Fanfiction: Overpass

The course of true love never did run smooth.
- William Shakespeare

He likes going there, by the busy roadside which overlooked the busier highway, just watching the cars go by. People say he’s mad, but he likes to think that watching life pass by has an addictive effect on him; it soothes him and it calms him down, especially after an exhausting day of chasing spirits and hunting down ghosts.

Of course, like everything else in his life, nothing is always as it seems.

She likes to go to her workplace using the highway, straddling her bike and simply speeding with all the other vehicles. People call her a daredevil, for she constantly pushes her bike to its limit, and has a boxful of speeding tickets, but she likes to think that she’s a speed junkie, and simply loves the thrill of the wind blowing through her hair; then again, she was always more of a tomboy than a girl, after all.

Of course, like everything else in her life, nothing is always as it seems.

He would wait by the roadside, loiter around by the cliff, paying particular attention to the road below, watching and spying intently for a rider and her black motorcycle.

She would speed by on the highway, careful to wear her eye-catching black, and occasionally gaze up above to try and spot the black-robed shinigami.

And when they both see each other, they would be assured, that none was lost to the other, even though they could only catch a glimpse of the other and not touch and feel and kiss, even though their lives together begin and end in that very moment.

And after that heart-wrenching, momentous brief second when they pass by each other, everything goes back to normal, and life goes on. But he would go by that busy road again, and she would travel by the busy highway.

And their lives would cross, and they will meet, and still not meet.

OVERPASS noun:
a passage, roadway, or bridge that crosses above another roadway or thoroughfare

Fanfiction: Non Compos Mentis

I’m not crazy, I’m just a little unwell…
- Matchbox Twenty, Unwell

You’re hearing voices, you’re seeing things. Sometimes, you swear you could see someone there, standing right behind you, watching you, protecting. Sometimes, you can feel the gaze of this mysterious angel and a warm blush would spread over your pale cheeks. It’s weird. You’re the tomboy of the town, second strongest woman in Japan. You don’t blush; you don’t feel weak in the knees. So why is it that you just feel so girlish at inopportune times, even though there wasn’t anyone around you?

Take for example, the time when you went to school, and an epiphany suddenly struck you. Was the desk at that corner always empty? Somehow, you don’t think so. But you just can’t place it in your mind, exactly who and how was the person sitting there like. But you have these vague images of a scowling face and lurid bright orange hair, but you dismiss them, for you know no one has orange hair. Then, the back of your neck prickles, and you feel as though someone was looking you up. And you blush.

You shrugged off that experience, thinking you just had a bad day. You’ve been yelled not once, not twice, but thrice from the same teacher for not completing your take home assignment (you swore you forgot all about it – then again, you’ve been forgetting many things; it’s worrying, you’re wondering whether you’re suffering from any amnesia-like diseases). So you have to serve detention (and possibly missing your favorite karate lessons as well). When you reach the detention room, you realize you’re alone with the teacher, and suddenly you get the sense that someone is staring at you again. You whipped around the classroom, and this time you got lucky and manage to get a glimpse of black robes before whatever it was disappeared.

You’re freaking out. You’ve never been one for the occult, and now it seems that you’re able to detect the supernatural. You know you should get help from the proper people (i.e. mediums and all the other paraphernalia of paranormal enthusiasts) but you think that this thing may not mean you harm (you’re actually feeling protected by this unknown being). So you continue on anyways, going home (you missed your karate lessons and the instructor was not happy). All along the way, you could still feel the mysterious presence behind you, and the warm feeling within you builds up.

Then, there was the time when you were just lying on the bed, writing in your journal. You feel like you’re forgetting something, but you just can’t remember. And then you suddenly feel something warm caressing your face. Lightly grazing your sunken cheeks. Leaving butterfly kisses along your neck. And you suddenly remembered. And recalled his name.

“Ichigo…,” you moaned.

And when ‘Ichigo’ presses his soft, soft lips (at least, that’s what you think it is) on yours and you melted into this invisible embrace, you feel as though you were made for this. The two of you fall onto the bed, and you watched in amazement as his body suddenly shimmered into view.

The orange-haired little boy who cried for his mummy, whom you grew up with, who you grew to love was watching you with a burning glaze in his amber eyes. You reach for him, your hands grasping for proof of his existence…

And you know he still watches you, even now, from the outside of the white sterile room, watching how the nurse tightened the leather straps that tied you up. Even now, as she’s injecting into your bloodstream some kind of drugs that simply made the world grew hazy…and hazier…And right before you slip back into your world of dreams, you called out to him again…

“Ichigo…”

The soft loamy earth was the only signs of the newly dug grave. You trace the intricate carving on the tombstone and then, the tears you kept inside for so long began to spill out. “Ichigo…”

NON COMPOS MENTIS noun:
insane

Fanfiction: Mount

… tomorrow and today, beside you all the way…
- Bread, If

She is lying within the comforts of her soft comfortable bed, her arms to herself, her husband’s, around her torso, staring at the white ceiling of her large bedroom. She is waiting for blissful, ignorant sleep to rob her of her conscience, rob her of her heart, and rob her of her passion, into the realm of dreams.

She waits.

Just like him, waiting patiently outside her house. Clad in his ever black robes, coolly wielding the large blade as though he was born with it. Perhaps he was, as he had told her his history (or rather, his father’s). He seemed a little apprehensive then, perhaps fearing her outright ridicule of such a peculiar story, but then, as she told him, she has seen more peculiar things. After all, Orihime is her best friend.

The grandfather’s clock chimes one a.m. The whole town is probably asleep, aside from two people. One of them is waiting for sleep, but can’t sleep, the other, staving off sleep, but yet ever so vigilant. She slips out of her husband’s reach, out of bed and stands by the window, careful not to reveal her presence to him outside.

She found out about his nightly activities when she heard Orihime complaining about him never being home. Already his daily activities as Captain of the Fifth Division was ever so draining, yet he still disappears into the night, Orihime complained. She was suspicious so she stayed up late one night, and carefully watched him assume his what-would-be favorite spot. By the large oak tree they once shared their dreams. By the large oak tree where she saw him cry for the first and last time. By the large oak tree she said goodbye to him.

She knows the reason why he guards her ever so zealously. She knows how his enemies know about his Achilles heel. She knows how they would use it against him, just to weaken him. She wants to tell him that she can protect herself, that she is not a damsel in distress. She wants to scold him for letting his wife worry. She wants to tell him to protect his wife instead, and that the past was the past and she doesn’t love him anymore.

She wants to tell him all that, but can’t. Because like him, she is still in love; and the past is still in the present for the both of them.

And so, she continues watching him from within and him, from without. And still, their love grows.

MOUNT noun:
1. to increase in amount, total or intensity
2. to place on guard

Fanfiction: Light

You raised me up, so I can stand on mountains.
- Josh Groban, You Raised Me Up

Sometimes, he feels like he’s carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders.

When darkness falls, when silence grows, when shadows collide, he feels as though he stands in between what’s right and what’s wrong, with the opposite ends threatening to split his very soul apart.

Sometimes, he feels lost and alone, and wants to just crumble beneath the pressure.

But he doesn’t. He doesn’t cry under the immense strain placed on his shoulders, he doesn’t buckle under the pressure of protecting what he loves; he doesn’t slip into the easy route of oblivion. For she simply exists.

She exists in many forms, as a friend, as a lover, as a wife, as his better half. And she plays many different roles, supporting him, encouraging him, loving him. And always, always, protecting him.

And just because she’s with him and not simply by his side, she drives away the night, his muscles strengthened and his will focuses, and nothing else is impossible.

He would bear the weight of the world and the other so long as she’s with him.

