Tsubasa Chronicle Fan Fiction ❯ Tsubasa: Revolutions ❯ Captive ( Chapter 8 )

Chapter Eight: Captive

 

 

 

I don't know how long I walked for, but the soft grassy ground I had been on has become the hard ground of a well packed dirt road. Following it seems to be the best thing I can think of to do.

 

I guess I didn't really think about how I was supposed to actually FIND Kurogane once I got here. He's already gotten a three day head start on me. The only real things I know about this world is that this is the place everything Annabelle-chan thought was “bad” was sent here, and that it is likely ran or ruled over by a man named Sarûs.

 

When we first met the children, Kurogane had said he wanted nothing to do with the finding of the feathers. After time, it became obvious to us all that his opinion on that had changed. Now, in every world, that is always our priority. It's almost habit now. We live, we breath, we sleep, we eat, we find Sakura's feathers.

 

I doubt Kurogane had learned anything else about this place during our stay on the other side, but I know he's smart enough to know there is a feather over here as well. Whether he'll see it as a personal challenge, or maybe just something to do because we hardly know anything else anymore… I can only assume that where Sarûs is I will find Kurogane as well.

 

And how hard can it be to find a man who rules a world?

 

A violent yellow streak of lightening tears apart the sky, and a deafening thunder follows before the light can even fade, it is so loud I actually feel it.

 

Crap. I'm going to get caught in a storm. All alone. In a foreign world of evil.

 

Fantastic.

 

I don't know what I should do exactly. I don't dare approach one of the houses and ask for shelter. Who knows what will answer the door.

 

I guess I'll just keep on walking. It may prove difficult in the dark, but considering it still feels like early morning to me anyway, I'm not in much need of a place to stay.

 

Unless it starts hailing or something fun like that I guess…

 

Because of the day's events, my sense of time has been a bit thrown off, but I imagine that I've been walking about an hour by the time I reach the town. It is a rather small town, and quite old by the looks of it. Faded grey stone buildings with their rusted drain pipes, faded signs and splintering window shutters. The sidewalks are cracked, and entire chunks are missing and look as though no one has even bothered to fix them in years.

 

The rain mixed with the wind blows right in my face, and my cheeks and nose are a bit cold now. So I think I'll stop in somewhere to sit until it lets up a bit.

 

I find a small, dimly lit bar a few blocks down.

 

I guess that's as good of a place as any.

 

The bar is packed with people, and the air is full of smoke and smells of whiskey and stale beer. The buzz of people talking fills my ears so much I can't make out what any of them are saying unless I stand right next to them.

 

I'm not too eager to make myself known here, so I find a small table in a dark corner and sit. Just watching everyone without making it too obvious that that's what I'm doing.

 

“Something to drink there, cutie?” a tall redhead woman comes over, leaning in front of me and winks.

 

“Sure,” I smile to her.

 

“What'll it be then?”

 

“Whatever is good.”

 

“Well, I'm pretty good,” she smiles back and leans against the table.

 

I don't know what to say to that exactly, so I grin, “Maybe after my drink then?”

 

“Ok then. I'll make you something special,” she winks again and bounces off across the room.

 

I'm sure whatever she's about to bring me will do wonders for my aching head.

 

If it doesn't have something slipped into it of course.

 

She is quick to return, setting the drink down and then sliding herself onto the table. “You're not from around here, are you?”

 

“Why would you say that?” I shrug.

 

“Lots of reasons,” she giggles. “I've lived here my whole life. It's a pretty small town, and I'm real good with faces. And your face is one I would definitely remember seeing.”

 

“I guess you've caught me then,” I smile again and take a sip of whatever concoction she's brought over for me.

 

I can't even taste it.

 

Not that this surprises me anymore.

 

But I lie and say it's good anyway.

 

“So what did you do that was so bad?” she leans over some more. I'd be lying if I said she wasn't trying to throw herself at me. And I'd blush a bit for the position she was sitting in, if I even cared.

 

Poor thing. She has no idea.

