Disclaimer: I own nothing involved in this story unless I invented it myself. This is written for fun, not for profit. All forms of feedback eagerly accepted. Concrit is loved the most, but everything is welcome.
Fandom: Yu-Gi-Oh Zexal
Story: Countdown: Chapter 1: First-1
Romance: Nasch x Durbe/Durbe x Nasch
Word Count: chapter: 1,683||story: 1,683
Genre: Romance||Rated: PG-13
Challenge: Diversity Challenge, J14, a multichap with chapters between 1000-2000 words; Pairing Diversity Challenge, 09, eternal; Catch the Barian Emperors: Nasch
Summary: In this world, a counter on one's arm marks the time until soulmates meet one another for the first time. Nasch and Durbe have met one another for the first time many times.

Thunder rolled from one side of the dark gray sky to the other, blue-white claws of lightning slashing in its wake. Old legends said that demons rode the stormwinds, cackling and seeking to seize ships and drag them down to the deepest depths of the oceans, and when the weather howled like this, the oldest sailors and the youngest alike wondered if it might not be true.

Prince Nasch didn't give the weather a single moment's thought, no matter how loudly the wind howled or the thunder crashed. He sat in the elegant chair provided for him and watched as the line of people moved slowly past him, each of them holding out their left arms, eyes bright with hope that died when he barely bothered to look up from his own.

Another ten minutes. He glanced for a moment toward the end of the line. As slowly as they were moving, he thought by the time the counter ran down, they would barely have reached the midway point. He couldn't even see the midway point from here. So he couldn't see if there was anyone there who caught his attention for longer than the time it took to recognize that he had no interest in them.

People kept on going by, everyone checking their counter against his own. He didn't know why; it would've made more sense, in his opinion, to just let everyone mingle around and he'd find whoever had his matching counter the way everyone else with one did, by just bumping into them. That's what would have to happen anyway. They wouldn't have to put up with this boring line, where everyone's counters were so close to being in sync with his, but not actually there. He suspected most of them had better odds of finding their soulmate with one of the other guests than with him anyway.

His father had insisted that this was just a way to meet everyone who stood a chance of being that one person for him regardless. That conversation would never leave his mind.

"No one knows what kind of a person their soulmate will be, or what relationship you'll have with them," the king reminded him. As he had several, several times during the course of his life. "It may be romantic, it may be your truest friend, or something else altogether. You can still make a match from someone you meet at this party, even if they're not your soulmate. But you have to meet them."

So here he was, stuck in this chair, bored out of his mind, nodding politely without even hearing the names of his quasi-suitors most of the time. The storm raged on outside, to the point that some of the more recent arrivals came in drenched to the bone, their fine attire not nearly as fine as it had been when they left their homes.

It would be a lot more interesting out there than in here. He wondered if Merag had slipped away during all the chaos of the party preparations to enjoy a quick dose of rain on her skin. They'd done that sort of thing together before. He would've done it now, if not for the party.

The party. Of course. Tonight it made him more miserable than the worst of the storm ever could have.

He peeked at his counter again. Only a handful of minutes left to go and still no one had so much as sounded interesting enough to spend two minutes with, let alone anything longer.

Noise came from one side of the room and he glanced that way, wondering if a couple of the guests had gotten into some kind of argument. No one but the king's warriors were to bear weapons in this room, but that didn't mean they couldn't – and wouldn't – yell at one another, shake their fists in each other's faces, and in general be a lot more interesting than staring at the endless line of countdown numbers.

He could see his father now, but the king didn't look as if he were on his way to split up some kind of argument. Instead, he looked worried about something else altogether, listening to one of the outer guardsmen report about something.

Nasch had no idea of what was being said, but before he could even consider what to do about it, thunder roared and lightning crashed, and half a dozen breaths later, as everyone stared out the wide windows, Nasch did see something: something falling.

"What is that?" The question arose from every corner of the room, but Nasch found himself pulled closer to the window, ignoring all of the murmurs as he did so. He could already hear his father calling to him, but that didn't seem to matter at the moment. Finding out what that was out there did.