LIGHT
1. noun:
the presence, amount or effect that stimulates the sense of sight
2. adjective:
not heavy

Fanfiction: Kill

I've tried so hard to tell myself that you're gone.
- Evanescence, My Immortal

Blood everywhere.

Splattered and streaked, sloshed and streamed, in rivulets, in rivers everywhere.

Across her face, her body, her hands. Dripping from the black blade. Trickling from the hole the large gaping hole in his chest. Puddling on the icy floor.

Her bloodied guilty hands still clutched the sword tightly, its blackened blade gleaming lightly in the moonlight, its deadly edge pointing towards his fallen body.

“…eND mY LifE aND yOu ENd hIS…” the ghastly voice echoed within her head.

She stabbed the murderous creature who took him away with the blade he always carried with him, as she watched the creature’s smug look fade away into pain and shock before reverting back to his face. His body slid easily off the sword, crumbling into ground.

She could barely hear him whispered, “…I…love…y–,” before he was silenced forever because of her.

The sword clattered down, as tears eased their way down her bloodshot eyes, her crimson sinned hands dropping to her sides, her knees on the ground. Silence perpetuated the small room, and she realized how right the creature was.

KILL noun:
to cause the death (of a person or et cetera); to cause the loss of vitality (of a plant or et cetera)

Fanfiction: Juggernaut

I’m running after you
- Planetshakers, Running After You

She certainly didn’t mean to change anything between them.

They were supposed to remain friends, best buddies, maintain their platonic relationship till God knows when.

He was supposed to be Orihime’s caring and affectionate husband, father to bright and noisy children, and only her friend. But somewhere, somehow, the lines of fate blurred, and she felt herself falling falling in love with him. Or maybe she had already already fall in love with him since she first saw him.

She tried.

God knows, she tried.

She tried avoiding him. She tried not seeing him. She tried dating spuriously. She tried quarreling with him.

Yet, she was still still more in love with him than ever.

Her heart pounds when he goes near her. Her palms sweat when he touches her. Her mouth goes dry when he talks to her. Her voice breaks when he kisses kisses her.

“Stop fighting this,” he says, his voice husky from the emotion he feels. “I will chase you if you run, I will find you if you hide. Nothing shall stand in my way.”

Then he tilts her head and stares deeply into her eyes, his filled with love.

“Because I love you.”

And she surrenders to him.

JUGGERNAUT noun:
a large overwhelmingly powerful object or institution or et cetera

Fanfiction: Inertia

But if I didn't say it, well I'd still have felt it, where's the sense in that?
- Dido, White Flag

The slight drizzle that pattered against the roof settled to a steady pace, echoing throughout the almost empty classroom. Almost empty, for the last bell rang almost an hour ago, save two. Two heads which were bent low, busied about a large poster which was spread over a couple of desk, with markers strewn all over.

A black marker rolled slightly to the edge, stopping by an orange one.

“Ichigo?” He heard his childhood-friend-since-forever asked; the soft drumming filling up the silence of the air, eating away the unexpected and oppressive silence that hung in the air.

“Hmm?”

The pens laid there, untouched, unmoved, unchanging.

He was absorbed in his work, jotting down the details of the Karate Club, noting the time and place and contact numbers. ‘P-R-E-S-I-D-E-N-T-:-,’ he wrote, ‘T-A-T-S-U–.’ He was interrupted when a small hand covered his own, hers only slightly less callused than his. He glanced up from his work, losing himself almost immediately in her obsidian eyes, which were gleaming with affection that was colored with flecks of orange.

A slight knock tilted the fragile equilibrium of the two markers, forcing the black one through, together with the orange one.

The next thing they know, her hand was entangled in his bright colored hair, his hands are on her waist, their work crumpled between them. His thin, almost-perpetually-scowling lips are pressed softly against her tender smiling ones, their two beings melding into one. He lowered her on the classroom desk, conscience of doing that in a classroom pushed aside. She moaned in acquiescence.

And the pens dropped, clattered and came to a rest on the hard cement floor.

INERTIA noun:
the property of matter by which it remains in a state of rest, or, if it is in motion, continues moving in a straight line, unless acted upon by an external force

Fanfiction: Him

I need you, I'm for you
- Jason Lo, Operator, The Line Is Dead

She does not need to look far to see what completes her. She knows. She knows what makes her happy, what makes her smile, what makes her laugh, what makes her. She knows what takes her breath away, what breathes life in her. She knows.

She knows what is not what but rather who. For it only takes a single person to brighten up her day. It only takes a single person to wash away the pain, to kiss away the scars, to erase the nightmares. It only takes a single person to change her world, indirectly change the world. For this single person encompasses everything that is her.

It’s this person’s kiss that makes her want more. It’s this person’s kiss that spins her world, twirls it and tosses it through the golden hoop of paradise. It’s this person’s kiss that tells her how much she loves and how much she is loved. It’s this person’s kiss that she needs. It’s this person’s kiss that she loves.

And they love each other more than anything in this world. For she is she and he is he.

HIM pronoun:
the objective case of he

Fanfiction: Gay

My hopes are so high that your kiss might kill me,
So won’t you kill me, so I die happy?
- Dashboard Confessional, Hands Down

“Tatsuki, answer me truthfully. Are you a lesbian?”

“OUCH!!!”

“Bloody woman, what was that for? I was merely asking a perfectly no – OUCH! Damn it, Tats, keep your hands to yourself!”

“Sheesh…women…”

“Nothing, I said nothing…”

“Hey, look, I’m not about to discriminate you or whatever if you are gay, ok. I’m fine with it. So don’t don’t tell me just because you’re afraid or something.”

“So you’re not gay? Really? Not gay?”

“OUCH!”

“Okay, okay! I get it! You’re not gay and you’re in love with someon – WHAT? YOU’RE IN LOVE WITH SOMEONE?”

“Are you sure you’re not making this up just to try to convince me you’re no – OUCH! Damn it, Tatsuki, I said keep your bloody hands off! OUCH! And knees! OUCH! And legs!”

“Soo…when did you, my dear Tats, suddenly grew up and notice boys? I mean, as your best friend, I suppose I have the right to actually screen this guy first, before he hurts you or anything. By the way, when did you liked this person? Why didn’t I noticed? What’s his name? How old is he? Where does he live? Ho – OUCH! …Damn, I forgot you got a hard head as well…”

“Well, if you don’t want me to ‘interrogate’ you, as you so nicely put it, spill it out!”

“We’ll start with the most fundamental aspect of this mysterious lover-boy of yours…hmm…like, is he, uhh, male?”

“AAAAARGH! It’s a joke, it’s a joke! Can’t you take a joke?”

“Fine, fine, I’ll ‘behave’ myself. Just tell me who he is and I’ll tortur – sorry, ‘investigate’ him out myself…”

“Ok, ok, so let me get this straight. He’s our age, from our class, in fact, he’s a stubborn, idiotic moron who is a thick-headed fool. He has a suicide tendency and has too many close girl friends. He doesn’t smile, isn’t good looking, isn’t charming and is plain stupid most of the time. He loves to fight, has no respect for elders and does not have any specific advantages compared to an ape. Are you that desperate ‘till you’ll like such a guy?”

“OUCH! Woman, I swear…hit me one mo – AARGH! Fine, I’m sorry!”

“…and he’s an inconsiderate, insensitive idiot with the emotional range of a teaspoon as well? Is it even possible for one man to incorporate so many vices at once? Wait…it is…I mean, he is from our class, right? And out class is filled with such guys…”

“Is it Keigo? Is it? I swear, if it is, I’m gonna go and castrate that bastard first before he even thinks of touching you in any way! I know! I’ll ask Kenpachi-taichou for some tips on frightening people…I’m sure he has a whole book on them…hehehe…”

“No? Not Keigo, huh? Then…is it Mizuru? Mizuru? MIZURU? Hmm…I didn’t know he was such a person. Always thought he was quiet and unassuming guy. Nice, too. Scary, to think that he was hiding such a person behind that false nice-guy look…”

“Not Mizuru as well? No? Then who is he? Noo…don’t tell me…it’s Ishida? But Ishida does not have any girlfriends at all…Chad? Hmm? Chad, Chad, is it Chad? Chad?”

