Pain. Red hot, agonized pain. It was all he felt now, it consumed him, eating away at his individuality, destroying his sense of self. All there was was pain. He would have screamed, but his muscles had locked, the burning was most intense around the slash-wound on his chest, he couldn't see it, but he knew that it was gushing his life-blood. A small part of him, somehow detached from it all simply thought ''fatal wound''.

He spluttered, mastering the pain, turning it against those who had inflicted it. He couldn't let this happen, could not allow it to end like this. Not when he had come so far, not when ultimate victory -- that he had worked for over a thousand years to achieve -- was so close. Slowly, with an almost superhuman effort, he turned his head, his killer stood behind him, still holding the position that marked the end of his assault, his blade tinged red and dripping.

He was feeling himself drifting away now, his muscles loosening and the world around him growing more and more indistinct. NO! He had come so close, sacrificed so much... He wouldn't be able to wait another five-hundred years for his reincarnation, he had to do it now.

What did he need more than anything else now? He needed strength. Strength flowed from emotions and emotions he had plenty of. Memories rose to meet the need, faceless men huffed and whispered behind his back '' Is he really one of us? I heard he was a demon born in human form.''

'' Can we really do what he's asking us to do?"

'' Impossible! No man can be as he is!"

''He's not one of us.''

''We will not betray the trust placed in us.''

''Have you seen what he can do? he's not human.''

''Not human''

''Not one of us.''

The words played through his memory, forcing a new surge of strength into his dying body. He snapped around with a fluid movement and raised his own red-coloured sword. Centuries of practice came to his aid so that with one single motion, he would bring the blade down and sever the head of the one who had killed him.

The boy turned, eyes widening as he saw his nemesis standing before him, apparently unharmed by the grievous blow inflicted. He prepared to bring the sword down -- and hesitated -- just a second. The way the light caught the boy's hair, the way his eyes were both alarmed and to a degree, saddened by what they saw. it brought back so many more memories, several of them painful. Almost instantly he had mastered the strange urge, but by then it was too late. His blade was dissolving in his hand, slimming down until it was nothing. He could feel the divine strength of Spirit King receding from his body.

" No."

He fell to his knees, all pretence of strength gone, He coughed and spluttered, blood dripping from his mouth and he could feel his life draining away.

A hand hauled him to his feet, his opponent helped support his body as he slumped down against the other.

" Its over, Hao." Said the boy, said his brother and his twin and something else as well.

Hao Asakura smiled despite the pain, despite the weakness and the certainty of death he felt creeping up on him. He had failed this time, but there was always next time. Sometimes it seemed that the very fates themselves were pitted against him --- his every attempt at claiming the power of Spirit King was defeated, but this time he had been so close.... He had felt the power coursing through him, the divine strength, the power to do anything. For a brief second, he had been so much more than a man. He had been a God. And now he was dying.

" If you stay still, I think I can save your life."

Heh, was Yoh really trying to save him? After his own blade had inflicted the death blow? Ironic, but oh so typical of him. Hao gad been like that once, but no more.

" Save your breath, Yoh," He breathed. " I'm not walking away from this.

He felt the last of his strength leaving, only time for a few more words, " But remember this, Yoh, brother. I will be back. In five hundred years."

Darkness closed in on him and Death took Hao's soul as if it were an old friend, which in many ways, it was.

And in five hundred years, he would return and once more threaten the stability of the world and make his grab for Spirit King. And once more, Yoh's descendants would have to fight him with the fate of all mankind at stake. Or at least, that's what should have happened.

It didn't.

Because, even if it was only for the briefest of seconds, Hao had held the power of Spirit King, he had been beyond mere trifles such as life and death, and though that power had now left him, one cannot change something without being changed themselves. Hao had attempted to corrupt Spirit King to his own purposes. Irony, apparently, was one thing that the Great Spirit had in abundance.

Because Hao didn't return in five hundred years. He woke up several days later.

In a whole new world.

___

AN: Just something I did late at night, may use it as a prologue to a cross-over I'm going to write. Would you, the reader, like to read more of my work in this avenue? Would you like to read the crossover? In case you didn't notice, I've used a blended form of the Anime/Manga verse with my own little twists added in. Tell me what you thought.