A/N: And it's back! This is the rewritten version of Wait for Me. Please notice that very little is changed about this chapter – I decided I kinda liked it as it was. So I made some small changes, but most of the changes will be in the next two chapters and beyond. And, in case you're wondering, Oneiric means dreamlike. I randomly came across it on m-w . com and fell in love with it. So it became the title. Later you will see that it fits extremely well. 3 ya!
Oh yeah, almost forgot.
Disclaimer: I don't own it. Because if I did, that would mean I rocked at drawing. Which I don't. I own only my OC and the plot, which comes from my strange, nocturnal mind. -- Kuroshima Ayatsuki, aka Aya-chan.
Chapter One: Obscure Encounters
A beautifully girlish figure lay in an alley, bruised and unconscious, as the criminal who had rendered her so fled, not completely unseen by his victim or any other being nearby.
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Thick-fringed eyelids fluttered open, revealing dazed blue eyes as the once-unconscious girl came to. Sitting up slowly, she examined her surroundings. An alleyway, and a dirty one at that, engulfed her small frame. Where am I?... Wait a second... WHO am I?What's my name? I can't remember anything... why not? she thought. Trying desperately not to panic, she began searching herself for clues to her identity. She noticed a horrible pain in the back of her head, but brushed it aside as best as she could. She knew that she should not pass out here, not again.
She wore black, leather pants, form-fitting at the top, and flared below the knee; black and gray shoes that were loose, but not enough to hinder movement; a fitted black halter top; and a simple black jacket that came down to about her mid thigh. She also had black arm warmers, likely due to the chilly autumn air. She lifted a pale hand up to her hair: it was in a loose bun, except for the longer red bangs hanging next to her right eye, falling into it occasionally. Around her waist hung two... gun holsters?! Yes, it was true; a slim, black leather holster hung off each hip, packed with slim, matching guns.
She pulled one of the guns out carefully and examined it, still looking for clues. She instinctively knew that it was thinner than most models, and any fool could tell that it was plated in genuine silver. The silver had ornate engravings on it, including the kanji for "sea" and "cloud" on opposite sides. Overall, it looked custom-made and expensive. She slid it cautiously back into its holster, then realized that there was something wrapped around her lower legs, under the flare of her pants.
Lifting the flared ends up to her knees, she found other surprises: a knife sheath on her right leg and a dagger sheath on her left, both outfitted with weapons. Trying not to freak out, she rolled her pant legs back down. She had no pockets anywhere on her; no wallet, no dog tags, not even a tattoo or piercing. She took a deep breath, trying to figure out what she should do. Should she go to the police? Should she see if there was someone or somewhere nearby that she recognized?
Before her thoughts could get farther than that, she heard the sound of a gun cocking and felt cold metal against her head, in a different spot than the throbbing ache. She heard a rough, half-masked voice behind her. "Give me anything of value you have, and I'll let you keep your life. NOW!"
The red-headed girl was terrified, but found her body reacting instinctively. Her pale arms reached up and grabbed the gun before her would-be mugger could shoot. She used it as leverage to pull herself up, twisting it out of the guy's hands as she did. She pulled the gun completely out of his hands, then threw it over her head towards the garbage cans at the closed-off end of the alley. Still acting purely on instinct, she pulled out the gun that hung from her right hip, shot twice at her attacker's legs, shocked as her arms easily absorbed the recoil from the near silent shots. What the...? As, her attacker fell down, injured but alive, she noticed that she felt no remorse, and no desire to puke at the blood that now stained the man's black sweatpants.
"That was just slightly stupid of you. Most muggers-to-be have an accomplice, don't they? Or did that go out of fashion?" It took her a moment before she realized that the cold voice she heard was issuing from her own throat. She turned on her heel, leaving the attacker behind, thinking as she went.
Okay, so, I have in my possession two custom-made, silver-plated, specially-silenced guns, three knives all hooked together on a ring, and a dagger. I'm used to holding and firing guns, as well as the sight of blood. I am capable of killing; I honestly could have killed that man, if he had done more to deserve it. Who... or what... am I?! she thought, desperately. She slid the gun expertly back into the holster, still a bit shell-shocked and still hurting, though she showed neither.
When her eyes adjusted to the bright light of mid-morning, the girl looked around. She seemed to be in a small town with some nice scenery and pleasant shops. It was a warm and clear day, and several people were enjoying an early lunch on the patio of a cafe down the road.
Then, just across the street, she saw someone who seemed vaguely familiar. How she knew him, she couldn't be sure, though. He was young and tall, with spiky brown hair, a black choker with a bell on it, and the Roman numerals for thirteen tattooed over his left collarbone. He wore a blue jacket with four donut-looking things on it, with a plain white shirt underneath, accompanied by well-fitting pants of the same color blue as his jacket. He was accompanied by two people she didn't recognize: a taller, somewhat older man with greenish hair, an eyepatch and a fedora; and a teenage girl with long, blond hair.
Acting fast (again on instinct), the red-head crossed the street, hoping that these people would have some answers, might know more about her. She ran up to them and tapped the brunette on the shoulder.
"Excuse me, sir, but do you know who I am? 'Cause I don't, but I recognized you, so-I-thought-you-might." The last bit came out all at once, tumbling out in her excitement. The man looked rather bewildered.
"Umm.... No, I can't say that I do - " The brunette began.
"But I'm sure we can help you figure it out," the green-haired man interrupted, not looking at the now-exasperated brunette who was rolling his eyes. The taller man continued, " I'm Sven Vollfied; this is Train Heartnet, my partner; and this is Eve, our other partner."
As he introduced them, he pointed first to the brunette, then to the smaller blond girl, who had a curious, but somehow almost impassive look to her face. The redhead decided that no child should have that type of look on their face. She smiled at each of them, but had to turn her head pretty far to smile at Eve, and felt another wave of dizziness. She heard a loud gasp from Sven just as a bout of dizziness struck. She grabbed onto the nearest thing to her to keep from toppling over. Unfortunately, the "nearest thing" was a shoulder; Train's shoulder to be more precise.
"You're bleeding!" Sven exclaimed, moving to see her face. She lifted her hand first to her neck, where she had felt something sticky that she had assumed was sweat dripping down, then to the back of her head. More specifically, to the area where the throbbing seemed to originate. She touched it gingerly through her bun, then pulled her hand back in front of her face to look at it. Sure enough, it was stained red from her own blood.
"Heh. So I am," she agreed, almost as if to herself. She felt sore, confused, tired and dizzy again. "Would you know of a place I could get this taken care of?" Loss of blood was beginning to make her arms feel heavy, so she used only the wrists down to indicate her head.
"Yeah, sure. We have a doctor friend in this town, I'm sure he'd help. Just go down that way," Train said, pointing, "then turn left on --,"He was interrupted by a soft hand on his arm.
"I'm dizzy, tired, bleeding, and I have no clue who or where I am. Anyway you could just show me?"
Sven took over. "Sure, come on. You can lean on me if you need to." The girl took his offered arm hesitantly, almost as if she was afraid of it. They began walking, but before they had gotten to the end of the block, she stumbled on air, and struggled to stand back up. As blackness crowded into her vision, she felt strong arms pick her up bridal-style.
--Chapter 1 end--
A/N: So, this is the first rewritten chapter of Oneiric. I hope you liked it! More coming soon, I promise.
Much Love!
~~Aya-chan 3