“Am I right? Am I? Am – MMMMPPPHH!”

“It’s me?”

“Are you sure?”

“’Cause I am Kurosaki Ichigo and I’m not perfect! I’ve many vices an – hey! Wait a second…I’m the bastard you were talking about? Hey! I resent that! I’m not a stubborn, idiotic moron who is a thic – MMMMMPPPHHH!”

“I guess we’re both kinda gay now after all!”

GAY noun:
1. lighthearted and cheerful, happy and full of fun
2. bright colored, dressed or decorated in bright colors
3. homosexual, of homosexuals

Fanfiction: Fairytale

‘You complete me and I just ha...’
- Jerry McGuire, Jerry McGuire

Normalcy is overrated, at least to both of them. They were unconventional and weird to Ishida, downright scary to Keigo, perfectly perfect to Orihime, loud and noisy to Chad, cute and cuddly to Rukia (surprise, surprise) and even match made in heaven to Kon (the teddy-lion did mention on how similar they were…what with their aggressive tendencies…and, oh yeah, that would mean his nee-chan would be save from the scowling pumpkin head)! While these were comments by their friends and thus actually matters, it didn’t bother them much because, to them, they were them.

Sure, saying things were downright nice and warm and fuzzy would be simply stretching the limit. For he is not a knight in shining armor, striding atop his faithful steed, just awaiting the piteous cry for help from his fair maiden, secreted away by the villainous villain in a hidden tower, guarded by a powerful but perpetually depressed guard (the maiden would then have to change her name from Tatsuki to Orihime and start growing long orange locks and have a sudden growth burst in the bosom department).

He is not noble (stubborn), not virtuous (loves to curse), not filial (enjoys beating up his father), not charming (loves to scowl) and simply not knightly. But to be fair, he is strong and powerful and has the weirdest notions in his mind to go a-rescuing damsels in distress (the said Orihime comes to mind). He is loyal to his friends and he loves to fight. Oh yeah, and he loves Shakespeare, too.

And she’s not a princess, all prim and proper, all womanly (he actually shuddered when he tried imagining her being a girl). She was of average build, black hair and has fairly decent features. She does not have an impressive rack, nor does she have a sob story bearing on her like an unseen burden and fortunately, she is not a beauty queen (it lessens the suitors and a certain aggressive molester of a woman). She was simply not a queen.

She is not kind and gentle to all creatures (learns karate and has a tendency to thrash around bullies and/or perverts), not submissive and docile (states what she wants and when she wants…anything less and they be talking to her hand), not simpering and facetious (honestly brutal and brutally honest) and dislikes being protected (prefers protecting). But she is not all that wrong, for she is fair-minded and sensitive to the needs and wants of others. She loves her friends to death and is willing to die for them. And she is brave and courageous.

On paper, they would seem to be a disastrous match, should they be brought into the same room. In reality, it was disastrous the first time they ended up in the same room (he ended up crying to his mama). Nevertheless, with much compromise and tolerance (and less of being a sissy on his part), they both grew. Grew to tolerate. Grew to compromise. Grew to understand. Grew to love.

What would seem like a volatile relationship was not that much volatile than it was a relationship. His hot-headedness suited hers; it does not allow the other to over-dominate the relationship. His saving-people complex melds well with her honesty, she never hastens to tell him when he should be heroic and when he is a fool. His tendency to go overboard with protection falls short in face with her utter hatred in being protected (he would rather whatever that was threatening her face her anger than he himself).

But it would be a lie to say that they do not fight or quarrel like other couples. For they do and the only difference is, when they do, it matters. Like the time when he went off to fight some crazy power-hungry megalomaniac with strength almost five times that of his. Or like the time when she almost died because she wanted to follow him and do the impossible. Fights between them were usually lightning storms, vicious, dangerous and quick. For they would make up immediately, for he simply cannot live without her and vice versa.

Unsurprisingly, they don’t believe in happy endings. For they both agree, true love never dies.

FAIRYTALE noun:
a tale about fairies or magic, an incredible tale, a falsehood

Fanfiction: Encore

Would you hold my hand if I saw you in heaven?
Would you help me stand if I saw you in heaven?
- Eric Clapton, Tears In Heaven

The glaring lights of the hospital room shone brightly into his blood-rimmed eyes, a mad desperate look on his face. The smell of death, the air of despair, the presence of desperation, it all came hauntingly back to him, on that rainy, rainy night.

And he promised never to feel it again.

He glanced around the room madly, hoping for some assurance that the ancient past he buried on that day would not be repeated again. He could only see the slumped shoulders of Ishida, the sobbing figure of Orihime, the morose Chad and even a subdued Rukia.

And he remembered the emotionless face of his father and the quietness of his sisters.

His heart pounding again his chest, his nails dug so hard he was certain they would draw blood, his hair frazzled and his mind in chaos, he began pacing the waiting room up and down, waiting for the surgeons to leave the operation room with her intact. The lighted ‘EMERGENCY’ words died down. His heart shuddered. The doors opened as three tired looking doctors emerged.

His father came to him, with the saddest face the boy has ever seen his cheerful dad put on.

“We’re sorry…but we did the best we could. She’s gone…”

“Ichigo, she’s gone…”

Gone…

The simple word expanded within the waiting room, infiltrating the minds and thoughts of the people waiting there. He could barely grasped the action (Ishida hiding his face behind his hands and Rukia comforting an openly weeping Orihime) that was unfolding beyond his perception as the words rattled within his head.

“She’s gone…”

“She’s gone…”

Everything had a surreal feel to it, nothing was real. Past and present merged, and once again he was a boy, waiting for his mother to come back.

He was a man, waiting for his best friend, his lover, his wife to come back.

“Let…let me see her…her body…” he mumbled to the doctors, stumbling over the words. It was an act of treason, acknowledging her non-existence, referring to her only as a body. But it was all that he could do.

He approached the sheet covered body slowly. Reluctantly, he grasped one edge of the white sheet and slowly pulled it down. Her cold face, sleeping face met his vision. He crumbled.

He fought his father tooth and nail, he even resorted to kicking, all the while screaming, “Okaa-chaan!!!”

He pressed his warm lips on her cold and lifeless ones, heedless of the tears that were flowing unchecked down his face. Reaching for her hand, he grasped it tightly, unwilling to let it go. He fell onto his knees by her side, rocking slightly, all the while mumbling, “I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you…please, I’m sorry...”

His voice dropped to a pleading whisper. “Don’t leave…,” his voice broke, “…me…”

And he cried.

And he cried.

And then, he heard a fleeting whisper echo throughout the stale air, saying, “Ichigo, don’t cry…”

“I-chi-go, don’t cry…,” the little girl tried to comfort the sobbing boy. She showed him two three star pins. “Take one. See? Now, both you and I have one. So you’re not alone…”

“…You’re not alone…”

ENCORE noun
call for repetition, item performed in response to it

Fanfiction: Discord

And I am flawed, but I am cleaning up so well,
I am seeing in me now the things you swore you saw yourself.
- Dashboard Confessional, Vindicated

The classroom never felt smaller than before, at least, to him. Somehow, everywhere he turned, everywhere he looked, he would end up facing her. ‘Her and her god-awful, irrational, hormone driven temper!’ he thought testily, as he challenged her furious glare as their paths crossed again, for the fifth time in the class.