 

“I haven't done anything bad in a very long time,” I shrug. That isn't really a lie though.

 

“Well you must have done something to lose that eye.”

 

Huh?

 

“I like it though,” she shrugs. “It gives you a mysterious edge.”

 

“Thank you,” I smile. I guess that's a compliment. Maybe.

 

“So what's you're name?”

 

“I don't have one.”

 

She laughs, “That's a new one. But if you won't give me your real name, that must mean you're running from someone. You running from the Guard?”

 

“The Guard?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“I don't know. Should I be?”

 

“Well, that depends on what you did and who you ticked off, I guess.”

 

“I didn't do anything.”

“Then why are you running?”

 

“I didn't say I was,” I smile. “I'm actually searching.”

 

“Oh. That sounds interesting. What are you searching for?” she grins. “Buried treasure? A new wife? Revenge?”

 

“No,” I laugh. I cannot help but find those to be rather odd conclusions to come to, one right after the other. “I'm looking for someone.”

 

“Well that certainly narrows it down.” She leans back onto the palms of her hands, crossing her legs and making herself comfortable. “At least it rules out the buried treasure anyway.”

 

“You might have seen him actually. A big tall scary guy with black hair and red eyes.”

 

She shakes her head and laughs, then points around the room.

 

The room full of big, tall, scary guys with black hair.

 

“No,” I shake my head, “None of them. This one is a very handsome scary guy.”

 

“Handsome scary guy?” she laughs. “No. Not around here.”

 

I take a long drink, nearly emptying the glass before changing the subject of our conversation. “Do you know where I can find a man named Sarûs?”

 

Her smiling face falters a bit and she looks at me funny. I had been expecting that I suppose. “Sarûs?” she laughs nervously. “As in Lord Sarûs? Ruler of all Kinkîya?”

 

“Yeah. That one.” I shrug with an innocent grin and finish the last of my drink.

 

“You're joking, right?”

 

“No. No I really want to know where he is.”

 

“He's in Dynn. Where he always is…”

 

“And where is that?”

 

She shakes her head again, “You are really not from around here at all, are you?”

 

“Nope.”

 

“Would you like a map?”

 

“You have one?”

 

“I can get one for you. But…” she grins mischievously, “it may cost you.”

 

“I don't have much money…”

 

“I don't need your money.”

 

Oh. This again. She's awfully persistent, I'll give her that much.

 

“Why would I want to take advantage of a nice girl like you for a silly map?”

 

“Well I guess that depends on how much you want it. So, do you want it, or don't you?”

 

“It might be helpful…” I am running out of ways to get around this, aren't I.

 

“Then- ” her voice cuts short as we hear the front door burst open and the bar all around us goes silent.

 

Five men in very militant black uniforms walk in with their very large guns and point them at us all, like they're about to shoot the entire place full of holes. The bar customers remain silent for a moment, until a tall, slender woman with long, inky black hair and dark eyes walks in as well. She is dressed not in a uniform but a smart looking business suit, and a gentle uproar of hushed murmurs ripples through the crowd.

 

“For someone not running from the Guard, you sure seem to have attracted some mighty important ones,” the redheaded waitress leans over to whisper in my ear.

 

“I'm not…” I start to say, but I can't even finish my sentence.

 

The woman in the middle looks straight at me. Her dark eyes seem to almost smirk and she says flatly, “That one.” And nods in my general direction.

 

I don't think I like this at all.

 

Like the obedient servants they must be, the men in uniforms march straight to me and without another word, grab both my arms and pull me to my feet.

 

I don't even get a simple, “You're coming with us,” demand.

 

My abduction is completely silent. And everyone is watching with curious eyes, obviously wondering what crime I must have committed. Though, not one of them is more confused than I am, I will guarantee it.

 

Their grips on my arms does not lessen until I am shoved and secured into some sort of air craft. Only two of them get into the craft as well, sitting on either side of me as if to assure that I'm not going to do something crazy like, escape by jumping to my death.

