Disclaimer: Disclaimed.

Written by: Tearless Sonnet

Running to Stand Still

***

Dedicated to:

Madeleine Mason

***

"Night turns to day and I still have these questions

You just won't break, should I go forwards or backwards

Night turns to day and I've still got no answers"

—A Whisper by Coldplay

Chapter II – Interaction

Natsume's heart clenched painfully at the scene before him. It spelt all too clearly of destruction, pain, death. Screams of blinding terror echoed from everywhere he looked; there was just no escaping it. The tent he had been examining blueprints in only a few days ago had caught fire as bright orange flames blazed at him threateningly; the black smoke seeping from various sites on the plantation choked him and his head spun deliriously. His throat felt sore and tight. For a second, Natsume stood there in horror, the gist of the predicament he was in not fully taking effect. And then, with a great big jolt to his heart, the full impact of everything hit him full force. This was all real. No fluke. Natsume's heart sank despairingly; he had no idea how to right this. He had a sneak suspicion that what he had encountered at the ruins had had something to do with all the destruction. An overwhelming feeling of guilt went along with the sinking of his heart. He had to do something about it. Now.

Natsume winced as a wooden post fell with a deafening crash beside him, narrowly escaping the timber alight with dancing flames. He coughed severely into his scratched and battered hand, glaring furiously at his surroundings. He had to get out of here first if he wanted to do something about his. . . mistake. But everywhere he turned was either engulfed in the heat and velocity of the fire, or crashed structures, vulnerable to the flames that wasted no time in embracing them with treacherous arms. Natsume grit his teeth in frustration and closed his eyes for a fraction of a second. He needed some time to think, get his head straightened out. He was sure that the smoke of the fire had muddled it somehow and intoxicated him. Natsume shook his head, trying to clear his bewildered mind, and with a sharp and precise eye, he began to search for any way to get out into the open air where the smoke did not conquer.

Crashed structures and buildings burned to the left and right, while the ruins lay behind him. He stared straight ahead, but the only thing left was the burning tent. A ring of flames surrounded the excavation camp, leaving no means of escape. He scowled and swore under his breath, crouching on the ground and trying to think up a plan. So far, nothing was coming up. Natsume pounded his fist on the ground in frustration, staring at the soot-blackened sand. Glancing up from his position on the ground, he saw something he didn't see a while ago. A small opening, just barely concealed by the fire, obscured by a rather large burning loo.

He stood up quickly; no time was to be wasted. Stealthily creeping over to the breach in the ring of flames, he dodged burning carcasses of what used to be his life's work and managed to avoid any serious injuries besides a few burns and cuts as he went over the burning structure hiding his only way to escape. He held his breath and covered his nose and mouth in hope of the smoke not seeping in. He finally managed to escape the excavation site and stared in horror at it from a far distance as the smoke billowed up to cloud the sky in black.

Natsume felt his throat tighten painfully. Eight years. Eight years of all his hard work down the drain, not counting the first three when his father had headed the excavation. Three years before he died, that is. Immediately, a cold pain shot through his heart at the remembrance of his father, and Natsume grit his teeth in remorse. He loved his father, he really did. Natsume was not known to express his affections for any one person, nor have been expected to have 'affections' at all. I'm sure, had it been another, that thought would have been very offending. It was basically calling Natsume an emotionless robot with a tin can for a heart. But Natsume, the 'emotionless robot' he was, did not bother telling them off. Actually, he didn't bother noticing their presence at all. He didn't care. But, as contrasting to his robotic ways it was, Natsume did feel something other than love for his father and, though slightly less deep, his mother—arrogance, pride. Selfishness. Not very good traits.

But then, he realized he was forgetting something. A loud scream from the dig echoed in the empty desert, and Natsume, with horrible awareness, remembered the other trapped people in the site. He cursed angrily at himself for forgetting and took off back to the burning relics.

It was rather dark that night, and it was hard to see very clearly even when the bright flames cast their brightest around the ruins. Natsume scowled as he looked around anxiously for anyone. He crept over beside a large, fallen post when a faint whimper was heard.

A muffled voice groaned weakly. Natsume reflexively turned around to see if anyone was there before realizing that he was being stupid and the voice was of a person trapped underneath the post. He struggled to lift the heavy post, but it seemed its weight was too much for him and he let go. He sighed in frustration and ran his hand through his hair, a habit of his that began from all the way back when he was twelve and refused to fade away.

If he couldn't do it himself, then he'd have to get help. "Oi!" Natsume shouted over the loud screams and wails. No one answered for a moment.

"Get me. . . out of he-here. . ." the feeble voice called, before coughing delicately and falling silent. Natsume's eyebrows creased. He didn't have enough time! Gritting his teeth, he tried to lift the heavy piece of wood again. He didn't gain anything from it other than splinters in his hand. Wincing as he pulled one out, he tried to talk to the person underneath again.

