If there was one thing Ichigo Momomiya understood, it was sacrifice.

Since that fateful day when she had been infused with the DNA of a wildcat, she had been forced to forsake some of the pleasures of humanity she should have been able to enjoy as she hung in the balance between child and teenager. Ichigo had to burden herself with the weight of the world: a fight she never wished to participate in.

Ichigo was seventeen now. She was a different person than she had been even that fateful day they defeated Deep Blue – she had a much more acute and profound knowledge of how the world around her worked. Her eyes, once bright with ignorance and enthusiasm, now shone with a much more mature and sophisticated light.

Masaya Aoyama had left her two years ago to live in England. Communication between the two had been minimal, despite her attempts to keep their love alive. When Ichigo realized that his studies took precedence over his relationship with her, she came to a decision. She didn't need to depend on anyone anymore to dictate her life. She was her own person, defined by herself and herself alone.

The Strawberry's newfound independence, however, was about to be put to the test in the most challenging of ways. She would find herself fighting alone for the first time in her life, and her resting upon her actions were the fates of all those she cared for.

---

Poor Impulse Control

by Crimsy Mi-Chan

Chapter One

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"Purin, could you help me with this?"

The petite acrobat made quick work of the knot in Ichigo's waitress' apron. The redhead sighed in relief as she let it slip to the floor, shooting her friend a grateful look.

"Minto tied this thing so tightly, I thought I would suffocate." Ichigo retrieved the apron, and got to work retying it in a much looser manner.

"Well, Ichigo, you are growing," Minto pointed out, much to the embarrassment of her friend. She glanced up from where she sat lacing her shoe. "Not gaining weight, per se. You're just becoming more... womanly. It's about time, you no longer look like an adult stuck in the body of a preteen."

Ichigo flushed before making her escape out into the kitchen of the café. Keiichiro was there, already churning out plate after plate of breakfast foods at an alarming rate.

"Good morning, Ichigo," he said, handing her the first tray. "Since it's the first day of the summer season, we're filled to the brim. You, Purin, and Minto are going to have your hands full today." He smiled at her, noticing the red coloring to her face. "Are you feeling unwell?"

"N-No... um... Minto just said something again, is all," Ichigo reassured with a dry laugh. "Have a good morning!" She balanced the serving plate on her open palm, pushing out into the restaurant.

Keiichiro wasn't exaggerating about the excess of clientele this early morning. Nearly every table and booth was filled, mostly with students her own age celebrating their first day off from school. They were shorthanded on staff, since Retasu and Zakuro both had conflicting schedules, so that jerk Shirogane was helping to fill in by busing tables.

Even though Ichigo was nearly a legal adult, Ryou still had his fun in teasing her relentlessly. Though she still played along, she no longer took offense to everything he said. Neither of them could understand why they continued to put on the act that their relationship was still the same after all these years, but they did... and hopefully, they had everyone believing.

In reality, they both were different people now. Different fears, different desires...

Ichigo snapped to her senses as Ryou's sharp blue eyes met hers, a coy smile pulling at his lips as unspoken communication passed between them.

Had she mentioned the changes in chemistry?

---

"All right... cut!"

Zakuro felt her body sag as the overhead lights dimmed. The cameras hummed as they were shut off and dismantled, crew and actors alike rushing around to get out of the studio ahead of the rest of the pack. It had been a long haul – Zakuro had been in filming a commercial for a new perfume for well over a week and a half – and everyone involved was more desperate than the next to get home.

"That's a wrap, people." No one looked more anxious to leave than the director himself, setting his bullhorn aside.

"Great job today, Zakuro," the male lead, an attractive man named Aoki, complimented. He was tall, as were most successful models, and was the result of a union between his African American mother and Japanese father. He handed her a cold bottle of water, noticing the lines of exhaustion on the young woman's face. She gave a weak smile in thanks and took a long swig.

It was a disconcerting sight to see Zakuro so off-balance. Aoki had worked with her on countless other sets and projects, and had become a close friend and confidante to her, but never had he seen her sick; hell, he'd never seen her with a hair out of place. He stared at her in concern as she ran the bottle across her forehead, sweating despite the air conditioning pumping out air he found much too cold.

"Are you feeling all right?" He laid a hand on her shoulder, but she didn't look at him. "Zakuro-san?"

