Friday, October 27, 2006

with my friends...
i was just now with my friends at the schools computers, n after we finnished playing "pinball"(cause somthin happened 2 the net )they said any word and they started 2 laugh out loud...!!


the mister that is in charge of the comp´s asked us 2 leave, because we were 2 noicy...

(ofcourse, i cant say anythin bout it cause i L.O.U. as well, and more loud >///< )

oh well, we apologised 2 the mister n he allowed us 2 stay...
my friends just left n im here...
4 days for halloween!!!!
im sooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo happy!!!^^


i hope u comment this message, kk?

Oh, BTW;
can u guys please add m 2 ur MSN- list?
ofcourse, only if u like chating^^
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Friday, October 20, 2006

NOW... its bn a while here...
i havent bn here in a while...
halloween is comming n i have already my costume....

i was thinkin´ about dressin´like Sally(a nightmare bfore christmas... )or jack skeleton...


but with the grades i had at some exams i wish i could go 2 the halloween party at a friends house...
(the boy i like will go there^///^ )




n´ thinkin´ bout it....i really adore halloween.... i know its kinda childish 2 dress up like a character or ask 4 candies, what do u think?



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Saturday, May 27, 2006

papa to kiss in the dark


ill hate to say this but;

if you desire to vomit go on and watch up this weird OVA of p.t.k.i.t.d.


if you think the same way as me please post
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Saturday, April 15, 2006

AMV: can you hear me now, theme from t.A.t.U

Comments (7) | Permalink

Thursday, April 13, 2006

im just me....
here i am once again....
its been a while since the last time i added a post on my site, who knows, maybe im getting tired of adding, cutting and pasting....
and maybe im tired of writing post that no one post´

oh well, i have my own life...
i wish that i could express better my way to act and be....

oh, ill add this fanfic; i didnt wrote it but its one of the greatest ones i have ever readed:

----gon playing naive-----




--

It had kept him up all night. Strange feelings tingling his senses all around his body. Gon just … didn’t know what to do anymore. It was like a sneak attack planted by an enemy, in a clever disguise. But the fact was, the enemy was his best friend, and the attack was just your normal, average, completely disturbed – crush.

Ah yes, Gon finally figured it out, after so many guesses why he was feeling like this, he figured it out. On his own entirely, which was a huge plus for him. If it weren’t for the fishermen’s tales about women, love, sex and the like, he would probably be guessing until he died with his secret.

But now he knew, he had a secret little (okay, big) crush on his best friend; Killua. The strange thing is, Killua is a guy, so it left some questions linger around Gon’s mind. The black-haired boy was never any good with so many questions, so he had stayed up all night trying to answer them.

And seeing that it is in his nature to not let go of some issues, he finally got the perfect answer and solution for his problem.

“Why are you grinning like that?” Asked a voice, pulling Gon out of his ‘deep thinking’ thoughts.

Gon looked up with his brown eyes, meeting Killua’s sea green eyes. Who was giving him a ‘what-the-hell-are-you-thinking-about’ look. They had been sitting at a small little table in the middle of a town’s square, where couples, children and other people were happily eating ice cream.

“Oi, Gon!” Fourteen year old Killua decided it was necessary to call out Gon’s name pretty loud. The little black haired boy shrugged at his friend, giving him an innocent look. Gon seemed pretty obvious on the outside, but on the inside he was chanting; This is my chance! This is my chance!

Killua leaned back in his chair, gracefully flicking his hair out of his face, which had been in his eyes. Gon was love-struck as his eyes never left Killua’s movements, some sort of adrenaline pumping through his veins. He knew his little plan would work, it had a success rate of 70 percent … no 85 percent!

Killua looked at Gon, trying to study him because he was being awfully quiet. Slowly, he pulled out his tongue and carefully licked his ice cream, never leaving Gon’s eyes. The silver haired boy ignored the fact that his ice cream was 3 times as bigger than Gon’s strawberry ice cream, but hey, he was a sweet tooth and liked a lot of flavours.

