Disclaimer: Five words, one sentence, clear enough. Don't own Flame of Recca.

- Response to xabie's Photo Album challenge. Chosen 'photo': Chapter 15 – Tuneless Tune. Use of xabie's original wordings, exact or modified (sorry, xabie-chan…) all in       bold italics.
- OOC characters, but there's no other way. Apologies!

For xabie-chan, my inspiration, soul for this fic.
For khay, my motivation, and for writing all the lovely Mi-chan/Fuuko fics. I swear I didn't do the "you-write-I-write" thing on purpose. ^_~

written by: da*mouse ®

"MI-CHAN!" A loud voice vibrated throughout the lush grounds of the campus gardens, causing every person to stop, wince and cover their ears. All except Mikagami Tokiya, who kept on walking unaffectedly, sauntering across the campus.

Kirisawa Fuuko darted through the crowds, reaching the young man in matter of seconds. He kept on walking, not acknowledging her.

"Geez! Wait up, Mi-chan. Can't you hear me calling you?" She panted, hurrying to catch up with his long strides.

He barely glanced at her. "I cannot hear anything resembling my name from you." He said coolly, switching his heavy law text from his right arm to his left.

She just grinned. "Lighten up, Mi-chan." Her heavy emphasis on that moniker was not missed, causing Mikagami to stop and shoot her a lethal glare.

"What do you want, Kirisawa?" He asked curtly, raising his left wrist, reading the time displayed on the silver watch he was wearing. "Make it quick, I'm due for a lecture in five minutes."

"Your Torts notes." She answered promptly, choosing not to beat around the bush with her otherwise usual teasing, noting the annoyed expression on his handsome face. "Torts 101. I missed a lecture last week."

He frowned. "I wonder which idiot admitted you in here. For law, of all courses."

She laughed. "You should thank the said idiot. Or else you would be so lonely here, won't you, Mi-chan?"

"God forbid." He said sarcastically. "Be at my dorm room at five. I'll hand you the notes then."

"Great! I'll see you then. I got to get going. My tutorial is at the other side of campus." With a wave, she took off, whistling a little tune under her breath.

He watched her for a moment, noticing her long her legs were made to look in the jeans cutoffs she was wearing. The next moment, he was frowning, knowing it was not the first time that…this occurred.

Forcing all thoughts of his ex-comrade off his mind, he pushed opened the doors to the lecture hall.


"Try not to spill anything on them, although I know it was a lot to ask from you."

The first sight that greeted Fuuko as she knocked on the dorm door was a stack of notes and an irritated Mikagami. Grinning at him, and knowing that he wasn't about to invite her in, she pushed past him, taking the notes from him as she did so.

"Kirisawa, I do not recall inviting you in."

"I know. I invite myself!" She tossed back cheerfully, settling herself on the easy armchair beside his table. Picking up a journal, she began flipping through it, whistling softly.

"Kirisawa, I am in the midst of an important essay." He said warningly.

"Wow, this is interesting. I never knew about this particular bit of history." Making herself comfortable, she began reading out loud. "In 1938, Winston Churchill…"

"Kirisawa." His voice was even, carrying a dangerous note. That was her cue to leave him alone, and she understood it. 

"Okay, okay." She grabbed her notes and made her way to the door, where he was standing, tapping his foot impatiently.

"You know, you really are a first class grouch."

"Out!" was his only response.

She laughed, unfazed. "Oh well, you're still cute, anyway. Ja, Mi-chan!" She took off down the hall, purple hair flaying behind her, her whistling becoming fainter as her footsteps pounded down the stairs. 

He shut the door with a resounding bang.

Nevertheless, the ensui-wielder can't help reflecting that his room was a lot quieter before she was here, as well as after she left.


It was a beautiful day. Even Mikagami was uncharacteristically in a good mood. Having said that, it merely meant that the customary frown was off his face for a change. And that a chattering Fuuko did not send his head reeling as it usually would.

In fact, it made him feel almost happy to hear her voice prattling away, as she jumped and hopped beside him.

Wait a minute.

He did not just think that, did he?

He could not have. Unless he was insane, or gripped by another phenomena closely related to insanity.

"Oh hey, I'm late. Catch up with you later!" Her voice broke into his reverie, and she playfully tugged on his silver ponytail, earning a glare from him. As the tomboy streaked across the campus, he shook his head.

