Missing Fates

Okay, I posted it before then deleted it. Actually I posted it not long ago. But as I read through it, I found that it disappointed me. But well, I was not really willing to let go of this idea so I decided to edit it and post it again. :D okay, this time I hope you people will enjoy it. Yeah, sorry if it sucks. I'm not good at one-shots.

Disclaimer: POT characters do not belong to me.


They were the society's black sheep. Discarded, cast away, left aside on the streets to run wild and free. Nobody care about them when they fell sick, nobody cried over them when they died, nobody, absolutely nobody cared. The people of modern society believed every matter, every life, every atom should have a name, and so, they called them 'gangsters'. Yet behind their backs, people preferred to call them 'trash'.


The skies were dark and grey and the clouds above were drenched in rivers of murky liquid, unfit to be called water. The winds howled loudly, blowing at full force, sending withered leaves up into the air and pushing them back down again as cruelly. The streets were bare of any life form. Bits of paper littered across the mud slap pavements, rolling along the ground occasionally as they struggles to prove their existence. Wooden planks and boxes leaned against the wall, threatening to crumble down. The wind cried sorrowfully, signaling the start.

"Go."

If somebody offends him, he, will not survive. He, will not live. He, shall die. The king made sure he got what he wanted. He was the king. No one else. He could not give a damn about the law and stuff. All he knew was that he stood at the top. Everybody below him was just his servants, his underlings.

They pinned the poor guy to the brick wall, carelessly scratching his head on the rough surface. The poor guy started screaming and tried fighting back but the two men holding him were too strong for his thin, flimsy muscles. The king jerked his head towards the poor guy and immediately two of his other men rushed forward and threw punches at the victim's stomach, hitting him without any tinge of mercy, dripping the victim's blood over their bare hands and flinging it off, regarding it as something filthy.

The king stepped forward and snapped his fingers, automatically, all his men backed off, leaving the victim slumped on the ground, lifeless and dead. He bent down and his eyes softened, placing his face close to the victim's, he looked as if he was about to caress the victim's face lovingly. Just then, his eyes changed. They became cold, evil, and sadistic. He reached out, gently lifted the guy's chin, and forced him to look into his eyes. The king smiled, while his other hand delivered a punch to the guy's stomach. Releasing his hand, he stood up and walked away, his men trailing behind him.


As they walked on, flashes of lightning spread across the sky and silver lines of rain started beating down on their tensed backs. Ryoma, held his head down. His amber eyes were cold as they stared at the ground. He stopped suddenly and waved his hand, dismissing his gang. They left quietly, not wanting to disturb their highly respected leader.

They knew, they knew that his character wasn't like that. They understood why. The truth, the reason why he did all these horrible acts of crime. Ryoma's past was dark, at times not even clear, murky as they were, lost in the big ocean. He wanted to end it all, yet troubles just kept coming. Currently, she was the main reason why.


Sakuno was loved by everyone. With her cheerful character, reasonably pretty, smart and sensitive self, she was everybody's ideal friend. Ryoma often looked at her. He liked the way she gave her best smile all the time, the way she would help her schoolmates out when they had troubles, the way her she skipped happily around the place.

Ryoma, was different. He was feared by everybody. Nobody gave a damn about what he did. They just didn't want to get mixed in his company. In actual fact, he did not really care at all. He had stopped caring long time ago. Stopped caring about what people thought of him, stopped caring whether he was isolated from everybody else.

Who wanted to care for the school delinquent anyway?

The sun was going down and everybody gradually left the classroom. Ryoma sat at his desk, his head lay on the table and his eyes closed. Thoughts immediately swarmed into his mind and conquered the remaining memory space, torturing him mercilessly.

NO, DON'T HIT ME! PLEASE! Please, please, don't… hit… me…

He sat up weakly and placed a hand on his forehead. Cold sweat slid down his pale face as he felt his temperature burning up. He stood up and staggered forward unsteadily. His head spun in circles and he crashed into the nearby seats, wincing in pain as he fell.

Hearing the crashing sound, Sakuno who was walking by came rushing in. Scanning the scene, she saw the dazed Ryoma on the ground. Running up to him, she kneeled down and swept his floppy, unkept fringe away, followed by placing her own forehead on his.

"Ah, it's burning! You better go to see the school nurse."

Ryoma looked up and stared into her hazel eyes with his amber ones. Subconsiously, he tugged at her hand, causing her to fall in his open arms. Embracing her tightly, he placed his head on her shoulders.

Sakuno was surprised, not knowing what to do, she just stood there. Sakuno had always secretly liked Ryoma. Even though many people disliked him and treated him like some kind of contagious disease, she knew that was not the real him. This was the special characteristic of Sakuno. She could look into the souls and search the truth. Sakuno's eyes softened and she hugged him back, smiling.


As the weeks went past, Sakuno got to know more and more of Ryoma. As the weeks went past, her feelings for her slowly grew and blossomed. As the weeks went past, they, fell in love.


It was the usually alley. Bare without life. Bare without souls. Bare without love. Ryoma and his gang lived there. It was their home, it was their graveyard.

The night was cold. The winds rushed through the street. The start? No, the ending.

Both sides charged forward.

Both sides fought hard.

Both sides had casualties.

Yet, they lost.


Now, the ground was not only littered with rubbish, it was littered with bodies, littered with blood. Ryoma lay sitting on the hard cold ground, leaning against the brick wall and breathing hard. His pale white face reflected the moonlight and it looked ghostly, almost as if it was transparent. He clutched his stomach tightly, as the blood trickled down his fingers. Wincing in pain, he looked up at the night sky.

Stars.

He gasped for air and felt his heartbeat weaken. Trails of tears left his eyes and dripped onto the ground, forming circles of wet spots. As he lowered his head once again, a shadow covered him. It looked familiar. Jerking his head up, he saw her.

She slowly kneeled down, just like the previous time, and embraced him with open arms. While she sobbed into Ryoma's shoulder, her tears soaked his shirt. In turn, Ryoma placed his head on her shoulder like he did before, closed his eyes and smiled. His heartbeat could not be felt.


After all, the devil and the angel were not meant to be.


Okay, now just a little gentle reminder. Do comment please! :D Be brutal if you want to. I don't mind. So long as it helps me. ((: