A/N: An AU fiction. Quite a bit of OOC, especially on the part of Tsukushi.
Disclaimer to apply for the entire story: I don't own Hana Yori Dango, though I wish I did.

Catalyst

By pure2ND

Chapter One: Rain Paintings

She awoke with a start. Careful to keep her eyes closed tightly, she pulled back the covers and carefully but quickly slid her feet into the slippers sitting neatly by the edge of the bed. She swept the space around her with her hands instinctively, even though she had done this many times before.

Sliding her fingertips across the furniture she had arranged into a hallway, she walked purposefully forward. She counted quietly under her breath – fifteen, sixteen, seventeen. Halting directly in front of an easel, she touched the fresh canvas on it for a second and smiled. Pulling a paintbrush from the glass jar on the nearby table, she reached for the palette of oil paints she kept beside the jar.

Without hesitation, she dipped the brush into one color, then the next, sweeping it onto the canvas in broad strokes. She spun the palette skillfully around her thumb, pausing slightly every so often. She didn't bother to rinse the bristles off as if she knew that it didn't matter how the colors mixed. It would be right.

Suddenly she stopped. Her brow furrowed and she tapped the brush against her chin thoughtfully. It sampled one last color and slid across the canvas in a final arc. She placed the palette carefully back on the table and dropped the paintbrush into a waiting cup of water. Tiredly, she pulled a few strands of hair back from her face and slumped back into bed. She sighed, snuggling into the fading warmth her body had left before. Finally, she relaxed her eyelids and saw no more.

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Jesus, what a horrible day, he grumbled to himself. He kicked at the leaves scattered on the sidewalk and cursed his Ferrari's engine for breaking down. Of course, in retrospect, some of it, just a tiny bit, might actually have been his fault. If he hadn't been yelling at his incompetent butler on his cell phone, he might not have accidentally put that disgusting, cheap gas into his car. And perhaps, considering he knew he didn't have the proper fuel for his car, he shouldn't have been street racing. But the butler really was incompetent and that bastard issued the challenge first and he just couldn't back down, especially since the guy was only driving a pathetic Audi.

Looking up from his assault on the fallen leaves, he scowled at the darkening sky. He touched his hair gently, wondering how long the mousse and spray would hold up under rain and when the clouds would finally burst.

And suddenly, they did. Exploding in a crackle of thunder, drops pummeled the arms sheltering his head. He swore, remembering his watch wasn't waterproof and quickly lowered his arms. He swore again, this time remembering his fragile, finely sculpted hairstyle. Swiftly, he slid the watch off his wrist, raised his arms again, and sprinted for the nearest bit of shelter. His leaps across great puddles would have made any Olympic hurdler proud. Panting heavily, he ducked under an overhanging roof and rested his hands on his knees. When he finally regained his breath, he straightened and looked around him.

A girl sat nearby, leaning against the brick wall and staring out at the sheets of rain that collapsed everywhere. She was dressed in a baggy long-sleeved shirt and jeans with a rip in the knee. Her hair was gathered into a neat ponytail and tied with a bit of string. Her knees were tucked close to her body and she gripped a plain, brown paper package, balancing it on her sneakers and pressing it to her shins.

He wrinkled his nose in disgust and inched a little farther away from her. She swiveled slightly at the sound of his shirt scratching across the brick and glanced up at him. A grin blossomed on her face, then quickly disappeared again. She turned back to continue watching the rain.

It's like she knows something about me and it's insanely funny to her, he thought grumpily. Glancing at her again, he noticed the girl's hair and clothes were clean, despite their ragged appearance. Her sneakers too looked like had been scrubbed well. Underneath that mass of black hair, he could see her face was rather pretty too. Leaning closer to her, he noticed a thin bracelet on her left wrist. It looked to have been made of masking tape, and there was something written on it.

Without realizing it, he had been steadily moving closer to the girl. He was, in fact, nearly upon her in his curiosity to read what was lettered upon the tape bracelet. She looked up to see him staring at her wrist and quickly pulled her sleeve to cover it. He blinked, startled, and his cheeks flushed. She laughed quietly and patted the area of cement next to her. He frowned, suspicion evident in his expression. The girl smiled, but it was tinged with sadness. "It's okay. I just want to show you something."

Slowly, he sat down next to her. "What? What is it?" She slid her package into his lap. He looked at her, confused. "What's this?"

"Open it."

Slowly, he unfolded the brown paper. It crackled as he held it out to her. She took it and folded it into a square that she tucked into her jean pocket. Nodding at him, she motioned for him to look at what had been inside the paper. It was a wooden frame and something had been stretched across the back of it. White fabric, it seemed. "Am I supposed to be amazed?" He asked sarcastically.

She laughed again, high and ringing. "Flip it over."

He did so, and understood. It was a painting. Quite ugly actually, he thought. Too many random splotches of color and right in the middle, a bold streak of red crossed it diagonally. And yet…he couldn't help stroking the ridges formed by the paint. Running his hands across the canvas, he returned again and again to that red slash. Finally, he remembered the girl and looked at her. "How much?"

"How much do you have with you?"

"I can give you anything for this. I have a bunch of credit cards – if you take those."

She shook her head and smiled. "Cash is better."

"Of course," He slid his wallet out of his pocket and flipped through the bills, counting. "I have a lot here. How much do you want?"

She smiled and reached for the wallet. He hesitated a bit, then handed it over. She looked through it, then said, "Close your eyes and count to ten. When you're done, I'll have taken what I want and you'll have your painting."

"What! My credit cards, my IDs, everything I need is in –"

She placed her fingertips gently on his lips, effectively hushing him. "Trust me."

Sighing, he closed his eyes and began to count. "One…two…" When he was done, he immediately opened his eyes and looked around him. The girl had vanished through the pouring rain without so much as a goodbye, a thank you, or a splash in one the numerous puddles that dotted the sidewalk. His wallet rested on top of the painting in his lap. He pulled the sides apart and looked inside. Everything seemed to be in place. Opening the section where he kept his cash, he frowned. There was still money in there. He slid the stack of bills into his hand and began to count. It was all still there.

A/N: I know, I know, it's confusing and unclear and whatnot, but bear with me please. It should work out.
Also, I'm a student, so updates probably won't be too frequent, but I'll try to work on it whenever I have time.
Oh, and I had another account on too, on which I also wrote HYD ff. I abandoned it a long time ago though.
Guess who?