Secret Soul (Himitsu no Tamashi)

One day, I decided to end it!End all my hardship, my loneliness, my sadness and hurt that burns inside my heart.I walk and walk into the woods, until I  found the cliff. While watching the ground, I enhale deeply. This is the last time I will smell the fresh air.I closed my eyes and widened my two arms. This is it, I already decided."Mom, Dad I will see you now. I miss you so much."And suddenly my tears fall down into my cheek.I enhale for my one last breath and step forward and...I wake up, and I slowly open my eyes fluttering as they focus to the brightness surrounding me. I look around and see that this is a different room."Where am I?" in my thought."Are you awake?" a beautiful, musical voice came in to my ear.A spectacularly handsome man stares at me, his startling green eyes disconcerting me with their bri

I laugh at the way he mentions it so lightly. He tells me that I'm his "mate", bound to him for life (or afterlife), and he expects me to just take it in? To immediately obey his request?I can see the seriousness and fear in his beautiful green eyes, silently pleading with me to understand.I'm amazed the most at the fact that he expects me to take him seriously. Or maybe he doesn't. Maybe he just wants the satisfaction of having me fall for his wily tricks. I have to say, he is a marvelous liar.Anger overwhelms me, my heartbeat rising. Why don't I get a choice on whether to be his mate? Is he so superior that he can't give me the option to be free?"Uh, well, um..." I inch towards the door, edging to the exit that will free me from this nightmare. My red hair falls into my face, my hands shaking. Kiyaya smiles as the phone begins to ring, causing my stomach to unwillingly flip flop."Excuse me while I take this call," he says quickly, retreating from

Kiyaya peers at me, at my face hidden behind my thick bangs. "Did you have glasses in the forest where I rescued you?" he asked.I nod in reply, "Yes, but don't worry about trying to find it. I have this one," I finger my thick lenses. He seems unsatisfied, his facial expression of sadness."Like this," he comments sadly, "I can't see your cute eyes that well. Is there any way you could go without them?"I shake my head, my cheeks flushing once more. He stops completely, bending down so he can be at my level.Quietly, halting me with a gentle touch, he observes me, examining my face. He frowns, his sparkling eyes creasing a little in disappointment. "Shaba," he says, "You look very different from when I first met you."Yeah, I think inwardly, probably you didn't realize how ugly I am until now. "Disappointed?" I ask scornfully."No," he smiles, "You are just as beautiful as you were yesterday."I choke on my own breath, s

Reclining right behind the disastrous disorder is a stick-thin, rather short lady with a beehive hairdo that climbs about seven inches into the air. It is a masterpiece, reminding me slightly of those wigs in the medieval times, and rather typical of an elderly woman like her. Her voice is nothing short of hysterical. "Hello children," she squeaks like a mouse, her words almost indistinguishable, "How may I help you?"Kiyaya once again takes the lead, leaving me cowering in his shadow. "I am new here," he informs her, flashing a smile at the minuscule, shriveled up plant that just happens to have a voice and a towering hairdo.Her facial expressions unchanging, she reaches down to the floor to pick up some forlorn papers. "Ah, the new student. I have your schedule in this stack... somewhere. . ." she comments as she places the pile in her lap. A truly monstrous pack of papers… I wonder how she can possibly sort

I am exhausted, physically and mentally, by lunch time.Kiyaya has been dogged by so many people that even he is tired now, huffing beside me like a car that has just run out of gas. "This," he says, running a hair through his perfect, blue hair, "Is why I haven't gone to school for the last thirty-two years."I blink, wondering if I had heard him right. "Thirty-two years?" I squeak, my voice barely above a whisper. Even now, as we casually walk down the hallway, people are staring at him, gossiping about the new senior that is sizzling hot."Yeah. I was born fifty-five years ago, March 4, 1955, to be exact, and you are not eligible to go to school until you are five. So, that makes about thirty-two years since I last went. I only completed high school, and didn't go to college," he says plainly. My eyes widen with surprise as I absorb his words."So you are fifty-five years old," I say dubiously. Somehow, that