Chapter 1

"And It All Begins"

(Written in Hiei's Point-Of-View)

There it is. My freedom. That blinding light. This place is so dark... How that light pierces through it... Reminds me of hope. Something I currently do not have. These sewers are too dense. The stench, the narrow passages... How could I have such a luxury in a place like this? I don't. It's an impossibility. It's as simple as that.

That's not even the half of it. I feel like a mouse running through a maze, meanwhile being chased by a snake. I was supposed to go to prison today. I escaped. The authorities are after me. They're armed... I don't think I'll make it. They've created a deep wound in my shoulder and my body is mangled. I'm exhausted from running, but resting isn't an option anymore. The worst part about it is that I'm feeling.. So... Dizzy... Damn it all. Damn this tracking device they placed in me, damn this 'society' or 'sanctuary' bullshit, and damn this entire so called 'utopia'.

There's that light again. My savoir. It's so close now. It reminds me that I won't have to be in a cell that strips me of my free will. Escape. I'll be the first to ever live through the wrath of the Soul Sanctuary's top guard. Yes. I'm right there. Here it is. I'm-

No. No, this can not be. This simply can not be. No. No. No. No. My mind screams this simple phrase over and over, a wave of panic coming over me as I grip the steel bars that cut me off from this dreaded place and the world outside. This is cruel. My freedom is being held out right in front of me, but I am unable to grasp it. Fate's toying with me. I hate it.

I pull at the bars, jerk them from one side to the other, bringing my body along with the motion. Foolish. Believing that I could actually pull one apart... Desperation has caused me to go insane. My attempts, of course, failed, and panting heavily, I look over my shoulder to find that those soldiers have caught up to me. Good. Fine. Take my life. You damn bastards. I'd rather be dead than be here, I think. It will be my last thought, for sure, but I won't regret thinking it.

But I'm young. I'm too young. I told myself that I'd never give in. I swore it. I guess I even break promises to myself. How unreliable I am. Whipping my head back to the bars, I ram my side into them, screaming loudly at the top of my lungs. If I was going out, I'd go out fighting. I don't care whether anyone on the other side can hear me. Most likely, they can't, and I'd rather have it that way. I hate them all.