alice.
Chapter 5: My Best Friend
A certain raven-haired girl walked up the familiar streets of the hometown she had left for such a long time. It had been at least a month since she had come home, and she missed it terribly; despite its wet weather, bumpy, muddy roads and grouchy, rude vendors.
Imai Hotaru had been away to another country to negotiate with some businessmen and sponsors who wanted her inventions sold in their companies, since they were such a big hit. It took some time for her to decide which company, but eventually, she decided on the corporation that would pay her the most for her inventions (typical of her). Of course, she wouldn't be selling everything – only the old models.
Dragging her suitcase alongside her and trying to adjust the position of her umbrella so that she and her bag wouldn't get wet, she made her way up to the street of her house. At last, home sweet home.
But before she could get anywhere near the gates, a cheery girl with long, wavy brown hair tied into an unruly ponytail came charging at her, her arms flung wide open in the gesture of a hug. Her clothes were wet and so was her hair because of the rain, but she didn't seem to mind. "HOTARUUU!" she cried happily. "You're baaaack!"
"Don't hug me," Hotaru said in a monotonous voice, dodging her friend's attempt to wrap her in a bear hug. "Baka. You're all wet and muddy."
Mikan sniffed. "I really missed you!" She grinned earnestly at her friend. "Want me to help you with your bag?"
"No. You'll make it dirty."
Mikan pouted cutely. "You're mean."
Hotaru smiled inwardly. Of course she did miss her innocent, childish friend. Mikan had a way of brightening up her day with all her idiotic comments, slip-ups and optimistic attitude. However, it was her dazzling, childlike smile that never failed to make the stoic inventor secretly glad.
But she was also aware of the fact that her friend was suffering from poverty. So, most of the time, she would allow – or more like demand – her to stay at her house instead of going home. Sometimes, Mikan would accept, sometimes refuse (she has to take care of her mother).
The twosome approached the gate to the Imai residence, which was almost as big and grand as the Hyuuga mansion. Almost. Well, half of her house was used as her lab and experimental area. Nevertheless, it was still big.
"Welcome to the Imai residence."
Mikan jumped at the sound of the strangely cold, flat voice and looked around. There was no one there. Cowering behind her friend, she whispered, "H-hotaru… What was that?"
"It's a speaker, baka. I installed the new security system before I left," Hotaru replied evenly.
Indeed, there was a small speaker on the wall. It was a small rectangular box with a black screen on top.
"Please place your finger on the pad," said the robotic voice.
Hotaru placed her thumb on the small, black screen. A grid of green lines appeared on the monitor, briefly scanning her fingerprint. "DNA identified. Welcome, Miss Imai Hotaru."
The gate opened automatically, letting Hotaru in, Mikan still tagging behind her. Her arm was linked around Hotaru's; an awed look on her angelic face, her mouth agape.
"Wow, Hotaru! You're a genius!" she squeaked. It was a bit strange for her to live in a high-tech world when the rest of the town used crude pieces of technology. Well, that sums up the life of a genius for you.
"Don't be noisy," she said in the same flat voice, diverting the topic to something else. "You're in private property now, baka. Try to keep your voice down."
Mikan smiled again. She just loved the way her best friend was so modest despite the fact that she was world-renown for her intelligence and prettiness, not to mention her originality in making her inventions. If only she was as smart and as creative as her friend, she might help the condition of her family. But alas, she wasn't blessed with much understanding for Math and Science. If anything, she utterly sucked at–
"Are you just going to stare into space like an idiot or are you coming in?" Hotaru said, standing behind the massive double-doors to her house. She was already inside, her hand on the knob, hinting that she was about to shut the doors in her face of she didn't hurry.
Mikan ran up to her and cried, "Hotaru, you meanie! Wait for me!"
-O-o-O-o-O-o-O-
From the second-floor window of the Hyuuga Mansion, Natsume watched the people go about their daily activities. As usual, there was a light drizzle, but the skies did not show any sign of heavy rain. The sun was only partially hidden behind the clouds, meaning the rain would stop soon.
He sighed heavily, leaning back on the comfortable beige sofa of the living room. To his right were bookshelves of his manga collections; to his left the air conditioner and a lone ornamental plant. Across the room was yet another couch – to its sides were armchairs – and just in front of it was a low, mahogany coffee table. An ordinary television faced this sofa, as well.
His mind drifted back to the dinner the night before.
It was true that he met countless numbers of girls, some of which he had flirted with (as long as they were pretty enough), and that he had used his irresistible charms to seduce a few to be his temporary girlfriend.
But that girl he met last night… Sakura Mikan was her name, was it?
Yes, there was definitely something about her. She was a dense idiot, but she had simply amused him. That night, he didn't once think of flirting with her, as he normally would've first done upon meeting an attractive girl. But what had they done? They had talked and bickered all throughout the dinner. That was normal for most men, but not the Natsume Hyuuga. No, Natsume never talked to a lovely girl before without flirting.
And how could she have possibly interpreted his emotions? Surely he wasn't that easy to read.
He frowned. He was over-thinking the situation again.
Stop thinking of it, you idiot, he scolded himself. You have more important things to worry about than just some beggar girl.