The class somehow knew something was going on between the two childhood friends, and the majority chose to wisely ignore it. Somehow, poking their noses into the affairs of two of the most aggressive (and strongest) students didn’t amuse them much, which was fine for Ichigo. Unfortunately, his closer group of friends simply couldn’t take a hint.

“Hey, Ichigo, what’s going on with you and Tatsuki?” Keigo asked curiously as he loomed into Ichigo’s line of sight.

“Nothing.”

“Whhaat? You call those,” Keigo pointed somewhat indirectly towards the angry look Tatsuki had been directing all day long at the orange haired teen, “normal? She looks like that only when she catches me feeling Orihime up!” Keigo narrowed his eyes at Ichigo. “Did you feel Orihime up?”

“No!” the teen in question snarled. “She just mad at me for reasons I don’t bloody know and which she bloody expects me to bloody read her mind!”

Silence fell in the classroom. Ichigo’s face reddened silently, as he realized he ranted a little louder than he expected. He glared defiantly at anyone who dared to stare at him, stopping short of her, though.

Nevertheless, he could hear her chair scrap the cement floor, he could hear her soft footsteps headed his way.

“Good luck,” Keigo whispered softly, eyeing the bristling tigress who was stalking up to her prey, as he slinked off, eager to escape whatever massacre Ichigo would be facing. The entire class followed suit, seemingly involved in whatever extra-curricular activities which required them to leave the class, providing a wide berth for both Ichigo and his angry friend.

“You know what your problem is?” he could hear her low voice quietly asking.

He turned bracing himself for the furious onslaught he thought was coming, and thus was more than surprised to see tears welling up in her large, large eyes.

“You are a bastard, Ichigo. A selfish, inconsiderate, dense bastard!” Tears were trickling unchecked down her cheeks, signaling to him how upset she really was.

Her voice then dropped to a mere whisper. “I love you…but I don’t know why I should!” Wiping the tears of her face, she hiccupped.

“You confuse me, Ichigo. You’re always around Orihime and Rukia, always smiling and laughing with them, crushing my heart. Then, you would turn to me and smile the truest smile, building up my hopes back!”

“But, then, then when I finally built up my confidence to tell you how I feel, you told me, “Sure, Tats, I love you, too.” Do you know how painful it is to hear that? Do you?” She stared into his eyes, pain evident in hers.

“No, you don’t. Because you’re Ichigo.” She answered sneeringly, her voice growing bitter. “Well, I’m sorry to have bloody messed up your day. This won’t happen again.” And with that, she wiped her tear-stained cheeks one last time and turn to leave.

And he could only stand there in shock as he tried to understand what just happened.

DISCORD noun:
disagreement, quarreling

Fanfiction: Cri de Coeur

Please come now, I think I'm falling,
I’m holding on to all I think is safe…
- Creed, One Last Breath

She thought she could get used to it.

She thought, one day, she would simply not feel it anymore.

She would not feel how they always left together.

She would not feel how she started knowing him better, how she was relegated from first to know to somewhere along the last.

She would not feel left out.

She would not feel alone.

But it was clear that she was wrong.

Simply wrong.

Every look they share, every touch they feel, every word they speak would annoyed her. It would irritate her. It would frustrate her. It made her want to scream to the world, saying that he belongs to her and only her. It made her feel like her heart was shriveling, crushed into minute pieces.

It pained her.

And so, here she was, standing awkwardly out in the rain, waiting for someone to answer the doorbell.

The door slid open to reveal and orange haired teen whose amber eyes portrayed curiosity at her and the water dripping down her wet black hair.

“Ichigo,” she took a deep breath, “I need to tell you something.”

Cri de Coeur noun
a passionate appeal, complaint or protest

Fanfiction: Bumptious

I want to lay like this forever. Until the sky falls down on me…
- Savage Garden, Truly Madly Deeply

They were out on the few rare dates on whatever free time they could spare. What with their college demands, his constant Shinigami-ing and her frequent international competitions, it was a miracle should they ever find time just for themselves. And today was such a miracle, and she was determined to let nothing spoil it. Nothing.

Being the gentleman he was, he let her decide the course of their date today. Feeling typically girly, she decided on the largest shopping mall that housed the largest clothes boutique, which would account for them being there for…
“…an eternity,” she heard him mumbled to himself, as he wore the soles of his shoes off, walking in circles. Nevertheless she knew he was not irritated, if not for the merest of appearance of a smile on his lip than for the fact that his face wasn’t pulled in his trademark scowl.

‘He’s actually quite cute when he’s not glaring all the while,’ she mused.
Lost in his own world, he was jostled out of his thoughts when she whacked him slightly on the air, before parading her latest acquisition in front of him. “What do you think, Ichigo?” she asked, twirling around like a ballerina.
She chose a tight black tank top, “which would look better if you actually have more of a bust, Tatsuki,” he noted, utterly unaware of the evil eye he was receiving until he was promptly kicked in the shins. Hard. By the second strongest woman in Japan.

Ouch.

“Bloody woman!” He growled.

She grinned, before fleeing back into the changing room, intent on keeping hold of the said top. She was simply glad that they could just spend time together without being burdened.

They left the shop with several bags some time later, Tatsuki deciding that a single top was not enough and proceeded to buy a matching skirt and some jeans, before dumping them all on him. “You,” she poked his chest with a finger, “shall be my pack mule today!”

She then took his large, rough hand into her small but strong ones and led him on a leisurely stroll around the mall, indulging in the peace of the moment. “You know, we don’t do this often enough.” She rested her head on his shoulder. “Just walking, together…”

“I know,” he replied quietly. “I miss you.”

She lifted her head to gaze into his amber eyes. “I miss you, too.” She tilted her head closer to his and allowed her lips to graze his. “Go…,” she whispered, as she pulled back.

He raised an eyebrow quizzically. She pointed towards his vibrating pocket.

“They’re calling you.”

“But…”

“They need you…more than me.” She lowered her eyes, unable to meet his, not wanting him to see how much pain letting him go was. “Just…just promise me you’ll come back safely…to me...”

“I will…”

He pulled her in for a fierce and passionate kiss, before sprinting off.
Sometimes, she just wishes that he was more selfish and she, more inconsiderate and that they could just spend a day without bothering about the world. For she now knows the sight of his retreating back very well now.

BUMPTIOUS noun:
conceited

Fanfiction: Analgesia

Don’t waste your time on me; you’re already a voice inside my head.
- Blink 182, I Miss You

‘Why are you always so insistent on protecting everyone?’

He lunged hazardously at the black amorphous monster, aiming for a fatal blow and hopefully, ending the battle quickly.

‘I don’t need your protection!’

He didn’t see the curling tail, waiting for a foolish move.

‘I need you…’

He was whipped across the large classroom, smashing into desks and chairs along the way before finally crunching hard against the wall. His head crashed into the nearby board, scarring his face with untold scratches and gashes. The impact drove all air out of his lungs, and his attempts to regain his breath were rewarded with several bloody coughs.

‘So…’

His world spun around him, with darkness slowly encroaching on his vision. He clutched his blade tightly, trying to maintain his grip on the world. Pain wracked his battered body.

‘Don’t leave me.’

Using his blade as a prop, he managed to get up on his feet, albeit still wobbling. He’ll have to end the battle swiftly before he either lose all consciousness or faint from the excruciating torture, but that would mean death. Gripping the hilt tightly, he drew it up, leaning against the smashed wall. He can’t die.

‘Promise me…’

He promised. He gritted his teeth. Taking a deep breath, he prepared himself.

‘That no matter how far you have to run, you come back…’

“BANKAI!”