"I can't get you out unless you help. Try and push the wood off of you." The voice whispered an 'okay, I'll try' and the block of wood moved a little. Natsume grimaced. "Again!" he shouted, struggling to lift it up. "Try harder!" The huge slab of wood shifted a little bit more, and Natsume used all of his strength to pull it up. Just a . . . little bit. . . more. . . He pulled and pulled and. . .

"T-thanks. . ." A man with blonde hair blackened with soot coughed violently and struggled to get up. Natsume, with the relief of a man who had gotten the world on his shoulders off of him, heaved down the heavy piece of wood and sighed.

He pointed out the way of escape to the man and hurried to try and rescue the others. There weren't many people left in the site, most of them had fled, terrified, back to the kingdom. Natsume grit his teeth and set out to find any survivors. The heat was blistering and it threatened to close down on him like too narrow walls aflame with light. His throat was constricted with anxiety and panic; what if he didn't rescue the others in time? What he was charged with murder? He didn't think he could handle all these deaths on his account. And his excavation—oh, his excavation—it would be all for naught.

With this dismal thought in mind, he weaved his way through fallen remains and burning carcasses and a loud scream was heard. He turned to his right and saw a circle of fire, very like the one he had been in earlier, trapped around a young man with round glasses (Natsume was sure they were cracked by now) and a woman with dark hair fixed in messy ringlets. They were huddled together, deathly white and quivering with fear. Natsume hastened to quicken his footsteps, heaving in and out from rescuing the previous person and the run from all the way on the other side of the site. He stopped a few feet away from the ring of fire and swore loudly. It was only by a lucky chance that he had gotten away from the firetrap, and it was only a small hole, so what were the chances of another bigger one this time?

The couple from inside the shield of fire (it didn't seem much like a shield actually, thought Natsume flatly, more like a weapon of mass destruction) perked up at the sound of his voice, even though his choice of vocabulary wasn't very polite, and a spark of hope flashed in their eyes. They waved frantically at him, shouting and shouting 'We're over here! SAVE US!' Natsume felt himself cringe. He had never liked this type of people; you know, the annoying, high-on-drugs-like kind? Nevertheless. . .

He felt the gears in his brain whirring and clinking together, trying to find a way to get them out. . . He examined his surrounding hastily, the fire and the heat was incredibly overwhelming. The sickening feeling in his gut reminded him that he had a time limit; if he didn't rescue them in time then they'd be dead before he could say 'snicker doodle' . . . not that he'd want to say that, anyway.

A large wooden plank that had broken off a pillar lay a few ways away, and Natsume hastened to pick and up and dump it on one portion of the fire vertically. Then, he proceeded to walk on it like a balance beam, carefully avoiding the blistering flames that tried to lick at his sleeves. He jumped precariously off the plank, making sure it was steady, and ran towards the fugitives. They looked like they had seen the messiah. The woman had started crying and there was a curious dark spot on the man's trousers. Natsume's nose wrinkled in disgust, but he shoved them towards the plank without another word.

"Oh, thank you so much—" started the woman, but Natsume shushed her by forcing her onto the plank, where she crossed and waited for the other to pass. The man quickly proceeded as well. Natsume made sure not to lay a finger on him. And then, it was the rescuer himself whose turn was next. His bangs looked glued to his forehead from all the sweating in the intense heat and his breathing was heavy.

He stepped on the plank and stiffed for a moment as it wavered and was nearly caught in the sweltering flames. Natsume took little steps, not wanting to tip the plank and send it (and himself) towards a hot, burning doom. He was almost there; just a step or two more. . . In his excitement, he trod a bit too hard on the wooden beam and the fire, unfortunately, finally captured it. Natsume jumped, as a last attempt, over the fire and rolled onto the ground, bruising his jaw and knee. A throbbing pain welled up in his jaw and Natsume smelt something much too familiar to be pleasant—blood. The two had already fled as soon as they had gotten out, he realized. Swearing bitterly to never help those people again, Natsume got up. He took one last lingering look at the monument swallowed by the fire and took off as fast as he could.

He had to warn the kingdom.

*

King Izumi was at a loss on what to do.

The kingdom was in a panic—people screaming and fleeing whichever direction you turned. He knew it had to do with something in the ruins. Some of the citizens who worked at the dig had come shooting on about something or another. And then, out of nowhere, a group (more like army) of soldiers began killing all the townspeople. But they weren't just any soldiers—they had powers. Special powers that was so unbelievable that nobody, not even the strongest of their kingdom, could stand a chance against even one.

The confounded king ordered their own armies to protect their beloved home country, but they were being killed off like tiny fish against a shark. So naturally, when one such as the great king of the Alice kingdom was put in these troublesome circumstances, they wouldn't know what to do. So, we can't really blame him, can we?

The Alice Kingdom was a peaceful place. No war had ever occurred or some neighboring country taken over. They were simple content. This event had certainly changed history. It as the first war and takeover they had ever experienced—and certainly the most bizarre one as well. Those soldiers weren't normal human beings—they were extraterrestrials, aliens, strangers, inhuman. They were a mystery. The kingdom had never seen it coming. It was just a normal day like the usual. And all of a sudden, some army of inhuman creatures pop out of nowhere and start massacring their people. Who wouldn't be angry? Mad? Confused? Terrified?

