Hello darlings!
Now those coming from my other fics might be wondering, "is she an idiot?"
To answer you, yes. Yes I am. I am already writing one ongoing fic for this fandom and have a separate one for one-shots too.
And now this. *Sighs*
Nevertheless, I really wanted to write this since my brain wouldn't give me a break.
So let me tell you a bit about this story. I am writing this set in a fantasy world BUT without exorcism. Yes. It is an AU. It may seem like a retelling in the first few chapters, but changes will definitely be there!
Main ship is RokuBeni, other ships will come as it progresses. Also, Rokuro might seem slightly OOC.
I hope you like it. Looking forward to your reviews!
Love y'all!
Chapter 1: The intersection.
"It's time for you to leave, Lady Benio."
The young maiden spun on her heel to face her old nanny and beloved foster grandmother.
With a slight nod of acknowledgement, she slipped on her robe and stepped out the comfort of her room into the long corridor.
Her attire was simple, a peach sleek dress with a long ash coat falling past her knees. It had been unusually chilly for the past few days proving that summer on the island was not ruled by the changing dates of the calendar.
But she had been born into the frigid cold and embraced it just as much as she did her roots.
Walking past the tall fountain spurting cold water that shimmered in the rays of light, she walked over to the stables.
"My Lady,travelling on horseback is unnecessary. A carriage can be prepared." The old woman fumbled with words as if certain her offer would be turned down.
And she was right in thinking so.
"I see no reason to."
The myrtle eyed damsel had been as stubborn as a mule since childhood and perhaps that's what had kept her alive through all the past trouble she had faced.
The child took the wrinkled hands of the old woman in her own and stood in silence for a second. A weak smile made its way on the lady's aged face at the simple gesture of gratitude.
Knowing fully well that words were futile against the child she had brought up with utmost care, she stepped aside letting her mount the hazel mare.
Locks of ebony hair danced with the wind, the smell of fresh sandalwood spreading through the air. Thin porcelain skin peeked from the parts of her body that remained open for the Sun to caress and emerald orbs gazed at the horizon.
"I must reach the main land... by dawn tomorrow."
She pulled the hood over her head and lightly kicked the animal, who neighed and declared her departure. With a final goodbye to the one she considered her mother, she left for her journey to a whole new world.
But the damsel had no knowledge of the future that was to befall her.
"Rokuro!"
"Oh for the love of God.."
The lad banged the desk with his open palms, hoisting himself off the weak stool.
"What?! Can you not see I'm busy?"
A six foot-ish man shuffled into the tiny diner, hands on his hips in an admonishing geture.
"Wasting precious time again?"
The adolescent rolled his eyes at the older boy, gazing at him blankly.
"It's not wasting time, Ryougo," He shook his head, conveying his displeasure.
"It's my-"
"Fleeting obsession?"
Narrowing his eyes and clearly annoyed at being interrupted, the brunette completed his sentence emphasizing on every syllable.
"Passion."
Ryougo looked over his little brother's shoulder, trying to guess if the creature he had sketched was a demonic bird or a mutated human.
Either way, it didn't resemble anything that should have taken him a day and a half to complete.
"We're heading to the forest to grab a kill," Ryougo reached for his sword, attaching the sheath to the waistbelt of his humble clothes.
"Won't you accompany us today?"
Even after having been rejected a hundred times in the span of two years, the older boy did not accept defeat or his brother's silly excuses as reason enough to never return to his past profession.
"You know my answer, Ryougo. Have a safe trip."
Reluctantly, the onyx eyed adult retreated into the tiny hallway to head out in the open.
The dark haired man had always wondered exactly what had occured in the two years that he hadn't been an active part of his brother's life?
It isn't your fault, he had been told by those around him after the sudden change in the boy's behavior.
'You aren't real siblings after all.'
Real or not, they had grown together side by side, and had bonded better than most biological siblings could ever imagine.
So there was no end to his worries.
Yet, putting it all to the back of his mind, he entered the wilderness, telling himself that he'd do the teens share of work on his own.
He was the Big Brother, after all.
After staring at the cieling for a good half hour, the demotivated lad walked out of the tiny room into another much the same size.
The global economic crisis had taken a turn for the worse after the war two years ago and those who fought as soldiers were now forced to survive off the meagre amounts of amenities that were provided to them. In the face of this recession, most died of starvation and others fought their way into life.
There weren't many funds, but they could survive.
Deciding that he was not in half the mood to work on any piece, he stepped out of the settlement and took the straight path that snaked through the beautiful forest.
The only part of the town he loved was this particular road because it was flooded with mixing fragrances of the choicest exotic flowers the world had ever seen. Art aside, he held a special love for the beauty of nature.
The sky seemed overcast since mid noon and Rokuro hardly cared. If it were to rain, he would take shelter under the nearest tree and return when the gods were done harassing the startled citizens.
