Good morning, minions.

Well, I wrote this chapter about six months ago, and then prmptly lost it. Yesterday I rewrote it, and imediatly afterwards, found the originall. Life, hu? I posted the second version in the end, because I felt that the first was lacking in depth, and besides, this is an angsty story, and so it makes sence to post the version that seems the most angsty (it quite upset me to wright it, actually). Anyway, I hope you like it.


It was another normal morning, although it made Kyo sick to think that this taunting parody of an existence had become normal. He awoke on a hard, cold, grey concrete floor, cushioned only by a threadbare blanket. He pulled himself up stiffly, not even bothering to strech out the kinks from his mussles, and leant back against the blank concrete wall, closing his eyes so as not to see this cruel mockery, this inhuman captivity.

It was six foot by six foot, ten foot high. A single tap jutted from a wall in a corner,
above a small drain, allowing him water to drink from his cupped hands. In the uppermost right-hand corner of one chill wall there was a small window, perhaps one foot square. It was deep set, only if he stood could be see a small slice of sky through thick black bars;
there was no glass. Today he had no energy to rise and stair at that agonising sliver of hope. A month of lonely apathy had sapped his longing of freedom. He had no will to even see the sky.

He sat and breathed slowly, trying vaguely to picture something a little less depressing than his usual, continuous train of unhappy thoughts. After a few clam breaths, he gave up,
letting his usual pain trickle in from his memories, facing the knowledge that he had to leave, trying so hard to begin talking, to speak, to just tell him... and then that bitter,
painful day nearly a month ago (he was scratching a tally on the wall) he had packed a few things, scribbled a districted note that made little sense, pushed it into his cozens hand and left, walking away from any semblance of a life he thought he could make. It had all proved so hopeless.

And now his whole existence was an empty, closed up cage. He never got out except for a brief opportunity to was and relive himself each day a noon. Someone slid a tray through a small opening in the narrow iron door every morning, and every evening. He never sore anyone,
never spoke to anyone. He hadn't in a month. After the first week he had talked to himself for a few days, but there was nothing to say, nothing at all.

A raged breath ripped through his chest as he suppressed a sob. So many year watching and waiting and hoping as opportunities slipped through his fingers like water. So much despair as he prayed in the night and shed silent tears, and then the only time left was a few frantic minuets and a look, a pleading glance, then he was hear. He pressed his hand to his mouth to staunch the sound of heartbreak tearing his chest. He opened his eyes wide as he lent forward to his knees, hot tears burring paths down his pale cheeks, stinging liquid blurring the hated sight of his cage.

Suddenly, within the swimming grey, he sore a smudge of white, pure, like a dove of hope.
Surprise stopped his bitter crying, and he swiped quickly at his tears, clearing bloodshot eyes, and staring in confused disbelief at-

It was an envelope. A thick white envelope. He crawled closer and picked it up, gazing in rapture. Something was written on the front... his name. It was so long since he had seen it, or indeed any writing. He studied it closer, surely it was-

it was Yuki's handwriting. He ripped it frantically open and read desperately.

Kyo,

For so long now I half beloved I was crazy. Their where memories in my head that didn't make sense. Do you remember that time when Hanagim and Uo slept over, in the morning I practically walked into you, and lent into you're shoulder.
That was one of few times these 'wrong' memories overtook me. They've been haunting me for years, though I've usually kept them hidden. I think that maybe I shouldn't have. I really wish I had talked to you about it now.

I suppose I owe you an explanation? These partial memories, or ghost of memories,
have bean haunting me for years, since before Tohru even came. They're of thing that didn't happen, that shouldn't of happen, that couldn't have.

But apparently they did.

What happened Kyo? I really can't work out what could have. Or when. When what happened started and when- when it ended. How did that happen? All I can gather from you're letter is that we didn't have a choice. That Hattori was made to take our memories. Why? I suppose Akito found out? How could we have bean so stupid to let that happen?

I really don't understand. You have to explain it, Kyo. I need to understand.

I don't know what you have in there, so there's paper and a pen inside the envelope.
I'll be coming back in a week, so next Friday evening.

Please, Kyo. I really have to know.

I really hole you're O.K. I don't know what else to say, except that I'm thinking of you, and you're not forgotten. Tohru still gets upset when you're mentioned, and everyone else misses you. I guess I do too. I never thought I'd be able to admit that. I'm glad I finally can.

Yuki.

Kyo read the letter again and again, shedding countless tears, until the letter was quite damp.
The he clutched the letter tight to his chest, screwed up his eyes, and lent forward till his forehead pressed against cold concrete, tears carving a stinging river of agony, as he screamed his despair into the hard floor, his anguished cries echoing about the room, mocking him harshly as he felt his hart slowly break.


So what do you think? Angsty enough? Please tell me people!