It simply wasn't normal.

When the soldiers had stormed the palace, the poor king was sitting in his throne, frantically ordering the military general for maximum protection, and had only had the time to shout out to his daughter and her attendants "GO, LEAVE! TAKE THE STYLUS!"

And then one of the soldiers had lifted his (or its?) arm and suddenly, the life in the king's eyes faded away, like a lamp snuffed out.

Mikan's scream resounded through the large chamber, until it too faded away like the light in the late king's eyes.

*

It was dark in the tunnel. The only light visible in the passageway was the lamp held in Shasta's possession, lighting the path by only a few feet, just enough to see where they were stepping, but nothing more. Shasta, however, seemed to be sure of where they—Mikan and himself—were headed. He had a grim, resolute expression on his face that softened slightly when he heard Mikan's sniffles.

"We're almost there," he called to her. She did not look up. He sighed and looked at her over his shoulder in pity. The poor girl. He'd hoped that she wouldn't have to see such a sight until she grew older. Preferably, not at all.

"What happened to mother?" she asked quietly, the first time she had spoken in hours. Shasta twirled a curious item in his left hand, the right being occupied by the lamp. He did not speak for a moment, still twirling the article like a baton.

"I don't know," he admitted regretfully. "Her highness was still in her bed chamber when the attack happened." Mikan bit her lip. The question in her head pecked and prodded at her to be put out into the open, but she couldn't seem to make her tongue work.

"Do you think she's okay?" she blurted out, before she chickened out of it later. Shasta took his precious time answering it. He grew so quiet that Mikan didn't know whether he would answer or not. At last, he spoke up.

"She's a strong woman, your mother," he began slowly. "But. . . nobody can escape the inevitable."

The silence grew on for a long while, and the path extended still further on, the darkness growing along with it. And then, all of a sudden, they stopped.

Mikan peered sideways at the large stele carved in cuneiform, the ancient writing of the Sumerians. Shasta brought up the baton-like object, revealing it to be a stylus, the writing tool that so resembled a pen of their ancestors.

"You know your history right?" said Shasta as he brought the stylus to rest of the stone slab.

"Yes," replied Mikan tentatively. "Our kingdom resided in Mesopotamia—in the Fertile Crescent, the cradle of civilization. We were a unknown civilization. Quiet, content to go unnoticed. We weren't as resourceful and intelligent as the Sumerians, nor as strong as the Assyrians. We were decently average; so average that nobody had bothered to discover us; and which was precisely the reason why our race did not die out."

"Yes," confirmed Shasta approvingly, carving ancient cuneiform onto the huge stone slab. Mikan was rusty in her cuneiform, but she could roughly understand what it meant—open. As Shasta carved, he spoke, "We were not renowned like our other brethren, but that did not mean we were useless. Actually, we were the most special out of them all." He turned to smile at Mikan, his blue eyes twinkling about something she didn't know.

"What do you mean?" she asked, but her question went unnoticed. The cuneiform character on the stele turned a bright blue, and the slab slid past them, opening a new doorway. Mikan stared at it openmouthed.

"C'mon." Shasta beckoned to her. He was already striding over the hard musty ground covered in a fine powdery substance. On the floor of the chamber was a mysterious symbol. It looked vaguely familiar to her, like something out of a dream. . .

"You're lagging behind," Shasta informed her helpfully. Mikan nodded and turned away reluctantly from the symbol, trying to catch up with her father's right-hand man.

"Where are we going?" she asked. Shasta did not answer.

Suddenly, a rumbling sort of sound filled the empty cave. Shasta's exotic grey eyes widened and he swore. It was Mikan's eyes who widened this time.

"You just said the 'F Word'!" she exclaimed. Shasta gulped.

"This is not the time to talk about it now, Princess. We've gotta go!"

Mikan's eyes flashed left and right frantically, expecting some humongous monster to pop out of one of the. . . er. . . There was nothing to hide behind, so she supposed that it could just disappear and appear whenever it wanted.

"What's going on?!" she said, panic-stricken. Shasta shook his head hastily and pulled her hand while he ran.

"I told you," he called, "there's no time!"

The rumbling sound began to get louder and more distinguished; a large horde of marching feet making their way towards them. At this, Shasta started and ran faster through the maze of chambers. Mikan's feet were uncoordinated as she ran, and she stumbled on bits and pieces of fallen rock. Her legs tangled together and threatened to crash towards the floor, bringing her along with it.

Shasta ran and ran--his movement, unlike Mikan's, seemed so graceful and effortless. Sometimes, he reminded her of a stallion or a swan. She'd never tell him that, of course. He'd say stallions were old fashioned and that swans were much too feminine.

Shasta began to run more desperately, like a stallion chased by hunters. Mikan could barely keep up.

"Slow down!" she tried to tell him, but he didn't listen.

"You've got to hurry!" he said instead, looking over his shoulder. His face grew horrified. Mikan, burning with curiosity, turned as well.

