(Chapter 11: A Bad Day)

Kira closed the door to her house slowly and leaned against it, giving a sigh that eventually ended in a groan as she sank onto the floor miserably. Char came prancing up to welcome his mistress, and immediately sensed that she has had a rough day. She looked up at the handsome husky, her eyes tired and her voice weary.

"I've had a terrible day, Char." She said weakly, trembling. On the rug, luxuriously basking in the warm sunshine, lay the creamy kitten, who lifted his head at the sound of her voice.

"The teachers were angry me for having lower grades from the last test because I missed classes taking care of Rukawa. My math teacher gave us about a million problems in math. Yumi complained that I was a "goody-goody." I went to watch Rukawa as he practiced with the basketball team, but he scolded me because he thinks I need to go home and rest. He is right, I am exhausted. But he needn't to be so mean about it. I just wanted to see and understand basketball more since he was so devoted." Every word that came from her lips quivered as she went on.

"I'm so tired, Char. How can I know that my brother cares for me when he doesn't even know of my existence? I want him to know and accept me so badly, but I'm too afraid of the shock. He might deny me, and I would really die if that happens."

Char seemed to understand that his mistress was in trouble, and listened to the sad little story with gurgles of interest, whines of condolence, and intelligent bark whenever the word "brother" was uttered. He was only an animal, but his affection comforted the girl more than any words, for Char had know and loved "brother" almost as long and well as his mistress, and that seemed to draw them closely together, now they were left alone.

"I need help, too, Char. And I've got you. But I need more than my own strength to keep me going. I need to feel that I have a family, too. And I do, but…if he doesn't know it, then…"

Poor Char could only whine and lick away the tears that wet the half-hidden face, questioning his loving mistress meantime with intelligent eyes so full of love and sympathy and sorrow that they seemed to be almost human.

"Most of the time, Rukawa is always ready to help, for half of the time it wasn't hardness or heart but ignorance or thoughtlessness on his part, but…but…"

A little sob escaped her throat as she buried herself deep into her knees and elbow. Char could only watch and nudge her anxiously, for he hated it when she cried. Before she found Rukawa, he remembered she did that a lot, and he hated it. He's had a happy life ever since she rescued him, starving and weak, trapped in the throne thickets in her backyard. He would never forget how she took care of him and loved him. He had always detected a wistful melancholy in the eyes of his mistress, and she cried sometimes. But the real sorrow began after the madame died, leaving him and Kira alone in the world. Since then, her journey to search for her long lost brother had never been pushed aside, and Char learned to love and want this "brother" as much as his little mistress did.

Kira wiped her cheeks with Char's help with his long red tongue, and gave him a tiny smile.

"I can't look like this when I go in for work today." She walked slowly into the kitchen. Mochi followed promptly behind. "They want me in early today, Char, so I've got to get dressed and get going soon." She said, languidly feeding Mochi who sat decorously beside her at the table winking at the cream pot.

Char barked, trying to brighten up her hope with his elated yaps. He ran in circles, then ran stupidly in circles chasing after his tail, for Kira always laughed when she saw the silly little show. And it worked, though his costed Char his dignity. Kira laughed.

And right now, that's all he wanted.

Several dark figures were walking toward her house just as Kira, with her new blouse on, walked away. Heaven had spared her life from that minute of difference. For if she had been in her house when they broke in, as sure as ever, she would not have lived. But life often offers cruel consequence as a result, because Mochi—the young, innocent, happy kitty—was not as fortunate as Kira, and gave up his life that night in place of Kira's spared one.

"Char?"

The drugged wolf swore he heard the sweet, lilting voice of his loving mistress. But the voice sounded far away and somehow, both his brain and his muscle refused to comprehend. What happened?

"Charmond, I'm home!" The lock on the door creaked as the key was turned from outside.

Remembering how blue poor Kira was this afternoon, Char couldn't bear letting his mistress down when she called for him. He struggled to get up from the kitchen floor, his muscles ached, but he pulled himself to his feet. Then all of a sudden, his brain cleared.

Intruders! The intruders had entered, only as soon as they heard him bark, they dropped a cloth soaked with something intoxicating and sweet in front of him. What happened after that? The dog shook his head and looked around.

Mochi! Oh, poor Mochi! What happened to him?! Char charged toward his friend, who lay lifeless across the floor in the a little pool of crimson. More of his scarlet life trickled from the slit on his throat. He nosed his friend, his sweet, dear little friend. But Mochi laid still, his ever-twitching whiskers still. Licking his friend, who was cold, Char reassured Mochi that he would never forget him, then turned around and barked wildly as Kira entered her ransacked house, his silver face covered with smears of blood.

Kira, flicking on the light, nearly passed out at the sight that bestowed upon her. A cry rose in her throat, strangled, and died on her lips. She sank to the floor for the second time that day, weak with fright and shock. For a moment, her brain threatened to black out, but her eyes refused to close and forget. Closing her eyes, she took deep breaths to remain steady.

Char charged up toward her, and she looked up, her eyes too full to receive any other surprise. Sadly, she looked above Char only to see the expired lump of creamy hair, some of it dyed a deep red, lying motionless in the kitchen. Then, looking down at Char, with blood around the muzzle that did him no justice, her weakness and tiredness and shock exploded into fiery fury. There was only one explanation to this mess. The overturned chairs and furniture, and plants that spilt across the floor, the trinkets and lamps that were knocked off the tables, and the other various messes, including poor little Mochi that had brought so much happiness into Rukawa's life.

Char did it.

Charmond finally gave in to his jealousy of the pleasant little creature and had killed. And during the chase, had caused this entire jumble.

The criminal—or victim, in this case—was jumping up and down in front of her right this minute, the evidence all over his muzzle. He was barking wildly and running in circles, as if mad or crazy.

Kira stood up, her hands and voice trembling with vehement rage. Without thinking, she drew her hand back and brought it down hard across the handsome dog, sending him flying backwards into the ground, yelping.

"You…you horrid, bad dog!!" Kira cried, the tears spilling across her cheeks. "You dreadful, vile creature!! How could you, you bad dog?!"

If anything would make Char's heart break, it would be hearing his mistress screaming the two terrible words at him—"bad dog." And that was what did it. He could have forgiven her for hitting him because the intelligent animal knew the girl's had a rough day. He could have overlooked the fact she thought he killed Mochi. He would have forgotten both behaviors and still welcome his mistress home by licking her face and whining his sympathy. But being a bad dog…

With one last, unforgiving, heart breaking, wounded look that Kira would never ever forget in her life, Char turned toward the open door and fled into the darkness of the night.

Rukawa Kaede paddled as fast as he could without running into anything in the dark. He was in a hurry to get home. Kira was not like herself at all that day, and those nearest to her saw and wondered at it most. Char knew the reason, but Rukawa didn't, and the young basketball player got very anxious, for she was so quiet, pale, and spiritless that he was stunned when he saw her show up at the basketball practice. His protectiveness and worry eventually rose up to anger that made him pull her aside and chide her crossly.

She should have known better. He thought in a paternal, angry way that people feel when someone they cared for was doing something harmful to themselves. He remembered their earlier conversation.

"What in the world are you doing here? Go home, you need to rest. Look at yourself!"

"I'm fine. I want to watch you play basketball." Her smile was small and her eyes were drained. Irritation roused up inside of Rukawa as he began to pace about the gym like a caged animal. He kept reminding himself that shouting at Kira isn't going to accomplish anything, but the urge was nearly overwhelming. He took a deep breath and commanded in a chillingly soft voice.

"Go. Before something happens." What he had meant was concerning about her fainting or getting ill again, but the ones who heard took it the wrong way, for it sounded like a threat, coming from the distant, cool basketball player.

The awful threat took Yumi's breath away. But Kira, and having a temper of her own, answered pertly, "I'm sure I haven't done anything so dreadful."

Realizing his mistake, Rukawa immediately lowered his voice. "Of course you haven't, but you look like hell. I don't want anything to happen to you."

As he spoke, he reached out and touched the silky tresses of the sulky girl, hoping to see some sign of forgiveness or regret, but Kira felt injured and wouldn't show anything.

"You don't care." He heard her say softly before turning around and running out of the gym.

"Silly girl." He said out loud. "How could I not care?" Parking his bike inside his garage, he jogged over to Kira's house. But to his surprise, when he reached up to knock, he noticed the door wasn't locked. In fact, it was hardly closed. Immediately, he realized something was wrong.

Pushing the door open without hesitation, he walked in and called her name in what he hoped was a calm voice. He vaguely wondered why Char wasn't here to welcome him. The house was as silent as a tomb.

"Kira!" He tried again. But still, there was no response. He took another step into the house and flicked on the light.

The house was a mess.

Instinctively, he closed the door, his mind alert that if someone had broken in, he might still be outside. Then, he proceeded to investigation the dilemma.

Rukawa was observing what he thought looked like a smear of blood on the floor when a queer little sob caught his attention. He straightened up, and headed for the living room.

He saw her limp figure collapsed in front of her baby grand and he felt a cold hand squeezing his heart. He hurried toward her, his intuitive told him to leave the light off. A hand was rested on the ivory keys of the piano, but her face, tears, and hair sprawled and mingled on the surface of the piano.

