Disclaimer: I don't own the characters or settings in this story.
A/N: Ok, I really have no idea where this came from. I was just sitting in the computer lab one day (aka today) and this popped up. This is gonna be short, but I don't know how short it will be. And yes, I know that Hiiro Yuy's first name should have at least three vowels in it, but Hero is so very Silver Millenniumish, and, besides, most people pronounce it like that anyway.
To the eyes of most people on the crowded Edo streets, Hero was no enigma. He was a low class fighter, no doubt, probably looking for work with some merchant caravan or private household, since he obviously was too shabby to join a space courier/transport group. His eyes roamed, holding no emotion, yet his hand remained always on the hilt of his sword. Dressed in cheap, but clean clothing, one could see his well-defined muscles, stretched taut on his frame. This was a man built equally for speed and strength, and even the smallest child knew from his silent footfalls that the only thing keeping him from a well-paying, cushioned job was his peasant birth and upbringing. Even though packed with horses, tiny automobiles, and throngs of people, Hero managed to weft his way through them without touching a single other person. His eyes rested on no one thing, instead analyzing everything, but not caring for a bit. With that heart of stone, this one was a loner.
Jadeite was captain of the city guard, 200 men hired and paid by the royal family to keep the capital city of the vast Terran empire safe from anything, be it rival kingdoms, aliens, or the Goddess Gaea herself, he and his comrades were devoted above anything else to keep the people of Edo from harm. The job had its exciting moments, like when the Marduks nearly scaled the walls of the city, or when the lightning storm set fire to half the houses in the 3rd district, and Jadeite had lived through all of it, at 20, the youngest commander the guard had ever had. Now was not one of those moments. Near a quarter had died during the last attack of the Marduks, and it was not only boring, but painful but times, when he remembered that men that had fallen under his command. The first set of 20 had been an average group: A couple very promising young men, and one young woman, seven or eight average soldiers. Not technically proficient, they had enough ability not to put anyone in danger, and would follow orders well. And the other half were complete fools, oafs and idiots. The second had followed suit. It was now the fifth group that had walked in and Jadeite yawned; this was starting to get boring, he thought. He couldn't even see half of the men in the room now. Two men stepped into a small circle. For selection, Jadeite looked at skill, but even more at attitude, the look in a fighter's eyes. Reticence was no good, or cowardice, almost worse was anger, the mark of a fighter who would not follow orders in the heat of battle or emergency. He watched nine pairs, stumbling, panting, occasionally yelling. Each of the nine winners had seemed suitable to him. Then the last two stepped in, waiting for the signal. The first, an oriental man with long hair, and a short, compact build seemed like he would be good with his fists more than his sword. Then his second gave the signal, and Jadeite was forced to change his mind. The man was very good with a sword, fast, agile, flexible, but with strength to his blows. The blonde's eyes then drifted to his opponent, nearly choking as he did so. The man was still nearly a boy, younger certainly than Jadeite himself, perhaps seventeen, eighteen? He was shorter than Jadeite by a couple inches, and was built along the same lines, slender and sinewy, brown hair stuck up everywhere, and the eyes, oh the eyes. A gorgeous, deep Prussian blue, with so much focus, and so little emotion, only the tiniest bit of excitement sparking their depths. The boy's body moved lightly, efficiently, as in a dance, his steps making a sounds, and each thrust, parry, cut a lesson in perfection. It was too quickly over for Jadeite as the perfect boy lashed out in speed, quickly removing the weapon from his opponent's hand, turning his eyes to meet Jadeite's. Jadeite felt as if caught in a horribly embarrassing act, and turned his eyes back to his notes, mumbling an uncomfortable "Thank you," before the last two walked out. But Jadeite's pale eyes were now locked at the place where the darker ones had just held his gaze.
Hero was silent, thinking over how the fight had gone. He wanted this position, so badly. It would let him live in relative prosperity, and in a large city like Edo, those demons of his former life would never be able to find him. His mind repicturing the wood and rush-walled practice room, his attention drifted to the man sitting I front. From the way the others deferred to him, he must be the commander. But the man was so young, only just older than Hero himself. And that tousled blond hair that looked so precisely right in its chaos, those pale blue-green eyes that seemed as deep as space itself, the one-cornered, sarcastic smile.
Hero's attention was brought back to his here-and-now as a commotion rose around the doorway. Results from the try-outs were posted. He stepped slowly to where he could see, scanning the lists quickly, but not over- eagerly. He had made it.