“Nani,” exclaimed Killua in a cool voice as he gave his ice cream another lick. Gon forcefully closed his eyes, previously entranced by Killua’s wonder tongue. “What are you thinking about – you seem pretty troubled.” A, the sweet vibrations of Killua’s voice, his intense tongue licking, his cool eyes, his –

“Gon!”

If he couldn’t stop thinking about all those wonderful qualifications that made Killua (which would take a while if he wanted to name all of them), then his plan would never work! No, focus, that is what he must do! Yosh, I’m sure I’ll get what I want; because I am Gon Freecs!

Ok, time for the plan. Act innocent and naïve. Gon looked at Killua – ignoring the way his eyes seemed to have little specks of blue in it – and pulled his lips into a pout. He gave a tiny little sigh, but never left Killua’s eyes.

“I’ve just been thinking …” leaving his sentence hanging, baiting Killua for his plan. Gon stayed quiet and counted slowly in his head, bringing his ice cream to his mouth. Three. Gon copied Killua’s actions as he pulled out his tongue. Two. He gave a tiny, little lick and cherished the cool, cold feeling the ice cream was giving him. One.

“Thinking, hontoni? About what?” Asked Killua casually as his eyes finally left Gon, looking to his left where a couple was currently entering some kind of battle with their tongues. Gon had noticed this too, but refused looking at them.

“Well …” said Gon in a tiny voice, hoping and praying to God that he sounded a bit embarrassed so that he could awake Killua’s interest. Killua placed his elbow on the table and leaned his chin on his hand, waiting for Gon to continue. Gon avoided looking Killua in the eyes, not that he wanted to, but it was part of his plan. The black haired boy settled on looking at his ice cream.

He could practically feel Killua’s impatience burn a hole through his head. Killua sometimes had such a devastating glare.

“Well, spit it out Gon! If you have to say something – then say something!” Said an angered Killua while he took a bit out of his ice cream, trying to cool off. Gon took this opportunity to just look at Killua, since his eyes were closed for a few seconds.

The black haired boy flashed a devious smirk before it was replaced by a warm smile in a nanosecond. Killua’s going for the bait! Now to wait patiently …

“Killua, what is a kiss?” Cough – cough – barf. Gon generously patted Killua on his back as he seemed to have swollen a rather large chunk of ice cream and was literally choking on it. Gon was smiling to himself, happy that he could have physical contact with Killua again, and happy with the fact that he saved Killua from choking himself to death. Partly his fault though.

Gon went back to his seat as he started working on his ice cream, smiling innocently and obvious to the fact that Killua was giving him weird looks. At least, that was how he looked on the outside.

The former assassin stared at Gon for a good minute before he started to eat his ice cream. Killua narrowed his eyes as he saw Gon waiting patiently for his reply. Gon was doing all he could to not double over into laughter, because that would fail his ultimate plan. Right now, the best he could do was act himself, or else Killua would start to suspect something. He knew that his best friend was battling a few questions in his head, like why Gon asked him what a kiss was. Or, why he asked him specifically. It was all part of his plan …

“Why’d you ask?” Finally an answer from the silver haired boy. Gon just smiled broadly, his ice cream melting ever so slowly on his tongue. He swallowed and placed his other, free hand on the table, looking at Killua.

“Because, I want to know!” Gon spoke, stubbornness kicking in – as he hoped. He saw Killua’s eyes flash between him and his ice cream, taking his time.

“A kiss is a kiss.” Even though Gon suspected this kind of answer, he hoped that at least he would elaborate on it. A sudden impact made Gon froze as he stopped to think about what he just thought. Elaborate? He had that kind of word in his vocabulary? Gon mentally shook his head; he was spending too much time around Killua that his words were rubbing off on him.

Speaking of Killua, he was on full alert now, his eyes pouring into Gon’s own, trying to figure the simpleminded Gon out. Gon just smiled as he took the chance to stare at Killua’s beautiful eyes again. Sometimes, he felt stupid for doing so, but he couldn’t help it.