"Kira" He breathed, his voice no higher than a low whisper. "What happened? Are you alright." She lifted her head, and he saw that she had been crying for a long time.

"I hit Char." She stated simply. "And now he's run away." Another flood of tears threatened to spill over. Rukawa was surprised at her statement. Kira loved Char as much as life itself. Why in the world would she hit him? Stretching out a hand, he gently laid it against her shoulder.

"What happened?"

A sudden lull took place, for, though Kira did not raise her voice, it was full of indignant emotion.

"I left him at home when I went to work. But when I came home, the house was a mess and Mochi was… Char was jealous of Mochi and now he's finally killed him!" Kira said this all in one indignant breath, and then as if afraid of saying too much, ducked her head back into the polished piano with such a look of mingled contempt, grief, and anger that Rukawa stood dumb, trying to figure out what had happened.

Kira, when Mochi was found dead, had despised her dog and hit him, and now, she was ashamed and anxious for him to return, though she wasn't quiet ready to forgive. She was confused. She was angry and worried and while she cared about Char's welfare, she felt that he did not deserve anything.

Rukawa stared with impressive silence at the girl with the attitude of despair. She wasn't crying anymore, and lay so still that Rukawa began to think she might be in shock or had fainted, and bent anxiously down to inspect the pathetic bunch. A glimpse of wet eyelashes, cheeks redder than usual, and lips parted by quick breathing relieved his mind upon the point.

"I see." Was all he said, softly. He didn't protest, he didn't correct her, nor did he agree. He only walked away from her, his footsteps quiet. Kira could hear him stumble around the house, taking in everything, and when everything was all of a sudden silent, she knew that he had found poor Mochi.

He returned and in his hand, he cradled her dishtowel, with it covering something. He walked to her and sat down next to her. She looked away.

"You know, Kira." His voice was gentle, as if trying to break news slowly to her. "I don't think Char was to blame for what happened." She raised her head up mutely. "This isn't teeth marks. It's too clean for teeth marks."

Kira didn't understand. And she didn't hide her confusion. Rukawa lifted the towel, showing Mochi, and ignoring Kira's flinch, he pointed out what he had meant.

"This was done with something sharper and smoother than teeth. The tissue of his throat wasn't torn, it was slit."

He knew that she understood when he heard her sharp intake of breath, and the way she angled herself so that her back was facing him. He studied her. Instead of the usual proud, graceful posture, she was hunched over, ashamed and contrite.

"We should bury him." He finally heard her small, trembling voice. He nodded and went off in search for a box. He was digging in the immaculate hall closet when he heard the first note on the piano. He paused to listen, and he recognized the Moonlight Sonata. The very first piece she had played just for him. That wonderful night, bathed in the moonlight, when he first felt as if he had somebody in this world for him.

Tiptoeing, he leaned silently against the doorframe, listening to the beauty of her music. Their silvery notes sounded like crystals tinkering.

Kira was five measures through when she slammed her hands down on the piano, startling Rukawa. She banged and bang and banged.

"I'm despicable! Horrible! Wicked! Vile!" She cried, as she slammed the keys with her hands over and over again, crying out despicable names at herself. "I deserve to die! Char has done nothing but love and care for me, yet I…I am corrupted, hateful! I hate myself, I hate it, I hate it, I hate it!!!"

There was nothing Rukawa could do, but he couldn't stand watching her abuse herself. The next thing Kira knew, Rukawa crossed the room and had enveloped her into his body, her face buried deep into his shirt. And she could hear him murmur as he stroked her hair and shielded her eyes.

"Quiet." He commanded, pulling her closer. She sank against him and he wrapped his arms around her protectively, as if to fend off any unhappiness.

"I don't know anymore!" She finally sobbed, looking very pale and excited as she ached for someone to care for her. Someone other than her dog. "I don't know what I'm doing. I don't know who I could love or who I could trust. No one loves me! And no one cares anymore. I could die and no one would notice. I'm a terrible person. I can't tell the person I love how I feel about him and I don't even know if my own brother loves me!" Rukawa pulled her roughly into his embrace, silencing her.

"It doesn't matter." His voice was husky as he hugged her tightly, holding her face against his chest and gently brushing the hair away from her face. Kira could feel Rukawa's steady, rapid breathing on her cheek. He held her so close, she could hear the quick beatings of his heart.

"I love you." She heard him say softly. "That's all it matters. You have me. Let me love you in place of your brother. I love you, Kira. I love you. Let me love you."

They were both silent. Sobs gradually slowed as she relaxed against him. He rocked her back and forth. Soon, she grew so exhausted that she needed his support, but was reluctant to pull away from the comfort of his arms.

