DISCLAIMED

A/N: I used to be NaughtyAngel12. Yes, yes, I know... It's been ages since I've updated. My writing style has changed a lot, but I've still decided to continue (and—*crosses fingers*—finish) this to give the readers closure. If you're reading this whole thing for the first time, I'm sorry that the chapters don't flow very smoothly; the updates between some of them are so long. Maybe in the future I'll re-edit the whole thing according to my current style, but for now I just want to finish it. According to my estimations, there are about six chapters left. Thank you for your support! If you've reviewed, alerted, or favorited this story or moi, here's a hug for you! *HUG*


Chapter 10: Babysitting

"Good afternoon, ma'am. You wanted to talk to me?"

Kaoru Hyuuga looked up from the medical records she was scanning and smiled at the thin, neat-looking girl who had slipped into her office. "Hello, my dear," she said. "Have a seat. Would you like something to drink?"

"No thank you," the girl replied with a timid smile. She made her way to the wooden chair in front of her desk. "It's so kind of you to offer, though, Mrs. Hyuuga."

"Call me Kaoru, please," the older woman insisted. "I think we've been through enough to skip those formalities." Kaoru paused to place her hand over Mikan's, her eloquent eyes full of genuine concern. "I'm very sorry for your loss, my dear. I wish I could've done more to save your mother."

"Please don't apologize, Mrs—Kaoru," Mikan replied. "You're the reason why she lasted as long as she did."

"I still feel guilty when I'm not able to save someone, Mikan," Kaoru said. "Especially someone like your mother, who means the world to you. It must've been hard."

She was wrong. It wasn't just hard; Mikan felt like she had died along with her mother. But she braved a smile, anyway. With each smile she managed, she felt a little stronger inside. "It is, but I'm coping."

"I'm glad to hear that. Well now, I think you're curious as to why I've asked Natsume to get you for me," Kaoru said, and without waiting for a reply, she continued. "I want to help you, Mikan. I'm sure you're looking for a job now, am I right?"

"Yes, I am."

"Good, because I have a job for you." Kaoru smiled when Mikan's eyes lit up. "You see, my nephew's coming to town; he'll be staying for a week or so while his parents are away on an important trip. Because of his delicate condition, I need someone to look after him. I thought of hiring another maid, but I remembered you and decided that I'd trust you more with my nephew. And I'm sure you've had some experience, too, since your mother was a wet nurse. Of course, I'll be paying you the minimum wage, and you'll be given food and lodging here in the maid's quarters."

Mikan had to suppress a smile. Babysitting was the perfect job, not only because she was good with children, but because it would take her mind off her grief, if only for awhile. "When will I start, Mrs. Hyuuga?"

"He'll be here in five days. But if you're not ready to work yet, I understand..."

"No, I'm ready," she said. Beggars like her couldn't be choosy, after all. "I'll be ready in five days."

-o-O-o-O-o-

"What do you mean you'll be working for the Hyuugas?"

Mikan winced at her best friend's deceptively calm tone. It was always bad when Hotaru sounded way too calm—it meant that she was about to explode, and that was never a good thing. "Exactly that. Don't worry, Hotaru-chan, it's only for a month."

"No," she said, her voice hard as steel. "No, baka. I forbid you to work for them. If you become their slave for a week, you'll be their slave for life."

"Isn't that exaggerating it a bit, Hotaru-chan?"

"Mikan." Hotaru's stern tone forced Mikan to look her in the eye. "You can stay here at my home, and I can put you through high school with the extra money I've earned. You don't have to work for them."

"That's really sweet of you, Hotaru-chan," Mikan said, smiling and taking her friend's hands. "But I don't want to impose—"

"You're not imposing. Don't hold my hand, and don't make me repeat what I just said."

"Sorry. It's instinct," Mikan said sheepishly, letting go. "And it's not only that I don't want to impose; I want to feel like I'm needed again. You know how long I've been taking care of my mother, right? Without her, I feel lost. Like I have to do something important, but I've forgotten what it is. I think... I think working as a babysitter can boost my sense of self-worth again. It'll prove a good distraction from my memories, too."

Hotaru was silent for a long time. Finally, she sighed. "So who are you babysitting? The older or younger Hyuuga?"