‘… And that if things messed up, you’ll wait…wait for Rukia, wait for Chad, wait for Ishida, wait for Orihime…just wait…’

His sword clattered against the cement floor as he slumped down, the last bits of the monster disintegrating into the darkness. His blood was painted all over the room, evidence of the terrific battle he had with the monster.

‘…because if you die, I will find you and kill you again!’

His world became black, and the last thought he had was of her, gracefully flitting through her opponents on the karate mat, like a butterfly.

‘I love you…’

ANALGESIA noun:
loss of ability to feel pain while still conscious

Fanfiction: The Past, The Present, The Future

I love you.
I loved the past you.
I love the present you.
I'll love the future you.

My past?
Tainted with blood, dirtied with treachery and soiled with deaths.
My present?
Undecided, lost, still searching for something to grasp on.
My future?
Empty, null, void...in short, nothing.
Do you still love me?
Do you still love the past me?
I was a murderer, I was a killer.
I took lives, I took souls.
I stole happiness, I stole joy.
Do you still love the present me?
I am lost, amidst the events that transpired.
I am still undecided...what should I do?
I am all alone now, and I need something, or someone to hold on.
Do you still love the future me?
I have null, void to bring with me to the future, no past, no present,
I will be empty inside, for I am alone and will be alone.
I will be nothing without the magic.
Do you still love me?

I love you.
I loved the past you.
I love the present you.
I'll love the future you.
I love you.
I loved the past you.
I loved you because even now you regret your past actions, eventhough you were not yourself when you did all those horrible things. It shows to me that you are a compassionate person, one who cherishes life to the maximum.
I loved you because you are willing to right the wrongs of your past actions, like now, when you are willing to get down and dirty to take care of the orphans the war helped create. It shows to me that you do not condone what has been done but is wise to know that the past cannot be changed, so you take care of the present.
But most of all, I loved you simply because the past you helped create the woman I love very dearly now, the past you created you.
I love the present you.
I love you because while you are lost and seeking a way out of the maze of turmoil that plagues you, you will not allow any other to suffer like you, just like when you stood bravely by my side to face the evils of the world, just because you did not want any other to suffer like you. It shows to me that you care, and that caring makes you more than a fighter, more than a tool, it makes you human.
I love you because you are true with yourself, you are true with your strengths, you are true with your weaknesses, like now, baring whatever that worries you to me. It shows to me that you know yourself, and with that, you are capable of conquering your wrongs and freeing yor rights.
But most of all, I love you simply because your present you is part and parcel of the woman I love very dearly now, the presaent you is you.
I will love the future you.
I will love you because you, being of magic, is learning how to cope without magic, and you are coping very well. It shows to me that you are an adaptable person, and that you are willing to sacrifice something that is very important to you for the sake of the world, for the sake of humankind, for the sake of me.
I will love you because you do not give up and give in easily. It shows to me that you struggle for what you think is worth struggling, and I know, even if I do not love you as much as I do now, you will not give in to life, but you will still live life to the fullest.
But most of all, I will love you simply beacuse the future you is who the woman I love very dearly now will be, the future you is who you will be.
So, I love you, I loved you, I will love you. Do you love me?

I love you, you who loves me very dearly now.
I loved you, you who have stood faithful to your love, until you seeked her permission to love another.
I will love you, you who will be who you will, simply because you are who you are.
So, I love you, I loved you, I will love you.

We love each other, we loved each other, we will love each other.
That is enough.

Is it?
Was it?
Will it?
To survive all the hardships, to endure all the obstacles...?

It is, it was, and it will.
Because I love you and you love me.
Because I loved the past you and you loved the past me.
Because I love the present you and you love the present me.
Because I'll love the future you and you'll love the future me.
So take my hand and be my wife, Terra Branford.
Will you marry me?

Yes...I will, Locke Cole.
I will.

Fanfiction: Incurable

Incestuous adjective:
The relationship between them, if one should ever come to be, in accordance to her (and him, in secret) would probably be deemed wrong by people all around them; they were considered to be siblings more than friends, thus it would seem weird should they happen.

Causality noun:
He often wondered what was it about her that made her her, after all, is was so unlike him to be him now; then again, after much reflection, he found comfort in that no one chooses who they like – it just happens.

Histrionic adjective:
He knew she was beginning to see through his phony acting; his often coincidental nature calls with Orihime was probably arousing suspicion on her part – he only hope her suspicion was of the other kind.

Impression noun:
He knew he was drawn to her the very moment he saw her for she was a flame, however small and vulnerable she may look, he knew, she scorches; sure enough, after a round of sparring, he found out how right his first thoughts of her was – ouch!

Gregarious adjective:
He was by nature a loner, preferring the silent company of himself more than the incessant mindless chatter of his classmates; yet, whenever she was around, he found himself dull and dreary, and would miraculously (he claims) find himself joining her in her mission to know everything about everyone (particularly anything scandalous).

Ortho- prefix:
Sometimes, he wonders whether his inner mind is a reflection of his current life, things weren’t upright straight as much as they should be; but then, she would just come around and knock him around for somewhat – effectively tidying up what was wrong.

Audacious noun:
He knew that she knew that he knew that she knew he liked her, she knew that he knew that she knew that he knew she likes him as well; unfortunately, what was needed now was someone to simply throw caution into the wind and just do something instead of just knowing.

Necessitous adjective:
Their relationship is subtle to say the least – you just don’t see them clinging on to each other’s existence no matter how dire the situation, thus, causing a general belief that they don’t care for each other; on the contrary, it simply shows how much they trust each other – they don’t need empty promises or anything of the sort, they simply know.

Density noun:
They knew how stupid it was to dance around each other, they know what others who were observant enough thought – that they were blind for not realizing their feelings and the sort; but they wonder, was it really stupid to enjoy the thrill, the chase, the flirting...?

Tandem noun
She hated the fact that they were no longer together, he was, after all, always leaving on those ‘toilet excursions’ of his (yeah, right, she snorts, who goes to toilet in black robes and his gigantic ass-kicking sword) and leaving her all alone – she was not totally defenseless, so why was she the one left out?

Antiquated adjective:
She is made of strong stuff – having learned to grow up in an environment usually devoid of any parental figures, yet she is still frightened; she is frightened that he would throw away their friendship just like that, should he ever deem it old and pointless; she knows she ought to have more confidence in him but it’s him and it’s the most important thing to her and she is frightened.

Telepathic adjective:
Keigo once thought they were mental – she always seemed to be able to guess what he was thinking and vice versa; she would like to say that she was a psychic who’ll be a success in fortune telling but candor compels her to acknowledge the fact that it was simple an intuition, one she share only with him.

Scum noun:
What probably attracted her to him in the first place was the similarities they share – their natural love for fighting and distaste for bullies and gangsters; put together, she knew they could get along just fine (though she can’t really say that for the said trash of society who’ll probably be experiencing a whole new definition of pain, but who really cares for such rubbish?).

Uncouth adjective:
She supposed many people thought she was a saint for liking him in spite of his manners (or rather, lack thereof) but to her, he was hers probably because of his brusque and harsh attitude; she prefers his honest remarks over the simpering and facetious ones she was accustomed to whenever she meets her parents’ guests.

Kink noun:
Her affinity of the martial arts was a peculiarity of hers; some see it as an open declaration of total tomboyish-ness while others thought of her as a violent Yakuza-to-be; what they didn’t (and probably will never) know was that he simply looks damn delectable in his white uniform (especially with the sweat trickling down his scowling face) and if she just so happens to like watching the said karateka in action, who is to blame her?