She must have grown unconscious of her surroundings, because, the next thing Kira knew, she was in her bed. However, instead of feeling better, at the sight of the empty spot at the end of her bed, where Char always occupied, soft pearl-like drops threatened to fall once again. Rukawa noticed the danger of a girl's tears and tried to put a stop to it as quickly as possible.

"Kira," He begged, dropping to his knees beside her bed, holding her with both arms. "Don't cry. Please don't cry." His feathery fingertips brushing away the tears as fast as they're coming down.

"Just let me cry, Rukawa. It's what I need." The little sobs felt like knives against his heart as Kira ducked under her blankets. He could see her heaving body shaking underneath the comforter. "I needed to cry all today, just let me cry now. And I'll be better afterwards."

"Char will come back. He's a smart dog." He said at last, rising to his feet and walking to the door.

"He was my only friend since my caretaker died. He's been with me through good and bad. He was with me when I stood alone in my old school because I didn't have any parents. He was by my side when adults looked down upon me because they think I couldn't make it on my own. He loved me, cared for me, believed in me. If anything happens to him, I'll never forgive myself!"

That simple little history had made a deep impression on Rukawa Kaede, and the tearful ending touched the tender spot that most boys hide so carefully. It was very pleasant to be loved and admired, very sweet to think we shall be missed and mourned when we die. And Rukawa was seized with a sudden desire to imitate this animal, who hadn't done anything wonderful yet was so dear to his mistress that she cried for him, and at her case now, would probably die for him if necessary.

"I want Char, Rukawa. I just want my dog." Her sobs had grown quivery and she had almost whispered the words, as if she didn't want him to hear.

No one could grant that wish, but Rukawa did comfort her, for presently after he left her room, the sound of music floated out from the living room, music so soft, so sweet, that involuntarily the girl stopped her crying to listen. Rukawa loved classical music, but couldn't play a note himself. But now, he did, for her. And though it was slow, faulty, and very awkward, it was sweeter than honey to a hungry man, as Kira was right now.

Her sobs softened, her shoulders grew still, and she cried slow, silent tears. The quieter tears dropped slowly, seeming to soothe her pain as they fell, while the sense of loneliness passed away. The unspoken sympathy won Kira's heart completely, for the sympathy and care showed itself just at the right minutes, in a look, a touch, a smile, more helpful than any amounts of condolence.

Dropping back into her pillow, Kira pulled the sheet over her head, and cried herself to sleep.

Rukawa listened until he was sure Kira was asleep, then he stood up from the piano bench and stretched. He had helped mend her heart a little, he supposed. But he, being a male and the more brash of the two genders, was sure he needed to seek professional help.

He drummed his fingers on the sleek top of the piano. But who? Who could help Kira at her time of need? Who has what he doesn't?

A name popped up into his head and he sighed, wondering if heaven has something against him. But she was his only choice. So Rukawa picked up his jacket, closed the door securely behind him, and headed for Yumi's house.

Unfortunately, Yumi was in deep water herself. For just that morning, she has had a breakup with her boyfriend. And when Rukawa rang her doorbell, he was faced with a puffy-eyes, red faced, thoroughly frightening, girl.

"R-Rukawa?" She sniffled loudly as she turned away from him, blowing her nose into a tissue. "What are you doing here?" Her voice was thick.

"I-I…" The basketball player could only stammer. Seeing the usual cheerful redhead crying here, and thinking about the other girl crying herself to sleep at home, was more than Rukawa could take.

"I-I…need your help…Kira—are you okay?" He finally gave in and asked. Yumi's face was as red as her hair. She turned until her back was facing him.

"No." Her voice broke. "I don't think I'd be much help now, Rukawa. I'm sorry."

"Yes, of course." He replied hastily. "Is there anything I could do?" He felt like kicking himself. One girl crying, he knew what to do—look for another girl. What happens when both girls are crying? Who does he go from there?

"No. I'll be fine. I'm sorry I can't help." Then the door was shut in his face lightly and he heard Yumi dissolve into another flood of fresh tears from the other side of the door. Debating between staying to make sure Yumi was all right, or to go home and making sure Kira was okay, Rukawa felt like he was being dragged into both directions by two invisible hands.

"Kira's crying at home." He muttered to himself outside the door. "Yumi's here with a broken heart. Agh!" He added. With a deep sigh, the basketball player uttered two words with such desperation that it would have brought smiles to anyone who heard him.

"Ah, hell."

Yumi, still on the other side of the door, couldn't help but smile to herself through her tears, for Rukawa did seem to be in a predicament between two weeping damsels.