This is just a random look at how things *could* have turned out, if various things happened differently... Currently, the main difference is that the Bet never happened. Hokuto is still dead, but it wasn't Sei-chan's fault, and Sei-chan isn't a psychotic bastard. Of course, his psychotic bastardness in canon is also a debatable point. The title was borrowed from an excellent AU FF7 fanfic, actually, I think it was almost the /first/ fanfic I ever read, and I've lost the URL. Drat.
Apologies if the characters are OOC. I'm not a very good writer, and anyway, I don't really know /how/ Subaru would be like... I mean, his twin /is/ dead, even without the added emotional angst of his loved one having killed her. I'm making him act like how he seems in X, just, well, giving him a spine. WithASpine!Subaru appears to be a very popular recent innovation. Or something.
This is about a year before X, and is going to hit the X storyline, with my own little changes, of course...
The pairing of this 'fic is, for now, Seishirou/Subaru, and maybe more will be added once the X storyline is fit in. But no lemon. I can't write lemons for the life of me. Although, truth be told, I have a completed little lime scene on my HD, which is going into Twisted canon. A long, long way from now.
This fanfic is basically a way for me to play with Subaru/Seishirou character interactions. But at least it's fun. And now it comes in nice plain formatting and with a /second chapter/ attached. Apologies to the people who may have waited six months for this, I have an excuse, really, I do. ^^;x
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1/Twisted: Meetings
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Blood-red petals--what remained of the Sakura's latest prey--swirled as a sudden gust of wind rocked the tree, and Seishirou put a steadying hand onto the limb he was currently sitting on, feeling his blood-slick glove slide against the rough bark of the Sakura, leaving a crimson smear against dark brown.
Blood was so pretty.
The wind came by again, compromising his already precarious position, and the assassin decided to shift to the trunk of the Sakura--The branches were thickest there, and the footing most secure. Not that he thought it was likely for him to fall, of course, and not that such a fall would hurt him in the least, but...
Caution was something he had learned early in his line of work.
As he got to his feet, years of practice lending steadiness to his movements, he felt... -something- touching at the edge of his awareness. Somebody was close--very close--and he hadn't heard anybody approaching.
Odd. Very odd.
And what was odd was unknown, and what was unknown was, of course, dangerous. Reaching into his coat, Seishirou carefully drew out a small stack of ofuda, black cards with symbols painted on them in thin, elegant white. Keying them with a single murmured command, he willed the Sakura to bend its obscuring branches aside, allowing him view of the park grounds. He tilted his head downwards, curious, looking...
...into a pair of stunningly tinted, emerald green eyes.
Surprised, Seishirou let the treacherous wind tear the ofuda from his fingers, not caring as it whipped the power focuses to join a merry, contrasting dance with Sakura petals.
The stranger held his gaze for a moment longer, before sliding green eyes shut, and gracefully lifting a hand. With a noiseless flutter, one of the cards settled into his palm, sharp edges cutting slightly into the skin, but without drawing blood. He held the card out to Seishirou, not offering challenge in either gaze or posture... Only silent enquiry.
Nimbly, Seishirou stepped from the branch he was perched on to the petal-littered grass. Reaching out a gloved hand, he took--not the card, but the stranger's wrist, pulling him closer to himself. The stranger didn't struggle, although his pulse quickened and his eyes widened slightly--almost imperceptively. Apart from that, however, he could have been a statue, neither pulling away, nor leaning closer into Seishirou's almost-embrace.
With the touch, Seishirou felt for the first time the threads of power which ran through the stranger, showing white-hot to his mind. The fine strands of light had crisp outlines, so bright that they were almost blinding, and they pulsed in time to the stranger's heartbeat. They told of skill and control over the raw magic within him, much more than Seishirou could ever hope to have...
Interesting.
Lowering his head, Seishirou took the ofuda in his mouth, being careful not to cut himself on the edges. Still gripping the stranger's wrist in a tight, although not crushing hold, he absently replaced the card in his coat.
