Author's Note: Ok, just as an update, it's 11 o'clock, and I have to choose between another chapter of this and my biology homework. A cookie to whomever can guess where my priorities lie :P

Toni! MUAHAHAHA! I converted you! Well, ok, I didn't convert you the way I was planning, but I still did a pretty good job of screwing up your vision of Ichigo and Masaya. I can't really be blamed for your Ichigo-hate… I wasn't planning on that . Heh, I always do the most damage when I don't mean to :P

Sheebs… meh, I dun feel like converting you. Nothing wrong with some lovely Ryou/Ichigo. Ryou's not an idiot. And he looks like he should be on Yu-Gi-Oh! Mucho amor to the lean guys in leather. Goodness knows they have a giant place in our hormone-driven hearts. Of course, if later LettucexRyou and some episode 51 goodness does some damage, well, I can't be blamed, now can I?

Mestophiles: Am I? I always worry about that (it's why I never write fanfiction). Thanks for the encouragement .

luv4anime: Yes, much hate for Masaya. Mucho, mucho, mucho hate for Masaya. One day… he will meet his demise… eh, well, not really. But we can pretend he will .

Thanks for the reviews, and on to the next chapter.

Disclaimer: I don't own Tokyo Mew Mew. The proof of that is that Ichigo went with Masaya. If I owned TMM, we'd have been spared from that catastrophe.

Ichigo awoke to a dull grey morning, clouds still full of un-fallen snow cloaking the sky. Yawning, she briefly wondered why she was on the floor instead of in her bed. Memory came back quickly, however, and she was careful to stand quietly in case Kisshu was still asleep. A quick glance proved he was.

Curiosity won over courtesy as Ichigo silently leaned over the sleeping alien, suddenly quite aware of the fact that Kisshu was sleeping in her room. In all the stress of the night before, that simple truth hadn't really settled itself, but after a good sleep, she was rather intrigued, if not slightly bashful, by the whole situation.

He's cute, she decided, allowing herself a tiny smile at his curled-up form. Even though he still looked rather pale and somewhat unwell, he was sleeping soundly, and while relaxed, he looked less intimidating, less cunning than when awake and taunting her. A strand of hair had gotten loose from the bands he used and was gently blowing with every breath. Ichigo's smile grew as she reached out to brush that little stray…

This isn't Aoyama-kun!

Mortified, Ichigo drew back, her gaze turning embarrassed and wary. This isn't Aoyama-kun. It's not, so what are you doing! What did she think she meant by touching him while he was sleeping? And so tenderly, too?

He's just here because he's hurt, that's all. As soon as he's better, he'll go, and this will all be over. We can go back to normal, to the way things were. And he's not that cute, not at all, not like Aoyama-kun…

Did she want to go back to the way things had been? Could she? Could she forget the desperation in his voice, the apparent faith he had in her, so much faith, that he had relied on her to save his life? That he was still relying on her to help him? Was it possible to simply ignore last night?

And he is cute, you know.

Totally bewildered, the girl decided to make breakfast before Kisshu had the chance to awaken and confuse her more. She exited quietly, taking care to descend the stairs with as little noise as possible. Finally reaching the kitchen, she found herself faced with a new dilemma. What exactly did aliens eat?

Lemme see… they're from this planet, right? Then they should be able to eat what we eat…hopefully…

The thought kept her mind busy enough to steer it away from the uncertainty of the future, and she busied herself with searching through the cupboards and refrigerator for something that she could cook without killing herself or her charge. She relaxed when she found her mother's store of ramen, figuring what was good for a sick human would probably work for an injured alien and saying a silent thank you to the inventors of this amazing, all-purpose dish before putting a pot of water on the stove. Within minutes, the soup and noodles reached a steady boil, and Ichigo breathed a sigh of relief (cooking was not one of her strong points, and a disaster avoided ranked as miracle-status in her mind).

Ichigo poured a bowl of the soup and set it down on the table. It occurred to her that perhaps she'd better get dressed while the alien was still asleep, just to avoid any of the awkwardness that Kisshu had a penchant for creating. As soon as that thought was processed, she realized that to do that, she should have taken her clothes with her when she had left the room. Grumbling at this silly inconvenience, she carried the bowl of soup upstairs, pushing open her door with the hope that the boy was still asleep. Luck seemed to be with her today as she saw the rhythmic rising and falling of the mountain of blankets covering her charge.

Setting the bowl on her desk, she quickly retrieved some clothes from her dresser, carefully silent all the while, and, with a last glance at Kisshu's sleeping form, slipped out of her room and into the bathroom.

She went through the daily ritual of washing up, ending with a short shower before getting dressed. Toweling her hair dry as she pushed open the door to her room, she froze in mid hair-tussle, mouth falling open in a shock. Her cheeks blazed an angry scarlet.

Her bed was conspicuously empty, and the space in front of her dresser was occupied by Kisshu, rather engrossed in the contents of her dresser drawers, and when she thought dresser drawers, she meant that all-important drawer holding what males dreamed of but females guarded with all their feminine ferocity: the underwear drawer. It was said drawer that Kisshu was staring rather intently into, and it was because of this questionable intent in his gaze that Ichigo gave a screech that made the alien jump.

"Kisshu! Get away from there!"

