Chapter Four: Chocolate-Almond Pastries

"Criminals should be punished, not fed pastries."
—Lemony Snicket

When he had been young, his mother always told him stories about his father—he was a musician, bringing smiles to all faces when he played his violin. People looked up to him, friends asked for his advice, and he gave it to them—kindly and without impatience. But, when his mother explained to him why he disappeared, why he left his wife and him and his sister all alone, she merely replied vaguely, "To help us." Still, the sadness persisted in her eyes, and though Ikuto never told anyone, he vowed to himself and to his family that he would bring happiness into his mother and sister's lives once again. He wouldn't let them live like they had for the past few years—he would change them.

But, the feeling almost disappeared when her mother married Kazuomi. He had never even heard of him before their marriage, and when he looked at her, seeing the smile on her face, her eyes glowing with happiness, he almost shouted with rage at his mother.

She had found someone else to love.

And then came the time when he figured out Kazuomi was not what anyone thought him to be—the business-like, professional, formal and polite man; actually, he proved himself to be quite the opposite. So, when he threatened Ikuto that he would kill his sister and his mother – and he had no doubt that he would – he had no choice but to follow through with the man's disgusting plan just to scare the families into paying their debt. It was sick.

He was sick.

Nightmares rolled through his mind, weeks and days after that—for nearly a month. He had heard that time eased pain but it did the opposite for him—it practically opened the wound again, day after day, causing him to bleed profusely.

So when he found her in the ground he knew that he couldn't leave her alone. He owned it to her that much that he would have to help her as much as he could.

"Right," Utau interrupted, bringing his agonizing thoughts into a halt. "Mother's well, but … she hasn't been thinking good thoughts lately. She's gotten more depressing."

Ikuto feigned indifference. Whatever it was that was making his mother so depressed, he would have to go to Kazuomi. "Has she?" he muttered, his chopsticks swirling in Utau's octopus soup. No matter how much he was hungry, he couldn't bring himself to eat the blobbering mess. And couldn't not help his thoughts as they drifted towards the pink-head.

Utau nodded, suddenly grim as she set down her chopsticks. "I have to help," she said. "I can't just go out and live my dream while you and mother are suffering. I have to do something." She bit her lip, her eyes swarming with concern. "I'll go to Kazuomi with you."

Ikuto's response was immediate: "No," he snapped, his eyes flickering to hers. He made sure that his eyes reflected hard, cold feelings. "I don't need your help, Utau. I have an idea, and I don't need you getting in my way."

Actually, he had no idea at all, but he would do anything to not have his family involved.

She frowned, obviously hurt by his words. "Are you sure?" she asked slowly. She knew better than to beg for his approval; changing Ikuto's opinion was like trying to move a boulder. Still, she couldn't help the weighing down of her heart, as if he didn't trust her, as if he couldn't depend on her. Nonetheless, she made no move and instead stared down at her stupid mess of a soup. She knew he was being mean for her own benefit, but it felt too real, his voice too sharp and too cold that she felt something throb in her chest. Live your dream, he had said. Leave the rest to me.

But now she didn't feel like living her dream.

Abruptly, she stood, and stalked towards the door to grab her pea coat from its peg, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. She blinked rapidly, and forced her mind to stay blank. I am Hoshina Utau, she thought, free like a butterfly, taunt like a leopard. Utau doesn't cry.

And so, she didn't.

:.:

Days passed after Amu's surprising meeting with the stranger named Tsukiyomi Ikuto, and yet she couldn't stop thinking about him—well, her and him. She had never allowed a stranger into her house (or any where near her, for that matter) but there was a calmness that enveloped around her when he was next to her, a calmness she only felt with Kuukai and Nagihiko. Perhaps, if everything worked out well, he could be her friend.

As soon as the thought entered her brain, she thought of it as preposterous. Ikuto as a friend? If anything less, he shouldn't have been classified in that category. He was someone aloof, and she needed a label that could describe his aloofness. 'Friends' seemed so stereotypical and 'lover'—

She froze.

Why in the world was she even thinking of him as a lover? How had that thought ever entered her brain in the first place?

"You're blushing," replied her friend from beside her, and Amu instinctively patted her cheeks, still cold from the frigid wind outside. Her hands felt like fire against her skin.

"A-am not," she stuttered defiantly, though it was a lost cause—she knew she was and she knew Rima did, too. "I was just thinking about starting my job next week."

Ever since Amu had lost her parents, her life seemed to fall apart bit by bit—she lost her Cool 'n Spicy attitude in school which she was so known for; her brightness seemed to fade; and losing a job wasn't on the plan. She had been living on Kuukai's and Nagihiko's and Rima's extra savings for so long—though only two years—that she was determined to repay them. She would never tell them, of course; they'd deny the money, but she would do something. Leave it in their flat, place it in the way of their foot paths, make their manager hand them the money as "presents" ….

Rima raised a skeptical eyebrow, sipping her coffee with sophisticated delicacy. Amu instantly felt jealous. "You were blushing about your job? Uh-huh. Nice try. You always were a terrible liar, Amu."

