AN: I don't know what I'm doing starting another story when I have so many that needed updating, but it was like this was begging to be wrote. I couldn't do anything until I wrote something dark and depressing for Zakuro. So yeah, here it is. He definitely needs more love, he's so awesome. Enjoy!

Dancing With Destiny

Darkness. It was all he knew, all he ever knew. He had spent all his life watching people die in front of him. Watching and never being able to do a thing.

"Whatever happens… never let anything bring you down… always… stay… strong…." Blood poured from his mother's cold lips, the trembling hand Zakuro held going limp. It was never to move again. He would never see this woman's smiling face as she handed him a bowl of hot porridge in the morning, never hear her tinkling laugh in the evenings or feel her warm hugs. She would never scold him for spilling the well water again.

Never again.

He would never be able to apologize for the times he screamed at her, telling her to stop treating her like a boy and start treating her like a man. Never help her sew the old, worn clothes, something he was usually embarrassed to do, but would now give the world to be able to do it with her once more. Would never be able to tell her how much he truly loved and cared for her, despite all his whining and temper tantrums and lack of affection he'd shown.

Never again.

Slowly Zakuro stood, picking the lifeless body up in his arms, and making his way to the door.

The funeral was the next day. It wasn't really a funeral at all, as he was the only one who showed. He placed a single flower onto her chest as he closed the lid of the wooden box over her. There was no money for coffins. There was barely enough money for bread. As the last of the dirt was placed over her "coffin," his knees finally gave out and he fell to the hard ground, the tears that had threatened him since she last closed her eyes spilling over. He cried for her, the rest of his family, long dead and gone, himself, and all the people in this doomed village, forced to face lives of despair and suffering. And as his tears hit the cold ground, turning it damp, he prayed for a new God, one who would hear his prayers and end his pain. One who would change everything. "Please, God… save me…."

"There's an intruder! A demon! A devil! He's already killed five armed men with nothing but his bare hands! He must be stopped immediately or he'll slaughter us all!" The cry of one of the village men, a farmer, came in the middle of the night. Groaning, Zakuro forced open his eyes and stood, whole body sore from the hard wood floor he had been sleeping on. He didn't bother to turn on the oil lamp, eyes already used to the dark. He learned early on in life his senses were better than the ordinary human. He grabbed a wooden club, all he had to defend himself since he couldn't afford a shotgun, and headed out the door.

When he got near the center of his village, heart pounding and breath coming in short gasps, he saw him. A man with snow white hair stood, somehow propelled in the sky. He wasn't attacking, but simply fending off assaults as they came. By some means he was able to move just enough to avoid every bullet as it was shot, preventing from getting wounded or even scratched in any way.

He turned suddenly, and Zakuro felt a chill race through his body as the man's incredible purple eyes met his own. He was almost sent tumbling backward with the pure intensity of the gaze. But for some reason, he wasn't afraid. Startled, yes, stunned, yes, but not afraid.

The man moved then, coming toward the villagers, who, terrified, shot at him like crazy. But still this man avoided the deadly bullets, and the people finally learned that, no matter how hard they tried, no matter how many bullets left their guns, they weren't going to kill this man. So they ran, as fast as their legs could carry them, away from this unearthly creature.

Zakuro stood frozen in place, unable to move a muscle as the man now stopped only a foot in front of him. The powerful eyes burned into him, and it seemed as they were searching his soul, as if they could see into his mind, read his memories like a book. The man extended a hand then, reaching out to him, his lips curling into a smile.

It was as if Zakuro's arm just moved on its own, reaching out, clasping the other hand, squeezing hard. The man's smile never faded. "Come with me," he murmured, his voice like pure silk. "Join me."

And right then, Zakuro knew. He just knew. This wasn't a demon, nor a devil. This was God.

A/N: I'm not sure if I'll continue this or not, maybe if enough people like it. It came out a bit different than I thought, but I hope it wasn't bad. Hope you enjoyed it!