“I know that, Killua! I just wanted to know what a kiss is, because everyone I know is always talking about it. And when I say I kiss a lot of people, they start smiling and laughing at me, because they say they were not talking about that kind of kiss.”

Breathe. Breathe.

“That’s why I want to know what this kiss is,” Gon finally said, letting it all out on poor, unexpected Killua. The silver haired boy had been listening very carefully, sometimes drawing his attention back to his ice cream and sometimes looking back at Gon’s, determined brown eyes.

Gon was behaving very stubborn right now. The result of Killua’s reaction will answer an important question Gon had been thinking about. He followed every movement of Killua, trying not to let his eyes wonder off (not that something like that would be possible) because this was a turning point in his plan.

Killua had been quiet the whole time and been staring at his ice cream. Gon couldn’t help but adore the way his silver hair seemed to move with the slight breeze. Please Killua, take the bait! Take the bait!

“The kiss they are talking about … is when two people who like each other very much share a kiss.”

Gon would have cried with happiness right then if it weren’t for the fact that the plan was still in action. He wanted to scream, jump on the table, do a little dance – make a little love if it were possible.

The most important fact was that Killua took the bait. And it had answered (well, only half of it though) a very important question. But Gon had to check if the answer to his question wasn’t wrong. This time, Killua’s reaction would be more crucial.

Gon tried to act as naturally as he could and look naïve at his best. “Well, I like you a lot! Does that mean if we were to kiss, we would –”

“Baka!”

Gon hadn’t noticed until now, but his heart was pounding so fast, so hard that he was afraid Killua would have heard it. His heart was also pounding so hard because he had actually confessed he liked Killua. But seeing as it was part of his plan, Killua would think that Gon wasn’t talking about ‘like like’ him. Both teens looked each other in the eyes, staring was all they could do.

The black haired boy didn’t know if his plan was still working, he needed to hear Killua speak once more. Because that ‘baka’ comment wasn’t really he had been rooting for. He was afraid – afraid his plan wouldn’t work. Afraid of rejection.

“You only kiss someone when you love that person!” Killua finally snapped at him, some ice cream flying out of his mouth and landing on Gon’s face. Gon hadn’t noticed though, he was too busy to calm his heart down.

“But I do love you!” Gon replied naively as he stared Killua down with his brown eyes.

Killua hopelessly lowered his head, partly because he felt Gon was stupid and partly because he was hiding the blush that somehow appeared on his cheeks.

“You’re hopeless, you know, don’t say embarrassing stuff like that,” Killua sighed, not looking into Gon’s stubborn eyes. Gon was currently trying to push away his feelings; he just said out loud that he loved Killua. Of course Killua wouldn’t think in that way – because after all, this was still Gon’s plan.

“But you do know what it is, right?” Asked a very, very innocently and kind of shy Gon (he should win an award for this). Killua turned his head to look at Gon as he slowly nodded.

“Hai.”

“Could you show it for me?”

You could say that the ice creams were the last thing on both these boys’ mind.

Gon was hiding a smile and also hiding the fact that his heart seemed to have gone out of control. This was it, this was the moment he had planned out! What would happen from then, he wasn’t sure. But if what he predicted would come true …. Then he could die happily.

Gon wanted to jump on Killua when he saw the light, pinkish spots on his cheeks. The former assassin was blushing! His crush was blushing because of him! Gon tried, but couldn’t help it as he cracked a large smile. He could pass it off as waiting for Killua to show him what a kiss ‘really’ is.

What would he do? What was Killua going to do?

“You can’t be serious …” said Killua in a soft voice, full of denial, his eyes looking at the table as he tried to will his stupid blush away.

Screw the plan, if he won’t get the expected answer out of Killua in a few seconds, then he was going to tackle him and then smother him to death. Yes, yes, smother the blushing Killua to death. What a nice idea, why hadn’t he thought of this before?

Gon pulled his eyebrows together and stomped his foot, making it clear he was seriously. “Show me!”

