a soft story, very much condensed

Kill the princess.

It was his mission. He carried out missions. There was nothing but missions.

Kill the princess.

And if his mission involved killing even more people than the princess, then so be it. He was a killer; it was the only thing he was good for. He had to do it.

Kill the princess.

Hotaru Imai was not a foolish princess. Even at her own birthday celebration, she took precautions. She knew enemies may attempt to use the cover of the hullabaloo or the presumed lax atmosphere to launch an attack.

Which is why she was not surprised when she retreated to her bedroom to find a man wielding fire lying in ambush for her, no doubt a member of Z, a dark organization specializing in assassinations.

But Hotaru was more than a not foolish princess; she was cunning and she was prepared.

The next time Natsume awoke, it was as though he had drowned and had been resuscitated. Because when he awoke, his body wanted to breathe, and his first inhale was a humongous gasp for air. Sputtering, he felt the painful burn as he strained to inflate his lungs.

"Call the Lady in here! He has awoken!"

Through his gasping, he felt the flutter of many hands around him, and at all once, he felt claustrophobic.

Too many hands, too many people. Even worse, through his panicked vision, he couldn't recognize anything.

A spacious room, furnished. Desk. Wardrobe. Maids. Windows.

He launched himself toward the windows, but found his body to be utterly, devastatingly weak. He picked himself back up quickly and whipped himself around, prepared for a fight. Out of habit, he reached to pull out his dagger and slashed at the crowd, but then realized he was holding nothing but air. Patting himself down for more weapons, he discovered he wasn't wearing his own clothes.

The people were still fussing, trying to get closer, when a brunette woman burst into the room, causing everyone to jump back.

"Space, give him space," shouted the brunette, pushing everyone with her arms, creating a human barrier out of herself between them and him. It was a stalemate; Natsume in one corner, everyone else in another.

He could see the fright in their eyes, the trembling in their limbs, the sweat on their pale skin. He was still a monster.

That thought triggered a wave of guilt, something he hadn't felt in years nor had felt so deeply in his life. He was nearly overwhelmed as the sensation sent his head spinning, vision blurring, vomit rising.

He struggled to breathe. Everything felt so much sharper, and it hurt to exist.

Even in his distressed conundrum, he could hear everything quieting and through his now foggy vision, he saw a brown blob slowly make its way toward him. Blindly, he swiped at it, but all he caught was air.

He heard a faint shushing sound and found that as the blob grew closer, his body calmed down until he choked one last time on air and everything cleared. A deep inhale inflated his lungs and he felt himself to be… alive. Everything was so much sharper than it used to be, but everything was brighter and he could feel his mind finally work again.

It was though he had been awakened from a stupor, a burdensome cloud of fog lifted from his mind, his brain finally firing on all synapses.

He could think. And he could see.

"There, there," came a soft, soothing voice. It belonged to that brunette woman, and he could see that she had been getting closer all the time.

He didn't remember falling to the ground, but there he was on his knees, the mysterious stranger kneeling beside him, close enough to touch.

Once more, she shushed, and instead of finding himself irritated by the sound, his once tensed shoulders relaxed.

He looked at her, and she looked at him. There was a hint of a smile at the corner of her lips.

"What's your name?" she asked softly, her words brushing over him with the gentleness of a lazy breeze.

He remained silent and, for the first time, looked her over with a wary eye. She didn't seem dangerous and for all of his training, he honestly didn't think she was dangerous. In fact, he could probably push her down and make a run for it. He actually didn't even need to push. He could probably burn her up faster than she could scream.

Funny, as he thought more and more, he recalled fuzzy memories where he wouldn't have even hesitated, much less considered with actual thoughts, about using his fire. It was and always had been his first instinct.

But… she wasn't dangerous. She wasn't going to harm him. Something about that realization made him pause.

More unbidden thoughts came, and at the forefront: looks deceive.

With that in mind, he lunged at her, faster than a viper, and pinned her to the ground. He had thought to scare her with a fireball in one hand, but for some reason, his fire wouldn't ignite. He settled for one hand at her throat and the other yanking one of her pigtails. He saw her wince, but her face soon smoothed out again.

The lack of cries for help at his sudden attack alerted him that they were alone in the room.

"Where am I?" he managed to rumble, finally realizing how gravelly his voice was and how dry his throat was.

"I am the Duchess Mikan Sakura. You are safe in my manor," she said, just as smooth as before, her voice pouring into his ears like a balm on a wound. He felt safe.

He shook his head violently, to clear the effects of any potential voice pheromone Alice, but he quickly realized she wasn't using any pheromone Alice on him. For sure, she was an Alice, he could feel her power rippling just beneath the surface, but she wasn't using it to attack him.

His head still felt oddly clear and faster than he would have been able to before, he connected the pieces of the puzzle.

"Nullification Alice," he said, and she nodded, her chin bumping into his hand still wrapped around her neck.

"I have the nullification Alice so your fire doesn't hurt me," she explained slowly, each word steadying the rockiness inside him. "My friend brought you here because you tried to kill her. The princess."

Kill the princess.

The words stabbed into his mind, but much to his surprise, they didn't consume his mind. They were a reminder of the past, but those words didn't force his hands to move as they did before. He could think and he could choose.

He didn't have to kill the princess. Though his mind worked faster with this new lucidity, there were so many questions, and the confusion appeared on his face.

"You were part of an organization known as Z, which planned to assassinate her. There are others like you. The people who run that organization control you by using controlling devices. We took yours out, which means you might feel disoriented because everything feels… brighter."

The hand at her throat tightened unconsciously as he processed her words. Her eyes drifted toward the nearest bedside table. "Your devices are on that table. They were in the form of earrings."

Slowly, much slower than the Duchess would have liked, he eased off her throat and straightened up, still straddling her. His eyes flickered back to her, making sure she hadn't planned a surprise attack, while he reached for the table.

True to her word, he recognized the blood stone stud and the golden plate with dragon carvings. His hand drifted to his ears and once he acknowledged their absence, he felt an immense pressure lift off of him as though his head had been stuck in a vise and he had finally been freed.

Nearly out of shock, he sat down, but that movement elicited a pained yelp from the woman lying beneath him as he realized he just sat on her legs.

"Oh."

Something strange tugged at his heart, and he felt the desire to move. However, that desire didn't come from somewhere else like his commands had, instead it came from the inside. He realized he wanted to move his body because he had hurt her.

He stood up and stepped away so he wasn't over the woman. He realized he must have still looked formidable, though, staring at her so intently so he tried to back away and not look so harshly at her.

Keeping her eyes on his face, she unhurriedly crawled backwards away from him until she was at a good distance before standing up.

She was shorter than he was. She was wearing a plain dress, something he had rarely seen duchesses or royalty or other nobles wear. Her face, likewise, was plain with brown eyes and freckled skin. Her hair, like everything else about her, was also a plain brown color, currently wrapped in two pigtails.

The hairstyle didn't suit her, made her looked much more like a child than necessary. He guessed she wasn't that much older or younger than he was, just the same age.

Then Natsume felt a sensation, but this one was much more familiar: fatigue. He was tired.

Silently, he moved toward the bed and crawled right back in it. As he laid his head on the pillow, he heard the lady whisper, "Of course. You must be tired. If you need anything, please just let us know. There will be somebody outside your door at all times."

Then he heard her footsteps go toward the door and the nearly soundless click as the door closed.

And then Natsume slept.

And Natsume slept and continued to sleep. Mercifully, he had no dreams.

Once, he had awoken and found himself thirsty, but without having to leave his (his? Was this bed his now?) bed, someone had come with a pitcher and a glass. He drank the whole thing before resting his head back down and sleeping some more.

And so Natsume slept and continued to sleep.

The next time he awoke, it was nighttime and he had the urge to relieve himself. In the darkness, he managed to lift himself off the bed and find the door to open it. The hallway was dimly lit with candles. Sure enough, there was somebody outside the door; a young boy reading a book who didn't react to the door opening or to Natsume's appearance.

The boy glanced at his face briefly before pointing in the direction of the bathroom and then returning his nose to his book.

Still a bit dazed from sleeping so much, Natsume didn't say anything and instead went to relieve himself. It was a decent sized manor with tasteful furnishings; it wasn't opulent yet it wasn't bare. From what he could see, which honestly wasn't much, it looked homely.

Another strange sensation tingled in his heart, and it took Natsume the entire time until he entered his (his? It wasn't his; it was the Duchess's) room again to realize he liked it.

Natsume liked the place.

Natsume moved to go back to sleep, but he had only spent a minute or so lying between the sheets before he heard voices outside the door.

Then there was a knock on the door. Natsume was caught off-guard by the knock, not because it was loud, but because he was so used to people barging into places they needed.

"Hello, I heard you were awake," came the growingly familiar voice of the duchess.

Unused to the situation, Natsume paused for longer than needed before he realized she was awaiting a response.

"Yes."

Then there was another pause, longer than he felt was necessary before Natsume tried again, in case she didn't hear. He tried a little louder: "Yes, I am awake."

"Oh, good, may I come in?" came her muffled voice.

He didn't understand why she would need to ask permission since this was her manor, but nevertheless, he gave it.

When she entered, she carried an already lit candle, a small pack, and a great smile.

Natsume did not smile back.

"Hello, it's good to see you awake. You've been sleeping for more than two days now," she explained as she moved toward him. "May I?" She indicated the unlit lamp on one of the bedside tables that he didn't even know was there, placing the pack on the table.

Natsume nodded.

She lit the lamp, which considerably brightened up the room, then put the candle on the table on the other side of the bed. Then she gestured toward the foot of the bed. "May I sit down?"

This time, Natsume eyed her warily. That was getting a bit too close than he preferred. Still, he could not sense any harm coming from her.

He shifted his legs over, a wordless sign of acquiescence. She smiled a bit more and then sat down. She was wearing another plain dress, this time a white one with red trimmings.

"I don't know if you remember, but my name is Mikan," she said warmly. "What is your name?"

Natsume hesitated, suspicious of her intentions. He still didn't understand who she was or why he had been brought to her. From what he could tell, she wasn't working for Z and seemed nice enough. But what if it was all an act? Was this a punishment for trying to kill the princess? For failing to kill the princess?

When he didn't answer, she continued, "That's okay. You don't have to tell me." She looked down and absentmindedly smoothed out a wrinkle on the sheets before looking back at him. "I don't know if you remember me telling you this, but you tried to kill the princess."

His gaze hardened. So this was a punishment. What was she going to do? Keep him prisoner? Use him as labor? Torture him and then kill him? Maybe underneath the kind facade was a sick, sick woman.

Mikan sensed his tension and unexpectedly got flustered. "Oh no, please don't don't be nervous. No, we're not here to kill you or anything."

He relaxed, a bit, and his hand unclenched, having unknowingly made a fist.

"We know about Z, and we know what they do there." Her eyes were easy to read, especially to Natsume, who had been trained in interrogation techniques. There was sadness, disgust, and a bit of hateful determination. "All of you are members of the nation of Alice, our fellow countrymen, and Hotaru and I are repulsed by what Z does; kidnapping young children, abusing them, using them as weapons."

Her lip curled as she got more fired up, but stopped herself before she could launch into a tirade.

"I provide sanctuary to all those who need it. My parents did so before me, and I hope to carry on their legacy. You are free to go if you want, but if you want to stay here at our manor, we'd be happy to have you as long as you don't hurt anyone. If you wish to stay, this room will be yours. We can get you clothes that fit along with anything you need. There's three meals a day, but if you're like me, the kitchens are open anything for a snack."

Her eyes twinkled a little bit. "Inside this pack, you'll find some small things you might need so you don't have to ask anyone: some candles, a bit of soothing medicine, a few healing stones, some vitamins."

Natsume did not know what to say, but as she gave him time and went to leave the room, assuring him that he did not need to tell her what he wanted to do right at that moment, he knew he had at least one thing to tell her.

Before she left, he caught her attention. "My name is Natsume."

At that, she nodded, a small smile tickling the edge of her lips. "Welcome, Natsume."

She had seen many like him before, both animal and human. Once, while pruning her gardens, she had come across a feral cat. It had been maimed, most likely in a fight with other wild cats, large slashes across its belly and its ear nearly torn off.

She brought it into the manor to take care of it and called in Princess Hotaru's Royal Animal Caretaker to help heal it, but when it awoke, it had yowled and scratched and bit everything. Mikan lost many good pillows in the short time the cat was there, and Mikan's arm was perpetually bandaged from all the claw marks. When she finally got the cat to calm down and trust her, it still behaved skittishly.

Loud noises sent it scampering away and disappearing for hours until Mikan would find it bunkered down in some tight nook like in one of her shoe boxes or a high shelf in the library. Fearing that something else would steal its food, it chowed down everything it could, often throwing up, until they figured out to give it smaller portions more frequently.

The cat, after learning to trust more humans than just Mikan, was slowly introduced to its permanent home at Hotaru's palace, in the care of the nice, gentle Royal Animal Caretaker. Mikan visited it sometimes and was pleased to see it thriving, having recently had kittens of its own.

Natsume was, by far, not the only person they had rescued from Z, though he was the 13th to stay with Mikan. Her parents, like many other dukes and duchesses, had provided much needed sanctuary when the Alice War raged in its full, brute intensity, and Mikan hoped to do just the same.

On the fourth night, she found out he had used one of the healing stones, taken some vitamins, and suffered from nightmares. He hadn't left his room yet, which didn't worry her, since her guards reported that he had been accepting the small bits of food they left ready for him. In addition to bringing meals, they also left a stack of food in the room for him to eat anytime he wanted.

Since he already had stayed three days out of his volition, they had prepared the basic tunic and breeches, but he hadn't ventured out of his room. Yet.

Overall, Mikan was pleased with the progress. It had taken Nobara a week to open up and talk. Others had taken more or less the same time, but Natsume had responded to her almost immediately. Mikan had the feeling that Natsume was strong, but flexible; he could adapt to and withstand anything.

But on the fourth night, she found out it came at a cost. Honestly, the screaming woke her up faster than her maids or her guards or her servants could. Without thinking, she leapt out of bed and rushed outside. She caught them in the hallway on the way to Natsume's room, telling her what she had already guessed.

None of them had dared to enter, but when she opened the door, they crowded around the doorway curiously. Jinno, the stern head servant, shooed them away as he watched Mikan carefully approach the writhing Natsume.

His eyes were screwed shut, sweat soaking into the bed and into his clothes. He wasn't flailing and instead had buried his face into the pillows, hands twisted into claws, digging into the mattress.

First, she tried it without the voice pheromone, but found that his screams drowned out her whispers. She opened up the small pack she had left on the table and ordered Jinno to bring her a stone, which he responded to with haste.

Handing her the stone, Jinno shut the door behind him to give her some privacy and prevent any of the nosy servants from looking.

Although Natsume's screams had subsided on their own, she didn't want to take the risk as she clutched the stone containing the voice pheromone Alice in her hand and absorbed it, allowing her to use the ability temporarily.

"Natsume," she called, and the reaction was instantaneous as Natsume stopped writhing, though his hands remained clawed into the mattress. He was a stone statue. "Everything is okay. You're safe here."

She stepped closer, sitting on the edge of the bed. Hesitantly, she reached out before deciding to touch him, very gently, rubbing his back. At her first touch, he shivered but then relaxed as though melting underneath her.

After a few minutes, she commanded him to wake up and to flip around. Mikan hated telling him what to do. Although he was technically awake, his eyes were blank as the voice pheromone took root in his brain. She also noticed that his eyes were bloodshot and his cheeks damp; he had been crying in his sleep.

Wrapping an arm around him, she scooted him closer to her as she helped him take a spoonful of the calming medicine, which he did so obediently. As a mother would do, she tucked him back into bed, stroking his hair.

"Go back to sleep," she said gently. His eyes closed, and she blew out the candle on the table, waiting as her own eyes adjusted to the darkness and to the moonlight.

She had heard from many about what Z does to the children, and she had seen the consequences firsthand herself. Natsume's current state did not surprise her.

As she stood to leave, she heard a whimper break through Natsume's lips. In the weak light permitted through the window, she could see the rapid movement underneath his eyelids and the sweat already appearing on his face once more.

Trying to comfort him again, she gave one last command as the voice pheromone Alice disappeared from her body: "Calm down, Natsume."

Alas, the power had already weakened to the point where it was rendered ineffective. For a moment, she wondered what his nightmares were about to be so terrible and so strong. As she leaned toward him, shushing and stroking his face, his arms shot up and wrapped around her so fast, she would have sworn he was awake.

Trapped in his grip, Mikan was shocked speechless as he held her tightly against him, his face buried against her shoulder. Then his whole body shook, and she felt his tears soak her nightgown.

His muffled cries touched her heart, and she passed the entire night with him, holding him like a baby.

Natsume was thoroughly embarrassed in the morning, though he didn't show it, but Mikan did not make a big fuss about it. Instead, the morning after the incident, she helped him leave the room for the first time during the day. Laboriously, they made it to the main manor doors. She opened the door, and he saw the outside world for the first time in about a week. It was a cloudy day of bearable temperature, not too warm, not too sunny. He still didn't fully trust exposing himself, but he did peek his head out like a freshly hatched baby bird out of its nest.

She introduced him to a few faces, such as Jinno and Kitsuneme, the guard who usually took post outside his door. But he couldn't handle any more than that and opted to retire in his room by suppertime.

Small steps.

The next day, he felt ready enough that she gave him a tour of the complete grounds, everything from the guest rooms to the kitchens to the gardens. It was sunnier and a bit warmer than the day before, and he still didn't particularly enjoy the feeling of fresh air on his skin so he didn't last very long outside.

But then, Mikan showed him the library.

Oh, the library. He hadn't expected to like it so much, considering he hadn't spent much time reading and truthfully couldn't read much, and he was about ready to disregard it completely when Mikan showed him a game-changer:

A graphic novel.

The story was so easy to follow, and there was minimal reading required. In fact, Natsume could essentially understand the story from the pictures themselves. For the first time in a long, long while, Natsume enjoyed his first book; it was a story about a school of children with superpowers.

And the best part was there was more than one graphic novel. No, the best part was Mikan letting him read as many as he wanted. No, even better were a special type of graphic novels called "comic books," which involved fewer words and were even shorter.

As Natsume spent a good portion of the morning and early afternoon slouched in the library, silently flipping through comic book after comic book, he felt something satisfying fill in a hole he didn't know was inside him. It was though, for the first time, he could feel how big the world was and how many people were in it and how many stories there were.

He felt connected. Of course, he didn't share any of what he was feeling with Mikan, but it was obvious from the way he was so engrossed in those books that he enjoyed them immensely.

Regretfully, Mikan had to tear him away, but promised he could take as many as he wanted back to his room, and of course, he was free to enter the library whenever he wanted.

His second favorite place that she showed him that day was a very quiet room filled with dark wooden tables and plush chairs and shelves of books that she called her "study." The windows were large, dust motes suspended in sunshine. The rugs were thick, absorbing all sound of footsteps.

Though his mind instinctively began calculating all the exit strategies and the different manners in which an assassin could ambush her, he tried to redirect his thoughts so they focused simply on how much he appreciated the design of the room.

"Would you like to sup with us?" she interrupted his thoughts.

Though he declined that evening, he accepted the next.

Little by little, he stepped out of the room and into the rest of the manor on his own. There were some hours she didn't even know where he was, though more often than not, he was in the library.

He didn't say anything more to her than was necessary, but she had started to learn how to read what he needed and what he wanted. There were times when he didn't mind her presence, and he let her stay with him, reading silently or watching him. There were times when he wanted to be alone, and she didn't bother him for hours.

He spoke very little at meals, but Mikan could tell by the way he watched the other guests speak that he was paying attention, and when she asked him one time what he thought of the conversation, he had given astute commentary.

Mikan didn't push him to converse with her, which he appreciated, but she always made it a point to find him each day and say, "Good morning!" and "Good night!" Often times, Natsume responded with a simple nod.

Sometimes, if she was close enough, she felt him use his Alice, but whenever she went to check on him, she didn't find anything destroyed; just a lit candle or him stoking a fire back to life so he could continue reading.

The stack of books grew by his bedside. He began eating more and more food at meals and had actually tried a dessert for the first time, despising its sweetness immediately. Sometimes, he would seek her out during the day, unable to figure out a particularly long word in one of the comic books. Patiently, she would teach him the meaning, and she soon discovered he was a fast learner with a good memory.

And at the end of a fortnight, she decided to initiate the next phase of her plan.

It was a blank canvas.

"Creating is good for the soul. It lets you release all of your emotion, everything bottled up inside, and create something tangible that you can see and be proud of." Delicately, she continued to sketch the bare bones of a tree, a lake, and what Natsume presumed to be a sunset. It was difficult to guess without any color.

He stared at the small stretch of white canvas in front of him, so pure, so untouched, so clean. Slowly, he lifted one hand to lightly trail the very tips of his finger, the rough texture barely perceptible underneath his calluses.

Then he lit it on fire. And he stared Mikan right in the eyes as the flames burned away all the pureness.

Much to his surprise, she did not flinch nor did she squeal as he expected her to. At first, it seemed as though she were going to frown, but then she changed her mind as she reached over and waved her hand over his now ruined canvas, the flames vanishing immediately.

Then, even more surprising, she looked at him with mirth in her eyes.

"So I take it painting isn't really your thing."

Next she wanted him to try pottery, but his Alice burned up any liquid from the wet clay and everything cracked. Then she brought him every single musical instrument known to humankind, and even though they both quickly figured out he hadn't an ounce of talent in his body and could only manage to keep a melody for the triangle, she still had him try every instrument.

Every. Single. One.

While pushing him to engage his creativity, Mikan also figured he most likely needed a physical outlet as well. As the days warmed up, she soon started to introduce him to outdoor activities.

The first of which was archery.

Although she continued to surprise him day after day, he downright stared at her in disbelief as she cheerfully handed him a bow and arrow. He wondered if all her ancestors and relatives were as stupidly naive as she was and if so, how had her family line manage to survive so long?

He had arrived barely three weeks ago, a lethally trained assassin, and here she was, allowing him free rein in the manor with minimal supervision (which he already thought was quite brainless of her) and now she intended to equip him with a weapon.

She wasn't just stupid; she was asking to die.

A curious thought crept through his mind as he nocked an arrow and before he could talk himself out of it, he acted upon it and instead of aiming his bow toward the targets set up fifty meters away, he turned it toward Mikan.

This time, she did flinch, but not of fear as he hoped she would, but because of how sudden his movement was. Her Alice wouldn't be able to protect her against an arrow piercing her body. She was defenseless.

Mikan lowered her chin in determination and looked at him straight in the eye. She didn't say much and she didn't need to say much.

"Natsume," she warned lowly and fiercely. And with that one word, his name, he understood it all and felt, for the first time, shame course through his body. She wasn't stupid; she trusted him, too much in his opinion and too much for his liking, but she trusted him.

Ugh. His insides felt slimy. It was different than when his trainers assigned him missions and trusted him to complete them. Of course, there would be a punishment, perhaps a whipping, if he didn't, but they had trusted him to get the job done.

She trusted him to not kill her, to not steal anything, to not run away, back to this trainers, and order an execution. And this newfound knowledge made him feel a little strange, but most of all, it made him feel shameful for aiming his arrow at her.

"Kidding," muttered Natsume as he nonchalantly turned back to his real target and let his arrow fly straight into the bullseye. Still, it was until he had shot his seventh arrow into the bullseye did he notice her relax, but when she did, Natsume swore the air felt a bit… triumphant.

Mikan hummed lightly as she responded to her best friend's letter, requesting a status update on the fire-wielding Alice left in her care.

She wrote only the truth: Natsume was like a tall block of ice, but he was adjusting well. Spoke infrequently. Hadn't shown any indication of leaving. Curious about the world. Lovely to be around. Only tried to kill her once.

Natsume didn't like any of the physical activities Mikan introduced him to, especially the games (who really needs to stand around and hit a ball with a mallet several times?); instead he opted for the simpler task: running.

He ran during the brisk dawn, he ran during the fading sunset. Sometimes, Mikan joined him, dressed in pants, but it was not for very long or very frequently.

It was much less physically demanding than most of Z's training, but he could choose when he wanted to run, where he wanted to run, and for long he wanted to run.

He didn't have to think much, just work his body, inhaling and exhaling deeply.

It was liberating.

One morning, after his run and a quick change of clothing, Mikan said there was someone he should see. As Mikan escorted him to an undisclosed room, Natsume noticed how few people they passed and felt a shift in the temperature. It was getting colder.

Mikan's explanation gave no real hints as to where they were going, leading him up and up stairs. "I thought you might like to see a familiar face around here. Like you, she comes and goes as she pleases but knows she can always come back if she ever needs or wants. She's staying here just temporarily as she travels to another land, but I thought it'd be nice for you to meet her."

Natsume cocked his head curiously, but Mikan simply smiled at him as she knocked twice on the door, tucked away in the manor's highest corner.

"Come in."

Mikan swung open the door to reveal a normally furnished room. At first, Natsume didn't see anything exceptionally out of the ordinary until a small head popped out from behind a high-seated chair.

Natsume stared at her, long platinum blonde hair and shy demeanor, until a name came to match the face from somewhere long forgotten: Nobara.

Faded memories passed through his mental eye, his heart thumping harder and harder with each scene. Nobara as a little girl being introduced to Z, fighting against her during practices, Nobara bleeding due to injuries he caused. She had the Ice Alice, a natural enemy of his Fire.

Natsume thought: he hated her.

But just as quickly, another thought came: No, he didn't.

She was just like him.

She had arrived at Z a bit later than he did, and they soon ruined her the way they ruined him. He remembered seeing her struggle against their trainings, bruises and cuts strikingly apparent against her pale skin. He remembered watching her from across the practice room, against a background of grunts and blows, as she vomited and collapsed from exhaustion, then they slapped back to consciousness. His shoulder ached in memory of a time when they had fought, and her ice had impacted hard, dislocating it.

She was just like him. Yet, there they were, free in the world.

The two didn't say anything, just looked at each other, but the eyes told the other what they needed to say.

Nobara's eyes told Natsume a story of finding peace and acceptance, of thawing ice, of becoming whole again.

Natsume's eyes showed Nobara his still remaining fears of Z, but that the last thing he wanted to do was leave.

Mikan left them alone, and they sat in companionable silence for the first time in their lives.

At the four week mark, Natsume had nightmares again. Except this time, when Mikan woke up in his bed after a night of consoling him, he didn't let go.

He let go physically, but in the following days, he trailed her closer than her own shadow. Where she went, he went. She was surprised, of course, but she covered it up and let him do what he want, curious to see what would happen.

When she was tasting her chef's newest pasties, he was right there, stuffing himself with different flavored cream puffs. When a fellow duchess came to visit, he sipped his tea and nibbled at his finger food and ignored any pointed looks from Lady Sumire. When she was outside in her gardens, he was there, reading a book in the sunshine, marveling at its warmth.

The only time he left her alone was when she needed to venture into town. She had invited him along, but he only made it as far as the carriage before feeling the openness of the world unsettle him.

As soon as she returned, he was right there, helping carry her purchases inside.

The abandonment panic only lasted for about a week, but it had soon become routine for the both of them, and soon there they were, Mikan and Natsume together.

After seven weeks, the letter came, expected by Mikan, unbeknownst to Natsume. It was the end of the day, everyone had supped, and Mikan was taking care of the manor business in the study. Natsume, not wanting to leave her side quite yet, was assigned the quiet easy job of sorting through the letters that had arrived and deciding which ones needed her most urgent attention.

Of course, it wasn't something he had to do, but rather something he didn't mind doing. (And besides, although it was an easy job, he couldn't help but swell up at the notion that Mikan trusted him, in a whole other sense, to read her letters. It felt… intimate.)

He had already separated the junk mail, of people offering items or advertising for some event or another, from correspondence from actual acquaintances and friends when the stamp of the Royal Seal caught his eye.

The princess.

Without warning, one part of his brain hissed, Kill the princess. As quickly as that thought had come, Natsume tried to shoo it out of his mind, refusing to think it further.

Instead, he decided the letter was most likely imperative for Mikan to read and so handed it to her straight away.

Mikan flinched in surprise at the thing thrusted in front of her face. When she recognized the seal, she took it and opened it hurriedly. Natsume watched her read it, her lips moving in silence as she skimmed the letter rapidly.

When she finished, she carefully tucked the letter back into its envelope and looked at Natsume.

In a rare moment, Natsume was concerned about the expression on her face, which seemed a bit like… fear?

"Natsume," she said, "we have to go see the princess."

While Mikan packed for the day trip, it took the entire next day to get Natsume accustomed to riding in the carriage.

Small steps.

He sat in it, Jinno sitting across, watching him. Then, they took a slow circle around the estate. However, after that, Jinno watched Natsume took a jogging lap around in the fresh air and then, for a reason unknown to Jinno, climbed a tree.

Nobody had seen Natsume do that before, and it took about 20 minutes until he descended and they decided to try the carriage again.

They made it down the lane to the edge of Mikan's estate before Natsume abruptly jumped ship and stood there, panting, bent over, hands on his knees.

Without saying a word, he took off running in the opposite direction of town, and Jinno let him go.

Though he didn't mean to go fast, the adrenaline fueled his long strides, and he found himself wanting to go faster. He was afraid of stopping because out of the corners of his eyes, he saw the neighbors; he saw barns, he saw houses, he saw cows, he saw other people, he saw the world pass by.

It was a big world out there. Other people existed out there. Did he dare see it?

"How was it?" Mikan asked at supper. She wanted to hear the report directly from Natsume.

Taking a brief moment to collect his thoughts and stir his spoon around in his soup, he finally responded, "I'm ready to go."

The ride was much more bearable with Mikan, though he did feel a lot like a child with her holding his hand for all of it.

The carriage went faster than it had before, but still slower than it would have without Natsume. What should have been a 10 minute distance turned into half an hour.

A half hour that Natsume appreciated as he peered out the carriage window and watched the world. When they entered town, his breath was taken away.

There were so many other people, and everyone was simply living their lives. He had read about and seen towns in the books he read, but ink was nothing compared to the life that existed in reality.

Children played in the streets; peasant women carried baskets or food; other women dressed like Mikan walked around, faces hidden behind fans. Men worked in the streets. Natsume heard the clanging of metal from a blacksmith, the shouts of merchants selling wares, the angry voices of bartering, the laughter of people.

When it became too much, he lay down on the carriage bench and let Mikan brush his hair.

He felt the carriage stop, and he knew they had arrived at the palace. Mikan exited first and helped him down. The palace, though still grand, was nothing he expected. It was tall and exquisite, but it was simply built with no extra flourish, no extravagance.

He soon saw that the extravagance was kept all on the inside as Mikan led him down hallways furnished with grand scenes of art, stones all polished and gleaming, elegantly dressed servants scurrying around, the rugs beneath his feet more luxurious than anything he had seen at Mikan's manor.

He had officially entered the rest of the world.

"I'm sorry I can't be in the room with you," apologized Mikan again for the sixth time as she checked Natsume and his attire for anything stray, "but everything will be okay. They won't hurt you. It'll just be the Princess Hotaru and her trusted adviser, Kokoroyomi. Trust me, the worst Koko could do is make a lame joke about you. He won't tell any of your secrets."

Mikan took a deep breath, and Natsume did the same; and then, one of the guards outside the throne room spoke, "The princess is ready for the examination."

The guards opened the doors for him. He felt Mikan give a gentle nudge forward, and into the room he walked.