 

But we do not take flight until the black-haired woman slides into the seat across from me and nods to our pilot to take off.

 

She says nothing for quite some time. Just stares at me. Studying me. Her eyes are so dark they are nearly as black as the night sky around us. Her face, while I imagine it would be quite pretty if she smiled, is cold and intimidating.

 

But something about her is… familiar.

 

I've felt this presence before.

 

Around Ienyn.

 

Around Monagan.

 

She's…

 

“A dragon,” she finishes my thought for me.

 

And I practically leap out of my own skin.

 

“Yes. I am exactly that. But you can call me Werra,” she says politely.

 

“Werra-chan?” I repeat with a smile. “It's nice to meet you.”

 

She gives an arrogant chuckle and raises a single, thin black eyebrow. “No. I dare say that the pleasure is all mine.”

 

I would say that I don't really like her, but I think she might be reading my thoughts, and it might result in angering her and getting myself tossed out of a window.

 

And I really don't want that at the moment.

 

Awkward silent moments crawl by for half of an eternity, and I am forced to listen to the loud humming noises of the air craft while Werra continues to stare at me.

 

It makes me very uncomfortable.

 

“Does he belong to you?” she breaks our silence, leaning back against her chair with her arms folded across her chest.

 

“Who?” I really don't know what to say.

 

“The strange, tall foreigner. Does he belong to you?” she says sharply.

 

Kurogane?

 

“I… I don't know that I would say that.”

 

“He either does or he doesn't. Answer the question.”

 

I am afraid to answer either way, but I am almost certain that they are talking about Kurogane and I would rather face the consequences of claiming him rather than the alternative, so I answer yes as confidently as possible. “Yes. He belongs to me.”

 

“Is there something wrong with him?”

 

“No. Not to my knowledge. Is he ok?” I am growing more concerned by the moment.

 

“We cannot understand him. Both my Lord and myself are fluent in every language in this world. And even the languages of the other…” her brow furrows for a moment. “Has there been a change on the other side? A new language? A new country? And why, after all these years have you come here?”

 

I don't have a single answer for her. But… wait. Another language?

 

That's right!

 

Mokona is with the children.

 

We've had this happen a few times before, but the thought never occurred to me until now.

 

But I can understand them perfectly. Just like I could read the books in the palace of Ádiea. Their world and my own speak the same language.

 

Well if that isn't a stroke of good luck, I don't know what is. And of all the people for luck to land on… it's me. How very strange.

 

“He only speaks the language that I taught to him. We made it up together,” I lie. I'm not about to tell her that we are from an entirely different world. Or, worlds, I suppose is more accurate. Not when she thinks we're from Monagan's world.

 

“Good. Now what about the other question?”

 

“What other question?”

 

“It's been eighty-three years since the last person crossed over from the other side. Before that, it had been seventy-six years. And now, two cross over in just three days time, and for entirely different reasons. I want to know why.”

 

“We just … did.” I say innocently.

 

“I know what that world is like, Magician. I've been here since the beginning. It's not too hard to figure out. I've spoken to every single person who has ever crossed over. Most of them don't understand a single thing. We find them hiding in corners from shock…. And as soon as they learn what pain is. What suffering is. Fear. Anguish. Filth. Hate. They kill themselves. They can't handle it. Unless of course they are from my era. The ones who go crazy because of that silly little reality they call a life - they turn to Darkness because perfection disgusts them. But you. You and that other man. You are not from my era…. And I didn't find either of you cowering in corners, hiding from the lightening or because someone yelled at you. So what has changed over there? Are you some new little experiment of Monagan's?”

 

“You know Monagan?”

 

“Of course I know him,” she scoffs and rolls her eyes. “And apparently so do you.”

 

“I know of him, yes. Everyone does.”

 

She shakes her head and smiles devilishly, leaning forward to me and says darkly, “No they don't. Ienyn is their king now. He has been for centuries. Even the libraries of Ádiea are void of our little prince's name. Monagan himself made sure of it.”