Incurable noun:
Their conditions were chronic; both knew it, and had already prepared themselves mentally, physically and emotionally to face it – they were not frightened of it nor do they dread it – they knew it happens to all one day, and so, when the day comes, it will turn out ok – and he will not go to jail for whacking his father nor would she actually have to lock Chizuru up in a dungeon to prevent the latter from molesting her maid-of-honor (she’ll have to contemplate further on that matter) – they were in love and there is simply no antidote for it.

Fanfiction: Beyond Good And Evil

The freshly dug graves that were numerously scattered across the once lush forests were a grim reminder of the war which barely won, at the cost of the blood which stained the hands of those who fought. Or so, at least, it seemed to him.

He was one of the Heroes who led the final charge towards the ‘seat of Evil’, the Frozen Throne itself. He was one of the Heroes who dealt a crippling blow towards the ‘mindless Evil’ when he defeated his opponent, the treacherous Terrorblade in mortal combat. He was one of the Heroes whose valor and glory shall always be remembered in songs and legends, for he was a champion of Good.

He was also the brother of his slain foe, Magina, and he was also one who has murdered his kin.

He could only stare at the bloodied moonblades, at the deep gaping wound that almost severed his brother’s body into two, at the deluge of crimson blood which poured onto the forsaken earth, at his dying brother, blood bubbling at his lips, his life slowly ebbing away. And it was then that he knew that he had just killed his brother.

It is simple to see the world in white and black, he thought, as his bloodied fingers scrabbled against the rotting earth as he dug stolidly. Good and Evil to be viewed as constants and as long as you fought for the side of Good, no matter the odds, Good shall prevail. For Good is good, and that alone is enough.

It was clear who held the advantage. His dexterous attacks were augmented with the enchanted blade the Butterfly he carried with him, allowing him to swiftly dodge his brother’s heavier and slower slashes. He danced the dance of death, pressing home his advantage and soon had his sibling cornered. And he moved in for the kill. Blinking ahead of Terrorblade, he evaded a clumsy and desperate attack, before channeling all his strength and slashing the former’s abdomen apart.

But, as his fingers sunk into the loamy earth which was watered with the blood spilt, what is Good? What is Evil? What separates these two faces of the same coin, leading to all these rifts and fighting?

His brother stood imperiously in front of him, identical moonblades glimmering in the pale moonlight. “It looks like it’s time to settle old scores, brother.” The hideous face which was contorted by the blood he had drawn created a twisted gargoyle; it was not the brother he knew. He charged forward.

What is the cause of all this fighting? Why was anyone willing to sacrifice their lives for such a goal? He asked himself as he continued with his task. What did all those who died fought for? Was it worth it?

The final attack was a chaotic rout. With their commanding General, the Lord of Avernus indisposed by Purist, the Scourge were leaderless and without morale. His troops easily broke through the left and right flanks, joining the bulk of the army in the middle, swiftly trampling over whatever reserves the Scourge could muster. Nevertheless, there, the vanguard faltered, falling to the deadly moonblades of his brother. He stepped forward. This was his fight.

What about the loved ones these ‘martyrs’ left? Was it worth it to them? Did they find any solace in that the death of their loved ones helped procure a new world for them? He was sure that somehow, some way, Evil ‘loved’ as well.

And what of those who had to kill in order not to be killed? Need they live the rest of their lives with the guilt bearing down upon them, that they had to kill for their future? Will he? He glanced at the body of his enemy, his brother, his friend. Picking the huge body up, he laid it gently into the grave he dug. And he slowly filled it up with dirt back.

The night skies gave way into the purplish dawn he knew so well. The sun was breaking. A new day was beginning. He lifted a large slab of rock and placed it at the head of the grave. Picking up his blood-encrusted moon blades for the last time, he took time to inscribe a fitting eulogy for his fallen brother before finally disposing of the blades for the last time.

Perhaps there will never be answers to all the questions. Or maybe, perhaps, the answers have always been there, only no one is brave enough to sift truly into oneself. He will never know, except for the fact that he fought for reasons he thought Good against that of those he thought Evil. And perhaps his brother fought for the exact same reason.

The shimmering rays of sunlight that broke through the clouds grew. He turned away, leaving the grave, towards the new horizon. Towards a new tomorrow.

And leaving behind a grave whose tombstone simply read, “My brother, a Hero.”

Sometimes, the boundaries between Good and Evil simply do not exist.

Fanfiction: Angel

And through it all, she offers me protection,
A lot of love and affection,
- Robbie Williams, Angels

You watch yourself in the mirror, meticulously picking out the invisible lint and stray threads from your white haori, all the while straightening and adjusting it to be of appropriate length. The wound on your forehead seems to have healed, and you press the kenseiken firmly into place, before picking up your Senbonsakura and its sheath and attaching it to the obi on your waist. You stray a glance at the huddled lump, with just a hint of the shimmering obsidian tresses peeking out, sleeping soundly, in your bed, blanketed in the messy pink sheets and spare a rare smile. You are off to work, and you find it comforting that it is your work that helps keep her safe. And you look forward to getting back into her warm embrace and soothing presence, for it is she that helps keep you safe.

You eye the sniveling, growling menos contemptuously, for you know a simple mistake means certain life or death (re-death, in any shinigami’s case). And such a simple mistake is not one you are willing to commit, for death would simply mean an eternal parting from her and everything about her and that is simply something you would not want. To even contemplate such an event pains you and you vow never, ever to let anything remotely similar occur. And so, you draw yourself up, steady your sword, and take a deep breath. Senbonsakura Kageyoshi! And you watch the petals fly, flitting gracefully in the blue sky to bring you back to her.

You drag your wounded body back into your manor, blood seeping through your once white haori. You pay no attention to the muddy tracks on the stainless floors; you pay no heed to the bloodstains that mark you passing. You adamantly refused treatment from the Fourth Division and their Captain; you seek not the cold professional hands of an expert, but the warm loving touch of your wife. You know her reactions perfectly well; you love her gasp and you love her scolding and you love her fussing; but most of all, you love her caring and her nurturing, and that is all you need to live.

You always reflected back on your adolescent years with a cynical perspective, you know you were a wild child and it was a miracle that your grandfather actually manage to tame you and mould you into who you are today: a respectable Captain of a respectable Division, and a noble lord of a noble house. But even as you reflect on your status today, you know how unlikely it was for you to turn out this way if you had not met her; she was as she is as she will be, adamantly gentle and infinitely patiently; she loved the former you and loves the current you and will love the future you; should you be deserving of her nourishing love.

You hear the slight mumble of the oh-so-honored guests celebrating the oh-so-honored ceremony, and it immediately raises your ire as you hear the foul-meaning, ill-spoken words meant to derogate your wife filter into the stuffy room. A swift glare sufficiently silenced the rude noble, but also earned you a reproachful look from the very damsel-in-distress. Apparently it would neither do you nor your reputation any good by intimidating members of the first noble house in Rukongai; you would have heatedly argued that your reputation pales in comparison with hers and that you have your sword to defend yours while she is defenseless against such attacks, had it not been for her look in her eyes that explained everything. You have your sword but I am your shield, her eyes told you. She apologized for your lack of manners and the courtesan huffily agreed to forget such a faux pas. She is protecting you again, even as she is wounded.

Your first impression of her was that of a noble and a commoner, you watched her with nothing more than disdain and perhaps a hint of amusement, as you watched her haggle furiously with the vegetable vendor over the price of a couple of good spices. At that very moment, you would never have expected yourself to end up marrying her, but maybe, just maybe, you fell in love a little with her right at that moment. Perhaps it was the glint in her ebony hair, perhaps it was the determined glare in her violet eyes, perhaps it was her small and slender body which positively glowed with energy. Or just perhaps it was the fact that she was the person, who was clumsy enough to fall in your stride, and you were chivalrous enough to cushion her fall; for whatever reason it may be, you somehow know that at that precise moment, she has already saved you from a life of loneliness.

