This scene doesn't really have one definite pairing, but it does mention Bel, if it does make you Bel-fans any better. :]

At least Kaia still acknowledges his existence. Nothing is worse than neglect. Well, I'm not sure about that, but neglect is pretty harsh.

Well, Happy Reading, everyone, and please review afterwards!

O0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

The following days were monochrome, like back-and-white pictures. Boring, repetitive, and very dark for Kaia. She caught up in her homework and didn't stay after school anymore. She was really grateful but embarrassed about Hibari's attention to her, and Gokudera is still pretending to be himself; if Tsuna noticed this, he would have kept it to his thoughts. Gokudera would act extremely (!) weird if Tsuna asked him about it. Mukuro wasn't part of Kaia's everyday life, so she just shrugged him off. Sakura and Yuuki gradually drifted off again, though they would occasionally wave hello or exchange a few words.

Kaia was once more an outsider.

She didn't talk much anymore, aside from the times when the teacher called on her to answer a question or read from the textbook. Kaia no longer put her heart to her work – the only work she cared about was her new hobby.

Kaia remembered how Soto would always make a big deal about throwing things and the accuracy of it. And she decided to turn that emphasis into an art.

She wandered to the marketplace on Sunday. This time, she shopped in arts stores. But, not finding exactly everything she wanted, she left with only canvas boards and a few fine paintbrushes. She found a heavy duty store, and came out heavily laden with buckets of paint, enormous paintbrushes, and a ton of plastic wrap. And on she marched home.

The door swung open, and Kaia groaned with the effort to lug twelve buckets of paint, a bag of paintbrushes, a bag full of canvas boards, and her load of plastic wrap. Finally, all her groceries were inside the apartment, and Kaia shut the door. She walked to the other room [the one that Soto and Jasmine talked in, remember?] and began to move all the furniture out of the room.

Luckily, most of the heavy stuff wasn't there anymore, so Kaia didn't have to move that. There were a few bookshelves, a few chairs, a table, and other furniture and decoration. The end result was a completely blank room – the walls were even white. Kaia made her way out of the room to get her stuff – once again, it took her quite a while to drag twelve buckets of paint, one by one, into the room. She grabbed the load of plastic wrap, her canvas, and her paintbrushes, marched to the empty room, and shut the door.

There was a window in the room, so Kaia would have light in the room. Kaia took down the curtains already, so she had a sheet of paper and masking tape in hand. The paper was already taped across the window. Right now, Kaia had to worry about other things. She had to pave the floor.

Kaia took out her roll of plastic wrap and unwound some of the thick plastic off. With masking tape in hand, she taped one end to one end of the room, unrolled the plastic to the other end of the room, cut it with a pair of heavy duty scissors that Soto would constantly borrow from her, and taped it down. Since the plastic was only half a meter wide, Kaia had to repeat taping down overlapping plastic over the wooden floorboards. Once she was done, however, the floor felt like it could be jumped on all day.

She smiled to herself. Preparation was finished.

Before, she thought of covering the walls with plastic, so the walls would stay clean. However, she changed her mind. Kaia thought it would spruce the walls up a bit, give it some flavor and personality.

The artist's easel – Kaia never knew she had it. But she had just moved in, and the day she came, the furniture was all already set up for her, like magic. Kaia found it on Saturday when she was taking an inventory on what she had and didn't have. Now, the artist's easel was erected a few centimeters from the wall, a canvas positioned on it. On the other side of the room, Kaia wound up her sleeves, ready for what is to take place. At her feet are all twelve buckets of paint, opened.

She looked intently at the canvas, thinking of what she would do first. She smiled.

Kaia dipped her right hand in the scarlet red, and her left in the black. She lifted her hands out of the paint, dripping with black and red.

Black for death, my dear, red for blood. Black for the night you came in, red for the wounds you cut. But your princely ways do not deserve royal purple.

A hand lashed out. An ugly splotch of dark red shined on the canvas. Kaia smiled to herself.

Corrupted blood is what flows through your veins.

She dipped her right hand in the scarlet red again, then threw the paint off her fingers, onto the canvas. It was like throwing knives, just without the knives. Just like how the prince does it. This was what Kaia thought of Belphegor. This was his story, told by Kaia's point of view, painted and translated from the anger, fury, frustration, and hate that Kaia threw at the canvas. As if the canvas was Bel himself.

The paint Kaia used was thick and liquid-y, like half-dried blood. Kaia dipped her left hand in the can of white, then rubbed her hands together – a lighter, but dirty red. She threw it against the canvas. Splashes of paint landed on the walls behind the artist's easel.

Kaia was satisfied about this new hobby. She was releasing all the pent-up guilt, anger, frustration, and confusion at the canvas… like a vent. She didn't have to talk to anyone about it; otherwise, people would know her thought pattern, plan a fool-proof trap for her to die in. Also, she could sell these works of art for money to support herself- no, she couldn't do that. Kaia wouldn't bear part with these canvases; they were like her thoughts, her emotions, her sanctuary.

I'm not normal now, and I don't think I can go back… But it hadn't even been my wish to not be normal. It was…Soto's fault, I know it. He comes back next week.

And next week, he'll pay. He'll pay for the ruin he caused my life.

No. He's not my target. Not yet.

Back to the prince, the knifeist, the one with that creepy grin.

Kaia righted herself to see her progress. The canvas was covered in paint, and some parts of it looked like it was about to drip. Kaia stepped over the cans of paint and approached the wet canvas. She gingerly took the canvas off the stand and walked to the main room. She set it on the coffee table and left it there to dry. Returning to the other room, she had in hand a blank canvas. This one was going to be another one.

The canvas was placed on the artist's easel, and Kaia took her position with the buckets of paint on the other side of the room.

She paused, and she half-ran to a corner of the room, where she put the masking tape. She ran back to the buckets of paint and closed the caps, so that the paint wouldn't dry out. With masking tape in hand, Kaia grabbed the canvas and dashed outside. She put the canvas and masking tape down on the carpet in the main room and ran to her room to fetch a pencil and eraser.

She couldn't believe she forgot.

O0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

This scene is also very important. It somehow also serves as a foreshadow, if you squint really hard at it. Well, you can't tell. I can, though, since I've already read what the foreshadow is for. Anyway, this is also a marker that she is trying to fix herself on her own.

Showing that she doesn't need anyone to help her. That reflects on quite a few ideas in Kaia's mind later on, if it hasn't showed yet.

Well, the future arc countdown is drawing to a close. This is countdown number six then.

Have an awesome summer, everyone! Ahh, and I'm still posting, believe it or not. The next scenes will be coming momentarily, if they haven't appeared as posted yet.

You can hang around until you can move on, even, if you like.