One could interpret that Gon was actually saying; “Kiss me now, you fool!” But then again, tables had turned and now it was Killua who was clueless. All part of his plan, of course.

“Why should I?” Uttered out a now completely baffled and embarrassed Killua. He had stood up from his chair and placed both his hands on the table, over towering Gon with his height. Gon felt some steam coming from out of his ears. It seemed his plan wasn’t working – in fact, it seemed it was failing miserably. Gon wanted to scream out his frustrations as he narrowed his eyes at Killua.

“Because I want to know!” Gon snapped back as he also stood up from his chair and lunged over the table. He had almost said; “Because I want you!” Though luckily, he prevented himself from saying it. Another plus for him.

His plan wasn’t working! It should have worked! He had planned out everything last night, he couldn’t let himself go to sleep unless he had everything figured out. That’s when he formed up this plan – a plan to not only figure out if Killua felt the same about him, but also to lure Killua into kissing him. All he had to do was play naïve, and ask what a kiss was. As expected, Killua would react indifferent and pass it off as ‘Gon is acting naïve and doesn’t know what a kiss REALLY is’. It had worked up until now. But how could Killua be so … so clueless!

“No!” Killua hissed as he glared into Gon’s persistent eyes. A couple of people had stopped minding their own business to look at the quarrel the blushing teens were having. Gon bit his lip as he glared back into Killua’s sea green eyes.

“Why you,” Gon growled in a low voice and moved closer to Killua, almost crawling over the small table.

SPLASH!

--

Killua didn’t know what had hit him in the face until he felt the cold, sweet taste of the ice scream slowly melting into his mouth. It took him a few seconds to realize that Gon had thrown his ice cream right in his face. The silver haired boy was about to sweep off the ice cream from his eyes when he felt something unexpected touch his ice cream covered lips. It was soft, and oddly warm against the cold ice cream. His body went tense as he felt his heart jump all over himself, just because of this soft … and warm feeling. It tasted like strawberries. And just like that, it left his lips.

Killua carefully rubbed the ice cream out of his eyes and casually propped his finger into his mouth, licking off the remains of strawberry ice cream. He ignored the fact that his heart seemed to flutter somewhere above his head, or the fact that Gon was actually sitting on the table.

“Baka!” He yelled out and in one swift movement, threw his own ice cream in Gon’s awaiting (and adorable) face. Killua climbed upon the table and placed his hands on Gon’s shoulders, whom was currently trying to spit out ice cream in order to breathe again.

“If you really wanted for me to kiss you; you should have just asked!” And with that, he pulled Gon closer to himself and firmly planted his lips upon Gon’s.

It tasted like a little bit of Gon, a little bit of strawberry and a little bit of pure heaven.

--

Nani – What?

Yosh – Okay/Alright!

Hontoni – Really?

Hai – Yes.

Baka – Idiot.



ps: this is my first avatar made by me... ofcourse im just a begginer...
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Saturday, April 1, 2006

just fan art....
sorry i had to erase it... soon ill add more fan arts..




by: ritsuka & yamato
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Wednesday, March 29, 2006

michiyuki








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Sunday, March 26, 2006

its beem a while...once again
1000 words from FF-2;



I know that you're hiding things
Using gentle words to shelter me
Your words were like a dream
But dreams could never fool me
Not that easily

I acted so distant then
Didn't say goodbye before you left
But I was listening
You'll fight your battles far from me
Far too easily

"Save your tears cause I'll come back"
I could hear that you whispered as you walked through that door
But still I swore
To hide the pain when I turn back the pages
Shouting might have been the answer
What if I'd cried my eyes out and begged you not to depart
But now I'm not afraid to say what's in my heart

Though a thousand words
Have never been spoken
They'll fly to you
Crossing over the time and distance holding you
Suspended on silver wings

And a thousand words
One thousand confessions
Will cradle you
Making all of the pain you feel seem far away
They'll hold you forever

The dream isn't over yet
Though I often say I can't forget
I still relive that day
"You've been there with me all the way"
I still hear you say