Your father, and his father before him, had always maintained the perfect dignity of a proper noble estate. Not a speck of impropriety could be seen within the massive manors of the Kuchiki house, and her lords’ life were expected to be as orderly as the straight rows of cherry blossom trees that adorned the grounds, as proper as the respect the house commanded. It was expected of you to maintain such a respectable tradition, and you thought you would have. But creativity, impetuosity and spontaneity invaded your life the moment she invaded your heart. Your life was turned topsy-turvy and the very moment you saw the lone cherry blossom tree in the middle of the bare courtyard, you finally saw what she wanted you to see. You took her to that very tree the day it bloomed. You placed a hand on the tree and turned to her. Thank you.

You dust the gravestone a carefully, making sure not to disturb the offering placed there by the loving sister. A bouquet of cherry blossoms was all the latter knew off of her deceased sister and you could not really fault her for that. But it still hurts you nevertheless, for there is no one else besides yourself that would truly know her for who she is. Especially not even her own sister. But you would remedy it. You would tell all that you know of her to her sister and let the truth be revealed. You would tell how you met, how you two loved and how you two married. But, most of all, you would tell how she was your angel and protected and loved you. Till we meet again, Hisana. You press your lips on the cold, cold stone that housed her ashes and walk away.

Fanfiction: Them

They were an odd couple.

Straddling the huge black bike of theirs and speeding past the various settlements across town, they attracted attention where ever they went.

Be it due to his almost perpetually stern face or her almost perpetually hyperactiveness, not many could forget the odd duo, even if they had only stopped by for a couple of minutes.

"I saw them zooming past the Town Center...she was hunched against his back, looking sick..."

"Them? I remember them, the brat and the fierce looking guy...The brat stole my apples...though that man returned them somewhat with a sorry look on his face..."

"Ah, that young couple...they told me they were hitch-hiking across the continents...the wonders of youth...why, even I did some travelling during my days of youth with Ben...poor Ben..."

"Oh...you're friends of them? Good...good...now you'll have to pay for the damages that they've caused...'specially the front doors...oh, my mahogany front doors...What happened? Some lechers were looking the young missy up...the 'hero' who was with her didn't liked it one bit, so he promptly decided to smash them up against MY front doors...oh my poor doors..."

"You say the motorcyclists that sped here weeks ago? I remember them...particularly that young man...what a hunk! With his long blonde locks...and his blue eyes..."

"The most miss-matched couple, in my opinion! He's so serious and dull...she's so sprightly, so energetic, so hyper...wonder how they'll get along...That's a couple headed for separation..."

"Cute! That's the only thing that went past my mind when I say them walking to that monstrous bike of theirs...She was prancing around prattling about something...and he was just looking at her with a dreamy gaze...So cute, don't you think?"

"They're a couple? Wait just a sec...when I saw them, they were arguing and fighting, fighting I tell you, with swords and shurikens, like nobody's business...Heck, it was NOBODY's business, 'coz whenever anyone tried to interfere, she'll switched targets immediately and start banging that poor person up while he would just cast an indifferent eye...A couple, you say? What a scary couple, then..."

"Them? The last time I saw them, they went to Diamonds Are A Girl's Best Friend over there for something...The girl came out happy though..."

"Oooh...the Princess, you say? She went in there with the handsome looking boyfriend of hers...and came out with her face all red...his too, come to think of it..."

"Them? What the hell do I want with them? Those damn bastards came waltzing in and started peppering me with questions of about marriage...As if I knew anything about being a good husband...And she...that...that brat started asking Shira about bed...Can you imagine that? Asking MY wife about MY perfomances in bed! What the hell did they came here for anyways? Why the hell did they choose us amongst all our companions? And ask us about our sex life! Damn them..."

"Oh, you mean both of them? They came here...he was looking for some kind of permanent job, so I told him to ask Reno about that...Looks like he wants to settle down, no? Then you should be glad, right? WHAT??? With HER? Are you pulling my leg? WITH HER? I though she was there because she had nothing else to do...you know how she's like, I still can't forgive her for pulling my Cait Sith's tail just because she was bored...God bless that man's poor soul...Why of all the people did he choose her?"

"Saw them? Yeah, I did...told me a few things I didn't know...told me a few things I didn't WANT to know...but...guessed it can't be help...Anyways, can I follow you in your journey to find them? Seems a little fun...well, it's certainly more fun than watching this cave, no?"

"I missed you guys! Saw him and her? I did...she was so pretty...Did you know she wants to unbraid her hair? She said he said that she looked good without those ugly constraints...she bashed him up a little, but afterwards she did as he said...Isn't that so cute? When I grow up, I want a guy just like him! You hear that, Denzel? I want a guy just like HIM!"

Yes, they were an odd couple.

Yet, they can't seem to be happier whenever they're with each other.

There will be fights, there will be quarrels...but I guess if they just love each other hard enough, nothing can upset their lives.

So, where ever you are, Cloud and Yuffie, good luck and have fun...I'm wishing you guys all the best.

"I d....ACHOO...o!"

"Yep, m...Achoo..e too!" They both said and sneezed simultaneously.

They looked at each other, smiling. "Tifa!"

The minister cleared his throat.

"The heck with ceremonies! You're mine, Spikes, and I'm not letting you go!"
With that, she stood on her tip toes and kissed him.

"I'm not letting you go either." He said, breaking off the kiss before taking her hand and leading her out of the chapel and onto his bike.

They've got a new mission.

Their lives together.

He keyed the ignition, reved up the bike.

Glancing at her, he smiled.

"We've got Reno and Elena to catch...so hold on tight."

"Go slow, Spikes, please..."
"Will do, Your Highness..." he replied cheekily and sealed it with a kiss.

And they sped off into the sunset...together.

Both of them.

Fanfiction: Questions

"Can I trust you?" she asked him, uncertainty evident in her large emerald eyes.
"Trust is a crystal vase. It is exquisite, precious but it is also fragile. Like a crystal vase, you have to choose who to give your trust, too. Give it to the wrong person, and it crumbles easily...like it was never there. Give it to the right one; and it will serve as a memory for you, and that person for the rest of time. But no one should tell you who to trust. You have to decide on your own." He told her as he led her into the common room of the inn. Pain was evident on his face, both physically and emotionally.
She made up her mind. The next day, they left that small town together.

"Where do you find the strength to forgive someone who has done you such great harm?" he asked; his pale eyes boring into her green ones.
She was casting Cure spells on his numerous wounds, after a particularly harsh battle with a large group of water beetles. "I see what is in here," she said as she placed her hand directly on his chest, where his heart is, "and if it is big enough to accept my forgiveness, then I forgive that person. And yours is big enough to accept two, so I grant you both mine and my mother's forgiveness."
She gave him a big smile.

"How do you love a person?" she asked him, her face full of concern as she watched the Prince of Damcyan mourned the loss of his love.
He thought solemnly for a while before replying, "I think to love someone is not just to love what is in front of you. To love someone is to love the past and the future as well. I guess you must be able to hold all of that if you love someone." She pondered his answer for a while.
"To love...then it's a serious commitment?"
"Yeah."

"Why does it have to rain...NOW?" he asked mournfully, as he trudged through the soaked plains of Baron, under the harsh storm.
"Rain? I like rain. No, I LOVE rain!" she exclaimed happily, dancing in the wet, wet rain.
"What's so fun about rain? You get soaked, your sword rusts, your cloak feels like it suddenly weighs ten tons, and if you're lucky, you get a cold!" He grumbled irritably, wringing his damp cloak.
"There's always rain in Mist!" She said indignantly.
Her voice softened, "Besides, when it rains, it feels like the sky's weeping, so whatever worries you have will be washed away. Like now, you're no longer worried sick about her. You're able to joke, to smile, to laugh...and if you're lucky, you get to see a rainbow, and that is hope!"
She consoled her irritated leader, taking his hand and forcing him to dance with her.