"Highness." One of the guards rested a hand on his shoulder. "You should return to your seat. We will handle whatever demon has fallen from the sky."

Nasch shook his head without a moment's hesitation. "Demons don't fall out of the sky. There are no such things as storm demons anyway. But I'm going to find out what that is."

He didn't wait another moment, but darted toward the nearest door he knew would lead outside. The rain was too thick, the night too dark for him to have seen exactly where the creature landed, whatever it was, but he didn't think he'd need his eyes for this. Something else guided him, a growing warmth on his arm that he had been told would happen. It matched the growing excitement in his heart as he ducked his head under the pouring rain, barely able to see two steps in front of himself.

No one followed him. He didn't know if that was because they couldn't see him in the night, or because his father might've guessed what was going on. It didn't matter.

The warmth of his counter couldn't act like a compass. All it did was warm his arm, which he didn't complain about in the chill weather. His countdown ended in the late storm season, when many of the rains were only not snow by the skin of their metaphorical teeth. He slipped on grass, skidded over rocks, and searched for anything that could be that glimmering fallen creature.

It was white. I saw that much. He'd only had a quick look, but that much he knew.

There! Ahead of him, half-hidden in brush! A large pile of white, streaked with pale red and dark brown. Blood and mud, he realized, his heart squeezing in his throat. They couldn't die, not now, not before he knew.

Whatever it was moved a little, a soft cry of pain just audible under yet another growl of thunder. Nasch hurried closer, reaching out to touch what turned out to be a pile of feathers.

What? He moved closer, rubbing water out of his eyes with his other hand, and trying to get a clear view of what was there. The feathers moved, revealing themselves to be attached to a broad wing, and the wing moved back to reveal battered armor and a head of fluffy hair.

What? Nasch had no idea of what was going on at the moment, only that his arm pulsed with warmth and he reached out for a moment with the intent of lifting the stranger's chin.

Then he pulled himself back, eyes widening as he saw the numbers on his arm cycling down to zero. I can't touch him! Not now! Doing so would be an acceptance of the bond between them, and whatever else this stranger from the skies was, he was Nasch's soulmate. The warmth, the numbers, it could mean nothing else.

All he needed was to see the other's face, to talk to him...but he would not force an acceptance of the bond. His father had taught him that, too.

"When you meet your soulmate, you should wait until you're both ready before you touch skin to skin. Accepting the bond is a commitment to work things out in whatever way they will work out and while it's not a marriage, it's best to treat it much the same: with both people agreeing to it."

Nasch started to turn around, only to find a small group of guards already there, his father at the head of them. They were just as drenched as he was, and as the stranger was. Nasch drew himself up as tall as he could be.

"Father, let's take him – them – inside." He managed a smile. For the first time since realizing that his countdown time wasn't years or months away, but weeks and then days and then now, he actually could not wait to meet this person when they were awake and healed. Where was he from? What about his counter? How did he feel about it?

He took another look over his shoulder as he heard movements, and his eyes widened. Now he could clearly see what was there. It hadn't mattered before; he'd been too surprised by the realization that this really was his soulmate. And this gave rise to yet another question.

Who was his soulmate, that he should ride a magnificent flying horse, a creature so rare that many in the kingdom insisted that they were either extinct or had never existed to begin with?

The king moved forward, gesturing to his soldiers. "You're right, son. Let's take our new guest inside."

Nasch could barely bring himself to breath as they began to gather the stranger and his steed out of the tree he'd crashed into. He turned at the touch of a familiar hand on his shoulder and saw Merag there.

"So you've met him at last." She sounded pleased for him. He shrugged it off at once.

"Something like that, at least." It wouldn't be official in his mind until the other opened his eyes and saw him as well, and they could speak to one another.

But until then, Nasch would not leave his side.

To Be Continued

Note: Thank you for reading and I hope that you enjoyed the chapter. Please let me know what you thought of it if at all possible.