SUMMARY: A motherless little girl's wish for a Christmas angel comes true with the arrival of a beautiful stranger at her father's Idaho farm.

Aoi Hyuuga - daughter of Luna and known daughter of Natsume

Natsume Hyuuga - clerk at the store owned by the Sakura's 11 years back then

Dorothea Sakura - mother of Luna and stepmother of Mikan

David Sakura- father of Mikan

Idaho, 1992

Aoi's eyes lit with excitement as she looked at the angel in the mail order catalog. She didn't think she'd ever seen anything more beautiful in all her life. And this was only in an ink drawing. She could just imagine what the spun-gold hair, white satin gown, and gossamer-like wings really looked like.

The front door whistled open, and a cold blast of air whipped across the room as her father entered the house.

Aoi glanced up. "Pa! Come look at this," she called, unable to hide the excitement in her voice.

"What've you got there?" Natsume Hyuuga smiled as he shrugged out of his wool and hung it on a hook near the door.

"Look at the angel, Pa. wouldn't she be perfect on top of a Christmas tree?"

He crossed the kitchen in four strides. His hand alighted on Aoi's shoulder as he bent forward, his gaze on the catalog. "Yes, she sure would, pet. She'd be perfect, alright."

Aoi glanced up at her father. She'd heard the weariness in his voice, and she could see it in his face, too. She felt a stab of guilt for wanting something like an angel when she knew they couldn't afford it.

And it was all her fault. If she hadn't fallen out of the hayloft…

Natsume ruffled his daughters hair as he kissed her cheek. "We'll see what we can do. "

"I didn't mean I wanted it, Pa," she lied. "I just thought she was pretty."

"Well, who knows? Maybe Saint Nicholas will decide to bring you one just like her."

She wrinkled her nose. "I'm too old to believe in Saint Nick," she replied, adding an emphatic harrumph for good measure.

Her father didn't say anything more. He simply nodded, then straightened and went into his bedroom.

Aoi stared at the door to his bedroom for a long time before returning her gaze to the angel in the catalog. Guilty or not, she did wish they could have it. She was certain a heavenly spirit like the golden-haired angel would bring good fortune to her father.

Maybe – if she'd still believe in Saint Nick – the jolly old elf would have brought her a Christmas angel, but ten years old was too old to believe in such nonsense.

Even so, she couldn't quite stop herself from closing her eyes and wishing for it, all the same.