Those soldiers--the one she had seen storm the palace--were chasing after them. They were a great deal behind, but it was inevitable that they would catch up with them sooner or later. The former was more possible than the latter, unfortunately.

"Oh no." Shasta turned back forward and darted into a chamber to his left, then in another chamber again. "Shake them off, shake them off," he murmured to himself whenever he did this.

They passed room by room, which seemed all the same to Mikan, though they lacked that symbol from the first one she entered. This set her mind whirring. Where had she seen that symbol before? In a dream? No, she thought, she never usually remembered her dreams, so what difference could this one make?

All of a sudden, they stopped dead. Mikan ran straight into Shasta's back. She rubbed her head and peeked at what he was looking at from behind him. Shasta did not react.

It was a dead end.

They were as good as dead.

"This can't be happening," Shasta deadpanned. "I was supposed to protect you."

Mikan looked behind her. The soldiers were approaching quickly. "Shasta!" she screamed. He whipped his head round and swore. Mikan was too terrified to comment on this. He pushed her behind him and braced himself.

"Mikan," he said, without looking back at her. "Be strong."

It was the last thing she heard from him as the deafening sound of marching feet grew so close, so close that she couldn't hear herself think.

She couldn't hear herself scream, but she liked it better that way. It saved her from the anguish.

*

Natsume, at this moment, was dreadfully lost.

He had already visited the kingdom, which was in pure, complete chaos, and didn't bother to inform the king of what had occurred. He supposed the king to be dead, after all.

So he, after seeing that there was nothing to be done, had fled. He fled towards a mountain to hide for shelter till the dark came and he could take a boat to a far-off country. He hated to do this, to leave the land he first called home, to leave all the memories of his father, but it was the only thing he could do. He couldn't take back the kingdom by himself! It was unthinkable. Stupid, even. The king was dead, the people murdered, and the military in ruins. The Alice Kingdom was simply no more.

Natsume swallowed thickly.

He had been inside this mountain before and knew for a fact that he was the only one who knew of its secret passageways and chambers (unknown to him, he was wrong), so he entered the opening crevice and scaled the rocky walls, arriving on the musty ground. He knew, of course, that the mountain connected to the ruins. He had examined that secret passageway much thoroughly than everyone thought, and thought not to tell the others until it was important. Now, there were no 'others' to tell, so he'd have to bring the secret with him to his grave.

Now that was a scenario completely possible.

He walked into another passageway and into another until he was at the heart of the mountain. Watching his feet as he stepped, he heard a rumbling sound echoing above. Curious, he climbed the walls by grasping excess pieces of rock protruding out of it, and glanced around.

It was those soldiers.

Well, shit.

*

Mikan's wide brown eyes spilled salty tears down her flushed cheeks. This was it. She was going to die. She closed her eyes. Goodbye, my wonderful, beloved kingdom. Goodbye my darling Dinah! (Dinah was the cat.) Please be kind to Wilkins! (Wilkins was the dog and the arch-enemy of her cat.) Don't drink up all the milk! And then she realized that Dinah and Wilkins might be dead too. I wonder if there are mice and milk and yarn up in heaven for Dinah? And how about bones and chew toys and doggie biscuits for Wilkins? As you can see, her mind was easily distracted. Even by death.

"Oi!" a dashing, raven-haired man called. "Over here, visor-wearing freaks of nature!" Mikan whipped her head to stare at him with wide eyes. The soldiers immediately chased after him, but leaving the remainder to take care of Mikan. She sighed inwardly. At least he tried.

Natsume, on the other hand, had another idea up his sleeve. He climbed up another crevice in the wall and pushed a large boulder over the soldiers surrounding the brunette girl, but making sure he didn't hurt the victim himself. All this he did quickly, since the soldiers that were chasing him were catching up quite quickly. Then, he jumped and landed on the rock, grabbing a hold of the girl's arm and hauling her up with him.

He spotted an escape route nearby and ran to it, dragging the girl along with him.

Poor Mikan was astounded. A handsome man she didn't know had just saved her from being killed and was now running off to escape with her. Was she rescued or eloped? Hey, she thought as she stared at the back of the man's head, elopement wouldn't be so bad compared to an untimely death.

"You girl!" the man barked, glaring at her with piercing red eyes. "Hurry up if you don't want to get massacred by those bastards!"

She resisted saying, "You just said the 'B Word'!" but nevertheless tried to keep up with the stranger's long strides.

"C'mon," he said, twisting and turning at every passageway.

"You sure you know where you're going, huh Mr. Hot-Shot?" she said irritably; her feet were beginning to ache.

Natsume smirked at her. "Know it like the back of my hand."

Indeed, it didn't take them long to reach the exit and lose the other soldiers. They both ran as far away from the mountain, neither of them looking back to see if the soldiers were following them. At last, they stopped a good many yards away from the mountain, breathing in and out. Mikan, by this time, was perspiring and her face had turned an embarrassing shade of red. Natsume was out of breath, but he looked like he had only just run a few blocks.

"Who--" Mikan started, hunched over and clutching her stomach, "Who are you?"

