AN: This is a do-over for an idea that i just really needed to do. I'm sincerely sorry not updating any of my other stories for so damn long, but I've just lost my inspiration. When I find it again I promise new chapters for NLA. But this new fic I'm writing, I intend to work on long-term, so I do hope you throughly enjoy it.

"Love used to slip through me like water slips through hands, but with you it changed, I know. I feel I am closer to your heart" - Run to You by Lasse Lindh

On the day that everything changed for him, Saga Masamune started his morning, as usual, with a bowl of fresh porridge.

Everything was completely normal. He had gone to school, as he was expected to do by societal unwritten rules. He spoke with his counselor, as he was expected to do by his parents, he paid as close attention to his teachers as he physically could, listening intently to every word to escape their clouded mouths, as he was expected to do by the administration, who took little to no pity upon him. He killed time in the library past school hours, which he always did of his own volition. The library was louder than usual, but he assumed that there was just some sort of study group congregating that day.

He returned home that day to the incessant screams of spite exchanged between his parents, as was expected by Masamune. These noisy quarrels were not particularly new.

He greeted his kitten, Sorata, at the entranceway and ascended the staircase to his room, only stumbling once or twice. The railing on the side only helped a little.

Upon entering his bedroom, he let his school bag slip through his fingers and met the hard wooden floor beneath him, landing with a heavy thud that echoed throughout the room.

He maneuvered across the sea of scattered books towards his bed. He fell backwards onto his mattress only to make impact with a hard, metal object underneath him. He reached under his back to remove what he remembered to be the cylindrical container that had held the delicious porridge that had been delivered to him that morning.

He smiled, grateful for the kindness of the person who never failed to deliver the porridge every morning, though he'd never asked for, nor required to pay for it.

He wanted to thank that person.

Masamune stood up again and made his way across the room to his small desk. He opened a drawer stacked to the top with packs of post-it notes. He picked up a pack and felt around the desktop for a pen. He peeled a note off and stuck it on the container. He wrote as best as he thought he could "Thank you. It was delicious!" He made the effort to use the kanji for "Thank You" to compensate for how terrible he knew his handwriting looked to human eyes. He hoped it didn't look too bad, but writing wasn't his strong suit.

He took the container and walked down the stairs to put in the mailbox where the porridge-maker's son always picked up old containers and replaced them every morning with a fresh bowl specially for him.

Masamune had spoken with him directly once before, when he had happened to wake up early and had heard the screeching of bicycle tires coming to a stop.

That morning, Masamune went outside out of curiosity.

"Good Morning" he heard a young male voice greet in the direction of his mailbox. "Just delivering the porridge. My mother wanted me to start making the deliveries."

Masamune heard footsteps and the male voice approached him. He placed the container into Masamune's hand.

"Enjoy the porridge!" he said cheerfully, and walked off.

Masamune wasn't quite sure what he looked like. He was too groggy to even make sense of what the boy was saying.

He smiled at the thought of that encounter, and grinned again as he heard his mail box close.

When he re-entered his house, he stopped at the doorway by his mother.

"Masamune, come to the kitchen. Your father and I have something we want to discuss with you."

Masaume sighed as he obliged. His mother led him into the kitchen where his father was waiting. She helped him into a chair before sitting beside his father.

"So, we have good news and bad news. It's your choice which you would like to hear first." she said.

Masamune pondered on this. "The Bad News." A violent churning in his stomach was a sign that the news was what he was expecting to hear for years now. But he prayed still that whatever good news they could possibly have could somehow outshine the impact of the bad, and at this point, he desperately needed a shred of good in his life.

His mother spoke up. "Your father and I, after months of negotiation, have agreed to file for divorce."

Masamune knew it. It was what he knew would happen after facing years of constant hatred for one another, his parents were destined to split.

"What's the good news?" he asked quietly.

His mother spoke out once more. His father, had yet to say a single word. "We may have found a donor."

Nothing more needed to be said. Masamune's eyes lit up. "Are you serious?" he asked, trying so hard to suppress the feelings of euphoria within him. His head was spinning.

"It's not official yet. The candidate in question is in critical condition, but if they don't survive, which is likely, you are first on the waiting list."

Masamune nodded. "Thank you" he said calmly. "I'm going back to my room now."

He returned to his bedroom with a sense of anticipation. Sorata greeted him with a "meow".

He picked Sorata up and cradled him. 'Sorata, it might be happenening! I might be getting the surgery! Isn't this great?"

Sorata made another noise that Masamune took to signal a mutual excitement for this grand news.

That night, Masamune slept more soundly than he had in years, comforting himself with a simple thought.

'I wonder what color Sorata's fur is'