Um… yeah

Something weird I've noticed is that besides White Alchemist Taya (whom I love) and Amara Corbin (whom I ADORE, but my adoration is slowly fading every day she DOESN'T UPDATTTEE! HINT FRICKIN HINT), no one really reviews more than once. On every chapter I have like… a new group of people. I think that's really cool, and kinda weird. :)

Um… Raikune: OMG ME TOO!

Mangoslushee: Probably… I haven't figured it out yet, but definitely a probability. I'm thinking out two alternate endings right now. But you don't get to pick it because I'M THE AUTHOR! MWAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

Okay, now that that's done…

Disclaimer: Yup. Still don't own 'em. Damn it.

There's Beauty in the Breakdown

Mahiru skipped home. Home. She reveled in the word, knowing her home was a gigantic house, in which she had her own room and bathroom. And she was on… considerably good terms… with the Head of the Sohma household. Or at least she thought she was, after last night. She decided to go in her shoji doors, just because she could. Just go in through her personal entrance. She loved it. She turned off the main path to a path she figured would take her to her room… eventually.

She pulled her coat around her, the cold early spring breeze cutting through her uniform shirt. She hurried, her bag bouncing against her leg.

"Oh… shit." She breathed. Akito was sitting right in front of her, leaning against the decorated doors she knew to be his. His eyes were closed, and he looked to be sleeping. She contemplated stepping over him, but cast that idea aside. Maybe she should wake him up… or at least go a different way and find Hatori. The cold wind ripped through her again, and she tried to step over him, looking back once she was clear. He still looked unconscious. She sighed and turned to continue down the path.

"I expect you in my room in an hour."

Man. "Um…" Mahiru wasn't sure how to respond to that. She really wasn't ordered to do anything except when she was a waitress, and then she had just said 'Yes sir', smiled and nodded.

"Go away." That seemed to be becoming a mantra for him.

"Alright…" she kept walking, contemplating his change in moods since the night before. He hadn't exactly been friendly on the stairs, but she was starting to get the feeling that might have just been because he couldn't walk away. She was slightly disconcerted to see that her room was right next to his, sharing a wall, although some bushes separated their outdoor space.

Akito waited until she was in her room with the doors closed to call for Hatori to help him inside.

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Mahiru stood by Akito's doors, unsure if she actually wanted to go in. Then again, she really didn't have much of a choice…

She poked her head into his room and saw him lying in his bed, propped up by pillows, his eyes closed. 'Maybe he's sleeping…'

"Come in."

Ah… shit.

She tiptoed into the room, coming to stand at his bedside, wringing her hands. "Hello…"

He opened his eyes and smirked at her. "Well?"

"Well what?" Mahiru could tell he expected something from her.

"Dance."

'Okay, this is just out of some lame black and white movie where they said that right before they shot at your feet so you jumped around like a moron.' Mahiru could see both of his hands, so she guessed he wasn't secretly clutching a gun. "Excuse me?"

"Dance." That awful word again, and although he said it softly, it grated on her ears as though he had screamed it. "You said you were a dancer. I want you to dance for me."

"But…" she dropped her head, and squeezed images out of her mind, images of the day she had forced herself only to remember as 'The Day I Met Haru', not 'The Day I Ruined My Life', or 'The Day I Lost My Dreams.' "But…"

"But… but…" Akito mimicked her cruelly. Here was the girl who had made Hatori lie to him. "Do it."

"I haven't danced since… in a while." She finished lamely, still staring at the floor and keeping her mind carefully blank.

"I never said you had to be very good, I just told you to dance." He lifted himself onto his elbows, eyes flashing dangerously "You are living in my house, off of my charity. And you will do as I say. Now." He sank back onto the pillows, laughing "Besides, I doubt you were ever any good."

His words stung her more than he had probably intended to. Nevertheless, she walked to the center of his room, took off her sneakers, and assumed a starting position. She began to move mechanically, unaware of what she was doing, trying to keep a blank mind. After a while she realized that she was performing a dance from Coppélia, the story of two lovers, Swanilda and Franz. She found herself performing as Swanilda, dancing in a solo at the very beginning of the show before she finds out her fiancé has fallen in love with another, who turns out to be a life-sized doll. She was surprised at how well her body remembered the movements, how she was able to still kick just as high as if she had been practicing less than an hour ago. Even the carpet and her socks did nothing to deter her movements as she became Swanilda, a woman set to marry her love the following day, everything perfect.

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She was beautiful. Akito didn't know any other way to put it. Even in a t-shirt and in sweatpants, her socks brushing against the carpet, her movements were flawless, flowing, skipping around his room. When she finally came to a stop, he looked at her for a long time, his awe slowly turning to anger. Who was she to be able to do that? Spin and jump, running as though it took no effort. Even now she looked barely winded. His anger grew as he thought about it more. He could barely stand at the moment, and there she was, pirouetting? In what way was that right? He was GOD. She was NOTHING.

"Get out."

His voice punctured the silence. She stood, still in her ending position, her mind empty. At his words, her head snapped up, and she looked at him. He was still in his bed, but now he looked pale. Pale and furious.

"I…I'm sorry." What had she done wrong? He had told her to dance.

"Get OUT!" Akito sat up, his hands curling into fists, his rage evident on his face. Mahiru ran.

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Back in her room she went to her closet, opening it and bringing her black back off the top shelf and over to her bed. She carefully took out the picture in its tarnished flame, she woman and toddler girl still ecstatic, the man still despondent, and the baby boy still sleeping. She traced it slowly with her thumb, and then put it on her night table. She continued unpacking the bag, carefully shaking out her dancing costumes and delicately spread them out. She took out her point shoes and unwrapped them from their scented tissue paper.

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Hatori went into the God's room, ready for the checkup. And anything Akito might say about Mahiru. He had spent the last two hours thinking up things he could say if he brought up the lie again, and had about 30 different come-backs, and 15 tactful different ways of changing the subject. If worse came to worse, he figured he could always knock the God out with some drug or another. He could justify the drug use by the paleness of the God's face by the shoji doors earlier…

He knocked softly and entered, not waiting for a reply. Akito was sprawled out on his bed, his yukata only covering half of his upper body. He was staring at the ceiling, looking almost sad. Hatori stood awkwardly by the door, unsure of what to do. He felt he was intruding on something private, something the God wanted to keep to himself. He coughed quietly, then louder until Akito heard him.

Akito turned his head to face Hatori, his eyes still infinitely sad. "Yes?"

"Um… It's time for your checkup." Hatori was always thrown off by Akito's quick mood swings. He walked over to the God, who allowed him to take his pulse, blood pressure, heartbeat, and breathing rhythm without comment or a fight. Hatori began setting out the pills that Akito had to take for the day, and filled two syringes. Only the normal treatment today. He had thought that after being outside, Akito would have needed some extra attention. Hatori gave Akito the shots quickly, skilled after so many years of giving the God at least two a day. "Are you feeling any abnormal pain? Nausea? Sudden migraines?"

"No."

Hatori wasn't sure what to do. The God was always either bitingly insulting, accusing, or too ill to be either. "Well, I'm glad to be of service, Akito-sama." He bowed and turned to leave.

"Hatori?" He turned back.

"Yes Akito-sama?"

"Why…?" Oh. Hence the sad expression.

"I don't know, Akito-sama." Hatori replied softly, looking down at the weak young man lying still on his bed "I honestly don't know." With that Hatori walked around the bed and settled himself into the armchair positioned there, and there he stayed until Akito fell asleep.

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I was going to post this combined with another part, but then that made it almost twelve pages long, so I didn't.

ILU, and pleaseeee review now!

Because you love me too :)