 

“How do you know all this?” I find myself baffled.

 

She just says with a smirk, “I've been alive for an entire millennia. There isn't much I don't know about.”

 

She either has come to the conclusion that I don't have the answer for her she's looking for - which I don't. Or that I am completely lying - which I am. But either way, she does not speak to me again.

 

The loud humming of the aircraft and the unexpected rocking is only fueling the fact that I am not feeling well. I've been so busy with other thoughts and worries lately that I have been doing my best not to think about it, but here, not lost in my own thoughts, it is making itself very known.

 

It must be something like food poisoning, I guess. I just have to wait until it goes away.

 

And not having eaten in three days isn't helping.

 

My stomach growls with the thought of it.

 

I hope they are taking me to Kurogane.

 

I guess I'll find out soon enough.

 

Once we break out of the storm clouds, I can see the bright lights of a very large city in the distance. And we seem to be heading straight for it.

 

It isn't too much later that we land in a large, flat area on top of tall building in the centre of the city. I'm sure there is a proper name for it, but I have no idea what it is. Flashing lights, loud music, sirens, horns, people yelling, talking, singing, crying, even the wind on the warm, muggy air fill the night with noises. The noises a normal city should be making.

 

“Come on,” Werra snaps at me, standing near a door that will lead us inside, with her hand impatiently jabbed into her hip and her left foot tapping in annoyance.

 

I don't think she likes me either.

 

As I make my way to the door I see the black shadows of tall, jagged mountains against the midnight sky just before the door is shut behind me.

 

I remember a line from a book I just read. “The capital of Kinkîya, the great city of Dynn, rests under the shadows of five tallest peaks of the Silver Mountains.” I could have guessed it anyway, but I suppose that just confirms it.

 

At least I know where I am.

 

Well, sort of.

 

I follow them through a labyrinth of plain white hallways. Every room, every corridor, every corner of this place looks exactly the same. So much so that if they were to turn around and tell me that we have been walking in circles, I would not doubt them for a moment.

 

At last, we come to a room. A room with a single bed.

 

“You'll stay here until we know what to do with you,” Werra says, holding the door open for me and waiting for me to go in. “And don't try to escape. It will only make things worse for you if you make me have to come after you.”

 

“Does this mean I've been kidnapped?” I say innocently. Its really only to lighten my own mood. After all, being taken as the captive of this cold, serious, she-dragon is really not good for me right now.

 

“Call it what you like I suppose. But if you cooperate with us, we may be able to come to an agreement.”

 

Its rather obvious that don't have much of a choice, so I enter the room as asked.

 

In the silence of this empty, lifeless white room I wait while laying on the hard, uncomfortable cot, staring at the plain white ceiling.

 

And I wait.

 

And I wait for two entire days.

 

I just want to sleep now. But all I can think about is food.

 

I'm so hungry I can hardly stand up anymore.

 

I'm sure I look awful.

 

I don't understand why though. What gain could they get from just leaving me here, obviously to die? No one has been here. I haven't even heard footsteps in the hallway.

 

I don't even know if I have the strength to try and escape now.

 

It's been five days since…

 

“I have to apologize for Werra. She tends to get jealous very easily.” I am startled by the voice next to me.

 

I didn't even hear anyone come in.

 

I open my eyes to see who it is… and am at an utter loss for words.

 

He laughs. It is a very pleasant, honestly amused laugh. “I haven't seen that look from anyone in a very long time.”

 

“Monagan!?” I exclaim as soon as I find my voice. I don't understand. What? What is going on. Am I delirious?

 

“You're on the wrong world to be using that name,” he says very matter-of-factly.

 

But, wait. No. That isn't Monagan's voice at all.

 

“Then who are you?”

 

“I have many names,” he grins. “But for now, you can call me Sarûs.”

 

You would think someone might have mentioned that along the way; the fact they the two of them look absolutely identical to one another. Their smile, their hair, their hands, the way they sit, even their… no. No there is one difference. Sarûs's eyes are a fierce, intense green. They are not at all calm and kind like Monagan's sky blue eyes, but rather cold and determined and the colour of polished emeralds.

