Black Love, Assassinated- A is for Apples

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Disclaimer: Katsura Hoshino's

Rating: T

A/N: Story after Twisted & Exorcised, though it can be read as a new story too.

The debonair young man scanned his surroundings for a moment before he managed to spot out the very thing that he was looking for. It was nothing big, nothing famous, but touched one's heart if he or she ever tasted it. The crowd continued to walk past him like he was just part of the minor characters in a war epic and took no notice of his presence as he made his way to his destination. They should not have recognized him or remember of his existence and he was not surprised by that- it had been quite some time already.

"Ah," sighed the young man as he removed his hat in manners, "I see you stop selling them already."

The old lady tending to her fruits stall looked up slowly and steadily, yet her glassy gray eyes lit up almost immediately when recognition struck her at the back of her head as she set her gaze on her new customer. "If it's not… I can't believe…. It's been a long time, Sensei!"

A wholehearted chuckle escaped from the tall man's face as he rubbed his chin in amusement, "Am I still looking as young as you are?"

The old lady laughed in reply. "What a sweet mouth you have, Sensei," she replied, her smile never leaving and her eyes were now a fine line of laughter. "So, what brings you here?"

"You, of course," said the man as he glanced around the small sunny fruit stall decorated with crates and cartons of colors. "And the memories of those red globes you used to sell." A frown curled his lips a little as he combed a gloved hand through his hair, a little unhappy that he was unable to spot anything of the colour red other than those pretentious strawberries dancing in the corner.

The old lady laughed yet again, this time reorganizing the oranges into neater rolls as they beamed in the sunshine. "Ha, I knew it then. Well, you have come too late. A young couple just bought the whole supply of apples I've got. The girl looked familiar though. I'm sorry to disappoint you, Sensei."

A sigh escaped from the young man's throat as he placed his top hat back on to his head. "It's okay then. I've to go now, please to see you again, Granny Smith."

"Glad to see you back here too, Sensei."

The well-dressed man then took off again, resigned from the fact that he would have to leave this place without the food he used to enjoy. The crowd was still flooding the place, and he had to literally squeeze through them. His power would have made it easy though, but the idea of having to settle the mess should any child start crying after seeing him past through objects made him think twice about it.

It took a few twists and turns before he could finally manage to get some fresh air, it was the marketplace after all, and his lungs cheered when he was finally freed. This street was emptier as compared to the previous one and there was the lovely rhythm made when the hoofs of carriage horses came into contact with the asphalt ground. The atmosphere was brilliant here, even if the sky was still recovering from its emotional outburst previously.

The man placed a cigarette between his lips and lit up. Hmm; the satisfaction. He thought of the mission he was set upon again, and that he had to go back to it again. He thought of the checkered card chained to his belt, and thought of the little fellow in it. He then thought of the lists of names, and that particular name he had been too lazy to find even though the little fellow had told him that he or she was nearby. Raven Black, what a morbid name. The gentleman cast off the thought and continued to enjoy the alluring tune of the quiet town when a beam of light reflected by the sun diverted his attention to it.

Why, it was a trail of apples that had been dropped carelessly. He imagined each red globe landing on the floor with impact. Granny Smith would have been upset to see them bruised like that.

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The heart is a muscular organ embraced by veins and arteries, and wrapped around by a splendid variety of capillaries. It pumps blood diligently for your body to operate. It exchanges supplies of gas with your lungs in what they call fair trade. It is responsible for the beating of your pulse. Hence, it is possibly responsible for the pulse racing that one experiences and the dull aching pain in your chest that remains unexplained up to this day. It accounts for the numerous heartbreaks you felt, each bond of love torn apart coldly to accommodate death or departure.

Death; that is what happens to part of your heart every time your eyes brawled out its tear ducts to wash away the misery. That part of your heart will slowly begin to shrivel up like a dehydrated old plant, wrinkles spreading out as saturation abandons it.

They say time heals all wound. It does not. Really. It is just that the damaged part of the cardiac muscle would be abandoned from then on and left aside to be rot. But it stays inside you forever, chained up in the little black box with chants all over it. Say the correct word and, viola, it opens up again, pouring out its contents that the body had took so much effort to bury and forget. You would then wish that you could rip out your heart and live without it, to wish that you had never existed before.

Yet your heart is the reason for your existence.

And your existence was the reason why I still have a heart.

--

"You could actually have helped Maat with those gifts, Kanda Yu," mumbled the female exorcist as she bend down to pick yet another fallen globe. "Now we have to walk back to pick them all up."

The accused "che" in reply and crossed his arms, refusing to offer help as he speculated his comrade in sheer sadism. His female comrade had happily decided to get those stupid looking fruits back as she had claimed that tasted real good. Whatever, she better not suggest to the chef to fuse some sort of apple essence into his soba then- even though, well, that bite she forced him to tasted reasonably good enough. Anyway, that not so intelligent exorcist had made her innocence to carry all those junk and that animal had happily dropped half a carton while dragging it behind them. And now they had to pick them all up. How fabulous. "You created this mess yourself," said the Japanese as he walked along her side, his eyes subconsciously drifting to her feminine curves and bandaged ankle. Cut that out.

"And you were-- Maat!"

A scream pierced through the dull sky followed by a gush of commotion broke up what Fuyu Black had intended to say. The scream, a badly frightened one that struck right through the heart, had been from a young child. The two exorcists turned in reaction to the sound and began to dash towards the source, the wolf leading the pair as he ran ahead with his strong strides.

Carriage. The thought of it sent a cold shiver down Fuyu's spine as past memories consumed her for a second. She shook them off instinctively.

It was an accident; no doubt, as a driver had lost control of his horses that were obviously startled, and had came crashing down the street with his carriage swinging in motion that made the stomach sick. Ladies in their walking gowns ran away from the site to a safer location and man came protecting them, though curiosity still kept their concentration on the incident.

And there was a young boy right in front. Helpless. Crying. Screaming.

Maat had managed to stop the carriage in time, thank god, as he pulled back the horses and stopped the carriage from committing further damage. The two exorcists hurried up to the scene.

A sigh of relief seeped out of Fuyu when the scene that had been surrounded by onlookers revealed to be bloodless. There was a man though, a well-built man from his back view hugging the boy in his arms as he tried to shelter him from danger. The man had been saying comforting words in an attempt to calm the child from his aftershock as he gently brushed the boy's fringe aside.

Fuyu approached the two quietly and placed her gloved hand lightly on the man's shoulder. "Are you alright?" she asked, her voice laced with both relief and concern as she tried to assess the damage. None for now.

"Yeah," said the man, a young one, as he helped the child to his feet and stood up slowly, his height slowing towering over Fuyu. His shoes were made of well polished leather and his frock coat of the current, though not latest fashion, and his buttons neatly done up. He smelled of expensive tobacco. Fuyu noticed an abandoned cigarette butt not far away from them. The flame was slowly going off, ending its performance after a curtain call.

A sudden skip of heart beat and surge of adrenaline that had coursed through her veins nearly made Fuyu lost of balance when she looked into the man's dark eyes. Words could not apprehend as they came stuttering out.

"Ti… ti… Mr. Mikk?!"

--

It's really good to hear your voice saying my name
it sounds so sweet
Coming from the lips of an angel
Hearing those words it makes me weak
and I never wanna say goodbye