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Fallen Angel -1-
I was only four years old.... It's been six years since I've last seen my mother. I can't really remember much about her. She was always so kind, so sweet and I know she loved me very much.
Master Mukuro say's that she left me here in his care. I don't really understand why... he doesn't seem too reliable, and he always gives me odd glances. I can't tell if it's because he hates me or not. Sometime's he will talk real fondly of my mother, though he's never told me her name. Whenever I ask about my father, he grabs my chin and makes me look at him. He tells me 'you look so much like your father, and it disgusts me.' He makes sure my hair is short so I don't come to look any more similar, and has even suggested tampering with my hair color....
My birthday's going to be in a few days. I wonder if I should ask Master Mukuro if my mother can come. I'm going to be ten after all...
Dull green eyes stared at the page beneath his pen. A sigh escaped the young illusionist as he shut the b
I'll Find You Again: Chapter 3
"I'll Find You Again"
Chapter 3: Sora
"Hm? Yoite?" Miharu looked up when he realized the black cat had disappeared from his sight. Yukimi and Tsukasa had tried to work out a few theories. Apparently, Tsukasa knew Yukimi had spoken to him about Sora before, but Yukimi really couldn't remember. At some point, the brunette tried to intervene and suggest it was the 'missing person', but... he just tried to put it all together. When they had gotten ready to leave, the black cat was out of the kitchen.
He looked at the small hallway as he heard a playful meow. The young brunette hurried after the call, nearly running into the taller dark haired boy, the kitten in his arms.
"Ah... he's yours, isn't he?" he smiled lightly, petting the dark furred creature. "He's very beautiful... What's his name?"
Miharu had froze, staring at him blankly. His voice was so soft and familiar... everything about him... it seemed like he had already made a huge impression of himself in his life...
Teenage TaoismGiving birth is the closest I’d ever felt to dying.
Before that, my near death experiences had consisted only of my silent announcement of pregnancy—silent, being that my social media accounts were all deleted almost simultaneously and I never returned to school in the fall, saying without really saying that I had caught the malicious disease of “teenage pregnancy”. I’m sure the whisper spread in the hallways like the Bubonic Plague. That September, sitting at home on what would have been the first day of my senior year, I imagined friends I’d never talk to again saying “she was only seventeen, and so full of life!” at my absence in the cafeteria tables, as if they were attending my funeral instead of talking about me behind my back.
"Full of life," I had snorted then, folding a never ending stream of what had once been my own baby clothes. "Literally."
I walked around like a zombie for the months of my pregnancy, deciding t
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