The pavement was moderately crowded at this time of day, in this part of town. People were out running errands, kids out of school, morning shift workers finished. He was sitting on the wide edge of the short wall that bordered a public flower bed, kicking his feet in boredom.

He was casually beautiful and comfortably attired in many pocketed pants, and a clingy pullover with open shoulders. His soft hair moved a little in the light breeze where it was longer.

She stopped walking and simply stared. People would sometimes say they want to kiss or touch someone attractive or famous that they didn't know. She'd never really understood the sentiment, but suddenly there it was.

He caught her watching and leaned back on his hands, striking a model-style pose. He grinned at her boldly, and his smile was brilliantly warm to her eyes.

She was sure she was blushing. Her face felt like it was flaming. She felt that she should say something so she said, "Um, hi," rather awkwardly.

He sat up and replied "Hello." A slightly puzzled look crept across his face and he asked politely, "What can I do for you?"

"Can I kiss you?" somehow escaped from her mouth. Immediately she apologized in a breathless rush, "I'm sorry, forget I said that, sorry."

Overlapping her apology he exclaimed with mock shock, "How bold!" He crossed his legs and held his hand in front of his mouth dramatically.

She froze. After a moment he dropped his pose and laughed openly. "Sure, why not," he offered.

She just stared at him again, too shocked to answer.

He shrugged and told her, "One kiss won't hurt anything."

"Are you sure it's ok?" she asked.

He nodded and beckoned to her. He grinned at her as she approached him hesitantly. When she was close, he smiled up at her from his seated position.

She clutched her school bag tightly in her hands and leaned toward him. His clear eyes were steady, holding her gaze, and his mouth curved in an amused smile. She couldn't do it.

"Would you mind closing your eyes?" she asked nervously.

He closed his eyes and waited with his pretty face turned up toward her. She hovered over him hesitantly. After a moment he opened one eye, and then both eyes to look at her. He said with amusement, "You don't have to force yourself."

"No, I do want to," she replied anxiously.

He closed his eyes again and waited.

Nervously, she leaned forward and kissed his mouth quickly.

He opened one eye again and asked, "Was that it?"

She stepped back and nodded.

He opened both eyes and gazed up at her while laughing.

She asked hesitantly, "Was it bad?"

"Not bad," he replied quickly. With amusement he continued, "But I'll show you, if I may?"

She nodded uncertainly.

He stood up and then told her, "You're surprisingly tall." They were nearly the same height.

"I'm sorry," she replied.

He laughed. "It's not a bad thing," he said gently. "Here," he instructed as he reached out to her. "When you kiss someone, you should touch them I think." He placed a hand on her arm. "Put your hands on their waist," he set his other hand against her waist, "or shoulders," he slid his first hand up to her shoulder, and stepped forward so that there was barely a space between them.

"Relax your mouth, and don't tilt your head too much," he said as he leaned in, "just enough to let your noses touch instead of bump," he added, letting his nose slide against hers. And so close that she could feel his lips moving said, "And let the kiss last long enough so they can tell they've been kissed." His lips settled against hers, and he kissed her for a moment.

He stepped back and smiled at her as he settled back into a sitting position on the border wall. "Want to try again?" he invited.

She nodded.

He grinned at her.

She stepped forward to him, then stopped, and set her bag at his feet. She nervously reached out a hand and placed it on his shoulder. Her fingers brushed bare skin where his shirt was cut away in deliberate curves at his shoulder, and she blushed and shifted her hand up to where the fabric covered the top of his shoulder.

He closed his eyes and tilted his face up to her again, his mouth relaxed except for a bit of smile curling the corners. She leaned in and let her nose brush against his, and kissed him for a moment.

He opened his eyes and said, "Better," with a warm smile.

He leaned forward just enough to kiss her gently again. Then he rocked back a little, and waited invitingly.

Without thinking she settled her other hand against him. With the warm skin of his shoulder against her palm, she leaned in to kiss him again.

He nodded when she pulled back. He reached forward again and kissed her softly, letting her feel how his lips moved against hers. Then he waited for her to return the kiss.