He grabbed his manga from one of the shelves and started reading. Somehow, he couldn't seem to stop this old habit of his. Yes, he was almost sixteen, but he just enjoyed it too much to stop. He didn't care if Daisuke would tease him about it or humiliate him in front of his (Daisuke's) friends. They can burn in hell for all I care, Natsume thought spitefully at the memory of his brother's friends laughing their guts out at him. I'm still keeping my manga.
But after reading a page, his mind lingered back to the beggar girl again. It seemed that not even his trusty manga could distract him from thinking of the childish girl.
He grunted. I need a drink.
He was about to go get a bottle of brandy when he hesitated. He had always drunk alcohol when he needed distraction, and it always worked. But too much alcohol has its consequences: when he was too wasted, he didn't know what other crazy thing he'd do next… He might even kill someone without knowing it.
He shuddered slightly then decided against the drink. He strode off to the other couch and slammed his manga on the coffee table, switching the television on. He surfed the channels for a show that would divert his thoughts from the dinner last night.
He finally found a gory movie airing – Halloween. He settled for that.
However, not long after, he grew bored with all the screaming and violence and bloodshed. He couldn't believe that some people would actually scream and have nightmares out of these horror films, knowing the fact that they were all made-up and enhanced with computer graphics and special effects. (A/N: That's only his opinion! No offense to those who love horror movies.)
He found himself turning the TV off and slipping on his tattered cloak and hat. He walked out of the living room and down the hallways.
"Sir, where are you going?" a maid said, running up the steps. She looked a bit surprised to see him going out. "Your lunch is ready."
"I'll be back soon," he mumbled, sweeping past her. "I'm going to town."
-O-o-O-o-O-o-O-
"Please, Hotaru? Please? Can we go to town? I wanted to show you the huge wedding cake the baker made yesterday!" Mikan begged, leaning over her friend's shoulder.
"No," replied Hotaru, unpacking the last of her things from the bag and handing it to Mikan. "First drawer to the right."
Mikan pouted. "After I help you unpack, then. We're almost done, right?"
"No," said the inventor again, shutting her now empty bag. She stood up and dusted her clothes.
Mikan neatly placed Hotaru's unused skirt and dress in the drawer she indicated. It was ironic that so many people gave her friend lots of party clothes, skirts and gowns, but she never wore a single one of them – unless, of course, there was something in it for her.
"Pleasepleasepleasepleaseplease?" she begged, flashing her adorable puppy-dog eyes to her friend. "C'mon, Hotaru! Let's go around town! Don't be such a killjoy."
Hotaru was silent for awhile, her expression still the same. She stretched a bit and walked to the door, Mikan's eyes following her.
"Well, what are you waiting for?" said Hotaru, getting her baka gun from the table.
Mikan squealed. "Yay! There's so many stuff that you've been missing out on, Hotaru. Let's go!"
She hugged her friend's arm and dragged her out the door, happily chatting away.
-O-o-O-o-O-o-O-
Why did I let her talk me into this? Hotaru thought inwardly as she and her friend weaved their way into the crowd. The light drizzle had stopped, but the air was very sticky and humid. Combined with the cluster of bodies she was smack in the middle of and the ear-splitting noise of their surroundings, it was enough to make her mood rotten. She absently fingered her baka gun while following her friend in the crowd.
"Hm…" Mikan murmured. "I knew it was somewhere here…"
They were nearing the slums already, so the place was filthy; the roads near to Hotaru's house were much cleaner and more decent. She certainly didn't want to get stuck in these roads. "We're lost."
"No, we're not!" Mikan stubbornly protested. "I was just looking for the bakeshop… Now, where was it?"
"I'm going home."
"Wait! I'll look for it first, then I'll come back to you, okay?" she said, clutching her wrist. "Wait here." Then she disappeared into the crowd.
"Baka." Hotaru hesitated momentarily before she turned around and squeezed her way out of the mass of bodies around her, intending to go back to her house.
But then something caught her eye.
Her lips slowly formed into a smirk as she took her camera out to take a picture.
A flash. Natsume had been looking around for the brunette when he saw that flash; he had just left his mansion a few minutes ago. He discreetly glanced up to the source.
Then he scowled darkly.
"So, Hyuuga, we meet again."
They were about two meters apart; it seemed that neither of them wanted to be any closer.
"Imai," he growled.
The two had known each other through their family's business communications; Mr. Hyuuga had always wanted to transact with Hotaru, because he had always considered her inventions both original and high-quality – not to mention new and advanced. Sometimes, either Natsume or his brother acted as their father's ambassador in transacting with her whenever he wasn't around.
And Natsume did not like the inventor too much. He considered her a very dangerous person. She always had some trick up her sleeve – indeed, she was a very crafty girl – and she wasn't one to be messed with. Also, she was very good in taking her revenge – or, in other words, blackmailing. Heck, if there was a Guinness World Record for The World's Greatest Blackmailer, it would go to her. She could be a good friend, though… but a deadly enemy.
He glared at her with his piercing ruby eyes. She returned his fierce glare with one of her own, but her amethyst orbs showed no emotion.
"What's a big-shot like you doing here in the slums?" she asked. But it didn't sound like a question; it was more in the tone of a demand.
He winced inwardly but betrayed no reaction on his face. "None of your business, Imai."
NaughtyAngel12: