Authoress' Notes: After being dead for so long, I am finally back! Sorry for the lack of updates in my other stories. School has just gotten into me… I'm glad the year is actually over, actually. I decided that this section needs a Valentine fic, and who else can turn a Valentine fic into a twisted and dark Yuta deathy-fic? This is probably gonna be short… er. Warning, though: I can't write angst as good as Urei Sachi (idolo!), but I'll try.

Yuta angst is the best!

DiSCLAiMER: You probably know by now, that as much as I'd like to own Ultra Maniac and revise it where EVERYBODY gets a happy ending (or someone dies, ah, the sadist that I am), I don't. Hahah.

NOTE: I don't know if you know yet, but just to avoid confusion, Kirishima Mito is a real UM character, that's why she always appears in my fics. Sadly, Yuta's onee-chan only appears in the manga. I don't own any UM manga, but CCHQ in FBR Arcade near Ateneo used to sell the Japanese version, published by Ribbon. I didn't buy it because I was disappointed with the fact that Yuta does not end up with Nina, and huzzah. Sadly, too, though, CCHQ has closed. Mou.

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Red Hues
by psychedelic aya

Today, he thought, was going to be the most agonizing twenty-four hours of his life.

With the rest of the world seeing today sparkled with rainbow colors, glittering ornaments and saccharine treats, he knew that no one could probably ever make him feel better, much less lighten his mood. Everyone was preoccupied, after all, with something else, or more rather, someone else.

Valentines Day.

Oh, he used to love the day, in all honesty—the day painted with pink and magenta, where heart-shaped ornaments hung around in every corner of the street, where the scent of chocolates and flowers could make your heartbeat race in anticipation for that special someone, that certain someone whom you knew had something extraordinary prepared for you.

Hn.

…He used to love the day. There were keywords there. Used to.

'Valentines.' The thought was sour and bitter as it crossed his mind. 'What a load of trash.'

Emerald orbs stared blankly at the glass window and beyond it, where there were probably hundred of witches and wizards (and normal people, if you counted the human realm) getting ready for today. Girls and boys slaving over gifts to please their significant others, or maybe, to delight someone who was a little bit more than special.

Kirishima Yuta had no one who was a little bit more than special. In fact, he had no one at all.

"Bunch of fools," He muttered, rolling his eyes. "They're wasting their time."

His fists clenched.

They're wasting their time.

They'll only suffer in the end.

He really didn't know when he had become so bitter. If this were the usual Valentines Day, he would've been out there in the streets, teasing women and girls alike, winking at them and charming them with his good looks.

But now… he just didn't feel like it.

And because of this, somehow, deep inside, he felt so pitiful with himself. He who was so shameful, so desperate, so weak.

"Damn holiday," Yuta muttered again, with much more hatred this time, as his insides twisted with rejection and anger. "It should never have existed in the first place."

He was about to say something else, to add another foul comment on the hearts' celebration, but was cut off when the door creaked open.

Older sister Kirishima Mito entered the room, slowly and cautiously, as if knowing her younger brother could lash out on her at any moment. Within the dainty grasp of her hand was a bouquet of roses, painted the deepest red and fresh dew drops hanging idly on the petals. "Otouto," She called out to him, trying to smile despite knowing his feelings for this day. "I have flowers for you. From someone named…" She stopped suddenly as her eyes offhandedly glanced on the shadows of his room. Her smile faded and she gasped. "What did you do!"

No answer.

Mito flipped the light switch on, her eyes narrowed in annoyance.

"Why is your room black and white? What happened to the color?"

Obviously, he couldn't care less. Ignoring her on purpose, "Leave the flowers somewhere there." Yuta mumbled in what sounded more like a sarcastic grunt. Then, with what could be called a sinister grin, "Or maybe just take it away to prevent me from burning it."

"Yuta!" Mito was obviously not pleased with his attitude. "You could at least show some appreciation!" She entered the room boldly now, stepping in and stomping her way towards her brother. "And answer my question! What happened to the color in this room?"

His green eyes suddenly roamed upwards and scanned the surroundings, feigning sardonic innocence. He could see nothing with a hue, nothing with life—and he liked it. There were only the dull shades of black, white and gray. "Color?" It was as if the simple word were foreign to him. "What color?"

A flick of the finger. The rainbow returned to his room. "These colors, Yuta."

He glared daggers at her, his knuckles clenching to hold in his anger. "I don't like them." And with his own gesture, the world of neutrality was back. "I like these ones. These colors."

He could hear her sigh. "Black isn't a color, otouto."

A pause, then, "…I know. But it makes me feel better." He smiled again, that spitefully twisted smile of his, before glancing around at his room, satisfied. He traveled his gaze at her then, ready to ask her to make her leave, when he suddenly noticed something. Blantly, he pointed out, "The roses didn't turn black."

