Disclaimer: Don't ask.

Note: My longest chapter ever. I really need to reply to the reviews.

---

When she was younger, Natsuki had trouble sleeping. Nightmares made her doubtful, secluded, bad-tempered, and sleeping became more stressful than school itself. She would see her mother, lips pulled into a silent scream, plunging off a cliff. She would see herself, immobilized and unable to help. She would see Duran, looking at her with betrayed eyes.

When she was younger, and when she had trouble sleeping, Shizuru would sing to her. She would place her head on her lap, tenderly stroking back strands of cobalt hair. She would smile with such affection that Natsuki would blush, fiddling with her thumbs distractingly. She would open her mouth to release such a melodious tune that Natsuki was sure that songbirds molted in envy.

When she was younger, when she had trouble sleeping, and when Shizuru would sing to her, Natsuki would not even bother with sleep. She would curl up in a protective position, which only teased more loving stares out of Shizuru. She would stay silent, unmoving. She would close her eyes, pretending to sleep while listening to a lullaby that wasn't sleep-inducing at all.

When Shizuru sang, it was far too precious to miss out on.
When Shizuru sang, it was far too beautiful to miss out on.
When Shizuru sang, it was far too haunting to miss out on.

When Shizuru sang, Natsuki would not bother with sleep at all, and she would stay awake listening to her for an eternity.

It remains truth that everyone wants something more. You could be the most satisfied of people, but still you would want more, be it knowledge, currency, attention, romance, adventure, friends, safety, freedom, or just about anything. There is always more.

Perhaps it is greed.

But everyone is greedy.

It remains truth that there is no such thing as "need". Humans "need" water to survive, but do they need to survive? If you weren't alive in the first place, there wouldn't be anything to need. Humans only want to survive, and therefore they want water, in the same way they want food and air.

There is only want. Everyone wants more.

When Shizuru sings, Natsuki is far too greedy to miss out on it.
When Shizuru sings, Natsuki wants to hear it far too much to miss out on it.

That's just how we are.

---

How We Are

She became a fool for her.

---

"We've managed to identify the suspect, sir."

"Good, good. Give me a verbal report now, officer."

"Well, the suspect has only one record to her name. Of course, this name we found in her passport, so it could be a false identity. The rest of the relevant documents seem to have mysteriously disappeared, possibly destroyed."

"Right, right."

His way of repeating words, which was both slow and gruff, seemed to irritate the 'officer'. The higher-ranking of the two lifted a muddy boot to rest it on the desk, dragging his other leg to the position beside it, and slouched against his chair lazily. The 'officer' frowned, wanting to reprimand the man but was afraid of the consequences of "insulting authority".

"Sir, her name is Kuga Natsuki. She was apprehended in the aristocratic district."

"I see."

"We've managed to trace her files to Fujino Shizuru. That person was listed as the "person to call in case of an emergency" in several school-related articles. Incidentally, the house we found her in has ties to the Fujino family."

"Interesting."

"She was arrested for trespassing, invasion of personal property. Judging by the state of the house, we suspect that she might have tried to steal something that she has yet to find. Everything was ransacked."

"Were any items of remarkable value found in the residence?"

"None. The owners might have taken them all when they left."

"Left? To where?"

"Kyoto. Our investigation revealed that they've gone to the main Fujino residence. The address will be attached to the soft copy of the report, which we have sent to your computer."

"Good, good. You're dismissed, officer."

"Thank you, sir."

The young 'officer' left the building, unchaining his bicycle from the lamppost outside and heading home. The one that stayed grabbed a magazine from the same desk he rested his feet on, browsing through it noncommittally. From the corners of his eyes, he peered over the magazine to observe the cell's occupant.

Natsuki lifted her head to counter his stare with a defeated smile, one that told of a million happy days that had suddenly been snatched away from right under your nose. She fiddled with the shackles around her wrists with some sort of wounded fascination, as if she did not fully understand what was happening at the moment.

"Why'd you do it, kid?"

"I was looking for someone."

"Someone?"

"Someone I love."