They exchanged kisses for awhile. At some point he dropped one hand to her leg, and pulled her knee up along his thigh, so that the next time she shifted closer it was only natural that she straddle his lap. Sitting in his lap, her arms around his shoulders, and his warm against her waist, the slow exchange of kisses continued until he slipped his tongue between her lips, just a little.

She froze. He loosened his hold on her, releasing her and leaning back on his hands. He gazed at her steadily for a moment and then deliberately closed his eyes, tilted his face, and waited.

Hesitantly, she leaned in and kissed him, tentatively attempting to touch his lips with her tongue. His hands moved forward, and he slid one up her thigh and settled the other behind her head, gently drawing her into the kiss.

They kissed some more. Little by little the kisses deepened, until suddenly her arm was grabbed roughly from behind. She was quickly dragged backward off of his lap and unsteadily onto her feet.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" demanded the uniformed police officer who gripped her arm painfully and ignored the stunned protest from the man behind her.

She stared at her mother's new husband, unable to answer, before he began dragging her stumbling along the pavement. Struggling to look back at the man she'd been kissing, she caught only a glimpse of the stunned expression on his face, his arms still open toward her.

"Stop!" She protested desperately, but Mizuki Izumi reached out and opened the door of the police vehicle behind her, and practically threw her into the back. He slammed the door behind her and flung himself into the passenger seat. Then he turned and ordered his partner, "drive, now."

"No, wait, what are you doing?" She protested and then went white as the vehicle started to move. She reached for the non existent latch, and then scrabbled for the safety harness. "There's no seatbelt!" she exclaimed fearfully as they pulled out onto the road. Kisses and the man she'd been kissing were forgotten in a white fog of terror as the vehicle set off along the busy street.

… K to K

"Kiri? What are you doing?" Kazuha asked, looking at his friend oddly.

Kiri had been sitting on the decorative flower bed border, arms spread loosely with a blank unseeing look on his face. He hadn't noticed Kazuha's approach, or greeting, but he stirred at the question, and looked up. "Kissing a girl?" was his uncertain reply.

"An invisible girl?" Kazuha asked with amusement.

"She was kidnapped, I think," Kiri responded a little anxiously.

"By pirates?" his friend asked interestedly.

"By policemen," Kiri corrected with a frown as he stood up.

Kazuha raised an eyebrow and clapped his hand on Kiri's shoulder. "Are you sure you ought to be kissing a girl like that?" he asked dryly.

Kiri replied quickly, "She was a good girl, I'm certain she was." He shrugged the hand off and glanced down to where his toe had caught against something as he stood. He picked up the school bag and fished inside it. "A very organized girl," he added, displaying a neat stack of unfinished homework.

Kazuha's face froze in a neutral expression as he looked at the evidence presented. "You were kissing a high-school girl?" he asked.

Kiri simply nodded. His search of the bag finally met with success, and pleased, he withdrew and held up Hitoshi Hikaru's school ID.

...

A terrified haze of time later, the patrol car pulled up in front of her house. As soon as the door was opened, Hikaru tumbled out of the vehicle onto the walk beside the small patch of grass that counted as a yard in this residential area.

Her body felt weak and clumsy with fear, but with her feet on the ground, fear abruptly transformed to anger. "You fucking bastard!" she turned and screamed at her mother's husband where he still stood beside her with his hand on the door.

He raised his hand and slapped her hard. They both froze in shock.

After a moment, in an ice cold voice, Hikaru said, "Don't you ever hit my mother. I don't care if she's standing over a dead body screaming, don't you ever hit her."

The breath gasped from him as though he'd been the one hit, and when he caught his breath again Izumi replied, "Never. I would never hit Miri."

Hikaru clenched her jaw and turned away, and he did not follow. She stalked up the walk, up the steps, and into the house. She shut the door and leaned back on it for a moment.

"What, no 'I'm home?'", called her mother from the kitchen doorway.

"I'm home," Hikaru said shakily.

