Privet! Hello again! Again, I want to thank all of you who reviewed by first story, A Precious Picture. All of your reviews were so wonderful! I really can't say how happy I am that my words mean something to you.

I've thought about this story for a while, but just as a warning, I might not be posting a chapter every day or something like that. For me, it takes a little longer to get it just right, so I hope you can be somewhat patient with me. :) And in return, you can compliment or trash this all you want. Don't be shy.

I know this prolouge may seem a little confusing, but please give it a chance. The story will soon be picking up in a few more chapters. I really hope this first entry is good...I'm afraid I'm my own worst critic, so my opinion on my own stories isn't too helpful:P But we'll see how it goes. And once again, have fun and enjoy!

Oh, and please review! You don't know how much they make me smile!

- FromRussiaWithLove

God's Plan

Prologue: Part 1

The distinct smell of spring was dancing softly on the wind that afternoon, skipping along the streets of Tokyo with ease until it at last came upon a humble little home with stepping stones a calming grey. The breeze, delighted, entered the tranquil home effortlessly.

Inside, the wind gently stirred the loose sleeves of Kazuma's white shirt. Hatori's long hair swayed. Two cups of tea sat between.

"Please, drink it," Kazuma gestured graciously at the idle cup in front of the younger man. "It'll make me feel I'm doing the part as the courteous host," he chuckled.

Hatori, not wanting to displease him, managed to bring the cup to his reluctant lips but only pretended to take a sip, the knot in his throat too tight.

He set the cup down, frowning. "Sensei…"

"Hatori, I have known you for long enough. There is no need for formality." Kazuma's tone was light but his eyes were anything but as they quietly observed the noticeably troubled young man in front of him. It had been so long since his last visit, and he had changed much.

Hatori only nodded, then started again. "Kazuma, I'm sorry for imposing on you today…" His words were oddly stiff as he glanced briefly at the simple wooden table they were seated at and about the unassuming, private room. Hatori took in the soft familiarity of it all. "And for troubling you in your own house."

Kazuma just smiled, deflecting his apologies easily. "It's no trouble at all." He folded his arms into the loose, flowing sleeves. "Now, tell me what is on your mind."

That spirited breeze before had stilled somewhat, lost in the sudden silence.

Hatori watched as the tea swirled around in his small cup, making unusual shapes along the surface, one running smoothly into the next. He lost himself in it, wishing all his thoughts were like those liquid portraits, continually vanishing. Maybe then he could finally have some peace. He let out a sigh, shadowy eyes turned downward.

"I visited Akito today," Hatori finally said, his voice constricting just at the mention of his name. "He was having another of his usual colds, and…"

"Ah," Kazuma merely recognized, eyes knowing. "So this about Akito."

Hatori remained silent, touching the smooth teacup with his forefinger. Part of him felt foolish for coming here, for thinking that it was alright to seek refuge at the familiar home once again. When he was a teenager, he would often times long to come to this place, away from the main house and Akito and everybody's dark secrets. Sometimes, if he planned it carefully, he visited for an hour or so just to talk to the older man, to slowly pull away the mask he so frequently wore at home, to smile and laugh and share stories. They had even taken a walk outside once, on one brisk autumn morning, to admire the beautiful trees, popping golden and amber along the weathered road. Hatori had been eighteen, before he had met Kana, before Akito had hurt his eye, a time when he felt the safest with Kazuma's strong hand on his shoulder, telling him that he was going to be alright.

But he wasn't a teenager anymore. And the more time passed, the more he shaped and perfected that vital mask. He learned to mask his fears. Sadness. Longings. He turned away from the peaceful little home more and more, and he found himself taking walks outside less and less. He never noticed the trees change colors. And he certainly never went to anyone to confess his thoughts.

His last visit to Kazuma's was four years ago. Four years. The words resonated in Hatori's head, mocking him. After four years on his own, here he was coming back to revert to the old times. Foolish, Hatori thought.

For a moment, he almost forgot that Kazuma was still waiting for him to speak, and looked up from his tea with a glazed look. Kazuma simply had his eyes closed, and it seemed to Hatori that he was meditating to himself. Hatori had seen it before, and an old flood of memories swept through him. Kazuma was waiting patiently for him to collect his thoughts.

Surprisingly though, it was Kazuma who spoke first, sensing Hatori's attention.

"This involves someone else, doesn't it?" His voice was soft and sure. "Obviously, there is Akito…but I have a feeling this might be also about another person."

Kazuma opened his eyes and looked at the stunned Hatori evenly, an underlying sadness in his gaze.

"It's Tohru Honda, isn't it?"

Hatori looked down, a veil of darkness covering his face. Silence consumed the room once more.

Unnoticed by the two, the wounded breeze drifted slowly towards the window and left the little home, wandering aimlessly along the streets of Tokyo, the spirit slipping away. After a while, it came upon a very spacious compound, slipping through a wind chime that clamored hauntingly against the still afternoon. It didn't notice the person that was sitting gracefully on the steps outside, the fine fabrics of the robe cascading smoothly to the grass.

Upon a long, slender finger sat a very delicate yellow bird, trembling as its small eyes looked upon a terribly wry smirk.

"My friend…" The voice was soft as silk. "Can you feel the change of the wind?"

Silence filled the cavernous, empty room behind, causing the smirk to deepen. The little bird was brought closer, as another finger gently stroked the fine feathers, slowly and meticulously.

"I can."