 

“Can you walk?”

 

“I don't know,” I make an effort to shrug.

 

“Well if you can, you are welcome to follow me. It was not my intent that you were brought here. So we'll be going somewhere else.”

 

He is very polite for someone who is supposed to be the ruler of all evil. It amuses me a little. He even offers me his hand to help me to my feet, and as we leave, he walks slowly so I can keep up.

 

Like I could with Monagan, I sense a great amount of magical power with this man. And like Ádiea, this entire city appears normal, modern, and lively but with some mysterious, ancient history lying beneath its almost futuristic exterior. It's as though I've stepped into some skewed sort of mirror world.

 

Sarûs and his entourage of black-suited henchman lead me outside and into a sleek black vehicle I have heard called a car on other worlds. Though this one does not seem to have wheels like the ones I have seen before. It hovers a few feet of the ground in silence, and moved though the air almost effortlessly.

 

A smaller one might prove to be very fun to fly around the city in actually.

 

Like Werra had done, Sarûs sits across from me and seems to just stare. But he does not do so for long before he laughs. “I don't know how you managed it, but I am impressed.”

 

“With what?”

 

“You. A vampire managed to stay on the other side for as long as you did. That is unheard of.”

 

“Are there vampires on this world?”

 

“Of course. They don't look anything like you though. An Ádiean vampire!? It's a new one on me. Did Monagan create you? I know all about his little obsession with evil now, so it wouldn't surprise me.”

 

“No.”

 

“Are you sure about that?”

 

“I'm very sure.”

 

He frowns. “Too bad. That would have been very interesting.”

 

It isn't much longer before we arrive to what I can only assume to be the palace. Tall golden towers stretch high into the air and seem to catch every light in the midday sky. They are sharp, dangerous looking pillars atop a very large, important looking building. But unlike the palace in Ádiea that seemed to retain its ancient, archaic appearance, the palace of the city of Dynn looks as though it might have been built just a few years ago.

 

We arrive at a large, elegant parlor room and he offers me a chair. I practically sink into the well oiled leather arm chair and contemplate falling asleep right here and now.

 

“You're completely different you know?” he smiles and eases into his own chair. “The tall guy is surprisingly angry. I can't understand know a word he's saying, but I've heard enough death threats in my life time to what they sound like. He'll threaten anyone who comes near him. But you… I don't trust you at all. I hope you don't mind my saying that.”

 

“Not at all,” I say with a weak smile.

 

“Good,” he nods politely. “And you would be wise to not trust me either.”

 

“I'm not planning on it.”

 

“As long as that is understood,” he smiles. “I would like to offer you a place to stay. I know you have no where else to go, and although you may not understand it, I am very curious what brought the two of you here.”

 

“Is he here?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“May I see him?”

 

He laughs with a smirk, “I can't very well let you starve if I want to talk to you, can I?”

 

I don't want know how he knows that…

 

“I'll have someone take you to him in a moment. I have a meeting with my general in a moment anyway,” he nods.

 

“Thank you.”

 

“You're welcome,” he nods. “Just please keep in mind that as long as you cooperate, I'll let you see him as often as you like.”

 

I knew there would be a catch.

 

“I understand.”

 

“Good. Then I will see you later,” he smiles at me before standing. “And Fai..”

 

My eyes follow him to the door.

 

“Don't tell anyone where you're from. People here do not care for outsiders and I have no doubt they'll kill you if they find out.”

 

Good to know.

 

And how the hell did he know my name?

 

I suppose I shouldn't let it worry me. I can't let myself get worked up. I don't have the energy for it any more.

 

Apparently his idea of sending someone along in a moment is a little different than others. But I rather get the impression that Sarûs works on his own time. Its probably an hour before a young woman with long, curly brown hair comes into the room and says “I'm here to show you to the prisoner.”

 

If I have been scared of anything in my life, it is of the next few moments of my life.