Even though she couldn't see herself, she knew she must have looked completely vicious; the look of sheer astonishment on Kisshu's face was almost worth catching him where she did. He backed away as the girl stalked to the drawer, slamming it shut and whirling around to face him. By now, the shock had worn off a bit, and a look of amusement had taken up residence in his features. He smiled back at the irate Ichigo, innocence a sugary coating over the slyness in his voice.

"I was just looking for a shirt, Ichigo."

The worst part of that simple sentence was that Kisshu indeed had no shirt, and no matter how guilty he looked, no matter how guilty Ichigo knew he was, there would be no arguing with him and his triumphant smirk. The girl accepted this with gritted teeth, swiftly pulling a long black night-shirt out of her drawer and tossing it at him. A second later, she pulled out the matching pants and threw those, too.

"Change into those." Sleeping in those odd shorts of his probably wasn't too comfortable, anyway, especially since they, too, had a few small bloodstains on them. She paused, waiting for a few moments before letting out an exasperated "Well?"

"I didn't know you wanted to watch, koneko-chan, but if you insist…"

The girl whipped around with an infuriated growl, tapping her foot with childish impatience as Kisshu seemed to take his time changing. She was about to snarl an annoyed "Are you done yet?" when Kisshu announced that he was finished. She turned around slowly (lest he be lying), and was relieved to see the alien boy fully clothed, albeit still smirking. Struggling to retain her composure, Ichigo sighed before looking him up and down, satisfied.

As she did, she suddenly realized that the pallor of his skin had not diminished. It may have been the black shirt contrasting with his complexion, but she found herself harshly reminded of his injury. The neckline of the shirt itself was a little wide, and she could see some of he bandages; his breathing seemed to be a little more labored than it had been a moment ago…

"You shouldn't be standing! Get back into bed." The command probably sounded a bit stricter than she meant it to; the combined forces of her embarrassment and bemusing concern added a touch of harshness to her voice. The effect on Kisshu was rather strange; he seemed to wilt slightly under the annoyed tone, yet the worry running underneath its surface inspired a spark of pleased surprise. He also appeared to realize that she was right, wincing as he gingerly lowered himself back down onto the bed.

Ichigo could feel his eyes following her as she moved to her desk, picking up the bowl of ramen and sliding her chair next to the bed. Trying to ignore the picturesque scene taking shape, she placed the bowl in her lap before looking up at him, finding it oddly difficult to speak clearly now that her anger had dissolved, leaving only those disconcerting emotions running dangerously close to the surface.

"Ano… this is soup… ramen… can you…"

She was surprised when Kisshu interrupted, apparently rescuing her from her discomfort.

"I can eat it."

Wonderful… problem solved! The next moment, she cursed herself for speaking too soon. After placing the bowl in Kisshu's lap, they both learned that the boy couldn't hold the chopsticks; the injury had somehow ruined some function in his hand. First, Kisshu winced at the pain this movement apparently caused him, a frustrated snarl twisting his face, until the realization of Ichigo's next duty dawned on him. A satisfied smile took his face as the snarl seemed to migrate to Ichigo's features. He looked ready to deliver one of his quips, but a glare from the girl silenced him.

"Don't you dare."

Kisshu grinned, opening his mouth slightly as Ichigo, hand kept barely steady in her aggravation, fed him the first of the ramen noodles. Little by little, the noodles disappeared until only the warm soup was left. Ichigo lifted the bowl to his lips carefully, all her self-control focused on resisting the temptation to pour the stuff into his lap, until he drank it all. He sat licking his lips while she placed the bowl back on the desk, cheeks hot in her girlish mortification.

He's not Aoyama-kun, he's not him, he's not as cute, or as nice, or as wonderful. He's just here because they've abandoned him. He'll leave as soon as I'm sure he won't die on his own out there. I fed him because he can't hold the chopsticks. It was not cute, no, definitely not cute. If I fed Aoyama (the blush intensified) it would have been cute, but I didn't, so it was nothing, nothing at all, he just couldn't—

"Arigatou, koneko-chan."

His voice shocked her out of her frenzied thoughts; she looked up with a soft gasp, only to see the alien settling back down underneath the covers, looking oddly tired despite his lively tone. See? Still hurt, still injured. That's why he's here. That's all it is. I'm just being a good girl. Yes, a good girl.

Does the enemy deserve a good girl? Shut up!

Ichigo shook herself lightly before turning her full attention on Kisshu. With some difficulty, she managed a "You're welcome" before taking a firmer hold of herself.

"I'll change your bandages again later, ok? So… ano… get some more sleep, ok?"

For all his recent talk and activity, Kisshu seemed awfully tired now, and he only nodded before closing his eyes. Ichigo, after watching him a few more moments, suddenly realized that she was watching him and stood abruptly, picking up the bowl and leaving the room, praying to whomever happened to listen that some household chores would help her get a hold of herself.

Just until he's better, that's all.

Author's Note: Whoa. 2:13 AM. That's a new one. Thank goodness tomorrow's Sunday.

On a little side note, I'm aware of some spelling errors and typos in these chapters. I know they're there, and I'll fix them, but I do this things really late at night (grumble), so please be somewhat tolerant until I find the time to look through everything thoroughly and bring my spelling and grammar up to par.

All right, that was the classic feeding scene, a must in any remotely-fluffy fanfic. I apologize wholeheartedly for that, but it's late. Really, really late. And… uh… I need my fluff-fixes, too :P As always, read and review, please!