Being late was the story of her life.

Mikagami carried on to his own destination. A little tune began forming in his head, and before he knew it, it was escaping in the form of a small whistle, from his mouth. Instantly horrified, he stopped himself in the nick of time.

Mikagami Tokiya never whistled. And he wasn't about to start now.


He was at the library, looking through a huge stack of law journals for his assignment.                                                

Closing the fifth journal, he set it aside neatly, casting a glance at a table near to his, where Fuuko sat. Books, journals and periodicals strewn all over the table, as opposed to the neat piles on his table. She had her legs propped on the table, chewing the end of a pen while a pencil sat behind her ear.

Mikagami snorted. It was a wonder to know that this girl was a law student of Tokyo University.

She suddenly turned, and caught him looking at her. She grinned widely, and gave a small wave.

He nodded, and swiveled away quickly, feeling mortified that he was actually feeling…embarrassed. Sneaking another short glance at Fuuko – he could not help himself, really – he saw her looking up and smiling as another person set down books on her table.

A male, with dark hair.

Inexplicably, he frowned, and then caught himself. Why should he care what the she-monkey was doing? Turning back to his work, he began reading a highlighted paragraph, pen scratching across the paper as he wrote.

All was quiet in Mikagami's world until a ditty forced itself into his mind.

Unknowingly, he hummed along to it under his breath.

It was after a few verses only he realised what he was doing. Only then he was able to stop himself.


Things were bad. Really bad. He was doing it again. He actually started humming along to it – again - on his way back from school. Thankfully he still managed to stop himself before anyone noticed, but still, it was getting out of hand.

The question was: From where had he gotten it? It was a rather strange tune that he knew was not a pop song or from any recognizable song. The thing was: it sounded quite familiar. As if he had heard it a million times before.

Well, he was not about to waste himself dwelling on the silly little insignificance, as irritating as it might be. Not when there was an essay to think about, and his stomach to feed.

Grabbing a cup noodle from his food cupboard, Mikagami peeled off the lid, and stood it under hot water. As he waited for the water to fill, he found himself wondering why wasn't the purple-haired tomboy banging down his door, being a nuisance, as usual.

It would be about this time that she came about in her daily chore of bothering him, irritating him until he could put up with her no more, and practically had to kick her out of his dorm room.

That would be, of course, she had managed to trick dinner out of him.

Mikagami turned off the tap of hot water, and placed a plate over the noodles, waiting for it to be cooked. The room was…quiet. Still. Too still.

With a jolt, he realised that he had been looking forward to her arrival, disturbances, commotions, and everything that came with it. To him, it was routine. Routine ever since she arrived at Tokyo University, as his junior.

Giving himself a mental shake, he picked up his chopsticks, and fished out a mouthful of noodles. As he chewed, the tune began drilling itself into his head again. He squeezed his eyes shut and pressed both of his palms against his ears. It did not work. The tuneless ditty was still there repeating and repeating itself with a vengeance in his brain.

Exasperatedly, Mikagami pushed aside his noodles, and decided to take a bath instead.

Between that awful tune and uncontrollable, inexplicably incessant thoughts of Kirisawa Fuuko, he was staring to develop an enormous headache.



Mikagami opened his eyes and fixed his eyes on the clock beside his bed. It was ten minutes past midnight, who on earth could it be at this ungodly hour? Glowering, he swung himself out of bed, and opened the door, coming face to face to a sheepish Fuuko.

He almost groaned; he should've known that it would be her. Only she would ever dare to knock on his door at this hour.

And you would let her, only her, get away with it. His inner voice piped up, and instantly squashed.

"Urmm, hi…Mi-chan. Nice night, isn't it?" She said brightly.

Mikagami just scowled. "Spit it out, Kirisawa."

"Can I spend the night here? You see, I sort of locked myself out, and the building supervisor absolutely refused to open for me…"

He just stared at her with disbelief.

"Come on, Mi-chan, take pity on me. It's just one night. Please?" She said pleadingly, looking at him with wide green eyes.

"Go look for one of your girlfriends."

The wind-wielder shrugged. "Frankly, I never thought of anyone else but you."

He gave a start, and managed to wipe off the expression of astonishment off his face before it became too obvious. Her next sentence made it easier for him to replace the shocked look with his trademark frown.

"An iceman like you won't try anything. I'm safe." She grinned. "You will take pity on me, right, Mi-chan?"

Mikagami rolled his eyes, and turned to go back into his room. "If you can make yourself comfortable on the armchair, by all means."

She followed him in, and shut the door. "Armchair? You are so not a gentleman, Mikagami."

"Hey." He snapped. "If I am not a gentleman, I would've thrown you out of the door this instant. Gratitude, girl." He threw a blanket to her.

She huffed, and caught the blanket with one hand. The silver-haired young man smirked at her, a satisfied look on his attractive face. "Sleep well, Kirisawa."

She glared, and kicked off her shoes.


He was on his bed tossing and turning, rumpling up his sheets something terrible. The stupid tune was stuck in his head, like a tape jammed into permanent repeat mode. Over and over and over again it played in his mind until he was certain he would go completely insane.

Of course, there was also the matter of the furry purple monkey on his armchair.

With a frustrated sigh, he sat up on his bed, grabbing a glass of water he kept on his side table, and tossing the contents down his throat. The little dorm room suddenly felt small, suffocating. He needed to get out of there, and clear his muddled mind a little. Slipping his feet into a pair of slippers, he snatched a band from his study desk, tying up his long silver hair into a messy ponytail.

He was so preoccupied that he failed to notice that the armchair was empty, the blanket thrown carelessly over it.

Leaving his dorm room, he headed down the hall to the rooftop garden for some fresh air. As he climbed the steps nearing it, he heard the strains of the blasted tune floating through the wooden door. He slowly pushed it open just enough for him to see the occupant of the garden.

And then he gulped.

For there, sitting on the edge of the roof, was a certain monkey, Fuuko the monkey, humming softly.

Without second thoughts, he retreated quickly back to the dark safety of his room.

He did not want to think of the implication of having her song stuck on constant play in his subconscious.

He absolutely refused to think about the possibility.


Back in his dorm room, Mikagami sat down on the unoccupied armchair, and groaned softly to himself.

It came from her? That stupid, goddamn tune that stuck itself to his head, and he was so stuck upon, that was giving him so much grief, came from Fuuko?

She had taken over his life, he thought sourly. Invading his world, his room, even messing around with his brain. Her teasing comments, her always making a mess in his dorm room, that irritating little melody, had cemented themselves into him. That when she was not around, he would wonder about her.

What the hell was going on? What was happening to him?

Jumping up from the chair, he fixed himself a cup of hot green tea, and set it down on the low table he served as a dining table, sipping it slowly. Tea would help to clear his head.

She couldn't mean anything to him. Nothing more than a pesky thorn at his side.

Or was she something more? Much more?

You thought of her when she was not around.

You missed her when she wasn't with you.

You felt happy when she was with you. Admit it.

You whistled her tune unconsciously, unknowingly.

Come on, Mikagami, you're a smart guy. Figure it out!

…shut up, inner voice. I do not like Kirisawa.

Yeah, and pigs fly.

Get lost. Go bother someone else.

Damn, he was talking to himself now. A very, very bad sign that he was about to go nuts.

All because of her.


He didn't know how long had he been sitting there sorting out his thoughts and having his internal debate, when the door pushed open to reveal Fuuko, tiptoeing into the room.

"Going somewhere?" His tone was sarcastic.

She gave a start, and turned to him. "Oops. Sorry. I tried to be quiet."

He snorted. "Nice try."

She sat down across from him at the wooden table. "Hey, I said I was sorry."

He barely looked at her. "Apology accepted."

A wide smile appeared on her face. "Must've gotten you on a good day. You're rarely this forgiving."

"I try to be." He said dryly. "Not that it was any of your concern."

Silence lapsed over the two for a short moment, until Fuuko broke it by whistling the tune. He pressed his fingers to his temples. "Must you whistle that infuriating thing?" He said, an expression of irritation on his face to match his tone.

"Infuriating? You like it." She pointed out.


"I heard you at the library yesterday. And the other day while you were at the quad."

"Kirisawa, I was not whistling that damn thing."

"Oh come on, Mi-chan. You won't be humming it if you don't like it." She pointed out reasonably. "Just admit that Kirisawa Fuuko has great taste in songs! And Mi-chan follows on." She said triumphantly.