The man blinked, dropping the magazine and placing his hands on his stomach. On any other person, it would have seemed a sagely, professional position, but it almost looked comical on the policeman with the horribly wrinkled uniform. He heaved himself back into a sitting posture, boots falling from the desk to the floor.

"They weren't there, eh?"

"No. She wasn't."

"Your mother or sister?"

"Neither."

"An aunt? A niece?"

"No, a friend. A … very good friend."

"Ah, the lack of boundaries in friendship really amazes me sometimes."

He drawled out, showing a yellow-toothed grin. Natsuki chuckled halfheartedly.

"It's more than that."

The old man looked bewildered for a couple of seconds, then guffawed.

"Young love! It's limitless! Hohoho, she must be a great person to be able to pick up a good looker like you! What's she like, eh?"

"… She's not everything I've ever wanted, she's not the one I've always been looking for, she's not my destined soul mate, and she's not all I've ever dreamed of – but she's my entire universe."

"… That bad, huh?"

"You could say that."

"Would that explain the thrashed house?"

"She's going to get married in Kyoto, and I haven't even told her that I love her yet."

All was quiet for a while, but then the old man pressed a button on the printer, apparently still busy with his work. He coughed for a bit, thumping his chest savagely.

"Let me tell you what'll happen."

"… What?"

"Kuga Natsuki had already stolen the cell keys from the officer's belt while he wasn't looking. She unlocked her shackles and the cell door quietly, waiting until the guy in charge – that's me – seemed to be engrossed in paperwork. Then, she bursts out of the cell, to freedom!"

He recited excitedly, tossing a set of keys through the bars casually before continuing.

"After that, she quickly unchains her confiscated motorbike outside, and rushes off to find her loved one! How's that, kid?"

"… That would be great."

"What? No applause? Psh, and I thought I'd be a good movie director!"

The printer choked out a stack of papers, which the old policeman collected. By then, Natsuki had already exited the cell. The man took out a sheet of paper from his pile, handing it to the emerald-eyed girl.

"You're going to need her Kyoto address, I'd reckon. Her mansion is on the edge of a forested cliff – a rather fancy location."

"Thanks."

"It's about time I did something good for a change, hmm? I've seen too many youngsters thrown in the jailhouse 'cause they stole wallets to feed their hungry siblings. Now, shoo!"

Natsuki threw the chains aside, getting on her motorcycle. The engine started up, and Natsuki paused for only a while before clapping enthusiastically as she raced off.

"Now that's what I want to hear, kid!"

He waved his police cap wildly at the disappearing figure on the motorbike, before retreating to his desk. Gathering the papers, he picked up a pen from the pencil holder and began to scribble on the documents. The pen was leaking, the ink was runny, and all around the papers were ugly black blotches.

"Kids these days – as free as a bird to fall for anyone they like!"

He complained, stabbing a sheet of paper with his spoilt pen.

"Humans, such impulsive creatures!"

He fell into a lapse of silence.

"Wasn't it I who had just let a criminal free to go and look for her love, entirely on impulse?"

He chewed the tip of his pen thoughtfully.

"That's just how we are, I s'pose."

---

Sometimes, we have the luck to be spited at the worst timing possible.

The biker leaned forward on her Ducati precariously, surging forward at the highest speed she could achieve without falling off straightaway. The tires shriek in blatant agony every turn she made, so piercingly that a woman walking down the pavement fell over in shock. Not that Natsuki saw, though – she had more important things on her mind.

She veered quickly, cutting swift and sharp corners. A police car made an attempt at chasing her down, but Natsuki outran them in mere seconds. She almost knocked over several traffic wardens, but it was of no concern to her. The pressing matters at hand only allowed her to concentrate on her destination and getting there, not the insignificant details in between.

Natsuki took a shortcut on one of the lesser-used roads, on the surface of the cliff, rocky and twisting throughout. The motorcycle swerved to and fro like a little puppet, and Natsuki could not help but grunt from the effort of throwing the handlebars from side to side repeatedly. She had no time to caress or preen her abused Ducati, however.

The sense of urgency made Natsuki reckless, and there is always a catch. A flesh-tearing skid, an ear-splitting screech, wide-eyed horror, and the stomach-churning smell of burnt rubber; the way the motorbike threw itself off the edge was almost ironic. So close, yet so far.

