Wrote up on a whim in an attempt to escape rewriting an English paper. Oh, the joys of poetry. (That was only half sarcasm.)

By the way, oneshots are cooler. 'Cause they just are.

Disclaimer: Oh look! I own Tokyo Mew Mew! AHAHAHAHAHAHA-NO.

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"I have had dreams and I have had nightmares, but I have conquered my nightmares because of my dreams."

-Dr. Jonas Salk

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Looming pillars of darkness towered around him, as he stood on the hard, wind-ravaged dirt. The wind sliced at his face, which he barely managed to cover with the large hood of his cloak. Despite the thick, scratchy material of the cloak, he shivered as the darkness seemed to spread all around him. He could see the ruins of what he though must have been part of his civilization's past inhabitants, though they were caked with sand and hard to see in all the dust whipping about. The wind screamed around him, and he finally relented by sprinting back to the hole in the soil, which led deep in the ground to city where his people now lived. After several meters into the earth, he pulled the coarse material away from his face, and allowed his auburn pigtails hair to tickle his face. He allowed his pace to quicken, as he switched from merely walking, to hovering a meter or two above the cracked stairs. He descended deeper and deeper, enjoying the rush of air into his face as he sped up (though he wrinkled his nose in disgust as he realized the air was stale). A ghost of a smile crept onto his face, and he was just beginning to enjoy himself when he was started violently from his joyride by a piercing, blood-curdling scream.

He swore loudly, the words bouncing back at him, as well as down into the dimly passageway before him. Ignoring the fact that the ceiling was low, he pushed himself faster and faster, going at such a fast speed that the lights flickered past him into a straight line of line. The bottom of the passageway rushed up to meet him, but he turned in a sharp motion to the left, going faster and faster until he finally reached his destination: the main city. Ancient building were carved out of the rock, and porches stuck out of many of the building dozens and dozens of meters from the ground below. Normally the city was teeming with people darting through the air in countless directions, but now it was deathly silent. Shattering the silence, several of screams sounded off, sending the boy into even more panic. The most overriding thought in his mind was the most important thing in his life, the whole reason he fought for his planet: his family. He snapped his eyes shut and desperately conjured up the image of his family's main room in his mind, and he felt the screams and the air rush around him. For a split second, all the sounds around him where gone, and he floated in a void of no sound, no light, though the image was ripped from him as he felt the air pressure return and the hardwood floor of the family room appeared under his feet. Another dreaded thing came with the returning air: the screams.

This time they were louder, nearly causing his delicate ears to twitch in pain. His eyes flew open, and he automatically flung open his parent's door. The sight that met his eyes caused him to freeze in horror, and his mind to glaze over.

Blood dripped from a hand awkwardly hanging from the bed, into an already formed pool coming from a different object. No, he realized in numb shock, a different PERSON. His mother's body lay on the bed brokenly, with blood dripping from her arms and legs. His father was on the floor, bleeding profusely from his chest and stomach.

No.

He didn't have to check for their pulse to know that neither of them was with the living any longer. Tearing his eyes away from the horror, he chocked back a sob. The wails were still continuing, though he now knew that there was no one in his family who could be doing the wailing. He felt his stomach sink lower, as he took in the situation around him. If his parents were both dead, then there was no way his sister could still be living. His brain screamed at his body to stay away from her door, to not put himself through the pain that would come from seeing her mangled body, but his body moved almost robotically to the door. His hand shook vigorously as he reached for the handle, and he gripped at it like it was the last thing that could save him. But yet again, his body worked against him, and the handle turned and the door swung slowly open to reveal the next room.

No.

She sat propped up against the post that supported her hammock, like she had been reading a book before hand. But the rest of her body told of a different story. He hair clumped together in different spots where blood had soaked it, and her eyes were closed while her mouth was suspended in a silent scream. The choking feeling tightened his throat again, and he squeezed his eyes shut and sifted through his memory for anywhere but there. The familiar feeling of teleporting wrapped around him like a blanket, until it released him cold-heartedly from the void where he could feel nothing.

As he blinked at the scene around him, he realized that this was his comrades' place, where he had stayed before they got deported to attack Earth. His eyes lit around the room, soaking up memories. When his eyes fell upon a dark green color, though, the memories stopped, and the reality struck him hard in the stomach. Kisshu's body leaned brokenly on the wall, much like his sister's had. Except instead of only wounds like her, Kisshu had blood soaked through his shirt, much like his father.

No.