"Welcome home," said her mother, drying her hands on a small towel. She came forward into the living room and frowned up at Hikaru. "Oh Hikaru," she said with dismay, "another fight?"

Hikaru looked down into her mother's face uncomprehendingly. Miri raised a hand to Hikaru's cheek and said lightly, "we better put some ice on that." Hikaru winced at the touch, nodded, and let her mother pull her into the kitchen. Miri sat her down on the stool. "What happened?" She asked while she prepared a cold compress for Hikaru's cheek.

Hikaru shrugged. After a long moment she said, "It won't happen again."

Her mother laughed at her somewhat disconnected answer, and replied wryly, "Until someone else needs rescuing again." She looked at Hikaru knowingly, but Hikaru did not reply right away. "Do you want something to eat before supper?" Miri asked.

Holding the compress against her cheek, Hikaru shook her head and replied, "No, sorry, I'm going to my room. I don't want dinner, I'm not hungry." Her mother bit her lip, but made no protest as Hikaru walked back through the house and climbed the stairs.

She entered the first room, then stripped off her school uniform and changed into regular clothes. She pulled out her ponytail and let her dark hair loose, scrubbing her hands through it. Out of habit and a need for comfort, Hikaru reached for her guitar. The familiar curves of it in her hands soothed her a little, and she hooked it up to the amplifier out of long habit, instead of the headset she'd been using recently.

Miri gazed up the stairs as the first chords blazed out, and realized suddenly that she hadn't heard her daughter play at home in months.

--

When Mizuki Izumi returned home after his shift finished, his pretty wife had dinner waiting, as she always did. The loud strains of an old pop song poured out of the room above and he snapped with irritation as he hung his jacket, "Can't she listen to music at a reasonable volume?"

Miri regarded her husband in surprise. "It's not a recording, Hikaru is playing," she said.

Izumi was taken aback, and replied uncertainly, "Well, she should stop and eat anyway." Without waiting for a reply, he marched up the stairs and knocked on Hikaru's door.

When she set down her guitar and opened the door, he grabbed her arm. Hikaru looked down at Izumi's hand on her arm and said, "Let go of me." He released her quickly, with an uncomfortable expression. She clarified, "Don't ever touch me."

He replied with quick anger, "It's dinner time, come down and eat."

"No," returned Hikaru bluntly.

Izumi glared and then turned away stiffly. "Did she tell you she was kissing a man today?" He asked, looking down the stairs at his wife.

Miri shook her head and asked with curiously sparkling eyes, "Who was he?"

"It doesn't matter!" Hikaru replied angrily. "I'll probably never see him again, gods only know what he thinks of me now." She stepped back and shut her door firmly.

"I hope he's not the one who hit her," Miri said worriedly. Izumi didn't reply immediately and she added, "Leave her alone and come eat."

Izumi came down and joined her at the table. His lips compressed in irritation when the music resumed a little more quietly, but he didn't say anything else about it.

--

Eventually Hikaru calmed and drew the mournful angry song at her fingertips to a close. Belatedly she realized she'd been playing a very old song, Bon Jovi's 'Bed of Roses'. Recalling the lyrics, it seemed a little extreme of a sentiment, and she laughed ruefully.

As soon as she relaxed enough, she felt hungry. She unhooked the amplifier and put it and her guitar away carefully. She thought of taking her homework down to work on while she ate, and then remembered that her school bag had been left on the pavement at the feet of the man she'd been kissing.

Her cheeks heated at the remembrance. She would have to go to the office first thing in the morning and report it lost, and get a temporary ID card, she realized. She thought about calling Risa and asking for help with tomorrow's assignments, but after looking at the time and imagining the requisite explanations, she didn't.

She descended the stairs quietly, and went into the kitchen. Her mother had put the leftovers away in her usual careful fashion. Hikaru dropped some on a plate, and filled a container that would work as a temporary lunch box with a selection of foods for her lunch tomorrow. She ate the food on the plate, and put the plate into the washer.

She returned to her room, set her alarm earlier than usual, and surprisingly calmly fell asleep.