Disclaimer: Higuchi Tachibana is the rightful owner of Gakuen Alice.

Dedication: To my Friends


Doll Princess

By: Nemesis of Truth


Sakura Mikan; she is the beautiful, yet spoiled, Princess of Japan. While she has an overly obsessive mother, a cold-hearted body guard, and a whole nation to rule, there's still one flaw to her almightiness. She's a-a…?!

Once upon a time, there lived a Princess.

However, she was no ordinary princess, for her extraordinary beauty was known throughout the whole of Japan. Her smile was all it took to capture every man's heart while all women envied her with jealousy in their eyes. All the men sighed after her as she left the room, her strawberry scent tickling their senses.

In other words, she was perfect.

Perfect except for one thing, for there was a downside to her perfection . . . but that will come later on in the story. And so, our story begins.

"Mother, no!"

A strangled shriek escaped the princess's throat as she wrenched the expensive kimono from the queen's hands and threw it to the ground. "How many times must I inform you that I am not interested in clothes," She gritted her teeth. "No wait, fashion in general!"

"B-But…" The queen protested. "This is all for you! All I, your mother, wanted was to make you prettier, more beautiful; this is all because you won't accept any of the suitors your father has sent. Please don't be frustrated with me and just try this kimono on, just this once."

Her daughter laughed, annoyed.

"You say that all that time, mother; 'Just one more time' or 'No wait, this one too!'. I'm tired of having to go through this same argument over and over again." She glared at the pile of clothes on her bed before hissing, "In fact, I'm sick of it. I swear, mother, if you buy me another kimono I will run away from home!"

Her mother's eyes narrowed at her daughter's comment. "Don't you dare speak to your mother like that; really, why can't you be more obedient like all the other ladies your age?"

Anger exploded within the princess; then why was it that her mother always compared her to other people, hmm? It was so hard for her to breathe, so frustrating . . .

She screamed.

"Stop it; just stop it! I don't want beauty, I don't need suitors! I can live just fine without them, so just stop trying to control my life!"

And with that, she fled the room.

"Ahh…" The princess breathed the fresh air that the outside provided. "Now I can finally breathe."

This was Sakura Mikan; the princess of Japan. She had recently turned 16, and that had made it 16 whole years that she had been chased after her mother concerning her perfection, 16 years of non-stop choking.

She sighed, "It's not that I don't love mother," She said to herself as she walked through the market street. "But she just treats me like I'm some kind of… doll that she has the right to control."

She shook her head at the silly thought before spotting the kimono store. The owner of it was around her age, and she was the only friend Mikan had been able to befriend in her 16 years of life.

"Good morning, Hotaru." She flashed a smile.

Her best friend, Hotaru Imai; she seemed a bit cold-hearted the first few times Mikan had met her. However, she was an understanding and caring person, and most importantly, did not judge Mikan by her looks.

Hotaru merely nodded at Mikan's greeting as a customer entered the shop. Mikan knew that Hotaru was busy having to take care of the shop, and so, didn't complain. She settled down next to Hotaru as she examined her best friend; merely watching Hotaru at work put Mikan at ease.

Time flew quickly, and just when the sun had started to sink and the sky had turned a reddish orange, an unusual customer stepped into the shop. Mikan observed him carefully. She was sure she had seen someone with similar features of his before, but where? If only she could see his face properly, the hat he was wearing was covering his face blocking her view.

Hotaru didn't seem aware of Mikan's sudden stillness as she greeted the customer as usual. "May I help you?" She asked in her slightly monotone voice.

There was a pause. "Yes." He replied huskily; the customer raised his head a few inches to look at Hotaru. "I would like a black one."

"I apologize," Hotaru said. "But if you do not have permission I cannot give it to you. It's specifically made for them." At this, he took out a parchment and handed it to her, which Hotaru unrolled and read. She stared at the customer for a short while before gliding into the back of the shop, leaving Mikan alone with the strange customer.

"Err…" Mikan cleared her throat. "May I ask who you refer to as 'them'?" The customer remained silent, ignoring her question. Mikan's patience slowly started to run out; she tried again, "Excuse me, who are them?"

"And excuse me, but could you shut up?" He asked, obviously annoyed. "And while we're at it, could you stop trying to nose into others businesses?"

Mikan's nostrils flared; this vermin apparently didn't know who he was speaking to. How could he say such rude words to her?

"Tell me! Tell me now what you mean by them!" She shouted. There was a hint of annoyance and frustration in her voice. "And I say that as an order! Obey me at once!"

The customer took off his hat; it seemed his patience had run out as well. "Who are you to order me around?" He asked coldly.

Mikan's eyes widened. Was it that she was more surprised that he had dared talked back to her, or was it because of those unusually beautiful crimson eyes he possessed and how impossibly gorgeous he could be? She lost her ability of speech as she stared at him in wonder.

The customer, she guessed was around her age, rolled his eyes. "No response." He smirked, his tone mocking.

That brought Mikan back to her senses. She scowled. "I am a high born. You are merely a vermin. I don't know who you are, but I can guarantee you that when I get back home, the first thing I will request of my father will be to get your head."

He frowned at this. "Let's see you try. I am noble-blooded as well, but I don't use power against people who object with me." He looked at her with disgust.

"I-I…" Mikan's cheeks flared with embarrassment as she lost her temper. "Who the hell are you?! I will order for the king to get your head off at once!!"

The boy stared at her, blank, and then stunned. He spoke very quietly when he opened his mouth, "Do you know the Royal Family well?"

Mikan's patience had taken its toll.

"Who the hell did you think I was?! I am Princess Sakura Mikan, daughter of King Yukihara and Queen Yuka! Now who the hell are you?!"

And suddenly, the boy had disappeared. She looked around confusedly, her anger now forgotten. It was like a game of hide-and-seek; her purpose was to find where the customer had went. Soon, she realized he was in front of her, kneeling; was he bowing?

"I apologize, Princess." He said stiffly.

She stared down at him, shocked at his sudden change. "Err… Uhm, I-I shall forgive you if you answer my question." She paused before continuing, "Who are you?"

The boy stood up from his bow as he replied, once again, stiffly, "Hyuuga Natsume; I will be working as your body guard starting tomorrow."

. . .

. . . "What?!"

Yours truly,

~ Nemesis of Truth