Mito arched an eyebrow. "What?"

"Those roses. Why are they still red?"

Almost immediately, the older sister's eyes traveled down to the package she was holding, only to find them as vibrant as before—the red was still as luscious as a woman's painted lips. "Eh?"

Yuta glowered and his teeth gritted. "Who did they come from?" Whoever it was, he was beginning to hate the person already. How dare they defile his magic?

There was a moment of uncanny silence, until Mito grabbed the card and read, "Ophelia Maya." She threw the greeting to him, and he caught it swiftly. "It's from Maya-chan."

As staring at the pink greeting card, which was, by the way, a glittering and fragrant stationary; Yuta thought that this way of presentation for a Valentine's gift was not the black magic witch's style at all. "Maya?" He was able to muster out, unbelieving that the name in cursive writing was actually his childhood friend's. He laughed, but it was almost without any humor. "Impossible." He crumpled the card and shot it at the trash can, clearly with hidden resentment. "That wasn't from Maya. It couldn't have been."

His ane shrugged. "That's what the card said." She walked over to his now gray-scaled table and placed the roses there. The red hue seemed to be so out of place in his world of black and white. "Besides, who else could've known about your color-boycott idea? Only Maya and Nina could ever read you so well."

Immediately, as seeing him snap his head at her direction and glare at her in a way much that was much more heated than before, Mito knew it was the wrong thing to say.

Nina.

Even the mere mention of just her name itself caused a whirlwind in his already broken system.

He suppressed the urge to break something. "Just leave me alone," He growled, forgetting any respect he should've been showing to his older sibling. His nails dug deeply into his skin as his knuckles clenched. "Go away now."

A soft expression pasted on the older sister's features. She sighed softly; then, in a gentle voice, "Yuta, I—"

"Go away, onee-san!"

Mito stared at him for a moment, a requited silence coming over the both of them.

…Yuta was pleased to hear the door open, then click shut.

A wry smile crept up his lips. He was alone again. How he enjoyed it.

His gaze settled on the floor, which was actually supposed to be a royal dark blue carpet, but was now instead a dry image of pure black. Not that he could care about color right now, when he drained his atmosphere the privilege of it. He was happy with his dreary paradise.

And yet, he suddenly remembered, that his colorless heaven wasn't so colorless anymore.

A glance to the rose bouquet; and a single thought entered his weary mind.

"Damn you, Maya."

Her simple gift destroyed the environment he had tried to make. He could almost imagine her now, that cursed black witch, smirking with glory for ruining his pride.

His eyes fondled with the image of the bouquet before slowly reaching out and gently taking out one rose from the pack. How ideal the rose seemed, he noticed, with the petals blooming just right and the color ever so perfect. There were no signs of wilting or dying—just a vibrant sign of life from a growing plant.

It was almost the perfect rose, Yuta thought, a sadistic smile suddenly spreading on his lips. His eyes were full of bitterness as he tightened his clasp around the rose's stem, a certain pain in his palm awakening his senses, heightening them to an extreme sense. Soon, he could feel his flesh being torn by punctures; blood oozed from within his palm and dripped down slowly to his wrist. He smirked at the sight, feeling pleasure in the sensation of the warm liquid traveling across his skin.

"You forgot to take the thorns out, Maya."

(But then a rose is never a rose if it has no thorns—)

He then put more pressure on his grip on the rose, his stare on it cynical, almost suicidal, as if he was urging for the blood flow to gush out and continue. Waterfalls of red now dripped from his palm, staining brightly on the dark floor as it fell.

"…Red…"

His blood remained the same color as it had always been. Like the rose.

Red.

"Red Day, Yuta-kun!" Nina's voice, so long ago, whispered to him. Her memory was like that of a haunted ghost—always there but never tangible. "Valentines Day!"

How resentful!

The stem of the rose snapped at his anger, the two pieces of the flower falling alongside his blood droplets, emphasized against the black floor.

Rosy red petals and blood red stains.

How dare it blemish his solitary world of dullness and depression!

Yuta didn't know what to do anymore. Unexpectedly, the intense pain of his pricked palm suddenly got to his head, and he felt the vision of his black and white sanctuary blur in an instant.

Magenta, scarlet, crimson.

His head throbbed.

Red hues.

…It was the last thing he saw before the same color engulfed him.

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Authoress' Notes: Forgive me if the ending seemed totally at random... and weird. Makes no sense, I know. So it sucks. I was kinda in a hurry since I need to post this within the time of Valentines, ne? So here I am! I missed writing depressing Yuta fics. Hee. Okay. Now that this is done, time for other one-shots…

Smile, Jesus loves you.

Happy Valentines, everyone.