 

I don't even want to think of how angry he is going to be.

 

But I don't care any more. At least I have found him. At least I will get to see him again… before he strangles me to death.

 

The girl I'm following after is swinging a large chain of keys. I have no doubt I'm about to be lead into the dungeon. Isn't that usually where prisoners are kept?

 

We pass through wide, elaborate hallways for quite some time before we come to a door. The light outside is fading into sunset, elongating every shadow we pass.

 

She pauses in front of the door and touches it with her hand. There is a small flash of light before she removes her hand.

 

A barrier.

 

I can't even remember the last time I've seen someone actually use magic.

 

She then moves to unlock it, explaining as she does so, “I'm sorry, but I'll have to lock you in with him. Just knock three times if you would like out. And please… do not try to escape.”

 

I smile to her and nod.

 

For the moment, I have no intention of trying to escape.

 

I guess I was wrong about the dungeon.

 

The room is absolutely destroyed. There are multiple holes in the walls, curtains ripped to shreds hanging off broken rods, broken pictures, a mirror smashed to pieces. There are feathers all over the floor from what I imagine used to be a pillow. A random shoe just laying in the middle of the floor.

 

But, I don't see anyone at all.

 

I can hear my own pulse ringing in my ears.

 

My face is hot.

 

My hands sweaty.

 

I am absolutely terrified he is about to jump out from behind something and just kill me without a word.

 

I tip toe quietly around the room, careful not to make a noise.

 

The blankets on top of the bed are in a giant heap of a mess, but he is not among them.

 

He's not leaning against the wall behind the door waiting to ambush me.

 

Not hiding behind the dresser.

 

No. I finally find him on the floor on the other side of the bed, sleeping on his side. Silent and unmoving.

 

His arms are scratched and bruised, his hair a disheveled mess of black tangles. I kneel beside him, gently grabbing his right hand that is bruised and swollen and probably broken from punching too many holes in the wall.

 

I don't want to wake him.

 

I don't want to disturb him at all.

 

Slowly, I raise his hand to my lips and kiss it. I'm not entirely sure why…

 

“I'm sorry,” I whisper as quietly as I can. “I'm sorry that all this has happened.”

 

I can smell the dried blood on his hand and my eyes flash with hunger. It takes every ounce of control I have to set his hand down gently and back away from him.

 

I am terrified of how much I want to literally attack him right now. I could take a shard of broken glass and slice open his arm a bit. If I did it gently enough, he might not even wake up. Or, since he is asleep and vulnerable, I could easily pin him to the ground. I could get at least a drink from him before he threw me off.

 

No.

 

What am I saying?

 

I'm not going to do that.

 

I continue to back away, sliding backwards on the carpet until my back makes a soft thud with the wall.

 

He didn't hear the door open.

 

He didn't hear me walking across the room.

 

He didn't even feel me move his arm.

 

But he heard the thud.

 

His crimson eyes pop open and he sits up, wide-eyed and alert.

 

My heart drops into my stomach.

 

I am absolutely terrified and I cannot even attempt to hide the expression on my face from him.

 

His face is predictably angry. No. Furious.

 

At first.

 

But, it's almost as though it took a moment for him to get a good look at what was going on, because his face has considerably softened.

 

He says something to me. It sounds like a question… but I don't know what he says.

 

I cannot understand him.

 

He says it again.

 

All I can do is shake my head.

 

He says something else this time and stands up, walking across the room. He picks up a piece of the broken glass and then returns, kneeling directly in front of me and looks down.

 

I almost start to cry when he reaches for my face with his bruised and broken hand. It is not to punch me. Not to strangle me. He just brushes the hair out of my eye and gives me a concerned smile.

 

He says something. I wish I knew what it was.

 

But I don't. And I don't know what to do. I am so hungry I am delirious. I am so exhausted I want to cry. I was so afraid he was going to kill me the moment he saw my face and now my brain is just numb with the fact that he is being uncommonly gentle.

 

Am I still sleeping somewhere?