The weather certainly was unpredictable in these parts.
Standing before the vast lake that would engulf half their town should there ever be flooding, he drifted into the cave of his memoires.
Perhaps it was the fallen fragments of chipped metal from a blade used during the great war, or his reflection showing swollen eyes, he couldn't help but remember the moments of pure bliss that he had lived.
But as it is said, everything bright and beautiful almost always comes to a sudden end.
And so it did.
Blood. So much blood was everywhere. Clashing of swords, wounded soldiers, screams of despair.
They were losing, losing the war and nobody except him knew that it was all in vain, all just a misunderstanding which was the fabrication of a single madman.
"Never," he repeated his vow, clenching his fists that rested by his side.
"I will never lift my sword again."
And at that particular moment, a splash of water startled him out of his thoughts.
Did he just see a flying human or was it his imagination?
Trying to convince himself that hunger was driving him insane was useless and so he walked ahead to investigate if the situation was real or just his mind playing tricks.
He halted in his stride, jumping back a distance for an arrow pierced the ground where he had been standing a second ago.
Thank the Lord he had very fast reflexes.
He lifted the weapon, taking note that the tip was sharper than any he had seen before.
This definitely was not just kids messing around.
Rushing in deeper gave him an instant adrenaline pump, the same feeling he had had back then.
No matter how much the boy told himself that this life was not for him, somewhere deep in his heart, he knew he'd been lying.
For he wasn't chosen for that life, he was born with it.
As the trees started to receed and the grass cleared, rays of sunlight began to hit his face with increasing ferocity.
Charcoal black hair was the first thing his eyes could percieve, the figure of a human and a tiny being covering in fear being the next.
A woman and a child.
A loose peach dress clung to her lean figure, exposing most of the curves he reckoned she had tried to conceal with the cloak. Glassy beads of water clung to her curly eyelashes appearing like tiny flakes of snow in the shimmering light that broke through the canopy of trees. The child held the back of her long coat, trembling and crying silent tears.
But what was entirely strange about the situation- apart from a woman being in the middle of a deserted forest with a crying child - was what she held.
A majestic bow in her hands and a quiver full of arrows fastened with a holder on her back.
Her form was perfect, as graceful as a swan. She held the bow perpendicular to her body her slim fingers curled around its body. The fingers of her other hand reached for an arrow and with surprising agility and spending just a minute to aim, she shot down the hungry wild animals that were preparing to attack them.
It almost seemed as though she was trained in warfare.
That was impossible.
As the creature breathed it's last, the damsel heaved a sigh of relief and relaxed her posture.
Caressing the head of the child softly to console him, you couldn't tell she was the same person that had, not a mere second ago, slayed a wild beast mercilessly.
What the fourteen summer aged lad hadn't realised yet of course, was that he had been caught staring a little too intently at the female who watched him with a raised eyebrow.
Crimson eyes immediately met hers and in an attempt to mask the hue of red painting his cheeks, he looked at the ground.
But before he could extend an offer of assistance, a loud howl shook the very ground underneath them.
Post the great war, warriors that had returned to their broken homes desperately tried to make up for the losses that their families had incurred to the best of their abilities.
They had strived to settle down into a life of normalcy and peace by converting into farmers or cobblers or shop owners, but there were some that failed at this endeavor.
The fallen warriors.
The misfits, the people who had no knowledge of life beyond the clashing of swords and the flames of war, they were the ones that formed a class of their own.
They became the guardians, protecting the clusters of settlements with their insane power, using the only skills they had to do what they could best.
Fight.
Batches would patrol the streets, drive away thieves and control the legal system.
It wasn't much of a paid job, but they seemed content with their lives on the frontline.
He would have been alike if the great war hadn't taken place, after which his entire world had fallen apart.
A past he wished never happened.
Large footsteps approached them as the trees shook by the sheer force of the creatures presence.
And they soon realised why.
Large claws that were the size of a house fell one after the other and canines hung from its mouth, appearing to be large fangs that could rip an entire elephant apart. It's hollow onyx orbs scanned them as it let out a ear piercing shriek, rocking the Earth with its vibrations.
"Take the child..." She whispered, reaching for her bow and arrow.
"I beg your pardon?"
They moved a few steps back instinctively, primal fear coarsing through every vein in their body.
Pulling out an arrow, she turned to give the boy one last look of terror.
"Civilians should be evacuated immediately! Take the child and leave!"
"Are you insane?! What are you going to do?" Rokuro yelled back.
What was the point of sacrificing one's life? What good came off it?
"I will not run,"
Steadying her shaking legs, the woman took two steps forward.
"To live and die in battle...That is my pride as a warrior."
The pride of a warrior.