The choking feeling restricted his breathing further, and he turned away, feeling the need to vomit. Though when he turned, he ended up staring right at Pai's body, which was half covered with some of the older boy's precious books (which reminded the boy that he'd never been able to understand them). Sickness threatened to overwhelm him, and the boy grabbed desperately through his mind for a new destination. The abyss was a relief this time, and it was sorely missed as it disappeared. The new scenery was a breath of fresh air this time-- it was where he had been before, when he first began to hear all the screams. The screaming was still continuing, however this time it blared so loud that the boy was tempted to cover his ears.

He was distracted from the ruckus as he noticed with a start that there was a figure standing far ahead of him. The silhouette moved and something on it glittered. The movement registered as the possibility of life in the boy's mind, and he shot forward anxiously, hoping for a person who knew what was going on. As he neared the frame, features started to come into focus. It was then that he realized that this was a person he did definitely not want to run into. He turned on reverse in his movements as soon as he could, but his momentum carried him closer and closer to the being. Black hair and burning, sub-zero blue eyes burned into his soul as the god whom his people had worshipped for centuries overshadowed him.

No!

With a bloody sword Deep Blue stood: a horribly smug expression on his face. The voice of the ruler crackled menacingly as he hissed out the boy's name.

"Greetings, Taruto."

The choking feeling and need to be sick suddenly and completely overwhelmed Taruto, and he keeled over, losing all the contents of his stomach onto the dusty dirt. He retched until his throat burned, and the tears began to leak from his eyes.

Sardonic laughter floated through his ears, making him feel more nauseated, as the hard blue eyes seared away at his body.

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He inhaled sharply; his breath breaking momentarily as he came to. He could feel dampness on his cheeks, and his vision was hazed with tears. His stomach burned as he sat up, soaking in the details of his surroundings: it was his room. Just his room. On the ship, with Kisshu and Pai, in their rooms less than a few meters away. Taruto gasped desperately for air, his eyes burning as he rubbed viciously at the paths of water on his face.

It was so vivid, so horrible. Details of the dream overpowered his senses, and he trembled at the thought of their leader killing off his race. Fear momentarily immobilized him as the memory of the bitter, artic, azure eyes flared up.

Suddenly, his dark room no longer seemed welcoming and warm. The shadows hovered around him, waiting to fall upon him and pull him apart. This place was no longer safe. Fumbling urgently through all of his thoughts for the image of a sheltered place, where he could be without distress. A place matching his ideals popped up and numbly he shut his eyes and let the darkness, which had been so guarding in his dreams, embrace him.

Taruto landed with a thump on a soft surface. It took him only a few short seconds figure out it was carpet. His eyes flew around, quickly adapting to the darkness despite the tears still clouding his vision, as he tried to comprehend where he was. When his eyes lit on a figure curled into a pale yellow comforter, he truly apprehended where he was: Pudding's room.

Though he vaguely realized within his subconscious that he should be surprised that his sworn enemy's room was one of the places he found most comforting, he wasn't amazed. He had been here several times before, on missions, and sometimes…well, not on missions. He'd come after previous nightmares had shaken him so badly he couldn't think rationally, and this was just another visit for the books.

But Pudding never awoke when he would arrive. He'd lie silently beside her bed, listening to the sound of her breathing, letting her calm him gently. The alien boy wasn't sure why it was HER room, of all the possible people it could have been. Especially since she was human. However, anytime he'd try to think more in-depth about why exactly he liked being near her so much, he'd get to flustered and annoyed to allow his thoughts to wander any further.

He still felt a few tears dripping lazily down his face and his nose crinkled in disgust. He was too old to cry, and he knew it. At least he considered thirteen too old to cry. His ears perked up at the hint of a noise coming from the bed. Pudding shifted, and groaned quietly as she sat up. She sleepily turned her head in his direction, and her eyes locked with his. He froze, just as she did.

Silence.

"Taru-taru?" she croaked, her voice raw from slumber.

Instead of the cocky, sarcastic, arrogant reply he would normally burst out at the mention of his most hated nickname, all the alien could manage was a sob. A sob. Chagrin flushed his face a deep crimson, but the sob came again, this time followed by a whimper.

Almost ghostlike, Pudding descended from her bed, and locked her arms around him tightly. Her embrace, straight from under a thick blanket, was scorchingly warm to his cold skin.

Normally he could have struggled against her grip, fighting with all his power, complaining loudly. Normally he wouldn't feel this way. Normally he'd be so much louder, and he wouldn't be enjoying her hug.

This wasn't normal.

With a swift movement, his arms wrapped around her, and his face buried deep into her shoulder. Everything he had been holding back exploded out, and he sobbed into her pajamas (much to his complete and utter embarrassment).

She never even flinched. She only held him even tighter, letting him cling to her.

No questions. No jeering. No fighting.

In a few hours, they'd be back to fighting each other, name calling, trying to keep the Earth for themselves, their own race.

For now, they were friends, deep in the night.