Author's Note: Sorry for the long wait! I meant to post earlier, but forgot. Anyway, here's chapter eleven! It's a nice chapter, so hope you enjoy.

Chapter 11

"Mayuzumi-senpai," she says, her eyes huge and staring at the both of us. "Omura-kun."

He wipes his bloody nose on his shirt, not caring that it's getting it blood-stained, just trying to stop the waterfall of red liquid.

"You should see someone about that," she says to her old boyfriend.

She starts to approach him, but he backs away, glaring at her. "Stay away from me!" he says. "You and him are both crazy." And with that, he grabs his backpack and his suitcase, and turns and runs off, blood dripping behind him.

For a moment, it looks like Tsukiko wants to call after him, but then she just shakes her head, and her hand falls to her side. She then turns to me. Says, "Are you all right, Mayuzumi-senpai?"

"I'm fine." Mostly. Rage is still boiling through me.

"Senpai, actually, I don't think you are."

"What?"

"You must be so angry that you don't even notice."

"What?"

She lets out a laugh. "And you can't even seem to comprehend what I'm saying."

I just stare at her.

She says, "You have a cut on your hand. It's bleeding. When you tackled him . . . you must've scraped it against the concrete."

I lift my hand before my eyes and see that she's right. The deep crimson liquid stains my palm. I hadn't even noticed the pain, but now that she's mentioned it, a small stinging is coming from my hand.

"Oh," I say numbly.

"Come on," she says, and she takes my hand (the one that's not blood-stained, that is), her bag slung over her opposite shoulder. "Let's get you somewhere where we can clean that up."

We find a public sink and I wash the blood off my hand. She insists that I do it properly (thirty seconds under hot water).

"So you're the one taking care of me now?" I say.

She blushes and hands me a few paper towels to dry my hands. "U-uh, I guess you could say that. But you've taken care of me a lot more."

I cock my head. "That's not necessarily true."

In fact, she's probably saved me a lot more times than she knows.

"How was your trip?" I ask her, as we finish, I pick up her bag (now that I won't stain it with blood), and we begin to make our way back home.

"Good," she says. "They didn't try that much today. A few glares and stuff, nothing big."

"That's good."

"What about you? Did you try the new fancy restaurant?"

"Yep. It was good. Homemade meatballs and all. You'd probably like it. Not as good as your meals, though."

"What?" She stops mid-step, surprised by the words.

I turn my head back to look at her. "It's true."

"Senpai, you hand out compliments so few of times that I about have a heart attack each time."

"That doesn't make the compliment sound very pleasant. Aren't compliments supposed to make you feel nice inside?"

"Yeah, but with yours . . ." She mutters something, but I'm unable to catch it.

"What?"

Her face reddens, and she says, "Nothing. Forget I said anything."

I frown, but don't press her.

As we continue to walk, several minutes pass in silence. Finally, she says, "Senpai . . . I didn't see the whole conversation. Just the part, mainly, where you tackled Omura-kun. But . . . why did you do that? Was . . . it for me?"

I still, and she bumps into me.

I hadn't thought much about my actions. They'd been instinct at that moment, a hot emotion fueling me.

I had done it for her. There's no point in denying it.

Somehow, over the last few months, she's become so close to me, that even the mere thought of someone insulting her or hurting her makes me clench my fists and my blood boil. And when Omura began to speak that way about her, and the fact that he used to date her, I couldn't stand it. My body had to move, act, do something.

I punched him.

That's true.

But how to say that to Tsukiko?

At my silence, she continues. "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to. I was just wondering . . . now that I've had some distance from him, I can view Omura-kun more objectively. He appears to be nice on the outside, and he's amiable to those who he likes and calls his friends. But to people he doesn't agree with or people he simply doesn't like, for no logical reason, he can be quite cold. If he provoked you for any reason, I can understand why you'd want to hit him . . ."

"He didn't like your hair," I blurt out.

"Huh?"

My face reddens and I'm glad she can't see it in the dark. "He said he didn't like your hair," I mutter.

"That's why you punched him?" She kind of sounds like she's in awe. Perhaps of how stupid I am.

"Well . . . he was just being a jerk anyway. That's no way to treat someone older than him. Or his ex-girlfriend."

She bends over, and I almost ask her what's wrong, but then I realize she's laughing. Holding her hands across her stomach, trying to keep it in, but being unsuccessful.

"Senpai, you really are quite sensitive and overprotective, aren't you?"

I take a step away from her — not because I don't want to be close to her, but because I want to see her. All of her. I want to take this sight in, her laughing face, her smile, her eyes, bright and shining.

I haven't seen her laugh like this since . . .

I say, "Why are you here?"

"What?" She wipes a tear of laughter from her eyes.

"Why are you here? With . . . me?"

"With you?" She frowns. "I don't understand what you mean."

"I mean . . . obviously, Omura-kun is a jerk. But I'm hardly much better. And you're . . . you're amazing. Bright and funny and smart and beautiful. And . . ." I swallow. "You're no match for someone like me. You shouldn't be at the side of a shadow."

Her eyes are huge. "Senpai . . ."

"Do you understand?" I ask her. "No matter how you view me, I'll never change. It's just who I am." I hold out my hands before me. "They say that people can't actually change. They may want to, they may try, but they can't."

"And do you actually believe that?" she asks, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Maybe," I whisper back. "I don't know."

The lamplight near us flickers, and for a moment, it goes out, plunging us into darkness. Not even our shadows can be seen. For several seconds, I think we stare at each other, and then the light glows back on, illuminating her face.

She says, "You didn't turn away from me when I was broken and hurt. Even if you believe yourself to be darkness, a mere shadow, someone who can't change their ways, I don't believe that. And even so, I don't think you need to change. I . . ." She trails off, her eyes going distant, unable to finish the sentence. She shakes her head slightly, clearing her thoughts, and continues. "And please stop calling yourself a shadow. I hate it when you do that."

