Hello there. If you're reading this, it means that my summery interested you. If that happened, I'm glad, and if not, I don't really mind that much. I just hope that any flames written for this fic are hidden in the form of constructive criticism. Do keep in mind that I do not own Tokio Hotel or their songs, and that the girls in this story have been looked at very carefully so to keep them both true to those they are based off of and free of Mary-Sue-isms. If I managed to utterly screw that up, PLEASE let me know so that I can edit the story to make it more reasonable.

So, read and enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do not own any Tokio Hotel songs or band members/crew. All Bleach references are property of Tite Kubo. Google, Gmail, and iTunes don't belong to me either, do don't even think about being that stupid. Eri belongs to me. All other OC's belong to friends. Anyone caught using them will be massively harmed via myself and my trusty Giant Rubber Mallet.

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"Well, what's he look like?"

"Who, Eric?"

"Yeah! You said you found a picture of a guy who looks like him, right?"

"Well, yeah… here, I'll try to send it to you." Leaping over the edge of her bed to her computer, Aria watched her Gmail account with impatience. Sam had told her about Eric a while ago, a guy she met and thought was absolutely amazing. To be honest, from what she heard, Aria liked him, too. The fact that he was in another world altogether was a bonus, too; it made him a lot more real than anyone in this dimension.

With an audible blip, a new email appeared in her open account from Sam. Brushing her black hair out of her eyes hurriedly, Aria clicked on the email and uploaded the picture attachment. Immediately, her violet eyes grew wide as she stared upon the face of the young man in front of her, his green-amber eyes seeming to stare intently through the computer screen into her soul.

"That's what he looks like?" she asked calmly, not taking her eyes from the intense face before her.

"Well, sort of," came Sam's voice from the other end of the cell phone. "It's the closest picture of him I could find."

"Oh… well, who's this?" Aria could swear she'd seen him before, this dark and vibrant young man staring passionately at whatever camera had taken his picture. She almost didn't care what Eric looked like at this moment; she was only interested in this young man.

"His name's… Bill Kaulitz," Sam answered. "He's the lead singer of a German band called Tokio Hotel."

"Bill Kaulitz, huh," Aria muttered to herself, tempted to reach forward and touch the screen in hopes of perhaps feeling that fluffy mass of black that claimed to be his mane of hair. "You don't say." With a few discreet clicks of her mouse and tapping of her keyboard letters, she opened up a new tab on Google pictures and came up with thousands of pictures of this new boy and his band.

"Hey, you think iTunes has any of their music?"

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"Great practice, Bill!"

"Danke!" The energetic young man called out to one of his producers with a wave, grinning broadly as he walked down the hall of the studio. "We're back here tomorrow to rehearse Hilf Mir Fliegen, right?" he called, his youthful voice giving this German a playful and sweet note. The blonde producer confirmed and said his goodbyes as Bill left the studio to go outside for a walk. Despite the fact that there were stormy clouds above his head and a chill wind whipping through the streets (as well as a HUGE possibility of him being attacked by fangirls), he enjoyed walking outside whenever he could. He'd decided this morning to make up his hair into its very mane-like style, though he didn't know why he'd had that inclination, since he normally only did it when they were going to be out in the public light for a while. But, for some reason, he just felt like picking up the mousse and hairspray would be a good idea today.

There was a strange feeling in the air as he walked, though. Nothing bad, just something a little strange. He stopped, looking around in hopes of finding the source of the feeling, worried about it immensely. This would not be a good place for this to happen; someone could very easily find him and all Hell would break loose. Quickly, he turned back the way he came and ran the three blocks to the studio. He entered the back door just as a feeling of dizziness began to tickle at his mind, and he bolted for his dressing room, hoping to make it before he passed out. Fortunately, he did, shutting the door behind him and making it halfway across the room before he suddenly collapsed, overwhelmed. In a just a few seconds, his heart rate slowed and his breathing nearly stopped, giving a poor illusion of sleep to any walking in.

Bill Kaulitz, or at least his soul, had left the building… and his own body.

Within moments, Bill opened his eyes again, once more standing outside the studio. The storm clouds had grown steadily darker with the impending snow of China's November, the wind whipping sharply through the Hong Kong street he stood upon. Not another soul stood around, and perhaps this was for the better. This was one of many times that he had been forced from his body without his control, and that only happened when-

A shrill screech cut through the air, piercing through the still morning without disturbing anyone else. The singer, however, brought his hands sharply to his ears and cringed at the sound; to him, it was a noise of utter agony, both his own and the soul from whence it came. As the ringing began to subside, he dropped his hands and withdrew the blade at his belt. A thin blade, it held the thickness of a dagger and the length of a longsword, emphasizing that it was made for swift slashes and sharp jabs rather than complete confrontation. It rested lightly in his tightly clenched hand as the wind whipped his uniform about him, and he waited, knowing that the creature would come for him. They always did. He was, after all, the one that could see them.

Not to mention that he could kill them, too.

With a Hellish screech it slid into view, and the singer gaped, taking a few steps backwards in his surprise. He'd seen big monsters before, but this one was enormous. Towering over him, it appeared vaguely like the Wolfman from Gustav's old horror movies, only three times as tall with twice as many arms and a spiked lizard tail. It stared at him with an enraged snarl on its canine features, its mask grinning at him while dripping a brackish substance from its jagged teeth. It reminded him of a rabid jackal or hyena after a fresh kill and waiting for another. Gripping his sword tightly in both hands, he tried to calm himself with the mantra he'd given himself over the past three years.

It's not alive. It will only hurt people if I let it stay. It's not alive.

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Well there you have it, folks; the first installment of Fated. Hope you liked, and you'll see how it all binds together at some point. My friend and I wrote a flashback that will help immensely with those of you who have no idea what's going on with Bill right now (which will be in the next chapter). So, tell me what you think! I love gaining insight!

Sincerely yours,

Aria's Kallisti
formerly AbhorsenSabriel87