 

He shakes his head, gives me a short laugh and removes his hand from my face before he rocks back to sit on his feet.

 

I am utterly shocked when he sets down his piece of glass and takes off his shirt. He throws it halfway across the room and then reaches for the shard again only to run it down the side of his neck.

 

It is the first time I notice that both of his wrists are red and raw. Too tender now for me to be nibbling on I suppose.

 

I blink at him, confused for a moment as thick red blood begins seeping from his wound. But my eyes flash again as soon as the scent hits my nose.

 

This is the first time we have never argued over this subject and without another moment of hesitation I practically leap on him. I can't contain myself anymore. But he doesn't even budge. In fact, he pretty much catches me. And he does not move or make a sound as I cling to him for dear life and drink from him as though this is the last meal I will ever get.

 

The moment I taste him, it is as though my entire life is handed back to me.

 

All my pain seems to vanish.

 

My head clears.

 

My senses sharpen.

 

I did not realize how bad of shape I was in until now.

 

I lean into him and widen my mouth to suck harder. I want more.

 

It isn't until I hear the gasp that catches in his throat I realize maybe I am crossing a line or two. But it's a little too late for that now. In fact, for some reason I decide to continue with it.

 

He can kill me later.

 

I want to hear that noise again.

 

He's the one who took his shirt off anyway. As much as I may want to hide it from him, I highly doubt he is unaware of my attraction to him. He'd have to be stupid not to know it by now, and as much as I wish he were at times… Kurogane is not stupid.

 

So I suck harder.

 

He hisses this time. Apparently that was a little too hard. But I do it again. This time, I feel him move against me with a shudder.

 

I cannot tell if he's angry about it, or if he actually likes it.

 

It could really be either one.

 

So I do it again.

 

Another shudder.

 

And again.

 

A hastened breath.

 

And now I cannot help but smirk against his delicious neck. Those aren't noises you make when you are angry…

 

I have no intention of stopping now. At least, not until he makes me. So I continue on for quite some time.

 

I hear him mumble something. I don't know if I could have understood it even if I knew what he was saying.

 

But still, I don't stop.

 

But then he says it again.

 

And this time, when I don't stop he grabs me by my shoulders and shoves me against the wall. Its forceful, but it doesn't hurt.

 

“Fai!” he yells at me, and shakes his head. His crimsons eyes are blurred.

 

I've drank too much.

 

“I'm sorry.”

 

It's all I know to say to him.

 

I can't even look at him now.

 

But he hasn't let me go. His grip is still tight on my shoulders, and he's still holding me to the wall. He's just looking at me with blurry, concerned eyes...

 

Why aren't you mad at me?

 

Why can't you just hate me like you're supposed to?

 

I hate y…

 

I never actually expected this. Hoped and wished as much as I might have, I didn't think it would ever really happen.

 

Why would I ever expect him to kiss me?

 

Especially like this.

 

But here I am, pressed against the wall of this torn and broken room and at his complete at total mercy. He could hack me to pieces afterwards, and I wouldn't care.

 

He kisses exactly like you would expect.

 

But nothing like you would expect at all…

 

Because Kurogane is rough and abrasive. He is powerful and unafraid to use brute force. Yet all at once he is sensitive and compassionate and puts the needs of others before himself. And his kisses are the same way. Unquestionably demanding yet uncommonly tender.

 

Even if we could understand one another, I don't think that we would speak. There doesn't seem to be much of a need to right now.

 

But soon his grip on my shoulders lessens.

 

He pulls away from me, his eyes half lidded as he mumbles something. His head nods twice before he begins to sway.

 

He's lost too much blood.

 

God, I'm an idiot.

 

I jump to my feet and urge him to stand. “Come on Kurogane,” I offer my hands. “Let's get you to bed.”

 

It's a good thing it isn't far or I'd have had to carry him. And he is significantly larger than I am, so I don't know if I could have done it.

 

He's completely out of it before his head even hits the pillow.

 

But he's still got a hold of my hand…