Sometimes, we have the luck to be spited at the worst timing possible.

That's just how we are.

---

The mansion was styled after traditional Japanese culture, unsurprisingly. The moment they stepped into the well-kept garden, it was if time had reverted to an altogether different era. Slow croaks and crickets could be heard from somewhere near the pebble-framed pond, bamboo shoots growing out of its surroundings in neat patches.

The paper lanterns situated around the complex gave eerie yellow glows, flickering silently. An elderly female pushed open the sliding door, advancing towards them. She was dressed in a plain kimono, graying hair pinned up into a bun. The wrinkles on her face showed not only stress but also joy, and one would suspect that she had spent many a good time in the household.

"Ah, Fujino-sama has already gone to sleep. He informed me to tell you that he will see you in the morning, and that both of you should get a good night of sleep. I'll show you to your rooms."

Shizuru and her husband exchanged glances, before nodding and thanking the servant politely. They entered the actual house, slipping out of their shoes. Following the servant through the multiple corridors, they passed room after room until they finally came to a stop before two doors.

The servant brushed down the front of her kimono before gesturing to the first door.

"This will be Ojou-sama's room."

She then pointed to the second door, sizing up the young man that stood beside Shizuru. She liked the look of this plucky youngster, with his broad and earnest smile, but there was something not quite right about the picture the two made as a pair.

"And this will be yours. Fujino-sama has requested for you both to sleep in separate rooms until you are truly husband-and-wife."

She sniffed dejectedly, somewhat worried about all the work she had to do the day after, preparing for the ceremony. Even if she did care for the old man she had been serving for years, it was quite ridiculous to have to undergo some Fujino tradition of getting married, especially after already being married in a respectable shrine.

But, of course, this was Fujino-sama. He refused to accept the methods of those 'outsiders', and that meant that he would not see Shizuru and her husband as a couple until the proper Fujino marriage ritual was through and done with.

Shizuru strode into her assigned room as the servant ushered her husband into the other one, sitting down on the futon. It was not long before a soft knock came. She hesitated, then got up to slide open the door.

"Onee-sama, tell me a story."

It was a young girl, about six-years of age. She had long, black hair, and ocher eyes. She was good-looking, although not utterly gorgeous, but her unusual eye colour did give her a unique look.

Shizuru had never seen her before, but she immediately knew that it was one of her relatives. The Fujino family used to be quite big, but most of the branches had broken off ties and travelled to other countries – many of the Fujino women had foreign spouses, for some strange reason. She suspected it to be that they were tired of the strictly traditional ways of the Fujino household.

"Otou-san is sleeping, and your boyfriend scares me, so there's nobody else except you to tell me my bedtime story. None of that princess-knight-dragon kind, though. The fairytale ones are boring. They all have happy-happy-magical-glitter-glitter-pretty-pretty endings."

The way she spoke was brash and bold, hardly bothering with formalities at all. This went against the entire Fujino code, and Shizuru was certain that the little girl before her was one of those who got into trouble all the time. She felt her heart soften for the child.

"Ara, what's your name?"

"Suika."

"Okay, Suika-chan. I'll tell you a story."

Suika invited herself into the room, settling down on the futon comfortably. Shizuru marveled at her bravery – what little girl would dare to barge into a stranger's room, deciding to sleep on their futon, and demand a bedtime story?

"What's it about?"

"It's somewhat about a girl addicted to tea, somewhat about a Student Council President, and somewhat about a future wife who still pines for her illicit love."

Suika looked doubtful. Shizuru sighed.

"But … mostly, it's about … a monster."

"Now it's beginning to sound interesting!"

Shizuru smiled sadly. Suika did not notice.

"Humans are foolish creatures."

"That's a strange way to begin a story."

Suika interrupted, but seemed to be attentive. The young girl clambered under the covers, turned around to face her, and waited expectantly for her to continue. Shizuru paused, and this time, she did not smile at all.

What's the point of smiling, when the person you smile for isn't there to see it?

Foolishness.