Mikan laughed. "Neither. It's their four-year-old cousin."

"Alright"—Mikan squealed, and Hotaru had to sidestep to avoid her friend's bearhug—"but if any of them tries to hurt you or take advantage of you, you are quitting that job at once. I don't want you to be there when I blow their house up."

Mikan didn't think Hotaru was joking. Screw that—Hotaru wasn't joking, period. "I don't think that's..."

"Promise me or I'll shoot you."

Mikan promised, but a few moments later she was on the ground, her forehead smarting from the bruise she got from Hotaru's baka gun. "Ow! But I promised already!"

"I was practicing my aim."

"It hurts, Hota—OW!"

"And that was for accepting the job."

"But I was des—OWWW!"

"And that was for accepting a job from the Hyuugas."

Mikan knew that her friend was only worried for her, but she wished that Hotaru was more gentle in showing it.

-o-O-o-O-o-

The boy she was to babysit was named Youichi Hijiri. She heard he was picky with his food and that he suffered from asthma, and should be kept away from pollution and dust and flowers so as not to trigger it. Whenever it was triggered, he had to use an inhaler and take medication to ease the inflammation of the airways in his lungs.

Although she had experience dealing with infants and toddlers because of her mother's occupation, she was unsure if she was qualified enough to handle a sick child. She had an inkling of training for first aid which her elementary teacher taught them, but she was out of practice. What if she wasn't able to save Youichi when he had an asthma attack? What if she had administered the wrong medication? What if he died because of her incompetence...?

She shook off the negative thoughts. She just had to make sure then that she'd be well-prepared for his coming.

"I see my mother hired you to take care of my cousin."

She glanced up from the guidelines Mrs. Hyuuga had given her. The younger of the Hyuuga brothers stood a meter from where she sat, smirking with arms crossed. "Yes. I'm eternally grateful to her for this job."

He smiled inwardly. By the end of Youichi's stay, he was almost certain she'd want to murder his mother for making her put up with the little devil.

"Good luck on that."

She beamed. "Thanks. What's he like?"

Natsume's smirk turned ominous. "He's an absolute angel."

Mikan sighed in relief. "Whew. I thought I'd be dealing with one of those spoiled rich kids."

She didn't know how right she was.

-o-O-o-O-o-

The loud wailing Mikan heard from the front door alerted her to the arrival of Youichi Hijiri. She immediately left her room downstairs and climbed up to the sitting room, where a little silver-haired boy clung to a beautiful woman dressed in an expensive-looking dress. A man she had never seen before was entertaining them.

"There, there," said the man, crouching before the boy with a bright smile. He had blonde hair and purple eyes, and was wearing a ridiculous tutu with leotards and a frilly top. "Come now, You-chan. Natsume-nii is studying, so he can't come see you, but Narumi-nii will take care of you!"

The little boy cried even harder. For a kid who had asthma, he sure had strong lungs. "I don't like you! Go away!"

"Youichi!" the woman chided gently, prying his little hands off them hem of her dress. "I'm sorry, Narumi. He's very disagreeable when he wakes up from his nap."

The man chuckled. "Not at all. He's very cute, actually."

The boy wailed even louder. "Ugly! You're ugly!"

Mikan raised a brow in surprise just as the woman scolded him again. Never in her life had she heard words like that from any four-year-old—even four-year-olds in the slums with abusive parents.

She was starting to think that Natsume had been fooling her.

"Youichi! Be a good boy!"

But Youichi still wouldn't stop crying, so Mikan thought it was time for her to step in. "Um, excuse me," she said timidly. The two adults turned to her with curious expressions, and she tried her best not to let her self-consciousness ruin her introduction. "My name is Sakura Mikan, and I will be Youichi's babysitter for the rest of his stay." She bowed. "I promise to take good care of him, Mrs. Hijiri."

The woman smiled at her. "Bless your heart, Mikan. I'm sorry you have to see him like this. He's normally a well-behaved boy, right, Youichi darling?"

Youichi sniffled again and glanced at Mikan. "Mama, she's ugly!"

Mikan's hands twitched. Was he only really four years old? How had he come to be so mean-spirited already? Now she was sure of it—Natsume had been lying to her. That jerk...