(end)
A/N: Wow. That was weird, yeah. So I guess this was one of the strangest pairings I've ever written, and I suppose I do like Shounen-Ai. I've never actually seen Hiiro/Jadeite before, but there's just about anything and everything on the internet somewhere. Alright. Ja ne FXK
A/N: Ok, I really have no idea where this came from. I was just sitting in the computer lab one day (aka today) and this popped up. This is gonna be short, but I don't know how short it will be. And yes, I know that Hiiro Yuy's first name should have at least three vowels in it, but Hero is so very Silver Millenniumish, and, besides, most people pronounce it like that anyway.
To the eyes of most people on the crowded Edo streets, Hero was no enigma. He was a low class fighter, no doubt, probably looking for work with some merchant caravan or private household, since he obviously was too shabby to join a space courier/transport group. His eyes roamed, holding no emotion, yet his hand remained always on the hilt of his sword. Dressed in cheap, but clean clothing, one could see his well-defined muscles, stretched taut on his frame. This was a man built equally for speed and strength, and even the smallest child knew from his silent footfalls that the only thing keeping him from a well-paying, cushioned job was his peasant birth and upbringing. Even though packed with horses, tiny automobiles, and throngs of people, Hero managed to weft his way through them without touching a single other person. His eyes rested on no one thing, instead analyzing everything, but not caring for a bit. With that heart of stone, this one was a loner.
Jadeite was captain of the city guard, 200 men hired and paid by the royal family to keep the capital city of the vast Terran empire safe from anything, be it rival kingdoms, aliens, or the Goddess Gaea herself, he and his comrades were devoted above anything else to keep the people of Edo from harm. The job had its exciting moments, like when the Marduks nearly scaled the walls of the city, or when the lightning storm set fire to half the houses in the 3rd district, and Jadeite had lived through all of it, at 20, the youngest commander the guard had ever had. Now was not one of those moments. Near a quarter had died during the last attack of the Marduks, and it was not only boring, but painful but times, when he remembered that men that had fallen under his command. The first set of 20 had been an average group: A couple very promising young men, and one young woman, seven or eight average soldiers. Not technically proficient, they had enough ability not to put anyone in danger, and would follow orders well. And the other half were complete fools, oafs and idiots. The second had followed suit. It was now the fifth group that had walked in and Jadeite yawned; this was starting to get boring, he thought. He couldn't even see half of the men in the room now. Two men stepped into a small circle. For selection, Jadeite looked at skill, but even more at attitude, the look in a fighter's eyes. Reticence was no good, or cowardice, almost worse was anger, the mark of a fighter who would not follow orders in the heat of battle or emergency. He watched nine pairs, stumbling, panting, occasionally yelling. Each of the nine winners had seemed suitable to him. Then the last two stepped in, waiting for the signal. The first, an oriental man with long hair, and a short, compact build seemed like he would be good with his fists more than his sword. Then his second gave the signal, and Jadeite was forced to change his mind. The man was very good with a sword, fast, agile, flexible, but with strength to his blows. The blonde's eyes then drifted to his opponent, nearly choking as he did so. The man was still nearly a boy, younger certainly than Jadeite himself, perhaps seventeen, eighteen? He was shorter than Jadeite by a couple inches, and was built along the same lines, slender and sinewy, brown hair stuck up everywhere, and the eyes, oh the eyes. A gorgeous, deep Prussian blue, with so much focus, and so little emotion, only the tiniest bit of excitement sparking their depths. The boy's body moved lightly, efficiently, as in a dance, his steps making a sounds, and each thrust, parry, cut a lesson in perfection. It was too quickly over for Jadeite as the perfect boy lashed out in speed, quickly removing the weapon from his opponent's hand, turning his eyes to meet Jadeite's. Jadeite felt as if caught in a horribly embarrassing act, and turned his eyes back to his notes, mumbling an uncomfortable "Thank you," before the last two walked out. But Jadeite's pale eyes were now locked at the place where the darker ones had just held his gaze.
Hero was silent, thinking over how the fight had gone. He wanted this position, so badly. It would let him live in relative prosperity, and in a large city like Edo, those demons of his former life would never be able to find him. His mind repicturing the wood and rush-walled practice room, his attention drifted to the man sitting I front. From the way the others deferred to him, he must be the commander. But the man was so young, only just older than Hero himself. And that tousled blond hair that looked so precisely right in its chaos, those pale blue-green eyes that seemed as deep as space itself, the one-cornered, sarcastic smile.
Hero's attention was brought back to his here-and-now as a commotion rose around the doorway. Results from the try-outs were posted. He stepped slowly to where he could see, scanning the lists quickly, but not over- eagerly. He had made it.
(end)
A/N: Wow. That was weird, yeah. So I guess this was one of the strangest pairings I've ever written, and I suppose I do like Shounen-Ai. I've never actually seen Hiiro/Jadeite before, but there's just about anything and everything on the internet somewhere. Alright. Ja ne FXK