"Ara, but that's just how we are."

---

Once upon a time, in a land far, far away, there lived a princess.

She was fed with warmth and showered with love, and although the King had long departed, she was satisfied with her mother and a little mongrel pup. They stayed in their humble castle, idling their days away with both laughter and tears.

In actuality, the Queen was a magician, and she passed her affinity with magic to her daughter. A secret group of assassins decided to capture her, for they wanted that innocent beauty and magic for themselves. What power it would bring them!

The Queen knew about their treacherous plan, for she was a magician, after all. She dressed herself up as a commoner and decked her daughter in the same apparel, taking away their mongrel's royal-crest scarf and replacing it with a tattered collar.

Climbing onto the wagon she had prepared, they set off to find safety. But the road was worn, fading, and narrow, especially so at the edges of the mountain paths they had to scale. Along the way, the loyal horse lost his footing and fell off a cliff, dragging the wagon down with him.

Or at least, that's how the story goes.

In another version, several highway men jumped out in the middle of the road and attacked them, injuring their horse and forcing the wagon off the cliff. These highway men were believed to be from the same secret group of assassins, and they set the scene up to make it look like an accident.

Either way, the ending is the same.

Once upon a time, in a land far, far away, there lived a princess.

She was the only one to survive from the fall. Unused to the lack of the warmth and love she was usually bathed in, she grew cold and sour. A layer of thick ice formed over her heart, for it she was convinced that there would never be anybody for it to beat for again.

She vowed revenge over her dead mother and faithful pup, searching the lands far and wide to find the murderers that killed her loved ones. She grew acquainted with pistols, and she hired some private investigators to widen the circumference of the hunt.

She found that there was a school which seemed to have connections to the secret group and hastily signed up to attend it. She was assured that over time, she would eventually discover their headquarters. She would destroy them for taking away the people important to her.

But then, she encountered a witch who longed for the hearts of innocent maidens. But the witch disguised herself as a beautiful noblewoman, and she became the princess's friend. As time passed, the witch grew more and more hungry for her heart, but the princess got away in time.

Or at least, that's how the story goes.

In another version, she met another girl.

Bah! It's just a girl, what's so special about her?

Were you about to say that? I thought so.

This girl was different. Immune to the princess's icy glare, she found what little warmth was left within her heart. She found a little spark of light. She found an antidote.

This girl was different, and she saved the princess. She saved the princess from herself.

Either way, the ending is the same.

Once upon a time, in a land far, far away, there lived a princess.

And she was wrong, because the ice around her heart thawed, for there was someone for it to beat for again.

There are many versions to a story. Believe what you wish to believe; some may think differently, and this difference alienates them from others, but it is their will.

Will is a want, and it drives us.

That's how we are.

---

The sliding door was slammed to the side, revealing a creature that appeared to be on the verge of death.

"Who is this?"

The master of the Fujino household addressed the groom, tongue practically dripping with acid. He did not wish to directly communicate with the hooligan before him, who had barged into his daughter's wedding unceremoniously. Anger was buried deep in his eyes, but shone evidently. Because of this lout, the ceremony was less than perfect, and anything less than perfect was unacceptable.

The other man appeared unshaken, which was one of the characteristics he was chosen for as a husband to the older man's daughter, and remained poised even if he did eye the blood puddle forming on the floor questioningly. He cleared his throat, exchanging a glance with the bloodied mass leaning against the doorframe, and spoke.

"This is the one for Shizuru."

The older man shot him a look that was torn between confusion and fury, roaring.

"What are you talking about? You are the groom! This is a ruffian that has decided to disgrace itself for free food! Someone, throw him out!"

"This is no ruffian. This is a girl."

"I'm not laughing, you boar! Servants, just get her out!"

"This … is no prince charming. This is no heroine, no goddess. This is a lost girl."

He hesitated, but continued before the other man could respond.

"Yes, this is a lost girl. But how many people would scale miles with broken ribs, torn muscles, a leg that's scarcely attached to her hip, and blood gushing out of all her fatal wounds, just to see your daughter, while hardly even conscious?"

He said softly, straightening his tie out of habit.