Instead of scolding him this time, Mrs. Hijiri knelt down before him, her voluminous skirt pooling about her, until she was eye-level with him. She then whispered a few words in his ear. Whatever she said must have incited some fear in Youichi, because he immediately quieted down and let go of her skirt.

She smiled brightly at Mikan and Narumi, satisfied at taming her son. "Well, it's time for me to go. Is Kaoru around?"

"She's working right now, Mrs. Hijiri," Narumi replied. "Mr. Hyuuga is out as well."

"That's a shame. Tell them I send my greetings." She then turned to her son again and smiled. "I have to go now, darling. Promise Mama you'll be a good boy."

"I promise to be a good boy," he parroted.

"Good." She planted a kiss on her forehead, and in that moment Mikan had to hold back her tears because she remembered herself when she was younger. She realized that her mother was no longer around to scold and kiss her like that again. "I leave him in your care. Goodbye!"

"Goodbye, Mrs. Hijiri," she said, bowing again, both to show respect and to hide the tears burning in her eyes. When she looked up, Mrs. Hijiri was being escorted by the strange man to the door, and Youichi's back was stubbornly turned to her.

Well, it was time to get to work.

"Hello, Youichi," she said, coming up to him with her warmest smile. "My name is Mikan. You can call me Mikan-nee, if you like."

He didn't even look at her. (The nerve of the brat.) "I don't like you."

"Oh? Why not?"

"You're a hag."

Mikan stared. "I'm a what?"

"Don't worry, he's always like that." The strange man approached them, smiling. "Since Natsume took this little cutie under his wing, he's been following all his footsteps."

"I'm not a cutie."

"Of course you are, You-chan," he said brightly. Then, turning to Mikan, he said, "Your name is Mikan, right?"

She nodded meekly in response.

"Call me Narumi. I'm Natsume's English tutor—oh! Speaking of, I forgot I left him in the middle of his poem recitation... Well, I have to run. Toodles, Mikan!"

Mikan gaped at him as he practically danced his way out the door. She couldn't seem to form an image of a guy like that in the same room as Natsume.

"Fag."

Right. She still had this little devil to tame. "Youichi, it's bad to say things like that..."

"But Natsume-nii says that."

Mikan suppressed an exasperated sigh, mentally noting that she should give that jerk a scolding later on what he's saying in front of little children. She placed her hands on Youichi's tiny shoulders and squatted so that she was eye-level with him, but he still averted his gaze from hers. "Well, Natsume's bad for saying things like that. You shouldn't follow him."

"And I won't follow you."

"Look, Youichi—ow!" Youichi had suddenly yanked her hair, and while she momentarily removed her hands from his shoulders to massage her scalp, he took the opportunity to run from her. Mikan was on her feet in a second. "Youichi! Come back here! Don't run too much; you might have an asthma attack...!"

He ran faster in response. "Don't follow me, hag!"

It was going to be a very long day.

-o-O-o-O-o-

Six hours later

"She walks in beauty like the night of cloudless climes and starry skies. And all that's best of dark and bright meet in her aspect and her eyes—"

"No, no! Natsume, it's all wrong! Your enunciation, emphasis, emotion, and cadence are all wrong!" Narumi sighed dramatically, putting a palm to his head in woe. "You do Lord Byron no justice. Here, let me show you how to read it." He cleared his throat.

"She walks in beauty, like the night

Of cloudless climes and starry skies;

And all that's best of dark and bright

Meet in her aspect and her eyes..."

After Narumi had recited the whole poem, he turned to Natsume and nodded. "Alright, try it again."

"But I hate this poem. Why can't we do Cummings's A Leaf Falls on Loneliness?"

"Because that poem has only one line, and because it's not meant to be read aloud. Now, Natsume, do it again. She walks in beauty..."

"I want a break."

"Not until you recite it perfectly."

Natsume glared at him. "I want a break. Besides, it's almost time for you to leave."

"It is?" Narumi glanced at his watch. "Oh, it is! Well, we'll just have to review this some other time. But I expect you to recite it perfectly by then."

"Whatever."

"I can fail you, Natsume."

He sneered. "No one cares if I fail because I can't read a poem like a drama queen."