"Wait for me I'll write you letters"
I could see how you stammered with your eyes to the floor
But still I swore to hide the doubt
When I turn back the pages
Anger might have been the answer
What if I'd hung my head and said that I couldn't wait
But now I'm strong enough to know it's not too late

Cause a thousand words
Call out through the ages
They'll fly to you
Even though we can't see I know they're reaching you
Suspended on silver wings

Oh a thousand words
One thousand embraces
Will cradle you
Making all of your weary days seem far away
They'll hold you forever

Oh a thousand words
Have never been spoken
They'll fly to you
They'll carry you home and back into my arms
Suspended on silver wings ohhh

And a thousand words
Call out through the ages
They'll cradle you
Turning all of the lonely years to only days
They'll hold you forever






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Wednesday, March 15, 2006

i hate math....
today i had a math exam....it was a 2 paged one and i only answered the first page...i did my best but i felt like the 2 weeks of studing was useless...
even my friends tried to help me studing but i just made them lost their time with me...
im sorry yamato-chan and zakuro-sama, thanks to me i made you worry...

when the time ended i cried... the teacher understood me because last year i wasnt on any school (long story ) so i am like a 6th grader on 8th grade....

the teacher said i could study more and i can make it again next week...

still... im never doing anything right...
im sorry for my friends, they have to treat with my depressive moods and bad time... forgive me.

-ritsuka

PS: somehow now they call me at school retasu(tokyo mew mew )so thank you to:
minto,
ichigo-chan,
zakuro-sama and
pudding


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Sunday, March 12, 2006

dont read if you hate loveless...


-
Blood. It's so warm. So... strange, like fluid velvet, when it's running. Slowly, like this, across battered skin.

Seimei.

He had no choice but to stain his clothes, but he dared not leave sensei's office half-nude. Carefully, Soubi reached for his shirt tossed on the floor, and pulled it over the fresh wounds on his back. The fabric, so soft when he had worn it just an hour before, felt rough on his skin. Another intrusion, and yet, it did not matter; he willed his strained muscles into quasi-relaxation with the release of a measured breath. His movements were slow, strangely smooth – to him, anyway - intent eyes fixed on the shard of glass, still embedded in his right palm.

Behind him, the butterfly collection, the same one Ritsu-sensei's puny substitute for Soubi's Sacrifice would never join, hung in its gloomy cages of wood and glass. Before him, the remains of the relaxing jar he had dropped reminded him of what he had done. For a short, fleeting second, as he looked at his feet, Soubi froze, petrified by the impression that it was his Sacrifice that he had carelessly allowed to fall. Shattered to pieces, it glimmered in the dim light, still in its broken silence.

An outline of Seimei's face flashed, in passing, across his mind. Soubi shuddered. You cannot protect your Sacrifice, if all you care about is your own pain.

He lifted his hand; a drawn motion that barely stirred the thick air around him. He closed his eyes. It hurt, and he moved his fingers to stretch the pierced skin – just a little further, just a little closer to the threshold. He felt the sharp fragment move inside his flesh, tear at the fibers, and his slow intake of breath solidified his acceptance of this strange sensation in his mind.

I don't care. Let it hurt.

It was not all that painful, he decided; not painful enough. Eyes shut, tentative fingers of his good hand tracing the sharp edge of glass, Soubi slowed the tempo of his breathing further still, to calm his throbbing heart. I do not feel this. He caught the shard in a firm grasp and twisted it in place, careful to keep his face blank, as if someone watched. Just like he was taught, he mused, and the thought did not disturb him, this time.

I will not lose to pain.

A whisper of something like reason chased fleeting half-thoughts across his consciousness. Sepia-tinted images, distorted in his mind's eye, scattered beneath the iterative syllables pushed forth from his lips. Then the whirlwind of his inner world came to a screeching halt.

What am I doing?