It irked him that she radiated so much confidence even though she was walking to her inevitable death.
It annoyed him that she was both more settled and more composed than he could have ever imagine to be.
But what set his nerves on fire was that she resembled who he once used to be.
Somebody he had been proud of.
He scurried away into the protection of the bushes unable to retort and watched his new acquaintance shooting arrow after arrow at the creature that did not even budge at the puny spears.
On the other hand, the lass was losing stamina and precious ammunition that she could not race to pick up. Already, she had lost a lot of energy protecting the child and her vision had begun to blur.
She reached over her shoulder for another shot, and realised that there was only one left.
One arrow. One chance.
Positioning herself away from the monster's range, she aimed squarely at the chest, a point which she had learnt was a common weakness. All the training she had done under strict guidance would not go to waste. She honoured her title as a warrior and she would never back down.
Rokuro watched every move she made intently. He analysed the twist of her fingers and the force of her hold on the bow. She was afraid and he couldn't blame her.
He had only ever heard of the A class beasts - that hardly ever revealed themselves - from his teacher.
And even if they did, fighting one alone was next to madness.
Yet here he was, sitting and making no attempt at all to help her.
"You're the best!"
The words had always haunted him, the air of guilt suffocating him.
"You'll definitely be the greatest warrior of all time!"
They morphed into cries, yells, shouts as their shelter set ablaze.
"I don't want to die!"
He drowned in the screams of his classmates, the tears freely flowing down his cheeks.
He had always asked just one question, detesting himself.
Why was he the sole survivor?
Why did he have to bear this heavy weight of life?
Why didn't he pass on?
As he watched her edge closer to her enemy with small steps, something in the monster's eyes clicked.
And he realised it too.
"GET AWAY!"
There was too much delay between his warning and the beasts move.
With a whip of its tail, the girl was hit square in the stomach, sending her flying across.
Blood trickled down the side of her face and she could barely hold herself up. Her hands felt heavy and fatigued.
As she attempted to hoist herself off the ground, the lass could feel something crack. Her shoulder bone.
Was this it ?
She had travelled from afar just to die by the hands of a lowly beast?
Was this all she was worth?
The creature focused it's attention solely on her, growling.
She had been defeated.
"What's the point..."
She slowly cracked her eyes open.
His brown hair swayed softly with the wind, slim long legs holding him upright in the position and his face sporting the expression of a person who had lived a century in just fourteen summers.
"What's the point of fighting if you're going to die?"
Before she could make an effort to reply, he continued talking.
"Knowing that fully well, if you still intend to fight,"
He stooped down to where she sat, his lip lightly brushing her ear, whether purposely or by chance, she couldn't tell.
The creature lifted it claws, ready to tear down the youngsters and enjoy a hearty meal.
Even in the face of this dire situation, a hue of red spread through the maiden's cheeks as she dug her nails into the creamy flesh that covered her legs, his face mere inches away from her own.
"Then do it like you must live to see another day."
He slipped his hands inside her coat, pulling out two twin swords that were fastened to the inside of the garment.
Just when, in the short while that they'd seen each other had he noticed it ?
Without missing a second, he defended them against the beastly claw that momentarily hid the Sun with it's girth, by crossing the two swords above his head.
Swiftly, he turned the weapons in his hand, now holding them backwards, in one clean move, slicing the limb apart.
The creature cried in pain, stumbling backwards and away from the injurious lad.
Yes, this was it. This was the adrenaline rush he longed for.
Having regained it's balance and even more furious than before, the beady eyed monster charged at the boy half his size.
First sword defends.
It crashed against the length of the elegant sword that had intricate carvings from the hilt to the blade.
Second sword pierces.
With insane amounts of strength, he stabbed the blade into the beast and then pulled it straight out.
Final attack: Double slice.
As the creature fell forward seemingly out of power, Rokuro crossed his swords and sliced right through it's torso.
Game over.
Merciless, most would call him, but to a soldier that word wasn't degrading.
On a battlefield, mercy was a weakness.
That's right, he thought, a feeling of spiritual satisfaction flowing through his being. He had craved this feeling.
This was the way of a warrior.
Behind him, the damsel sat, gaping at the majestic skills of the "civilian" before her. He had every skill she lacked.
Agility. Strength. Burning passion.
She admired him.
After reliving every moment he had desired to for longer than he could imagine, reality summoned him back to its bed of thorns.
And as the weight of what he had done dawned on him, an unsettling atmosphere set in.
With terrified eyes, he turned to look at the dame he had just saved.
"You.." she asked, running her eyes over every feature on his face in an attempt to read what the lines could tell her.
"Who are you?"
I hope you like it! Yeah, it is slightly OOC. I'm sorry *holds ears* It will have a lot of romance and a lot of warfare in the future! Thank you for giving me your precious time. Ciao!