AN: Re-make of the horribly old and OOC 'Kazumi's Revenge'. I'm keeping the old one up, just as a reference to remind the internet, and myself, how far I've come (even though it's not super-far, it's progress!)

Disclaimer: I do not own Shakugan no Shana. I do not own the setting and character portrayed here. And no, I'm not making profit off of this.
However, if I did own it? HAHA do you know what I'd do!? Gosh it would be so fun. My OTP would be alive and canon.

Special thanks to Ares'-Writing-Buddy and The Dragon for beta-reading this one!

It was in an abandoned city. The air was eerily still and the sky was crimson. Strange, glowing lines were scattered over the ground. A girl walked towards the city. Her hair was the color of chestnuts, her eyes a deeper shade of the same hue. The air above her shimmed, like smoke was rolling off of her.

'I can't rush into this,' she thought. 'I have to be careful. He's a strategist, and I don't know how many men he has.' As she got closer, she could sense their presence—there was a good number of denizens, but only one Crimson Lord was present.

It had to be him. It had to be Haborym.

The moment she sensed him, her fists clenched. Blood started to pound in her ears, and she shook. 'I can't rush into this,' she told herself. 'I can't rush into this, I can't rush into this.'

She stopped. She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. She stood firmly, her right foot forward, tried to tame her crimson blood, the blood that had been a ruthless killer. But her blood would not settle. It pushed images into her mind, of blackened skin and clothing. It reminded her that Haborym had killed him. It pounded in her ears so loudly she couldn't hear her own thoughts.

She shot forward.

She rammed through the building between them. She landed barely inside and ignored the denizens there, then threw herself through the last separation.

'There.'

Her left foot slammed into the ground where he had been, causing a small crater. Her eyes narrowed in the fraction of a second that her leg needed to bend, and she took in the glowing markings: they weren't coming from where he'd been. He must have set up his system elsewhere. He'd known she'd go straight for him. Well, that didn't change her plans.

She landed and sprung after him, keeping lower to the ground then he did. In response, he rose. She landed briefly, and then jumped after him.

For a second, she was catching up. Her blood grinned.

Metal wire snapped around her. It was thin, and dug into her—she cried out in pain. Within that instant, she knew there was no way to escape.

'Well, this is probably my last fight anyway. Might as well show off everything I have.'

She morphed her body, changing it to fire. She slipped out of the wiring and shot after Haborym, quickly changing back to her regular form. She didn't bother to look at the denizen who had captured her: with the new information, they wouldn't try again.

He changed direction, falling to the ground. She followed. She beat him there, so he again changed direction, this time flying backwards, into a building. She wasted no time in following.

She was immediately attacked from all sides.

She morphed into fire to avoid the wave of attacks. Then she changed back, turned the surface of her fists into fire, and attacked. One denizen down, thrown through a wall. One of the others uses the moment to scratch her back. The second denizen to fall made a crater in the floor. The third slammed into a corner, cracking the structure, and the fourth flew out the ceiling. The sixth almost got her leg. It was thrown through another wall. The last denizen fled. Her blood screamed to kill it, and she almost did. Then she took one glance around, and she couldn't help but stare as she saw what she'd done.

The building was swaying, and it finally collapsed. Instinctively, she turned to fire to avoid the falling stone.

Then she was in the ruins of the building. Her brown eyes flicked, back and forth across the rubble. Then, slowly, tears filled her eyes and slid down her cheeks. The brown-eyed girl slumped to the ground, ignoring the way an oddly angled pipe cut into her knee. Her breath shortened, and her exhales became sobs. Her pale fingers scrambled across the rough stone, dyed red by the sky, as if trying to catch herself. Then the girl threw back her head and screamed.

'I did this. I'm the one who killed them.' She stopped screaming, but still shook with sobs as she bowed her head and wrapped her shaking arms around herself. 'But I have to kill them, right? To keep the peace? To win the war? Right?'

"So that's why they call her the screamer."