Natsume scowled at her. "What, no thank you?" Mikan blushed, her already red face turning even redder.

"Thanks." When Natsume didn't answer, she said, "Well, if you won't tell me your name, I'm telling mine. I'm Mikan Sakura." Natsume blinked.

"Don't tell me you're the princess of the Alice Kingdom? The daughter of King Izumi and Queen Yuka?" Natsume furrowed his eyebrows. "Isn't your last name supposed to be Yukihara?" Mikan shrugged.

"Mum wanted me to keep her maiden name. Besides, Mikan Sakura sounds prettier than Mikan Yukihara." Natsume snorted. Mikan scowled at him. "You haven't told me your name yet!" she accused.

"Fine, fine. It's Natsume." Mikan frowned.

"Natsume what?"

"Natsume What-Do-You-Care?" he shot back irritably. "Why don't you just run along back to your kingdom of rainbows and butterflies?" She huffed and crossed her arms.

"Well, my kingdom, as you have forgotten, has been destroyed and annihilated," she said. "And I do not live in rainbows and butterflies."

Natsume groaned. "Whatever. Just get out of my sight."

She gave a quiet scream herself. "I have no place to go back to! I don't have anyone to go back to!"

Natsume glared at her. "Well, not my problem now is it?" Mikan screamed in frustration. He covered his ears. "Could you be any louder?"

"You saved me!" she wailed. ("Oh, you won't believe how much I regret that," muttered Natsume.) "I'm your responsibility now!"

"Woah, woah, wait. You're my responsibility now? You?" He shook his head unbelievingly. "I don't think so."

Mikan poked a finger into his chest, looking into his eyes. "Well, Mr. Natsume What-Do-You-Care, whether you like it or not, I am coming with you." Natsume, by this point, seriously regretted ever taking the trouble to save her.

"Just--just--" Natsume sighed and put a hand in his hair. He thought about what he did. He caused all of this, after all. Wasn't he the one who brought the destruction on the kingdom, therefore causing this girl to lose her parents? Wasn't it his fault?

"Fine," he said finally. He was going to regret making this decision, he was sure. "Fine already."

"Fine?" said Mikan disbelievingly. "For real? You're not just lying to me and then ditching me right at the last moment, are you?"

Natsume snorted. "I wish."

Mikan turned her nose up at him. "I am a princess. And if I am going to spend the rest of my time with you, you'd better shape up and get some manners."

Natsume chuckled. "I'm afraid, princess, that it had better be you getting used to me."

*

"Where are we going?"

Mikan walked lazily behind Natsume, her heart pounding in her ears and sweat dripping down her front. She staggered forward, her eyes threatening to shut closed and not open till the next morning.

She moaned. "Can't we rest for a while? My legs are killing me!"

Natsume didn't look back at her, but she could sense his irritation growing. To her surprise, he didn't lash out at her. "So much the better," was all he said.

Although they had no belongings with them, the walk was a long one. Where they were actually walking to, Mikan didn't know. Natsume had just started walking and she had gotten up and followed. No way was she going to let him leave her there all alone and with no companion to talk to! She was a princess, for Pete's sake! Royalty! She shouldn't have to be dealing with this—this disgrace!

"You're so slow. Hurry up," said the young man, glancing at her for the first time in three hours.

"But I want to rest!" she whined. Natsume grit his teeth.

"We'll rest when we get there. And who knows when that'll be, what with that turtle pace you're going? Please, my grandma could move faster than you."

"Your grandma would be dead by how many hours we've been walking! And it's so hot!"

"Quit your complaining. For your information, it's only been a few hours." Natsume's head was aching already and he didn't want to deal with this girl any longer. All he wanted to do was drop her off somewhere and never look back.

"A few hours my butt! I swear it's been at least eight!"

"Stop exaggerating and shut up."

The journey was a long one. Mikan kept on whining and Natsume kept on ignoring her that it made the hours seem longer than they were.

"Are we there yet?"

"No."

"Are we there yet?"

"No."

"Are we there yet?"

No answer.

"Are we there yet?"

"Just shut the hell up."

"You said the 'H Word'!"

Yes, the journey was definitely a long one.

By the time they reached the dock, it was nearing dusk. Natsume looked around for any vacant ship left they could take, but there was only one. It looked a right dreary little boat, with billowing white sails and an ethereal aura. He didn't like the look of it (it wasn't masculine enough) but that was the only thing left, so it would have to do.

"Stay here," he said to Mikan while he approached the ship.

He reached the boat and knocked on the captain's quarters. Nobody answered. He knocked again, but harder, and a creak and the sound of something falling to the ground. The door opened.

"Whaddaya want?" An old man stood there looking grumpy, with an old nightcap and gown and slightly bulging eyes. His square face was set with deep lines and he had a small, pert nose. Natsume he thought he looked like an overgrown pug.

"We need a boat," Natsume said. The old man quirked a brow.

"It's late. We don't accept any visi—" He tried to close the door, but Natsume put his foot in the middle of the doorway and stared at him. The man looked back at him with clear blue eyes. He grunted. "How many? Just you?"

