Wow.

He's here.

At my apartment.

In my kitchen.

Wanna know how?

Alright, so, he was outside for a walk in the streets of Tokyo, accompanied by banners like, 東京のファビュラス服を買う！or 今年のレストラン！And I don't think they're as great as they make it sound. Anyway, he came across my apartment, like Oh! What's this? and broke down my door (I have to buy a new one now.) and rudely walked in my apartment eating my food in my kitchen! And so I walked downstairs, and realized:

He was the guy I played with back when I was about five, in the fields, before I moved here.

LIKE FREAKING WHO HAD HE BECOME!?

And so I trembled, having no idea what to say! I---should've called Aiko, I should've done something, but it'd ruin my reputation. Tokyo's Princess.

And guess who he is?

Tokyo's Prince.

And so, I pushed my anger into my actions, and punched his face, leaving a purple, disgusting bruise on his perfect pale face, and I had saw his eyes. Blood red.

Blood.

Red.

I don't remember Akako. He used to be playful, gentle, so perfect, so fragile, so loyal, dependable. And... here Akako is... I... am speechless.

"Akak--" I start, but he grasps my wrist.

"Akaki." He growls, glaring into my eye. A monster. I see my own hatred in reflecton.

"Let go of me!" I return, bending my head down for a bite. He takes his other hand, and grasps my forehead. "AGH!"

"Akaki." He growls again, his eyes a glare, starting to rip me to pieces.

But if my heart wasn't even full first, how could it break?

From Akako.

"Akako, you remember me, don't you." I say, looking up at him, hoping he'd loosen his grip.

"Truly," he growls. Why does he always growl. Ugh. "Who are you? Why aren't you the Akaki I remember? You---were so brave, so passionate, so ready. And now, look at you, unable to even try freeing from my grip. I'm holding you just as strong as when we were at age five, yet you don't try to be free, you don't have the strength as before."

"I---I don't do martial arts!" I scream. "I don't want to fight!" I pick up my right leg, and smash his soft spot, then running from his grip. I could feel pain running through my veins, but tears and fear covered it up. Tears. The color red. Which could be stronger?

I could feel my forehead running, burning, stinging, almost making the feel sickening. Though there was nausea too, at this moment. I am running. Running away from the past.

But I could only run so far before I run out of gasoline---my energy fading quickly, the speed of a shooting star.

My head burned, by arms ached, even my kneecaps and heels were feeling weak. I already fled into the city, barefooted, the only protection, my socks. I had been running, like a runaway dog from an abused home, but I was only greeted by the smell of city, and smoke. It wasn't a warm feeling.

Aiko.

Where are you.

Please, tell me.

I kept running along the sidewalks, craving for a snack, craving for ramen, and steak, and the other foods stands and buildings held.

But I knew Akiko was back there. I couldn't give up now.

I will rise, as one, I will rise.

Burning cold tears flooded my face, a waterfall of them streaming down. And no matter what it takes, I will make it. I will make my way to freedom.

I saw my amber locks stream back, I could feel my heart drumming, like the ones at band. Bum! Bum! Bum! How I wish Aiko was here.

Then I saw her.

In front of me.

Smiling.

And letting me stop. "Is Akiko here?"

"Y-yeah." I pant. "He is trailing me." I turn around to see the pale guy in front of me.

"Akiko," she started to cry. "We missed you. You miss the us who played in the fields. Tokyo changed us. We want to be those people too." She started to sob, wiping her eyes. "But we'll never fight with you against us." She almost growls the last part. She goes in a fighting stance, looking threatening, she closes her eyes. Probably remembering what the bullies had done to her. Akiko did the same, but did not close his eyes.

Aiko leaps up, high, and turns a 360*, and then sends her hand to his chest, him backing up to dodge. Akiko's turn now, punches her, only an attempt leading to failure.

Should I run?

I'm running.

I made my sprint, the little break giving me a thankful flee, giving myself courage.

But soon, against my will, I felt cold hands rest against my cheeks, but everything in my sight goes black, I'm unconcious.