He glared at her then, gripping the corners of the table. Then his face cleared, and a sly look appeared on his face. A small smile played at the corners of his mouth. He leaned across the table, bringing his face closer to hers. "You want to know why I was whistling that song?"

She reflectively drew back from his closeness, but at the same time, drawn to the intensity of his ice-blue eyes. Mikagami was an arrogant block of ice, but an unbelievably good-looking one, that much she had to admit.

At that moment, she could see herself reflected on those orbs that sent thousands of girls into swooning fits. And it was unnervingly unsettling.

"Wh…why?" She managed, as he drew closer.

He then smirked at her. "Because."

Before she could response, his mouth caught hers…and he was kissing her.

She was so shocked, she didn't know how to react, but sat there, frozen as if Mikagami had frozen her with his ensui.

After a long, delicious moment, he pulled away, and smirked at her. Standing up, he headed for his bed, without a backward glance.

"Good night, monkey."

Left her staring after him, open-mouthed, disorientated at all that had transpired between them.


Mikagami fastened the buttons of his shirt, and picked up the textbooks and files on his desk. Thinking back on the events of the previous night, he allowed himself a small laugh.

The look on her face had been priceless.

He pushed back the paper-thin door that fenced off his sleeping quarters. Then his eyes narrowed.

His room was empty.

Fuuko was gone.

Uncharacteristic panic rose in him, as he scanned every corner of his room. She didn't tell him that she was leaving.

An unpleasant thought struck him. Was it about yesterday…?

Just as he was contemplating of places to look for her, his door flew open, and in bounded Fuuko with bags of food. "Morning, Mi-chan!" She dumped all the food at his table, grinning at him cheerfully.

He stared. "What is this?"

"Thank-you present for letting me stay the night." She answered promptly. Picking up her bag, she slung it over her shoulder, and winked at him. "Bye. I'm going off now."

Going off?

"Wait a minute, Kirisawa."

"What is it?"


She gave him a huge smile. "Was okay."


"You know." She shrugged. "You're an okay kisser."

"Okay?" He repeated, a vein began bulging near his eye.

She laughed. "Oh, all right. It was satisfactory."

"Satisfactory?" He said, a dangerous tone in his voice.

"W-e-l-l…I think…" She took a step forward, and grabbed the lapels on his blazer. Raising herself on tiptoes, she planted her lips upon his.

Instantly dropping his books on the floor, Mikagami reached out, his hands on both sides of her face, pulling her closer, kissing her back, savoring the taste of her. His fingers entwined in strands of purple hair.

Her hands slid up his broad shoulders, and tangled themselves in masses of his silver hair, loving the feeling of being so close to him, him, the untouchable him.

Their kisses deepened, becoming more passionate, until Fuuko pulled herself away, breathlessly. She looked at Mikagami, and burst into giggles. The usually impeccably dressed Mikagami, usually so composed and cool, was flushed. His ponytail had come loose, and strands of silver hair hung messily around his face.

He frowned at her, but didn't release her from his arms.

"Now we're even." said Fuuko triumphantly, when she stopped laughing, looking at Mikagami slyly.

"Kirisawa…" he growled.

Ducking out of his arms, she grabbed her bag, and headed for the door. "Ja, Mi-chan. I'll see you during lunch." With a wink, she was gone. 

He then caught sight of himself on the mirror, and gave a start. Now he understood why was she laughing at him. Grabbing a comb, he began combing his hair, one hand pulling the lapels of his blazer straight.

Damn her.

Damn every single wonderful, irresistible bit of her.

Pulling his hair into its usual neat ponytail, and tucking his books under his arm, Mikagami found himself humming her song as he locked the door of his dorm room.

He smiled to himself.

He was stuck on her.

And he didn't mind.

He didn't mind at all.


da*mouse ®
posted January 15th, 2004

I'm sorry, I guess the plotline of this story [if there is one], is too similar to Purple Infatuation. Something of Fuuko's stuck itself onto Mi-chan, and he found himself bothered by it, refusing to admit the plain old fact that he is in love, until the very end. Sigh. This definitely didn't come out the way I envisioned it to be.

To xabie-chan: I hope you're not too disappointed. O_o Sorry about unoriginality. For what it's worth, I hope you [and the rest of the readers] enjoyed that little bit of Mi-chan/Fuuko fluff.

Reviews/comments/flames/whatever most appreciated. Thanks!