Mikan never knew exactly what went on in that room, just that the princess wanted to see the people she left in Mikan's care with her own eyes. Whatever examination they underwent, the princess always decided their fate. Sometimes, they would be assigned a job in the palace; sometimes they would be let free to decide their own fate. Sometimes, they just never came back to Mikan; those, Mikan could predict. Sometimes they could never quite fully forget Z, never quite fully rejoin the rest of the world.

Though she was not yet queen, the princess sat regally in an ornate throne, commanding the room. To her right stood man who looked very much like Kitsuneme, with the countenance of a jester, but was not dressed as such. Nobody else.

The face of the princess flickered dimly in his memories, as though he were viewing it in poor lighting. Her face in reality was so much sharper and cleaner. She did not react to his entrance, but watched him with keen eyes.

When he gotten a fair distance to her, he stopped and bowed, as per Mikan's instructions. When he straightened, he cocked his head curiously, ready for the examination Mikan said they had come for.

"Closer," the princess beckoned.

Natsume took two steps forward. He saw the princess's eyes scrutinize him.

All of this done in silence, which Natsume honestly preferred.

He looked at the man next to the princess; Kokoroyomi? The man grinned widely at him.

"Kitsuneme is my twin," he explained, breaking the silence, "You probably met him at Mikan's manor. My name is Kokoroyomi, as I'm sure Mikan informed you, but people call me Koko."

Natsume nodded curtly. He saw the princess turn to Koko and nod as well.

"Are you ready for the next part of the examination, Natsume?"

Natsume nodded again, unsure of what it entailed.

Then he felt probing fingers in his heads. Out of reflex, he put up a mental block, focusing intently on the concept of solidness as he had been trained to do.

He saw a grimace cross Koko's otherwise easygoing face. A Mind Reading Alice.

"There's a barrier," he murmured to the princess.

"Let us see." Her voice, though soft, was undoubtedly full of power.

Still unable to relax completely, Natsume closed his eyes and thought of nothing. Soon enough, he felt Koko touch his mind and, upon finding no resistance, enter gently. Natsume could tell which memories Koko was looking at as they spontaneously came to Natsume's mind.

Finding the princess, arriving at Mikan's manor, exploring each room, trying to play an instrument, reading comics, secretly picking oranges from the orchard and eating them late at night...

Then Koko paused at a particular memory of when Natsume was helping Mikan garden, dutifully holding a sapling to be planted. The memory paused for a second as Koko focused, trying to see clearly, seeing the scene as Natsume had.

Natsume could feel Koko's eyes follow where his own had been: tracing the small strand of hair that had slipped out from beneath her hat, curling delicately around her neck and falling into her bosom; the way her chest heaved with exertion as she pulled at the dirt; the curve of her thin lips as she cheered with a heart smile; the sunshine beaming from behind her, highlighting the shape of her slender neck and shapely cheeks.

Then Koko retreated from Natsume's mind. He smiled cheekily at the princess.

And Natsume knew at that moment, whenever the mind-reading adviser read a memory, he could feel the emotions in it.

Then he felt Koko delve in even deeper.

When he entered the parlor, three hours since she had last seen him, Mikan immediately put down her hand of cards and rushed to Natsume's side, abandoning her former playmates.

"How was it?"

Natsume shrugged, too exhausted to even formulate a response. "It was okay." Without hesitation, Mikan took his face in her hands, forcing him to look at him and scanning his face for anything awry, as a mother would.

Leaning into her touch, he looked at her, too. Though his eyes were clear and awake, they spoke nothing about what he was feeling inside, which was very much like what he had felt when he had watched her garden.

As Mikan examined him, he took the chance and leaned into those feelings, admiring her freckled face, her soft cheeks he would love to rub his own against, those intelligent and loving brown eyes…

Mikan dropped her hands from his face, seeing nothing out of the ordinary with him.

In return, his own hands reached up toward her head and did something he had yearned to do ever since he saw her. While she couldn't see what he was doing, she felt her hair being released from her signature pigtails.

"Put your hair down. You look prettier this way."

Caught off-guard at the compliment, Mikan blinked at him.

"Oh."

She waited for him to say more, but he didn't; he just stood there looking at her, and soon, for some reason she didn't know why, she felt herself start to blush underneath his gaze as a stray thought popped into her mind.

Shaking away that thought, deeming it impossible, she asked him, "Did Hotaru tell you what she wanted to do with you?"

Natsume shrugged again.

Mikan waited for a response, but none came as Natsume opted to pick up a small sandwich to eat and lie down on a couch.

She frowned deeply. "I'm going to go ask her myself."

When she came back, Mikan offered her hand.

"Go home?"

Natsume nodded and accepted her hand. It felt natural.

"Home."