The mocking voice of a denizen was soft enough that she knew she wasn't supposed to hear it.

But her blood heard it, her blood that was the source of her power and her experience, the blood of a Crimson Lord from long ago. Sobs still racked her body as she stood, but fire once again danced in her eyes.

"You're pathetic, Kazumi Yoshida," came a strong, metallic voice—Haborym's. "Mourning for those you have killed with your own hands."

Kazumi ignored his voice, instead pinpointing where he was and flying after him. The tears stopped as she shot through building after building, but the clear tracks remained on her cheeks. No traps were being set off, and she realized that the two-faced Crimson Lord already adjusted his plan for her ability to morph.

'It doesn't matter,' she thought. 'If I kill him, their side will collapse. Margery and Keisaku will with the war easily. And I'll . . .' Her mouth twisted.

Haborym's voice echoed around her again. "I take it this is for something I did."

"Yes," she replied, not missing a beat. She'd never thought she was the type to want revenge, back when her blood hadn't woken. But all humans wanted revenge, until they trained themselves out of it, and she was no exception. She'd just buried it. But her blood, the blood that made her less than human, had brought it to light. So, out of all the denizens that she was sorry to kill, out of all the creatures that she mourned, he would not be one of them.

Besides, she'd always thought this would be her last fight. She would die here. There was no point in hiding her motivations.

"I see," he said, "You're not going to pretend this is for a noble cause."

"What would be the point of that?"

"Sanity."

Kazumi nearly laughed, feeling tears prickle at her eyes. 'Like I have any of that left,' she thought. She'd killed so much during the war, just by handing the reigns over to her past life, that she was beyond redemption. The deaths ate at her. They made it so that her own life didn't matter.

Suddenly, fire exploded around her.

Within a second, she had morphed, but when she reformed outside of the explosion she found it had burned her. She cleansed herself and used the existence she'd stolen from well-fed denizens to heal her wounds quickly—but she had stayed still too long. Fire rained down from above.

She dodged, but it nicked her heal. Then she took off again, slamming through another building.

She tried to sense him again. To her surprise, he was close, to her left. She spun and shot through the last wall, and had a glimpse of him, one of his two faces that looked like gas masks facing towards her, standing in the center of his unrestricted system. She tried to morph, but she was too late, and fire covered her. And it wasn't just any fire: it was an explosive fire, known to kill instantly. She managed to morph a second after it engulfed her, but the pain was enough to bring her to tears, even after she had reformed. She didn't even bother to heal herself, knowing it was too much; the majority of her body was numb. Instead, she used the existance to move herself.

Haborym was running again.

When Kazumi hit him, he crashed into the building, and when she found him he was lying in a small crater. She descended on him, preparing her final blow with ease—and quickly morphed. Her quick thinking payed off in the next second, as the deadly fire exploded around her again. The denizen who used it had followed, but she was safe. As she reformed, she pinpointed Haborym's running form and headed straight for him. She turned to fire and engulfed him.

He cried out.

And she screamed.

She hit the ground hard. She couldn't change into fire anymore, she'd used to much of her power. She turned, as much as she could, to make sure he was dead—and he wasn't even scratched.

She realized that she hadn't touched him. She hadn't been able to take another life.

But she had to! Margery and Keisaku needed her to! And he'd killed Khamsin, so she wanted revenge, she wanted payment, she wanted . . . she wanted . . . then why had she . . .

She didn't.

She didn't want revenge, and never had. Not even in her most hidden depths had she desired Haborym's death. In her past life, maybe she would have, but even that wasn't certain.

Had she just wanted an excuse to be reckless? Was that why she used her past life's bloodlust so much, too? So she could pretend that she didn't have to kill all of those denizens to keep those she cared about safe?

Kazumi didn't get up. She watched as Haborym approached her with the denizen who made the explosive fire. She heard Haborym say that he was honored she had been his opponent. She felt detached, like she was watching it all through a screen. Could she get up and kill him? She didn't know. She certainly didn't want to.