My hands clench. "You're right. I'm not a shadow. A shadow . . . it's something that can change as time passes. It warps and disappears as the hour passes, and the light can effect it. Kuroko Tetsuya . . . he's the shadow. But I've decided, then. I am just like the color gray. Solid and dull."

"Stop that!" she cries, and she waves her hands in front of my face. She stands up on her tiptoes until her face is mere inches from mine and places her hands on my shoulders, gripping me hard, her fingers pressing into the skin. "If anything," she says, "you're the color silver. There's a difference between silver and gray, you know? Silver shines. It has a special sheen to it, and it's precious! Mayuzumi-senpai!" She looks almost desperate, her fingers clinging to my shirtsleeves. "You're precious to me! Please believe that, if nothing else."

I let loose a breath, and my hands reach up to cover hers. Her eyes enlarge. "Say, do you think that, perhaps, if I did want to change, that gray could become silver?" I give her a small smile, to let her know that everything is okay now.

She smiles back, a smile full of relief and joy. "Yes!" she says. "Definitely. If you really want it, you can polish gray to a beautiful silver. For all the world to see. And people will love it, I'm sure."

"People?" I echo. I cock my head and raise an eyebrow at her.

Her cheeks go magenta. "Ah, well. Of course, people. Everyone. Including me. I'll love it. I . . . I already do. Whether or not you are gray or silver or even a shadow."

My heart begins to pound.

Perhaps there is a moment of realization for everyone. An epiphany when one realizes that they are not alone in the world; that beside them, there is someone who is also a little broken, a little strange or a little dull, and maybe that's okay. It doesn't matter either way, because it just helps to know that that person cares for you.

When they tell you, it somehow makes your whole world complete.

She's still clutching at me, her eyes expectant and waiting.

"Thank you," I whisper.

"For what?"

"For everything, of course."

Then, I lean down and kiss her.

She lets out a small squeak of surprise at my lips against hers. But then her hands tighten against my shirt, before they move to around my neck, holding onto me as tight as she can. I encircle my own arms around her, hugging her as close to me, because I never want to let her go.

She's so warm against me; my body feels hot and my mind feel dizzy. Her lips on mine are tentative, a bit scared but curious as well. And even underneath, I can sense the happiness she's expressing.

I smile, and she smiles, too.

"Mayuzumi-senpai," she says as we part.

"Hm?" My eyes are still closed.

"You . . . just kissed me."

"Yes. That's right."

"It was kind of like a light novel."

"Really?" Light novels are about the furthest thing from my mind right now.

I open my eyes to see her staring at me, her eyes even wider than usual. She nods. "And it's . . . it's just like I imagined it would be. My first kiss."

"Your . . . that was your first?!"

I make a move to step back, a bit shocked, but she locks her arms around me, unwilling to let me move.

"What, did you think Omura-kun would really have kissed me?" she scoffs. "I'm glad I didn't share my first kiss with him, though."

"Ahh . . . does that mean . . . ?"

She glances up at me and giggles. "Yes, Senpai. That means I'm glad it was with you. Don't be an idiot. I like you. Probably for a while now. And you are a good kisser."

I still feel dizzy. "It was . . . okay? You're sure?"

She punches me lightly on the chest. "Yes."

"Yes?"

"Yes. Now stop questioning yourself. I'd kind of like another."

"A-another?" I stare at her, astonished.

She rolls her eyes. "You made the first move, and yet now you're embarrassed? You really are quite sensitive, Senpai."

"I —"

"Fine, then. I'll do it."

And before I can reply, she stands on her toes, and presses her lips to mine. It takes my breath away, and for several moments, all I seem to know is her. Her hair brushing against my cheek; her hands touching my neck; her body near mine. And she . . . is mine?

I guess I do really kind of love her.

Maybe I should tell her that.

"Tsukiko," I breathe out, separating us.

"Huh?" Her cheeks are flushed, her lips bright pink.

"I think I'm in love with you."

"W-what?"

"I love you."

"You just said 'you think' and now that's disappeared!"

I nod, and I cup her face within my hands. "I love you," I repeat. "Tsukiko."

Her breath catches. "Ah . . . I see."

I smile, feeling strangely buoyant and way happier than I have ever felt before. I take her hand in mine and say, "We really should be getting home. It's getting late."

We barely get a few steps before she tugs on my hand, pulling us to a stop. "Senpai, wait."

"What is it?"

I turn back to face her. Her cheeks are bright red. "I-I-I still haven't said . . ."

"Go on," I prompt.

"I still haven't said that I love you in return. So . . . I love you. Mayuzumi-senpai, I think I do. Love you and all."

"Oh."

"That's your reaction?!"

"Well, you didn't have to reply," I tell her. "Just because I love you doesn't mean that you have to love me back."

"But — but —"

"Don't get me wrong. It makes me happy. To know."

"R-really?"

"Yes." I grin at her. "So we're all on the same page now, then?"

"Y-yes! I suppose."

"Awesome! I feel a little hungry. You think you could whip something up?"

"Senpai, you seem strangely cheerful."

"Huh? What are you talking about?"

"Are you bouncing?"

"No way."

"You haven't even stopped grinning."

"Shut up."

"That sounds more like you." She shoots me a grin, and I feel like rolling my eyes, but instead, I just smile back, because after all, there's really nothing that can beat that smile. And I'm completely helpless toward it.

A/N: Squeee! It happened! Wow, sometimes I can't believe I write these things. But then they're so fun to write . . . Anyway, thanks to everybody who's read and reviewed so far! You all are great. Hope you continue to enjoy!

~ J. Dominique