"Even I, who believes with every inch of my heart that I love her, am certain that I would collapse before making half the distance."

The head of the Fujinos was speechless.

"This is a lost girl. A lost girl who loves Shizuru very, very much."

The groom finished, satisfied. The father of the not-quite-bride glared at him with an intensity that would have felled a dozen oaks, but the recipient was undaunted. He cared more for Shizuru's welfare than some guy who was too stubborn to see that she could not be happy with him, as much as he would have liked it to be true.

Snatching the vase from the shelf nearby, he spun around and conveniently slapping it straight onto the older man's temple. He immediately dropped to the floor, out cold. The man who grasped the intact end of the vase muttered something apologetic before sweeping some porcelain shards off his tailored suit, discarding the broken vase.

Shizuru peeked into the room, lured in by the commotion. Natsuki lurched towards her, nearly stumbling to the ground.

"Natsuki!"

"Shi … zuru …"

Natsuki clutched the taller girl's sleeves as she held her in a helpless embrace, terrified that the emerald-eyed might crumple into pieces that can never be retrieved. And Shizuru cried.

Shizuru cried, for Natsuki who could not.

"Shizu … ru, beautiful flow … ers are meant … to be … loved."

She rasped, voice hoarse and rough – so unlike Natsuki, who had always been so expressive.

A young man wearing a sergeant's uniform charged in, yelling orders to fellow policemen who entered the room in formation. They pointed guns at the cobalt-haired girl, warily checking the status of the room's occupants. Eyes scanning the area, they circled their victim in seconds.

"Surrender now! We've surrounded you!"

"Sir, one man's down!"

Shizuru's father, who happened to be lying in a heap on the bloodstained floorboards with a face contorted by surprise, did look quite dead.

"So this was the motive for the raid in their house at Fuka."

"Quick, capture her!"

"She's already dying."

"Still, just get her."

They approached cautiously, and Shizuru would have fought every last one of them had she not been trying to support Natsuki, and the fact that her husband had already barreled one over with his elbows.

"Go!"

They didn't need to be told twice.

"Ookini."

Natsuki, gathering all the strength she had left, burst through the open door with Shizuru. Pushing herself on the disfigured motorbike waiting just outside, where she had left it, she started it up with Shizuru seated behind her. Already, the road before her looked blurry.

"Shizuru … when we were … very young, your kiss … made me like mayonnaise."

The flaxen-haired girl's eyes widened, realization hitting her.

"Natsuki …"

"Shizuru, you said … that you … would die for me … right?"

"… Of course I would."

The burgundy-eyed girl breathed, and Natsuki relaxed her grip on the handles.

"Then … you must … live for me too … because … in that next life … we'll find each other. Promise me … because I … won't tell you … that I love you otherwise."

She smirked, and Shizuru smiled.

"I promise, Natsuki."

And they both rode in companionable silence, because this would be their last.

This would be their last ride.

Ducati bounced off the rim faithfully, but soon disappeared under them due to its weight – leaving the pair to soar in the sky as they accelerated towards the ground that was all too far below.

"I love you, Shizuru."

"As do I, Natsuki."

This time, there was no shimmering green Carnival glitter.
This time, there was no Kiyohime, and no Duran.
This time, there was no pillars, no HiMEs, no elements.

"So … it took us … all this … just to be together?"

"Ara, would you rather not go through everything and not be hugging each other tightly as we plunge to our doom, frightened out of our wits?"

"… Baka, if that's what it takes … then this shall be how we are."

And beautiful, innocent, pure, yet deceitful, quick-witted, and so very much in love Natsuki held observant, sharp, alert, yet agonisingly oblivious Shizuru closer to her.

This time, it was their last ride, and the world was theirs.

---

I like to think that they found each other eventually, in a better day, a better world.
Just assume that every ShizuNatsu AU is the sequel to this, then.

Originally, I planned to let them fly off on a winged purple hippo, but … yeah.
I wouldn't want to seem like I'm on crack when I finish my first completed story.

Thanks for sticking with it so far. I'm glad that people like this story.
Reviews would be very welcome – tell me what you think, okay?