A/N: I wrote this story quite a few years ago. To this day, it still manages to obtain favorites for reasons unknown to me. Frankly—it really is not that great. However, I revisited my fanfiction account, and decided: "Hey! It's late and I have /nothing/ better to do. Let's rewrite this thing!" Sooooo, here you go and enjoy. Cannot believe I'm doing this.

The Lost Ground: a dry, craggy land filled with more dust and barren earth, than flora and life. A land which promised little to live for, much less the hustle and organized bee-hive bustle of the city across the water. Unlike the landmass from which it had sprung, the island operated on its own set of sects of cogs and broken clockwork gears. There were pockets of violence and mutiny, and an equally dissimilar peaceful struggle to simply get by.

On one such mundane, just-like-any-other day cycle, chaos had broken loose in the cacophony of jilted clockwork. Dust billowed vehemently upupup from the angry, dry, despicable earth. It had been stirred by the identical, angry and vehement natures of the men who had roused it from its brooding. They fought with a merciless zeal, raised voices, clenched fists, and a rather determined set of the jaw. They were men who clearly had little to lose, or did not care enough about losing.

"Stop jerking me around, and fight me like a man. Or are ya just scared?" One spat as he paused to speak. He was clearly the younger of the two, as evidenced by the shocking difference in behavior. He used unbridled raw power, and possessed a fondness for impulse, versus the other man's calm well collected maturity.

His challenge no more bothered the young man who stood opposite him, than a troublesome bug. There was little emotion behind his words as he retorted, "I, fearful of battling a C-minus class alter, NP3228? You clearly underestimate me."

"Y'know, all of you Holy jerks are just the same. You think you can just come here and do whatever you want. Tell us how to live, what to do, how to act—you think you're so righteous." He next relaxed into a crouched, aggressive stance: legs bent, body bowed and tensed, with his right arm stretched ramrod straight. The digits of his right hand curled into a tight fist, in synchrony with the startling energy that had begun to vibrate through the air. As the vibrations were verging on a low hum, great gashes rent the ground. The matter soared through the air, particles changing, reforming, merging, harmonizing once more as brilliant yellow and ruby armor. Flexing his now bestial, robotic like arm, the boy's features twitched into a distinct frown, and narrowing of his golden eyes. "But let's just get one thing straight! My name is Kazuma, dammit!"

"Zetsui!" The other boy, Ryuho, swung his own arm to the side, as he viewed Kazuma with ill-disguised contempt. At his call, the same thronging energy struck; a catalyst for his own power. She ascended from the earth, a pearly android-like character, trimmed in purple. Stiff ribbon-esque antennae were her only form of defense. Although unconvincing, they lashed forth, batting the russet-haired boy's blatant charge away in an instant.

"Did you really think that would stop me? Of course it is what I would expect from one such as you." He spoke in a scathing tone of voice, with the word unimpressed written all over every molecule of his being. Ryuho's undaunted attitude did not go unmatched, as Kazuma rose from the ground, determined as ever.

"Someone like me, huh? Oh, that's rich. Real funny. I'll show you just what someone like me is capable of." With little preamble or warning, he leapt high into the air, shouting, "Shocking first bullet!" Of the three ruby spikes which had protruded from Kazuma's back during his transformation, one disintegrated into a blast, which sent him careening forth. This attack was dealt with in the same way as its predecessor, and sent Kazuma spiraling back to earth. He hit the ground with a great crack, only to pick himself up stunned and growling.

Ryuho, calculating in the way he viewed him, spoke quietly, "Have you had enough yet, NP3228? Or shall we keep going….. I will take you into custody, but if you surrender now, I assure you the consequences will be less…. dour." He finished quietly, although his words were transparent, without a trace of sincerity, much less sympathy. The Holy officer was met however, with no more than swift footsteps, and a fist swinging with unadulterated vengeance at his face. The seemingly independent alter deftly halted Kazuma's attack, as Ryuho clicked his tongue in distaste. "I see. I should have expected no less, all of you alter users are the same. Selfish, and dangerous to society because of it. Well, no more! Zetsui, go."

The battle which ensued would no doubt be a hard won battle for either party. Kazuma's bold nature lead him repetitiously into charge after charge with Ryuho's android alter. With ever quickening speed, their bodies, Kazuma's flesh and blood, and Zetui's cold, un-feeling metal morphed into a hazy, dust cloaked blur. Ryuho stood farther away, with his face contorted into a look of pained intensity. The mental strain of maintaining his alter's form continued to wear away at his patience for that day. Loathe to admit it openly, there was a certain spark to the brash altered boy. This spark fueled his desire to see this Kazuma contained, as much as it surely granted this animal the ability to somehow compete in combat with an A-level alter such as himself. It was curious, although not as curious as how absolutely insane the younger boy drove him. If one thing was for certain, he was somehow different than any other alter Holy had apprehended.

With a distinctive grunt, Kazuma suddenly sprung away from Zetsui, although not to dodge an oncoming blow. He stood on the precipice of a crumbling, rocky cliff-face- panting, dirty, and bruised. The boy's left hand gripped his right arm, as if it were in pain, and Ryuho noted only one spine remained on his back.