His eyes snapped open. Spellbound, Soubi watched the small pool of red that had gathered in his upturned palm, thin streaks escaping between his crooked fingers. Pain registered sharply and his composure shattered; his face twisted in a blend of discomfort and shame. He looked around in desperate search of something to wipe the blood, anything to cover this proof of his moment of madness. Finding nothing suitable, Soubi pursed his lips and lifted the hem of his shirt. It was ruined, anyway; it would have to do.

His heartbeat was loud in his ears, the rush of blood a constant noise around his mind. Carefully, Soubi removed the shard with trembling fingers, yet he watched it dislodge from the mangled flesh with passionless eyes. Pain is an emotional thing. Pain, but not the physical kind, had prompted this. He knew; oh, he knew that so well. He had felt it all along. Disappointment, rejection, failure – nothing quenched it better than the sting of broken skin. Ritsu-sensei was right in all things but one. Soubi's path, it would be one of achievement through pain; laid by his teacher, not Seimei – not when he bled – and he walked it blindly on shaking legs.

He hated every single step.

It did not feel right. Through the haze of fragmented thoughts, a bittersweet veil of increasing pain, Soubi could not stop something inside him from falling apart. The wounds from sensei's whip burned under his shirt, dissolving confusion even as his objections gained strength of their own. He should offer this pain as a proof of his obedience; yet it was not Ritsu-sensei he wished to obey, but Seimei. Him alone. He belonged to no one but his Sacrifice. He would lay his heart of hearts, the core of his soul, in Seimei's hands. It was only fair that the scars he bore were, too, tied to his destiny.

One last time, Soubi looked at the blood-stained glass he held in his hand. This is your Sacrifice. You cannot sway. Sensei's words echoed through his mind, and he felt a bitter laugh straining to escape, barely concealed beneath a cough. His true Sacrifice, he was beautiful; one of a kind, indeed, yet so far above any butterfly. He was perfect, the flaws of feeble creatures were alien to him. He had no need of a brittle Fighter who shied away from pain. So Soubi would endure this pain, and any other - and offer it freely to show that he was worthy of fighting for him.

Seimei.

He gave his head a light shake, eyes shifting between the closed door and the disarray of drying blood and fractured glass at his feet. He tried to remember if sensei had ordered him to clean it. It should go without saying, he guessed, and past experience told him that his neglecting to do so would be severely punished at a later time. He found himself strangely unconcerned. Sensei's whip could reach his flesh, easily, as it had ever since the beginning of his training. But it would not reach his heart, nor his mind, any more than Soubi himself allowed.

From this day on...

He tossed the glass onto the floor. It rattled softly against the rest of broken pieces there and landed in a darkening stain. The sound dispersed the leaden silence that weighed on his mind; a momentary relief, enough to let him push the remnants of fear into the shadowy recess of his thoughts. He reached for his ruined drawing, a pitiful mess of disappearing shapes on once-white, now blood-soaked, paper. He left enough behind without a trace of his change of heart. Then he turned on his heel and headed for the door, heedless of the blood dripping from his hand.

...only you.

His steps whispered against the floor, footfalls placed with caution to help him reach his room unnoticed. Seimei should not be there; not this early, he hoped. That would give him just enough time to make himself look presentable. Seimei needed not see either of his wounds, though the one on his hand would be harder to conceal. Silently, Soubi was glad for his Sacrifice's age, for his peculiar coyness where physical matters came into play. It allowed him to keep most of the long-lasting side effects of sensei's training to himself.

He welcomed the soft twilight of the tiny room with a quiet sigh, closing the door behind him as he walked inside. Leaning against the cool wall, Soubi closed his eyes. Ritsu-sensei's voice still rang in his ears, like a plague that persists despite all efforts to make it go away. He gritted his teeth and curled his fingers inward into a tight fist, fingernails digging into the fresh wound there.

A sting of pain shot through his hand and traveled up the inside of his forearm, high towards the elbow along sensitized nerves. He needed this, to know he was alive, and that pain was his, there by his own choice. It carried a promise of relief, if not one of a strange kind. Not punishment, this time, he thought, exhaling slowly to wipe the traces of discomfort from his face. His body simmered in response, fevered heat a layer on his skin.