She felt the denizen's heavy footsteps like it was a dream, and she watched and Haborym set up his Burning Field in a new place.

There was a buzzing in her ears, but it was different than the usual. She wondered if it was the sound of the afterlife. It was like the cry of a distant bird, but more constant, and she wondered if she was hearing a bird sing its heart out on the other side. She longed to hear more of it.

'But Keisaku and Margery will be alone.'

Still, even with that thought, she couldn't find the will to move.

The bird's cry was getting louder. She blinked, noticing that the denizen with exploding fire had stopped walking closer. The cry was getting much louder, and Kazumi realized that it sounded like—

Her view burst into flame. The ground heaved, but not enough to throw her. Her brown eyes went wide, reflecting the color of the flame: yellow, orange, and red.

'No way,' she thought, 'Margery had to put her research on hold, there's no way—but maybe the Flame Haze in Xanadu have been working on it too. Maybe they found how the Crimson Lords came back.' She lifted her head, just in time to see a girl rise from the fire on blazing wings, streaming long red hair, her eyes dancing with rage, wielding a katana.

"I am the Flame Haze of Alastor," she proclaimed, "The burning-haired, blazing-eyed hunter—Shana!"

Kazumi wasn't sure if Haborym was still alive to hear her proclamation, but relief bubbled out of her in a laugh.

'Margery and Keisaku won't be alone in their fight.'

She tried to sit up, to call out to Shana. But she was too weak. Suddenly, she was tired, so she closed her eyes.

And the world stayed black.

She woke slowly, like from a spell. She felt like she was lying in a shallow pool of water, and when she tried to clench her fists silt slipped through her fingers. The light seemed like daytime behind her eyelids.

Slowly, she opened her eyes.

The sky was a bright blue, like it was approaching sunset, yet the sun was nowhere to be seen and the heavens behind the few clouds were filled with stars. She blinked, and found the motion strange—like she'd tried to move, but she hadn't moved at all, and at the same time done more than she meant to. She flipped her hand, and it resulted in the same feeling. She sat up, slowly trying to accustom herself to how the motions felt. She lifted her hand, then turned it over; then she let it fall again, and felt it hit water. But she didn't feel the water move. She looked down, finding she was surrounded by clear blue water, reflecting the starry sky above, and that there were no ripples from her presence. She blinked in surprise, then slid her hand through the liquid. It didn't move in response to her, and her sleeve didn't lift away with weight. It was almost like she wasn't really there.

She looked up, and saw that the water stretched to the horizon. She turned to the right, and found it reached the horizon that way as well. For a moment, she just stared at the water, watching as in the reflection the clouds moved quickly and the stars followed close behind.

She wondered why she was there, and where exactly there was.

"Ah, Kazumi."

Kazumi spun around. Her brown eyes met the figure of a person that she'd always wanted to see again.

"Khamsin," she breathed. She could barely voice the name, but she could, just enough to call it more than mouthing. For a second, she couldn't breath as she stared at him. His hair was long and black, still in a braid, and scars still marred his skin, but he was wearing a white hoodie instead of an orange one and his weapon was nowhere in sight. He was sitting close-by, weaving together a crown of blue flowers. The water around him was full of lily-pads and more blue flowers.

He glanced up at her and smiled slightly. It reached his eyes easily.

Kazumi threw herself towards him, and he dropped the flowers to catch her. She sobbed, and the sound racked her body. She dug her fingers into his long, black hair, clinging to him. He clung to her in reply.

She wasn't sure how long they stayed like that. At some point, she stopped crying, but she wasn't aware of the exact moment. She still clung to him, and he to her, unwilling to let go and move on. When they did, it somehow felt strange and wrong. So she pressed her forehead to his.

"You didn't use my original name," she whispered.

"Ah, you seem to like this one better."

Her brow furrowed. He must have felt it, because he chuckled lightly. Her heart skipped a beat—that was much more emotion than she'd have ever gotten from him before. He reached to the side and brought the flowers he had been weaving between them.