Zakuro heard him, but it sounded like he was yelling at her from far, far away. Her head was on fire, her stomach was churning, and her knees felt like they might just give away at any moment...

"Zakuro?"

She hadn't even realized she wasn't on her feet anymore until she found herself staring at the ceiling. Aoki's arms were around her, having protected her from cracking her skull against the wooden floor. And could someone please remove the knives digging into her temples?

"I'm going to call an ambulance," Aoki said breathlessly as he laid her limp body down gently. Her entire body was shaking.

"No... no, don't," she finally spoke. She just wanted to get home and bury herself beneath the covers and never come out. "Just a migraine... take me to my apartment, Aoki-kun..." Dark spots were dancing before her eyes. "No ambulance."

There was silence before she felt a reluctant Aoki pick her up baby-style. "I'll take you home."

---

For the girls, Ryou, and Keiichiro, the day proved to be a tough one. Mew Mew Café was jam packed from open to close, and many of the customers were unfeeling to their plight even if they realized they were understaffed. Having orders shouted at you for hours on end was rather grating and exhausting, and forcing a friendly smile on your face through all of it just made it all the harder to bear.

When the restaurant finally closed its doors at eight o'clock, Ichigo collapsed into a booth. She was beat! Closing her eyes, she tilted back in her chair, her feet rejoicing. She hadn't gotten more than a single five-minute break all day.

Ryou pulled out a chair beside her, straddled it. Ichigo didn't seem to notice him. He observed the redhead, amazed at how she could somehow keep her balance on the two hind legs of her seat while being half-asleep. Unable to resist, he leaned in close to her ear, and...

"Boo!"

"AAH!"

A tangle of arms and legs, Ichigo's equilibrium vanished as she went flying back out of her chair, coming to rest up against the side of a booth. She blinked furiously. "Shirogane!"

Ryou tried to suppress a snort, but failed. She just looked so ridiculous, sprawled out on her back as she flushed with surprise. He broke into a peal of laughter, his beautiful tenor voice filling the café. Even though he had the wits about him to extend a hand to help her up, she refused. "You jerk!" She hopped up on her own, brushing imaginary dust from her clothes. But she was grinning. Whenever Ryou laughed, even if it was at her own expense, she couldn't help but feel like laughing along with him. That was rather confusing to her, but she didn't allow herself to dwell on it for too long.

"What's going on out here?" Minto had snuck up on them, watching the exchange with interest. Keiichiro and Purin were right behind her, grinning openly and knowingly at Ichigo and Ryou.

"Shirogane's just being a doofus," Ichigo supplied cheerfully. She wasn't sure if it was the little bump on the head she'd gotten from her spill, but she felt more energized now than she had when she first sat down. Hefting her bag over her shoulder, she turned to the others and bid them a good night. Her gaze lingered on Ryou a bit longer than she meant it to, and that was taken into account by the three bystanders.

When Ichigo was gone, Ryou turned to find Minto, Purin, and Keiichiro all smiling at him mischievously.

"What?" He demanded. "What?"

---

The night was breezy. There was a slight humidity in the air that teased of summer, but the still-blossomed flowers still gave a strong feeling of spring. Ichigo passed by the park, stopping to lean down and admire the handiwork of the local gardener. She was in no hurry to get home, since both parents were out on business and wouldn't be back in Japan for a few more days. The desire to spend the night alone in that house was minimal, and she was left wondering if it wouldn't be too much to call up a friend and see if she could spend the night on such short notice.

Even as she was reaching for her cell phone, it began to ring. In her surprise, she nearly dropped it. She recognized the number as Zakuro's home phone, which deepened her surprise even further.

"Hello?"

"Hi... is this Momomiya-san?" It was a male voice, and it sounded worried.

"Yes, this is her." Ichigo stiffened. "Who...?"

"I'm Kirabayashi Aoki, a co-worker of Zakuro's. She collapsed at the studio today, but she refuses to let me call a doctor or take her to the hospital. I'm doing all I can for her... and I won't go against her wishes, but can you..."

"I'll be right there." Ichigo snapped her phone shut and set off instantly for Zakuro's apartment.

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Author's Note: Here's the first chapter. I apologize for the abrupt ending, but this was the best place I could find to end the first installment. The action will pick up soon, and I plan on making this a Kisshu/Ichigo/Ryou love triangle amongst other couplings. Reviews, comments, and critics are always welcome!