"Two. Myself and a lass." The old man's eye twinkled.

"Newlyweds, eh?" he prompted with a chuckle. "Sorry but this ain't a love boat, you kn—"

Natsume was disgusted. That spoiled princess and him, newlyweds? "No. My sister," he lied instead. The man grunted once more.

"Fine. Toll's five quid and a shilling for the both of you." Natsume stared at him in astonishment, remembering they didn't have any money. The old man's eyes hardened. "Don't expect me to do any more favors for you, boy. This is the last one. You'll work as one of our crew. Your girl could assist in odd jobs or cook. Can she cook?"

Natsume, wishing fitfully that the girl could in fact cook, nodded. The old man beamed. "All's well then. We're setting sail tomorrow for Ōto. Find an inn to stay at." He paused, seeing Natsume's expression. "All right, fine, this is the last favor I'm doing for you young people. The cabin's at the back. Sixth room to the left. Say Captain Serpens let you in." Natsume nodded and thanked him before returning to Mikan.

"C'mon," he said, leading her towards the ship. Mikan couldn't see his face in the dark, but she supposed she'd be sleeping in somewhere fitful.

It was much too late that Natsume recalled the captain saying 'room' not 'rooms'.

The walked down the creaking hallway of the cabin, the snores of the sailors featuring the wild night life in the evening.

"Is this where we're sleeping?" said Mikan, scandalized.

"Yes, and you better be grateful. We're not paying for this."

She sighed in relief. "So it's free then?" He didn't answer. She grew nervous. "It's free, right?"

By this time they had already reached the front of the door, and Natsume had found himself saved once again to put off answering the girl's question.

"Get in," he shoved her inside and followed. He glanced at room without interest, but did notice the single bed in the middle of the room. Oh dear.

Mikan stretched her arms over her head, feeling so tired after the long trek in the desert. When she saw that warm, comfortable-looking bed, she nearly collapsed in relief.

"Thank goodness!" she cried, preparing to throw herself onto it—until she saw Natsume was still in the room, that is. She swiveled her head to look at him so fast that she almost suffered a whip lash.

"What are you still doing here?" Uh oh. Her voice sounded way too high-pitched than normal. Definitely not good.

Natsume looked very unhappy with the way things were working out, but he just pushed past her, settling on the couch.

"We're sharing the same room, stupid." He crossed his arms and glared at her. "You got a problem with that?"

Mikan really didn't like this. "You think I've got a problem with that? What are you, blind? Of course I've got a problem with this! I'm—you're—it's not—this is just—argh!" She paced back and forth in the small room, her facial expression terrified.

"Will you stop it?" said Natsume crossly. Her pacing gave him headaches. "There was no way we could get another room. And even if I protested for another room, the captain would be suspicious; I told him we were siblings."

"Siblings!" she shrieked. "We don't look a thing alike! He'll never believe that!"

"Will you just shut up for once?" Natsume nearly shouted. "I'll make up something. You can be my adopted little sister, whatever. Just stop bugging me—I need some damn sleep."

Mikan groaned, sinking into the bed. "Alright, fine. Whatever. But you stay on that couch; don't you dare move or I'll pulverize you!"

Natsume, from his makeshift bed on the sofa, snorted. "You and what army?"

Mikan buried her face into her pillow and didn't answer. He was right. She was alone now, and there was nothing she could do about it.

*

Natsume woke up to the sound of waves crashing against the sides of the ship and the dull cries of seagulls flying overhead. He touched his forehead; his headache had gotten a lot worse. Feeling slightly drowsy, he stared up at the cabin ceiling above, the wooden carvings of churning waves and anchors swimming before his eyes. He closed them and tried to calm down his brain—everything he saw still seemed a little fuzzy.

He laid still for a few more minutes, letting the sound of the waves bring tranquility back into his body system. He opened his eyes wearily, getting up and sitting in bed. He glanced about the room in interest, having little time to do so the other night because of the fatigue draining his body and that idiotic girl's high-pitched voice. Oh great. That just reminded him of his little passenger. He stared at Mikan, who lay curled up into a small ball on the bed, snoring peacefully. He resisted the urge to snort. Weren't princesses supposed to be dignified? Sophisticated?

Mikan let out another pig-like snore.

Apparently not.

Natsume sighed and got up, heading straight to the bathroom. The bathroom, like the cabin, was small in itself; confined and wooden from head to toe. There was a small bucket in the corner of one side—Natsume cringed. He knew what that was. One of the things he disliked about being out in sea, having to go to the toilet in a bucket. It wasn't even big, come to think of it.

He splashed some water on his face from a large pail (the tap and sink) and glanced at his face in the small square mirror. His normally tanned face was bleached pale and his red eyes looked dead shot. Natsume wiped his hand over his face and tried to smooth down his unruly hair. But no matter what he did, it always managed to stick out everywhere. A tentative knock on the door sounded. Natsume glanced at Mikan, who was still sound asleep, snoring like a baby. He rolled his eyes and walked to the door.