Amu blushed darker, the color filling her cheeks. How could she tell her about the man in her flat days ago? She kept it a secret; only between her and him, and that was exactly how she wanted it. Rima, Nagihiko, and Kuukai felt like intruders …. Like they were looking at her naked body. Dismissing the thought with dread, she laughed quietly as her fingers wrapped around her warming cup. "Oh, Rima," she sighed, glancing at her hands for a moment. "There's nothing going on. I'm just a little giddy, that's all."

Amu's gaze flitted around the shop, drinking in all its components. In Tokyo, bakeries surrounded the whole city, selling from Western desserts all the way to Malaysian ones and she couldn't help but smile at the thought. Starting in two days, she would be working in this bakery, Le Boulanger Dominique Saibron located in the Akasaka district. It was only a short walk from the station, and it made her gain a sense of confidence—she didn't need her friends anymore. She wasn't going to be a coward. After hiding behind a shell of her friends for six years, she was tired. This wasn't life—life was waiting for her and all she did was hide.

Rima followed her gaze and slightly frowned. "It's a nice place," she said, slowly. "A little small, don't you think? They should buy more space. Oh, and expensive! These teas were totally worth less than buying for. And no freakin' sitting area! Can you believe it? To stand and have to drink coffee?"

Amu fluttered a smile. Her friend was just too funny. "It's all right. Cozy and lovable. But, their bread is delicious. I'll treat you to some next time," Amu said.

"Employee discount?" Rima's eyelids fluttered.

"Maybe. I hope so."

Rima smiled tentatively as her lips touched the rim of her cup. It had been days since she saw Amu feeling this happy. It felt like days, but Rima knew it was more like years ago—six, to be exact. She had noticed the change in Amu almost immediately; Amu had skipped school for nearly two weeks, and she wasn't at her house. What was worse, it seemed like Kuukai and Nagihiko knew as if what was going on. And when she asked Nagi, expecting him to tell her—because she was his friend, too, right?—he replied coolly, almost sadly: "There's nothing to worry about."

Like hell that was true.

And even after that, as Amu had slowly repaired herself, it was still a secret kept from her. Rima never brought it up again, because of her pride, but mostly because of the deadness and fear in Amu's eyes. Rima wasn't cruel, but she wasn't forgiving, either—whatever they were hiding felt like she was being stabbed by thousands of shards of glass, over and over until the memory became hidden in the deep subconscious of her mind. As much as she hate to admit it, Amu keeping a secret from her hurt more than she liked it to.

And then Amu spoke, and Rima plastered on a smile that hoped looked convincing enough.

If Amu was ready to tell her, she would. She would just have to wait.

"Rima? You listening? I just ordered chocolate-almond pastries."

:.:

Amu glanced inside her bag—two pastries left. One was hers and the other … well, she actually had no idea why in the world she had ordered six pastries. She ordered herself, Rima, Nagihiko one, and knowing Kuukai, ordered two for him. All but hers was left, and the other, though she didn't know if she could eat two. After devouring nearly a cup full of coffee, her stomach was not growling anymore, and though Kuukai still begged for the other, she couldn't bring herself to give it to him. He already ate two—and the pastries were large, almost three inches in diameter—and giving him his third one just made her feel … well, she didn't know.

Kuukai and Nagihiko both offered to take her home, but she quietly refused. Her mind replayed Kuukai's words inside her head: "If it isn't such a big deal Amu," he spat. "then why are you still afraid to go to clubs? To parties? To go alone, without anyone by your side?"

It made her see herself for who she really was—dependent, weak, and cowardly. She was determined to change that now. Though she could feel the butterflies in her stomach, she ignored them—and besides, tucked into the deep pocket of her jacket was her pepper spray. She would be fine. So perhaps Amu was a bit incompetent, but there should have been a few ways for her to do something. She couldn't have been that weak.

The sun was slowly sinking in the distance, the sky ablaze with colors of red, pink, orange, and a strong yellow. She stopped for a second and closed her eyes, relishing the time of day that was her favorite. It was solitary. It was amazing.

It was magnificent.

And then, when she opened then, she realized the colors had dulled, leaving the sky into a flimsy shade of purples, greys, and blues. Had she really been standing there for so long? She was about to step forward to quickly return home, but a cry from behind her stopped her cold.

It was a small cry, not a scream nor a shout, but closer to a whimper, as if the person was in pain. Amu clutched the strap of her messenger bag, not at all wanting to go back towards the sound that sounded as if it were coming from an alleyway. Alleyways haunted her, and of course, this could be a trap for her.

But what if it wasn't?

Before contemplating, she felt her feet propel her backward, the way she came. The sky was dimming and darkening extremely fast, she thought, which made her all the more quiver in fear. The more she moved closer, the more she regretted her decision. It's not too late, her mind whispered, You can go back. Turn around and never return. But, what would that prove? That she was a coward, surely. And she didn't want to be.

Moving her feet faster, she rounded the corner into the alleyway. And stopped dead.