"Well, I do."

"You don't count."

"I want that poem read 'like a drama queen', as you put it, when I return."

"I won't do it."

"Now that's the spirit!" Narumi grinned. "I'll see you in a few, my darling student. Goodbyeee!"

When he was finally gone, Natsume breathed a sigh of relief. "What a nutcase," he muttered. He could handle whatever article, screenplay, short story, novel, or essay that Narumi gave him, but he could never handle poems. Poems were sickening. Love poems even more so.

Natsume stood from his chair, stretched, and made his way downstairs, hoping to find some snacks—and maybe some beer—in the fridge downstairs to wash all that mush out of his system. But, when he reached the kitchen, something suddenly came hurtling at him; he had to hold on to the door frame to keep from falling over.

"What the—oh, Youichi. Hey, kid."

"Natsume-nii!" The little boy looked up at him with adoring eyes. "The witch won't leave me alone!"

His lips curved into an amused smirk. "Which witch?"

"Her!"

As if on cue, Mikan burst out of the living room, her cheeks puffed out and her mood murderous—or it could've been murderous if not for her appearance. She was covered in flour from head-to-toe, as if someone had exploded a sack of it right in front of her, and she had ketchup and chocolate smears all over her clothes and face.

He grinned at her.

"You shut up," she hissed.

"But I haven't said anything."

"Your face said it all. Now hand over the kid."

Youichi clutched Natsume's leg in fear. "Natsume-nii! Witch!"

"Right," Natsume gathered the boy up in his arms. "I'll take care of this."

Youichi stuck his tongue out at Mikan before burying his head into Natsume's shirt.

He was fast asleep in seconds.

"I'd never," Mikan muttered, crossing her arms with a huff. "Why did your mother hire me when you can do the babysitting?"

"She thinks of me as the back-up babysitter," he said with a lazy smirk. "In case of emergencies, you know."

"You're enjoying this, aren't you?"

"Very much, thank you. But I think I'd enjoy it more if you'd tell me how you got yourself in that state."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "You are such a jerk."

"I'm flattered."

"And why did you teach Youichi those words?"

He feigned innocence. "What words?"

"Ugh. Never mind. Why do I even bother..."

"Indeed." He drew closer to her, daring her to step away from him with his mocking smile, but she stood her ground and stubbornly held his gaze. "I think," he said, swiping his thumb at the leftover chocolate on her cheek and licking it clean, "you should be more bothered by your appearance now."

There was something sensual about his gesture that made her face heat up, but fortunately he didn't tease her for it because the flour camouflaged her blush. "I don't have to look good for you."

"You would at least like to look presentable for my mother," he drawled. "Who will, in fact, be home in... about five minutes."

"Five minutes?" she repeated, horrified.

"No. Four, actually."

She was sprinting down the hallway before he even finished his sentence, and he watched her, amused, as she tripped a few times on Youichi's toys on the way to the maid's quarters.

"Getting attached to some street rat, aren't we?"

The smile immediately left Natsume's face. "Shut up," he snarled.

"You know Father would never approve, little brother."

The retort Natsume would have countered with drowned in his throat when the full weight of his brother's words set in. Of course, he knew that his father would never approve of him even conversing with the likes of her, but it never bothered him because he never conversed with the likes of her, anyway. Until she came along, that is. He was even doubtful of his mother's approval, because even if she was open-minded, she'd want him to marry well.

Wait—marry? Did he just indirectly consider her as someone he'd want to marry?

No, it was impossible. He would never marry someone of her status. Besides, what he felt for her now was nothing more than amusement.

"You look shaken, little brother." Daisuke came out of the kitchen holding two bottles of beer in one hand. He was gulping a bottle down with the other. "Beer?"

"Isn't it too early to get drunk?" Natsume carefully put on a blank expression. "Even for you, brother."

Daisuke shrugged and made his way back upstairs. "It's never too early for a drink, unless you can't hold your alcohol well."

Natsume ignored the jab. He ignored his brother altogether, and tried his best to ignore the dull ache in his chest that started after his brother's earliest statements.


A/N: The poem I used here is entitled "She Walks in Beauty" by Lord Byron. Please leave a review. I accept constructive criticism. =)