When he opened it, two identical boys stood in front of him, grinning cheeky grins. They reminded him dreadfully of Kitsunume and Koko. Swallowing painfully at the memory, he looked at the newcomers straight in the eye.

"Whaddaya want?" he growled. Blunt. Harsh. Typical Natsume.

The two boys were twins, no doubt. They looked at each other and back at Natsume. He didn't like that look. It was a skeptical 'we're-up-to-something' look. No one ever liked that look, and Natsume didn't either.

One of them grinned and presented a small canvas bag to him. "Your clothes." His voice had a distinct accent that sounded a little English.

"For you and the other one," continued the other twin. He paused, glancing at his brother. "I'm Castor," he said.

"And I'm Pollux," said the other twin. They exchanged mischievous grins.

Natsume reluctantly grunted out thanks and moved to close the door. Pollux, in a maneuver so like his own last night, put out his foot and stopped the door from closing.

"Well, that's just rude," he said, smirking. His twin had an identical expression on his own face. "Why don't we start again. I'm Pollux, nice to meet you. This is my twin brother—"

"Castor," said Castor helpfully. "Let's see, where do we start? We're seventeen. We're male." At this, he shared a look with his brother, both snickering. "Our favorite color is green. We like a lot of stuff."

"And we hate a lot of stuff," said Pollux. "Our favorite hobby is pulling pranks."

"And we hate bell pepper." Castor wrinkled his nose. "Demented things, the lot of them. Don't know why human beings eat them."

Natsume raised his eyebrow pointedly. "You sound as if you're not one." The twins shared another secretive look. Their devious smiles widened. Natsume did not like the look of this. He didn't like this at all.

"Yeah," he said resolutely, to settle the matter. "Didn't think so. Well, if that's it—"

Castor's blue-green eyes glinted. "Not so fast, hot shot."

"You've gotta tell us about yourself first," Pollux added. Natsume looked ready to kill. And he would have done so had not it resulted in them (Mikan and himself) losing free transportation. Well, semi-free.

"Fine," he said angrily. "I'm Natsume. There, goodbye." Castor wagged a finger in his face.

"Not done!" he said obnoxiously. "Likes and dislikes."

Natsume crossed his arms and tried intimidating them with his look. It always worked. Unfortunately, it did not this time. "Fine. Likes: none. Dislikes: you two. Now leave me alone." He shut the door swiftly when they were unguarded and locked it. A synchronized knock sounded on the door. It sounded vaguely like Humpty Dumpty. Natsume sighed and opened the door again.

"What is it now?" he said irritably. The twins smiled at each other, then at him.

"Nothing," said Pollux.

"We just wanted to have the final word, is all." Castor shut the door in his face. Ouch.

By the time Mikan woke up, which was at the time this scenario took place, Natsume was literally breathing fire. And unfortunately, he had found the perfect victim to blow off some steam.

*

Mikan woke up at the most unfortunate time. And to make it worse, she woke up to the sight of Natsume practically burning with anger. She blinked in surprise; what a sight for sore eyes. And to make it clear, she meant that sarcastically.

She struggled to sit up in bed, the sheets coiling around her body. Natsume turned to her.

"You're finally awake, I see." He said this calmly, but the fire in his eyes told the truth.

"Yeah?" she said huffily. "What's it to you? Oof!" Natsume had tossed her the bag, having already dressed into his own clothes.

"Clothes," he grunted out. "Change into them as quickly as you can; we've got work to do."

Mikan didn't like the sound of that. Work always associated with manual labor. Mikan was a princess, and princesses don't do manual labor.

"Work?" she said skeptically. "What do you mean, work?"

Natsume snorted at her stupidity. Princesses really were as stupid as he had thought. "You know, work. W-o-r-k. The activity in which one exerts strength or faculties to do or perform something. Work."

Mikan growled angrily, trying to push her messy bed hair out of her face. "Yes, I get the picture. You're a walking Webster's dictionary scroll, you know that?"

Natsume's scowl curled into a cocky smirk. "Don't I know it. Now get dressed."

Mikan crossed her arms and got up from the bed. She headed to the bathroom. Noticing that it had no lock, she immediately spun to face Natsume. Her gaze scorched him unpleasantly. "Don't you dare look," she warned.

Natsume raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow. "What's there to look at?"

She promptly slammed the door in his face.

Natsume rolled his eyes. Moody females, he thought. You would think they were born with sticks in their asses.

A few minutes later, Mikan came back out, fully dressed in a white blouse, a brown leather vest, trousers, and boots. Her scraggly brown hair was tied back with a bandanna.

Natsume mentally whistled. He would never admit it, but she cleaned up good. His expression was blank when he addressed her. "Good. Let's go."

He strode towards the door, opening it and stepping out into the hallway. Mikan was still trying to fasten the buckle of her boots, and ran quickly as she tried to catch up with him. She liked her new clothes; they were comfortable. Not stylish, but comfortable.

She caught up to him, awkwardly moving in her new clothes. Sometimes she wondered if she'd ever get used to this.