He resumed his work as he spoke. "Ah, I didn't want to leave you so alone. I can't do much in this form, but I can be present at some points."

"At some points?"

"Ah, I belong here now, so I can't stay in your world for long. I have to be careful with my time."

She looked up at him. Her brown eyes were troubled. "It's . . . it's my world too now, right?"

Khamsin met her gaze with his and didn't say anything. Her heart sunk.

"It's not?" she cried, and pulled away.

"Ah, I'm sorry." While voice gave nothing away, his eyes held melancholy, but she didn't notice. She was looking around frantically.

'I'm just a guest? But no, this is my home now—it has to be!' The stars that moved, the endless lake, and above all, Khamsin was there. She turned back, her eyes wide and pleading, but he shook his head.

"Ah, I can't affect it," he said softly.

The brown-haired girl lowered her eyes to the lake, letting her head fall with the motion. She felt like crying. Again. But she really didn't want to cry, so instead she leaned forward and pressed her forehead to his once more. She'd been in a war. She—occasionally—knew how to stop herself from crying.

His tan fingers were skilled and fast, and he finished his weaving work quickly. Then he pulled away and settled the crown of blue flowers on her head, then fixed it to her hair.

"Ah, you can solve the war," he said. She sighed softly, and he shook his head. "Not win. Solve."

She blinked in confusion. "What? How could I do that?"

He sighed, so quietly she almost thought he hadn't, letting his hands slip from her hair. "Ah, well . . . you can do it in several different ways, and I'm not sure which one is the best—or if there is even a best way. I don't feel confident enough to direct you."

The brown-eyed girl nodded, letting her eyelids fall. "I see. So you can't really see the future."

"Ah, it's much more complicated than sight. It's more like possibilities. When you come back here, you'll be able to see it."

She was silent. Then, "Solve? You mean, end it in such a way that neither side looses?"

Khamsin nodded.

And suddenly, hope, golden, white-hot hope blossomed in her chest, filling her and spilling out the corners of her eyes. Her chin lifted. Her gaze met Khamsin's. He fists clenched in the water she didn't affect. And, slowly, a gentle smile graced her lips.

Khamsin smiled back. A real smile, also filled with hope. He lifted his hands to cup her face in them, and then he leaned forward, just enough for his lips to brush hers.

Kazumi closed her eyes and leaned after him. She kissed him, and he kissed her back, and she wasn't sure whether she felt ready to try and fix the world or unprepared to leave him. When they finally pulled away from each other, she still didn't know.

Her brow suddenly furrowed. "I'll have to fight again, won't I?"

"Ah, no," he said hurriedly. "You will just have to dodge a lot."

She relaxed, let her eyes slip closed, and leaned into his right hand. 'I don't have to use my past life's blood-lust,' she thought.

"I'm glad," she said aloud.

Suddenly, she felt something clawing at her back. Her eyes shot open. She instinctively knew what it was, and she reached up to grip his hands. His eyes flashed with understanding, and he fingers slipped between hers to tighten.

Then her world was spinning. No, that wasn't the right word—it was rippling. She was being tugged away. 'No, NO not so soon I need to be with him—please just one more minute—!'

She was ripped away.

She grasped at him, a cry sounding from her throat. "Khamsin!"

The last she saw was him reaching back, his eyes wide with panic.

"KHAMSIN!" She jerked forward, her right hand grasping at the air.

There was nothing. She was alone, in a dark room with no light, her hand outstretched. She took a deep breath, let her hand slowly fall. She tried to calm herself with repeated, deep breathing. She was shaking. She went to lie down, but at the last second remembered the flowers in her hair. She reached up to touch them—then laughed at how silly she was. It had been a dream.

Her hand brushed something that felt like silk.

She froze. Then, slowly, trembling, she felt the surface of a petal. Her other hand snapped upward, feeling the crown of blue flowers.

She closed her eyes. She controlled herself.

'I won't be here for long,' she thought, 'I won't even have time to miss him.'

It wasn't true. But she lied herself to sleep.