Tears... Salty, salty tears. Dripping down my face. My dreadful hair being tugged harshly and some coming out but all I could do was sob, I was always a crybaby, no matter what but all she could do was wait for it to be over... Like always. I didn't want to make things worst. I gritted my teeth as I could hear some of the upperclassmen from the Reserve Course smile and cheering them on as the leader, Tohaku thrusted inside me again and again with little remorse. My insides... My insides felt like they were burning, a fire raging in complete suffering... But what was worst... They were ruining my office. All the toys and such from Nanami-San and Nevermind-San, pictures of the class during Picture Day being ruined and tossed around before smashing on the floor. They would be angry at me because they would think she had no regard for their friendship. If she just stayed quiet, they would go away, right? It would all be over soon, it would all be...

Creeeeaaaakkk

There... She didn't know it at the time but Tsumiki Mikan finally realizes the feeling that fairy tale Princess goes through when their Prince arrives. Blonde, dashing good looks and the like and they would always save the day. However, her Prince wasn't blonde, his hair as black as if the stars at night were ripped out, his eyes crimson as the sun during dusk, and his aura usually unapproachable, not even to the smartest in their class but at that moment, it was comforting. His eyes showing a bit of humanity for the first time.

"Damnit, it's Kamakura-San!"

"Who the Hell left the door open?!"

"Who cares! Get em!"

--

A great actor once said that the human race tends to remember the abuses to which it has been subjected rather than the endearments. What's left of kisses? Wounds, however, leave scars.

A bad dream for Tsumiki Mikan was consistently but not like most girls her age... At least the ones that talked to her. Her light pink eyes opening to the dawn's sunshine. Usually, a nightmare was the stereotypical one. Incapacitated, stripped, cold. The concealed man would come nearer with the blade, making clearing developments to music no one but he could hear. He would be nearer, at that point further away and afterward closer once more. For Mikan, a nightmare was a trip down memory lane. Her last sexual assault encounter was the easiest and the least scary of her constant nightmares, so recent and replayed so many times that the fear was numbing. She just waited... Waited for the ending.

Awakening can be brutal, particularly on the off chance that your fantasies are similarly as cruel, at that point your world. The saddest portion of it is, however, in the long run even the memory of your fantasy will blur - if you are even fortunate enough to fail to remember it that is. At that point, you're left with this desolate sentiment of separation, that without the thing or individual to pull you back into a more protected and reasonable zone, you can be left to investigate in the vacant drained of feelings and scars, the main confirmation that you had the fantasy, in any case. However, Mikan did wake up to the sight of pink plushes, a hobby that she had taken up thanks to a certain Princess and Gamer taking her shopping for merchandise and her growing her collection swiftly as it became apart of her. She began making her way out of bed, taking note of the early rising sun with its shine coming through her windows in the apartment. Time for breakfast.

As the sound of the eggs sizzling could be heard as Mikan wearing a white apron similar to her nurse apron without the pockets and continued the process of making breakfast for herself and her Master who was still sleeping. They had been living together since the end of the second year. Since their relationship between dominant and submissive had gotten to the point where

Kamakura-Sama took Mikan to get emancipated from her parents after the third time she came before school with bruises on her arms and legs and they had taken the first-aid kit that she kept around the house. Since then and the signing of their contract, she was the one waking up early to iron their clothes and make breakfast. She took care of the household chores... And she was fine with it. She was used to taking care of herself as the sounds of another fight broke out somewhere in her former home.

From a mother who was accommodating to the degree her mom was, it was obvious to mishandle her and her little girl as long as her dad didn't leave. They couldn't make do without him. For a dad like her's, it was not unexpected to hack off his little girl's hair with sheep shears and to beat her with a belt or a stick or tie her up in the patio or... At the point when her mom was advising back and she couldn't have intercourse... She was consistently the reinforcement plan. It just got most noticeably awful, she was utilized to it over the long run and when different young men began doing it, she pondered: Was it her fault? It must be her's. She was nothing. Nothing but an ugly and useless whore who was good for nothing.

That's why she needed to be a Good Girl. She didn't want to go back. She needed to stay at any cause. The gentle darkness of Master filled her soul with light. This included not burning breakfast for the umpteenth... Hopefully. The fire alarm could go off and interrupt his sleep. After a few missed called involving her less than the optimistic state of mind, her slippery demeanor, and bacon, she was finally done. Sekihan (rice balls steamed with red adzuki beans), miso soup, natto (fermented soybeans), salmon cut into pieces, and the best part: no knife cuts! Mikan felt pride in her work, her fingertips touching one another as a soft smile showed on her lips as she began to set the table.

Each step, she had to be careful even against the wooden kitchen floor, waxed from a few days ago and she might have accidentally put too much but the bottle said that it would make the floor shine so maybe putting more down would help. But with a carefulness that she wasn't used to, she set the table once more. All the while, the sounds of footsteps echoed down the hallway. By the time she heard said footsteps, she had placed the plates down at the small round diner room table, nearly dropping the last one and catching it before turning around, her face flashing a small red blush as her light pink eyes met crimson orbs.

She immediately got on her knees and bowed to her Master... Her knight in ebony armor was dressed in his school uniform, his long black locks being set in a long ponytail. The school uniform rule was diversified and wasn't followed by most, especially if they took pride in their talent or just didn't care.

"Kamakura-Sama. Good morning Master."

Mikan spoke as she kneeled to Izuru, her eyes staring at the floor as she could feel her crimson eyes staring down at her. The eyes moved away from her and to the table which made her heart skip a beat as silence filled the room. The silence ate at her, what if she did something wrong? What if she disappointed Master?! Would he beat her? She would deserve it. She was used to it. She was a failure. This was her only...

"You did fine Tsumiki."

Use? She did well... She couldn't believe it. The Ultimate Nurse looked up to her Master, his aura at the moment was remarkable. His mind, his body, his soul, all remarkable to her. Always confident that she couldn't help but admire him. Kamakura was everything that she wasn't. What came next was soft fingers, his fingers petting her head, so firm and so nimble as he spoke, so cold but firm and commanding.

"Now come, let's eat. I have a meeting today."

She loved her Master, her Knight and she would do her best to try and give him her all.