“What are you doing?”

Soubi's heart skipped a beat. He caught the urge to whirl around by a thread and turned slowly instead, displeased by the sudden hitch of his breath.

“Good evening, Seimei,” he said, trying for a conversational tone. He moved the injured hand slightly behind his back.

“Good or not,” the younger boy's face contorted in a slight scowl, “you didn't answer my question.”

Small streaks of warm blood ran between his fingers and Soubi smiled inwardly to a sudden thought. He held out the ruined drawing he still clutched in his other hand, but he kept it safely out of Seimei's reach.

“Training my skills,” he explained, fully aware that his words fell somewhat short of the explanation Seimei expected him to give. Training indeed, just what skills he had in mind was not something intended to share.

“What is it? It's bloody,” Seimei's voice was laced with a hint of disgust. It reflected in his expression; in the way his eyebrows climbed into his hairline, in how his full lips formed a thin line.

Soubi's heart sank a little. “I...” he hesitated briefly. His cat ears wilted; he spent a good portion of his focus on resisting the urge to look away in shame. “I drew this for you,” he said reluctantly. He wanted to make it perfect, recreate the idea without a flaw. Imperfection such as this had no right to exist, not where his Sacrifice could see.

Seimei took the paper between the fingertips of his left hand, visibly displeased. “Dare I ask what you've been doing with it?”

The question hung in the air; another one Soubi did not - could not - answer. What passed between Ritsu-sensei and him would stay only there. He stared at Seimei instead, hopeful eyes seeking solutions to the turmoil of his heart.

“What's wrong with you today?” Seimei demanded. He shrugged his shoulders and dropped the filthy paper as if it burned. It landed with a whispering noise in the small space between them, at Soubi's feet. “I asked you a question.”

Impatience grew in Seimei's voice, a higher pitch in Soubi's ears. He managed a simple, “nothing,” before he lost the battle of wills and glanced out of the window, towards the darkening sky.

Folding slender arms on his chest, Seimei tilted his head. He watched Soubi with suspicious eyes, an inquiring stare; the moment seemed to drag forever before he finally spoke. “Show me your hands.”

Soubi clenched his jaw as the sudden movement of his arm stretched the battered skin on his back. A cold shiver ran along his spine; the fresh wounds there tore open again. He did as he was told, loath as it felt; his heart refused to let him ignore any of Seimei's demands. He reached out both hands, palms turned downward, wrists slightly bent.

He watched the other from under the cover of his lashes. Seimei's face took on a serious look, focus and morbid curiosity blending into one. Soubi suppressed another shiver when a small streak of blood trailed along his middle finger and began to drip.

Seimei winced. “What have you done?” he asked, taking a half-step backward. “Turn them up.”

Soubi swallowed thickly as he complied. The crimson layer on his skin looked almost black; the day drawing towards sunset lent it too low an amount of light for colors to keep their true hues.

“That's disgusting,” Seimei decided after a short while. He turned his head. “Go, clean yourself up, I don't want to see it.”

Soubi drew a deep breath, a lungful of air insufficient in battle with anticipation that constricted his throat and stole its trembling way into his voice. “If I displeased you,” he said timidly, “you should punish me.”

Seimei let out a quiet snort. “Don't tell me what I should or shouldn't do,” he said with a hint of derision. “If I told you to leave, that's what I meant.”

Soubi's heart pounded against his ribs. This was not what he wanted; not what he needed to rid himself of sensei's acid breath he still felt on the back of his neck. He squeezed his eyes shut and dropped to his knees, shaking hands grasping the front of Seimei's turtleneck.

I need you to show me.

“What do you think you're doing?” Seimei cried, instantly pulling back. Soubi's fingers clutched at the fabric. “Get away!”

Soubi kept his eyes closed, his head slightly bowed. He held onto his Sacrifice as tightly as his injured hand allowed. “Please...” he whispered. Desperation welled up in his chest, summoning tears he knew he would not shed; not if Seimei granted him the one wish that, in this very moment, mattered above all else.