"What happens when snow melt?" she asked him, watching with rapt fascination at the icy peaks of Mt. Hobs, her attention diverted from the mob of monsters roaming the trails, suddenly reminded of the wintery season in Mist. He raised an eyebrow, heaving his blade, preparing to cleave the sandworm accompanying the scrounging feline-like creatures.
"Water?"
"Wrong...it becomes spring!" she said gleefully, whipping out her staff and bonking an inattentive goblin in one go.

"When will I ever achieve my own happiness?" he thought, unaware that he actually spoke the question aloud, as he watched the antics of Yang and his wife.
"Happiness is relative," she replied succinctly, following his gaze towards the happy couple.
"It is a simple matter of wanting what you have, and not having what you want. So, what do you have?"
He was startled. Yet, he answered softly after a moment of thinking, "I have friends who are family. I have love. I have the ability to breathe, meaning that I am still alive."
"Do you want these things?" she asked again.
"Yes."
"Then, you are happy." She left him with that statement.

"Why did you come back to us...to me?" he asked, staring deep into the emerald eyes of the once-child now-woman.
"Where else am I to go? Who else do I have in this world? And...," her reply was cut short when he flung his powerful arms over her slender frame.
A muffled "Thanks," was all she heard next.

"What do you see when you look at me?" he asked her, his expression thoughtful.
It has been like that with him ever since he discarded his black armor at Mt. Ordeals, silent, thoughtful, preoccupied.
"I see someone who has a heart. I see someone who is willing to give that very heart away for the sake of anyone and everyone. I see someone who deserves more than everyone else a heart in return. That is simply how I see you. No matter what armor you wear, no matter who or what you follow, you will always be that someone," she replied before standing on her tip-toes to ruffle his blonde hair affectionately.

"Why is there death in this world?" he asked gravely, as he watched the Eblan prince weep over the death of his parents. "I am a Paladin, one of believes in the Light, yet, all Light has proven to me is that death is still the victor, no matter what."
He stared disgustedly at his holy adornment.
She walked over to him, taking his hands in her small dainty ones. Then, she said, "I think death is very much a part of life, and no amount of Light can change that. Death is present because without it, what is life?"

"Why is Evil let to live on this world?" she questioned him before their fight with Zeromus, the others taking a much needed breather after several tough fights with the Behemoths.
"Well, someone once told me that without the night, we will never see the stars...and I guess that is quite true." He was polishing his Excalibur.
"But if the stars were bright enough, there would not be any night anymore, right?"
They pondered over her statement the rest of the night.

"Are you happy?" she asked him again, on his wedding night.
"I have her, I have a family, I have peace," was his reply.
"Then, I am happy for you."
"But..." he spoke to an empty corridor, "I want you."

"Why are you here?" she asked him, surprised at his presence in the Royal Hall of the Land of Summons.
"To see you," he replied easily.
"Where is your wedding band?" It was not strange that she noticed the absence of the very of her happiness.
"With him." Again, he replied easily.
"Who are you talking about?" She was getting impatient, angry with his care-free attitude, angry with herself for daring to hope.
"Kain." He tilted her face upward with his long hands.
"W-w-what are you doing?" She was beginning to feel flustered.
"What I should have done a long time ago," he said before pressing his lips on her soft ones.
hile she tried to push him back, push back the feelings that his mere presence aroused, she could only fight so much. As much as she wanted to deny it, for it pained her so, she knew she was still in love with him, and forever will be.
She melted into his arms, content that this time, he would not be leaving.
"When did you start loving me?" he asked curiously, a brief respite after their kisses.
"Honestly, I was in the middle before I knew I had begun."
"How is it that you can ever love someone like me?" His tone softened to a whisper.
"Because you make me happy. You make me want you. And now that I have you, I am happy." She breathed into his ear.
"So am I. So am I."

Fanfiction: Seasons Of Change

Winter.

The season of frost, of ice and of death.

His season, or so that was what she said.

He was frost, he was ice and he was death.

She had a point, he conceded when she proposed that he was a wintry type of guy.

After all, he did enjoy winter more than any other season.

He did.

Surprisingly, he slowly came to enjoy the brief summers that shone on the perpetually icy continents of Trabia.

The hot season which was actually not very hot at all offered a brief respite from the harsh coldness.

Gone was the cold, gone was icy waters and gone were the snow.

Sun, the glorious sun, actually shone on the forsaken continent.

He was actually glad for it.

And he had her to thank for.

And that he did, walking up to her and offering his gratitude one day after a long and boring
meeting.

To the amazed expressions of his fellow underlings.

After all, he guess it wasn't an everyday occurence he would actually initiate any sort of
conversation.

Though it soon became a routine for him to chat her up, to watch her, to be with her.

To care for her, to enjoy her company, to comfort her.

To smile with her.

To laugh with her.

And the winter around him thawed into spring.

And so goes the saying that spring is filled with love.

And so he came to realize that his feeling for her were stronger than friendship.

Deciding to be cautious, he concluded that his feelings just breached the friendship line.

Fine and dandy with him, he thought.

So he decided to play it slow.

He walked with her.

He talked with her.

He ate with her.

He trained with her.

And he found out that he was enjoying her presence more and more.

Like the summer she introduced to him, he was beginning to warm up more to her, to his friends.

And like the summer she introduced to him, he was beginning to like her more.

Spring came and flitted, and summer stormed his life.

Summer, with its intensity, was like his affection for her.

He couldn't live without her, he couldn't breathe without her.

People began to notice.

How desperate he was to be with her.

How crazy he was for her.

People, but her.

She was either totally ignorant about his feelings for her, or she was simply wanting to keep their
friendship where it was.

He tended to think the latter.

And the summer raged on, brought on pest, irritance.

The uncertainties.

The probabiliies.

He was sinking back into his gloom, and with it summer gave birth to autumn.

Trees lost their leaves, just as his eyes lost their tears.

The dead leaves that floated softly down were very much like his dead tears which trailed his
angular cheekbones.

The hollow trees were his hollow feelings, emptiness, null, void.

But suddenly, she came to him.

She took his long slender hands into her small ones, and pressed them to her heart.

"This is yours."

"This has always been yours."

"This will always be yours."

That was what she said to him.

He took her in his arms and kissed her softly but deeply, fiercely but gently, passionately but lightly.

She is his.

She was his.

She will forever be his.

He repeated them in his head.

He repeated them during the winter, for the winter still came.

He repeated them during spring, when everything is carefree.

He repeated them during summer, when confusion over the indecisiveness of the season sets in.

He repeated them during autumn, when darkness seems to beckon.

Though the seasons would always change, though both good and bad times lie awaiting their coming, he knew, she will be the summer that he longs for.

That much he knew.

And he was satisfied.

A change of seasons was inevitable. It was common, predictable.

Yet, a season of changes for each and every man is uncertain. Unique and different. Very much like summer.

They Say Third Time Lucky...We'll See About That...

Wow, this is actually my third time starting a new blog, on a new blogging website, nonetheless. Ah, well, I guess it's not really my fault, because I still think home.spaces.live has too little visitors and livejournal.com is waaaaaay too slow, especially with my dearest EBB connection.

I'm at a loss for words now actually, since I pretty much won't need to be introducing myself (and what I write in blogs). I mean, who in the world doesn't know the Great Sheldon? Wait, don't answer, it's supposed to be a rhetorical question.

I'll be including everything in my blog this time, so hopefully it wouldn't go AWOL that easily.

Anyhow, that's all for my intro, I guess. See you people around!