/Your move./
With a gentle tug, the stranger freed himself, taking a small step backwards. He was really quite attractive... Seishirou mused, young--probably in his early twenties, with a careless, elegant grace etched into his slender form. Short, rakishly messed hair framed a face which was almost feminine, pixie-like and ageless, and...
...His eyes, green, deep green, sea green eyes...
The young man touched two fingers to the blood Seishirou had left on his wrist with something akin to fascination. For the first time, Seishirou saw a set of thin lines cutting neatly across the vein, long healed over, although the blood made it look as though the old wounds had reopened.
The stranger ignored Seishirou's gaze, cupping his hands as a sakura petal drifted down, staring with a distracted air at the delicate, blood-red flower, and sheltering it from the wind. The stranger somehow seemed to understand the significance of the crimsoned petals, and his green eyes darkened.
"Who?"
His voice was cool and light, quiet, tinged with shifting inflections, carrying a wealth of emotion in the single syllable. For a moment, Seishirou contemplated deliberately misunderstanding, or giving his own name, but...
...No, somehow, the thought of lying seemed distasteful to him. Strange--He had never had that problem before, considering that his entire life in itself, was a lie.
"Does it matter?" he replied, tilting his head and watching the young man.
The stranger paused, considering the question. "Yes," he said, finally, "Yes, it does. Everybody deserves to be remembered, after all."
"Even the people who do wrong?" Seishirou challenged.
"Especially the people who do wrong."
Seishirou raised an eyebrow, then smiled lazily. "So..."
"...Would you like to be remembered?"
He watched the stranger with half-lidded eyes, knowing that the implication in his question would not go by unnoticed. A wry almost-smile crossed the stranger's features for a moment, although his voice was as serious as before.
"Perhaps. Perhaps not." he said noncommitally, shrugging.
Seishirou's smile widened.
"I /could/ kill you now, if I wanted to," the assassin said almost cheerfully, as though threatening random people with death was a common occurence for him.
Well, it /was/... But they weren't random, and he didn't just threaten.
The stranger was not intimidated.
"You could," he murmured. "You may."
The unexpected reply drew a chuckle. "And why would I need your permission to do such a thing?"
"Whether you need my permission or not is irrelevant. The fact remains that you already have it."
Seishirou raised an eyebrow. Either the young man was crazy, a master at twisting words, or... he was telling the truth.
Intriguing.
The stranger wasn't finished, however.
"You may, but you won't."
The conviction in the green-eyed young man's voice made Seishirou chuckle again. "And why not?"
"Because my death would serve no purpose, and because you don't seem like the type to do things without a purpose."
"You're right," Seishirou murmured. "I'm not. But keeping my existence a secret would be purpose enough, wouldn't it?"
It was the stranger's turn to laugh this time, as he flicked his wrist and produced a single, pure white card with an upright star painted on it. The wind whipped it away, as it had Seishirou's own ofuda earlier, and Seishirou caught it casually.
/Sumeragi./
That explained a lot.
"Keeping your existence a secret, from a person whose family has always known of your clan?"
Seishirou shrugged, then smiled cheerfully. "I suppose that would serve no purpose, would it? What's your name, then, Sumeragi-kun?"
"Subaru," the stranger replied. "Call me Subaru."
Subaru... the 13th Head of the Sumeragi Clan, just as he was the 13th Sakurazukamori of his own.
"Then you should call me Seishirou," he offered, deciding not to extend his hand to the Sumeragi--his gloves /were/, after all, still covered in blood...
Seishirou smirked. This might turn out interesting--the Sakurazukamori might not be allowed very many feelings, but boredom was one of them, and he found that both his jobs did nothing to alleviate that...
Hopefully, Subaru would.
/Really, now.../ he thought to himself. /You're getting much too old to be playing with toys.../
Amused by that thought, Seishirou drew a bright smile across his face, and turned to the other onmyouji.
"So, Subaru-kun..."
"...Want to go for ice cream?"