“Let go!” Seimei grabbed his wrists, trying to wrench his sweater out of Soubi's hopeless grasp.

The colors have faded. I'm lost. Draw the path for me again.

Soubi looked up. The horrified look on Seimei's face drew a bolt of fear into his heart. He struggled to wrench himself from Soubi's hold, disgust at touching his bleeding hands surpassed by the need to get away. He caught a glimpse of the stains he had left, of anger flickering in Seimei's dark eyes, his ears twitching in rising fury. No, he could not let go; not now, when he had driven them both so close to the edge.

He tightened his grip and held his breath, a split second before Seimei released one of his wrists and hit him across the face with the back of his hand. Soubi's breath caught as his head lolled backward; he retained his hold on Seimei's turtleneck with one hand even as he lost balance and landed hard on the other, injured one.

“I said let go,” Seimei hissed through gritted teeth. “You're not deaf, are you?”

Soubi licked the blood off his split lip. He looked to the side and upward, where the shadows painted the contours of his Sacrifice in beautiful, refined lines against the dark background of an empty wall. His face hurt, the wound on his hand was bleeding again, yet it wasn't enough. Soul-deep hunger gnawed at his heart, his mind hazy with scorching need.

The lines are growing blurry. Seimei... Show me what I am.

He pulled himself up, back into a kneeling position, his last effort spent on keeping his face calm. Then, in one swift movement, he let go of Seimei's clothes, sparing the dark marks he had left there only a passing glance. Pleading eyes fixed on that beloved face, his hand closed around Seimei's and he squeezed it – lightly enough for Seimei to break free and lock his wrists in an iron grip.

Bind me to where I belong.

Seimei leaned over him, narrowed eyes meeting his for a fleeting moment before he pushed Soubi into the wall. His other hand grasped at his throat, fingers digging into the hot flesh there.

“You will obey me,” he seethed through gritted teeth. Soubi watched, entranced, how the youth of his years vanished from Seimei's face, his tone one that would stand no quarrel. Seimei glanced aslant to where Soubi was clenching his fist, drawing blood; he caught that hand and brought it up in a crushing embrace of strong, slim fingers around the wrist.

“You will never hurt yourself like this again,” he said slowly. “It's too low, even for you.”

Soubi's heart leaped at the onset of pain. He soared past his thresholds, past his limits towards release from the claws of fear. There was nothing he could not endure, for his Sacrifice. Any hardship, any pain; he was ready. He gasped at the sudden sensory overload, brought to completely new heights by the awareness that it was Seimei, none other, the sole cause of this suffering he deserved.

From this day on...

Undisputed servitude. Captivity like this, it was liberating in the strangest of ways. His lungs cried for air, yet he did not struggle; he watched the trickle of blood as it disappeared between their skin with unfocused eyes that shifted from and back to Seimei's face.

“Yes... master,” he managed in a rough voice. Seimei released him, shrugged, straightened himself. He looked down at his hands, scowling at the blood there.

Until my last breath...

“You won't do this again.” Seimei's stern voice surrounded him, the command a sweet melody to which his heart began to dance. “Do you understand?”

Soubi sank completely onto the floor and watched the beautiful boy before him with an enchanted gaze. Then he gave a small nod. He smiled; a lopsided grimace that made Seimei roll his eyes. He swept a loving glance around the dark figure, tracing the contours of his Sacrifice, one last time. Seimei's back was so graceful, he mused, when he turned to leave.

...to your will...

Soubi cast his eyes downward, a fall of tousled hair obscuring his face. Slowly, he bowed his head. The tiles on the floor dissolved in a blur; a collage of all shades of red gathered in glistening droplets there. The memory of touch lingered on his skin; beloved fingers burning their prints into the crusty layer on his wrist.

His mind filled with a strange sense of inner peace. His heart slowed down to a strong, steady beat, his breathing grew calm. He listened to the distant sound of running water, of Seimei's scrubbing his Fighter's blood off his beautiful hands so they could be pure again.

...I surrender.

-

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