They entered another hallway decorated with framed paintings of the seaside. But they were strange paintings; most of them were of ethereal figures. Creatures like mermaids, sea serpents, giant squids, the Loch Ness monster, krakens, sirens, sea horses, and Nereid.

Mikan stared at them in awe, but Natsume passed them in respective silence. They ship was swaying silently as they floated along in the sea. Natsume mentally calculated how long they would take getting to Ōto and what they would do there. The ship was slower than what he was used to and their destination was a bit far off. Depending on which direction the wind was blowing, either way they wouldn't get to Ōto so soon. Give or take two weeks at the most. That wasn't good, but he would have to make do with it for now.

When they reached the deck, the sky was inky grey, black clouds hovering overhead. This was not a good sign, as Natsume knew that it was only mid-afternoon. They had overslept, which normally he would not have allowed, but since yesterday's events were very. . . eventful, he couldn't help sleeping in. Sailors bustled around the deck, checking the ropes and doing chores, while cabin boys mopped the deck sparkling clean. There weren't many crew members aboard, but enough to keep the ship up and running.

Captain Serpens was steering the ship and bellowing commands. The wind was getting stronger, nearly knocking poor Mikan over. She latched herself onto the railing of the ship and braced herself.

"Dammit," muttered Natsume. Mikan was much too terrified to comment on this, but she shook her head disapprovingly.

"What's going on?" she whispered. Natsume didn't answer.

Serpens had seen them coming and beckoned Natsume over. He approached him and the Captain nodded his approval.

"There's a storm a'coming, lad!" he shouted over the ferocity of the wind. "You got experience in sailing, boy?" Natsume nodded. "Aye, that's a good 'un. Now, you go and secure the ropes and batten down the hatches." 'Batten down the hatches' was a term used by sailors when preparing for a storm. They cover the hatches with waterproof material and nail on battens (thin pieces of wood) to hold the hatch coverings in place. This keeps rain and waves out of the ship.

Natsume proceeded to do just that, while Mikan approached him cautiously. "What do I do?" she asked. Natsume barked at her to ask the captain. "Who's that?" she asked. He pointed to Serpens, who was having trouble steering the ship.

She walked towards him, keeping an eye on her footing. "Pardon me, sir, but I was wondering what I was supposed to do." Serpens glanced at her.

"What?"

"I was wondering what I was supposed to do."

"What?"

"I said, sir, that—" Mikan's irritable response was interrupted by the pouring rain.

"Damn!" exclaimed Serpens, steering the ship viciously to the right. Mikan nearly fell over, but she gripped a post tightly. He noticed Mikan there clearly, for what seemed like the first time since she had come over. "You, girlie!" he said. "Go down to the kitchens! Help Cook!" He grimaced. "God knows we'll need a decent meal after going through hell and back. If we survive the encounter."

Mikan nodded and headed down the deck stairs. She had entered another hallway this time, and she searched for the entrance to the kitchens.

She looked in almost every door, until she stopped at one at the right side, with a delicious smell wafting from the inside. She beamed. This was the kitchen, no doubt about it.

Opening the door cautiously, she was greeted by pleasant aromas and sounds of tinkering in the kitchen. A large man in an apron that said 'Kiss the Cook' was stirring a large bowl with a wooden spoon. He looked up when he saw her enter.

"Well," he said jovially. "A rookie. Cap said you'd be coming along. Let's see if you've got some cooking in you."

Mikan had taken up some lessons in the culinary arts back in the palace, but she'd never been really good at it.

Cook, wiped his hands on his apron. "I'm Cook. You are?"

"Mi—" she paused. Natsume had told her to make up an alias for herself; she couldn't let anyone know her real name. "Dominique Beauregard." She nodded.

"Nice to meet you, Dominique," beamed Cook. He was a large fellow, with a mop of grey hair on his head and a toothy smile. His hands were covered in white flour and he wiped them again on his apron. "Now, we'd better decide on what to make for dinner. I was thinking of making casserole." Mikan nodded her approval and they started on making it.

"They're a lively bunch, the crew," said Cook, almost fondly. "We'll have to make a big amount to feed their big hives." He chuckled. "All that looting makes a big appetite."

"Looting?" asked Mikan curiously. Cook stared at her disbelievingly.

"You mean you haven't figured it out by now?" He shook his head at her. "You're on a pirate ship, sweetie, with real live pirates."

I feel so relieved to have finally finished the second chapter of RSS. School is getting more difficult by the day, so I shouldn't really be writing at all, but I am. Writing helps me vent of stress, along with the other wonders it can do.

I wrote this chapter in two entirely different places; one of those places was beside a pool on a sunny day with a MacBook, while the other I was stuck in my house, in front of a large iMac. Can you tell which part I wrote in which place? I'll give you a clue: most of the time I used the iMac.

Do I have a weird obsession with Macintosh products? Yes, yes I do.

The third chapter, well, that won't be coming out so soon. If you know how long I take updating each of my stories, then you know you'll be expecting a long wait. Sigh. Sorry people.

Reviews are like chocolate truffles; give me some and I'll give you a hug. ;)

–Tearless Sonnet