Good morning! And yes, afternoon on a national holiday is morning.

Amara Corbin: Hugs back :)

Little oro: Hi. Nice to meet you. I like to read the profiles and stuff of my reviewers, just making sure that it's not like "Hi, my name is Dr. Lecter, and if I'm reviewing your story that means I want to eat your liver with some fava beans and a nice Chianti." (Silence of the Lambs if you didn't get that, sorry) So yeah. Anyway, I took a look at your myspace, and at your music interests, and I have to say, you have great ones! I'm sorry if this is a little weird, but I want to recommend some of my friends for you to listen to, they seem like something you would like. Anyway, check out Gone Baby Gone and Asinity. They both have myspaces, just Also check out And Then I Turned Seven, but they might be a little Indie for you.

Sorry, I know, I take every possible opportunity to talk about music…

NoCareChakara: 0.o Please don't…

There's Beauty in the Breakdown

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Akito couldn't sleep, and he didn't know why.

Okay, he knew why, but it wasn't a reason he liked.

The girl had gotten to him.

That annoying bitch. She didn't know what it was like to be him. She had been working since she was twelve… SO WHAT! He had been struggling for his next breath since before he could remember. Was it his fault he'd never been far from the Main Estate? No. It was the fault of those damn doctors, trying to keep him alive. He was trapped inside a shell. A horrifying, frail, twisted, weak shell. A shell that would never be able to support him. And she had the nerve to tell him how hard she had it!

Bitch.

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Mahiru was in her room, spread out on her bed, her eyes not focusing on the words of her textbook, listening to the sounds Momiji-kun made as he rummaged through her room. She heard him open the door to her closet thumb through her clothes. It made Mahiru so happy to hear people going through her clothes. She actually had a lot of clothes. And they all fit. And they were all her first choice. Not all were new, however. She, Kagura, and Ritsu had gone down to a 'thrift mall' one weekend and she gotten loads of things. Every time she spent money, she felt vaguely guilty, thinking about her dependence on the Sohmas, and how technically, she should be paying them, not the other way around.

A loud clunk and some whimpering brought her back to the present. She threw down her textbook and went and crouched by the Rabbit, who was lying dazed on the floor.

"Momiji-kun, what did you do?"

"The bag hit me." He sat up and pointed to a heavy black bag that was now resting at the bottom of the closet, instead of the top where she had stuffed it when she moved in. He bounded up and proceeded to try to unzip it.

"Momiji, don't!" She lunged at him and pulled the bag away protectively, hugging it to her chest.

"What's in it?" Momiji looked thoroughly confused, and slightly hurt.

"It's just… bad memories." Mahiru looked at the bag mournfully. "I almost forgot this existed. But it always stuck in the back of my head." It was dusty, and she rubbed it with her hand "The stuff in this bag used to be my life. The thing I loved and the thing I was going to do for the rest of my life."

"…a bag? You were going to be a bag lady?"

"No. I keep my dreams in here. Well, my old dreams."

"You never truly lose sight of an important dream unless you achieve it." Momiji-kun looked at her seriously.

"You know, that was really wise." Mahiru looked with new respect at her little bunny friend. Or at least, she did until he started going through her underwear drawer and came out with a bra on his head.

"Give me that!"

Her voice and Momiji's laughter echoed through the house.

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Akito was very thirsty. It was late, and Hatori had gone to go get some sleep. They deemed him well enough to not have a nurse by his bedside 24/7, for which he was grateful, but he had no way of getting a drink. He sighed heavily and leaned back further into the pillows, his mouth completely dry. He had been stuck in the bed long enough. He grasped the needle dispensing Morphine into his body and pulled it out, letting it swing, dripping, from the metal pole that the bag of liquid was attached to. He swung his legs around to the side of the bed and sat like that until his world had adjusted itself to being right-side-up. Keeping the side of the bed in a death-grip, he slid his feet onto the ground, and then lifted himself up, using both his arms and legs, and all of his strength. Once again he waited for his vision to clear, and then he slowly let go of the bed, and then gradually straightened a little bit, until he was only slightly hunched over, concentrating on keeping his balance and wrapping his robe tightly around him. He placed one hand back on the bed to steady himself while he turned towards the door, then he took a step and clutched the IV pole for support. Another step. The IV pole came with him. Another one, and he let go of the pole in favor of the chair. Resting there for a moment, felt his eyesight swimming and closed his eyes, waiting for it to pass. Finally he opened his eyes and was able to step away from the chair and grab at the open door. When he grabbed it, however, it swung, knocking him off his feet and onto his knees, one hand still on the doorknob. He waited there, breathing heavily and hissing from the bruises he knew were blooming darkly on his watery knees. After a moment he pulled himself up again on the doorknob and doorframe, leaning heavily on them for a while before stepping out into the hallway and holding tightly to the wall. He was vaguely aware of where the room he had been staying in was in the house. It was the room where they actually stored all the machinery. In his rooms, there was only a closet full of Oxygen tanks and every-day drugs. He continued along the wall, slowly, but a few feet later he was out of breath. He rested for a few minutes, and then continued down the hall. His lack of air, doubled with his intense thirst, was bringing on an acute coughing fit. He fought it as he limped at a snail's pace down the hall, hanging onto the wall for dear life, only coughing once or twice, gasping for air. Finally, triumphant, he reached the end of the hallway.

Ah…

He had forgotten about the stairs…

Short chapter, sorry…. It's catching up to me. I had this fic written up to about 6 pages beyond this part when I started, and I didn't write as frequently or as fast as I did when I first started, so yeah, I better get working on that. I am, I swear. I decided that Ren will make an appearance at some point! Yay! Anyway, you'll find out a little bit more about Mahiru's past in the next chapter. Till then, shalom!