There, slumped against the concrete wall was Ikuto, and as she moved closer she could see the cuts and bruises on his face—one beside his lip, above his eye, and another just below his chin. He groaned in pain, and Amu felt her relief swarm around her in an aura. As she rummaged through her bag for a napkin, she heard his raspy voice echo through the darkness: "Oh," he said, and as she looked up she saw his eyes squinting as if he couldn't quite see her. "It's you."

Her heart beat frantically in her chest as she neared him, and she could feel a blush filling her cheek. For once, she was thankful to the darkness. She knelt beside him, far enough so he couldn't reach but enough so that she could wipe away the blood from his face. The cut above his eye was bleeding profusely, and though she knew it was only just a simple cut, the blood dripped down from the side of his cheek to the edge of his chin. She vaguely remembered her high school health teacher saying something about how there was so much blood gathered around the skull that even a simple cut looked like it was hit with a bullet. She would need more than one napkin. As she tried to reach over and wipe away the blood, he turned his face away, towards the other side.

"Go away." His voice was breathless, and Amu's thoughts frantically raced around her mind: He's about to faint, he's about to faint, he's about to faint! "I don't need you."

"Stop talking," she muttered. "You're bleeding so much and you're talking? What did you do anyway? What are you, a gangster? Let me just clean you up and I'll be going. Oh, and here—" She reached behind her, grabbing the bag from the bakery. "Eat this. It's chocolate-almond pastries."

His eyes widened when he stared at the outstretched bag in front of him. Was she offering him her food? How would she have known he was starving? Or maybe she didn't. And how in the world was chocolate being offered to him? If this was a coincidence, he would gladly believe it. He couldn't lose himself to hoping.

"No," he said, and he looked away from her again. "I don't want pastries."

He heard her growl in frustration, and then saw her get up. There was something inside him then, that told him to stop her from leaving, but he pushed the feeling aside and glanced up at her almost lethargically. "I don't get you," she snapped, blushing. "You obviously look like you're starving, yet you won't eat. You're bleeding, and you won't let me fix you. What the heck are you?"

You won't let me fix you.

The words echoed in his mind—could she really fix him? And then he almost laughed; the one who needed fixing wasn't him, it was her.

She looked like she was contemplating between leaving him there or staying by him, but he said nothing. He didn't even send her signals. A large part of him hoped she would just leave, but there was, as much as he hate to admit it, a piece of him that was hoping she'd stay.

And there it was again.

Hope.

He looked away, almost embarrassed as she knelt back beside him with an exaggerated sigh, and much closer this time. She was so warm, so soft looking and toasty that he almost …

He straightened suddenly. What was he thinking? Why was he even taking interest in her? She was the victim and he was the monster and yet he was still pursuing her. This was wrong. So completely totally wrong and yet …

And yet he found himself liking her.

a/n: And tada! Finally I've gotten somewhere. It felt like the last two chapters were filler-ish, so now I'm starting to get this story moving, hehe. Hoped you enjoyed this; I sure enjoyed writing this chapter. Especially the last part!

And as for the quote above, you do realize that it relates to the Ikuto and Amu near the end? I found it online and just thought Oh, my this is perfect! and decided to jam it in there. (btw, Ikuto's the criminal! I'm telling you this because if you've already read the first to this chapter, then you should know!)

So here's what we're talking about: more Utau, more Rima, more Amu, and more Ikuto! I wish I could've entered Kuukai and Nagihiko in the coffee house scene but I had no idea how, lol. So I decided to do a time-skip. And soon I'll be able to include as many characters as I can … Yaya, Kairi, maybe, Tadase, etc. I don't know yet. I may just leave the story centered around these six. :P

Oh, snap. Next chapter is all dark. Here's a preview (just to leave you on the edge of your seats!):

He didn't want to burden her, no matter how much she might have suggested it wasn't one at all. But she didn't know him, and he knew her and wasn't that the most dangerous of all? That he knew everything about her—from her favorite color to her family history, and she knew nothing about him?

Nothing made sense as he entered Easter Inc.'s building, gliding around the revolving doors and up the staircase to his father's office. He knew this place as well as he knew who his family was; there were marble floors, plush, green carpet, and glass windows that showed skyscrapers set out all across Tokyo.

Ikuto rounded the corner into the long hallway, and as he stared ahead, he saw the large doors with his stepfather's name printed on it: Hoshina Kazuomi, CEO/Director.

He opened them with a push, and his stepfather's silhouetted figure waited on the other side. As he turned, Ikuto's eyes transfixed to his open violin case on his desk and he nearly ran to catch it before the instrument fell against the floor, but the look on Kazuomi's face stopped him.

"Ikuto," he said, his voice soft and calm, but it had roughness to it. Ikuto watched as he picked up his violin up by the neck and held it high in the air. Kazuomi's gaze then turned to Ikuto's, a savage grin on his face. "I'm glad you showed up because ..." His eyes then returned to the fiddle gripped in his hand, and Ikuto watched in horror as his stepfather's fingers uncurled slowly.

"I have another mission for you."

And he released the violin.

Anything mentioned in this excerpt could be subjected to change.