"I'd have to admit," Kazuma chuckled, as he forced words between each labored breathe. "You've given me a good fight, but now it's time for me to end this dance." With the air of a kamikaze fighter Kazuma struck out from his perch, straight for Zetsui who had reunited with its master. Only one ribbon-like appendage darted forth, to coil around Kazuma's outstretched right arm. Now, he yelled with such intensity, it almost startled Ryuho, "Exterminating last BULLET!"

The resulting propulsion from Kazuma's back worked in immaculate juncture with Zetsui, as she reeled him in. He was nothing more than a frightening blur, as he by passed the android, barreling with lethal force into his rival. Sheer force sent Kazuma and Ryuho rocketing to the ground, hard enough to leave a rough indentation. Disoriented, and in a blackened haze they struggled to maintain their alter's. In addition alter user and Holy member both attempted to untangle their bodies, amongst a haze of haphazard kicks and punches.

First to extricate himself, Kazuma stood above the other boy, laughing low in his throat with a bitter triumph. His victory was short-lived, as Ryuho's independent alter, still with its hold upon his arm, swung the boy into the cliff face from which he had come. With a mad crash, the boy known as the Shell Bullet fell to the ground, stars dancing about his vision as the world swirled dizzyingly about him. The boy could roughly make out the sounds of boots scuffing the dirt, getting louder with each passing second. Each second brought clarity to black, well-worn boots coming steadily nearer, and a voice, his voice seething in abject fury.

"How dare you use my own power against me." Kazuma grunted in pain, and his vision wavered further as those accursed antennae wound themselves, without any regards to gentility around his throbbing torso. Slammed once more into the less unforgiving cliff, Kzauma allowed a cry to tear from deep within his throat as the binds tightened their grip. He then felt the unwelcome touch of Ryuho's hand upon his face, as the elder boy tilted his head upward. Through his veil of shaky vision, he could make out two narrowed burning brown eyes boring down into his. "Alters like you pose the greatest menace to society. Did you know, NP3228, that there are many others like you out there?"

"Buzz…o-of." Kazuma grunted as he felt the ribbons constrict themselves further and Ryuho continued to bear down upon him.

"Do you not find it interesting—irritating even, that out of all of those alter users, we continue to meet… to struggle? That I would continue to waste my efforts on a barbarian." Now, the Holy officer's voice dropped to a mere whisper as he watched the other boy struggle unyieldingly for air.

"You… bas..tard." This was all Kazuma could managed to push out between his gritted teeth. Although far from perfect, his focus had cleared, if only a little. His eyes were mere slits, glaring into Ryuho's—this burning, intense, feeling that rose up inside of him in every conflict with this man. This feeling, a feeling which made him snap each time they met, which constantly sat like an itch in the back of his mind, would not go away. This is the feeling he wanted to convey to this man—this hate, this rage, this unexplainable whatever-it-was feeling. At long last, those brown eyes widened with what could only be described as uncertainty.

"NP3… no. Kazuma. This is exactly why I cannot stand you."

Then, in a moment that seemed as if it played in fast-forward, despite the reality of it's sluggish pace, the absolute unthinkable happened. The ribbons loosened as Ryuho twined two fingers twixt the bindings, and jerked Kazuma inwards. With great uncertainty, his muddled brain registered those hateful lips on his.

Caressing, pressing, erasing sense of time, air and atmosphere. Hesitantly firm, and unabashed, prying his own lips apart with the shock of the moment, and his usually loathsome tongue. For but a swift moment, all pretenses dropped into oblivion.

All that mattered were the press of bodies—lips to lips, tongue to tongue, the smell of each other, of sweat, of the madness and the hatred brewed these past months. All uncoiling in one fateful, fateful second.

This is how lives change.

This is how reality strikes.

It struck as Ryuho fell unceremoniously away, allowing Zetsui to disperse and drop the other boy to the ground. Kazuma hit with a thud, gasping for the oxygen denied to him within the past few minutes.

"What the hell was that?" He stood shakily, viewing Ryuho's retreating back with an unrestrained jumble of curiosity and something bordering on fear.

The other boy remained quiet, although he paused mid-step staring fixedly at the ground. "The answer." He spoke at last, casting Kazuma a sparing glance as he continued to move forward.

"The answer." Kazuma murmured quietly, nodding either to himself or to Ryuho, as he turned himself to head in the opposite direction. Away from Holy and their city and their allegedly refined civilization. Ryuho, towards his home, and away from what he called the Lost Ground, a Lost Cause.

Everything headed back to almost normal, with the stark absence of their hatred, filled with and unsure sense self.

I was dreaming…

In my dream there were two young men, with passion flying through their hearts. And longing… such longing. But they knew that that longing could never be fulfilled, for they were too different. Everything was too different. Yet that moment in which their lips met, put the world into place. Everything explained, although it hurt to realize what it all meant.

I was dreaming…dreaming…

As these men walked away, they knew that they would meet again as enemies. That next time… next time they would not fight to kill or hurt the other's pride. They would fight to express the way the felt. Because they knew with a sad pang in their hearts even if they could make amends for their differences, they could never be together.

Rustling restlessly beneath her blankets, Kanami Yuta's eyelids snapped open. Her cerulean orbs danced upward, and met with her Kazu-kun's golden eyes, reassuring as always. She smiled brightly up at him, as the young man returned her grin.

"Hey."

End