Chapter One: Requiem

Disclaimer: I don't own Trinity Blood or Naruto!

Sakura snapped awake, her viridian eyes centering on the ceiling above her bed. She exhaled softly a moment later, though she didn't attempt to rise. Her emerald green eyes drifted to her right, where Abel was sleeping silently.

She sighed to herself; it had two months since the last of her world had disappeared in a teardrop of light and heat that obliterated the remnants of her old life, her old home. And still she woke up every night at the same time: the hour and minute that that light had filled her eyes, blurred by the feathered edges of Abel's wings.

He had been up with her through most of those nights, holding her if the tears came and willing to subdue her if the nightmares upset the balance of the nanomachine readings in her body, making her hostile. And each time, as she told him, usually tearfully, how sorry she was that he was up again with her, he simply smiled, cupping his hand to her cheek, and telling her it was okay, that he didn't mind and that he loved her.

She reached over, brushing a strand of silver hair away from his face. And then she pulled herself out of the bed as gently as she could so that he wouldn't wake, and slipped into the hall.

It was pitch black, as Caterina usually kept it; Crusnik vision was so keen that the small, dim, blue light on their earpieces, often negligibly visible even to Methuselah, would keep them awake. A hall light, being so much stronger, was therefore out of the question. Still, she could see the hall just fine; she could clearly make out the edges of the walls, and even the decorative edging along the upper borders.

She quickly found herself where she wanted to be: the commons room. It was always quiet around midnight, around the time she consistently found herself with her eyes open. She took a seat in a plush chair, curling her lithe legs beneath her and pulling her robe close around her shoulders.

She leaned back, closing her eyes. But all that flashed before her were images she was trying so desperately to escape: Sasuke falling towards the void of white hot light, Tsunade smiling faintly in resignation, a ring of her friends and comrades being swallowed by a backlash of intensity…

Her eyes snapped open; she had run through that scene a thousand times in her head and on paper. She had reasoned that Tsunade, when she touched Sasuke, had released the seal on her forehead and used the chakra not only to fuel the forbidden jutsu she had chosen but also to suppress his biorhythms, to force the chemicals associated with rage and hate down, to push his dark, disturbing memories beneath his conscious mind. But something about the sheer relief on his face…it made her discount every theory she came up with. There was something so pure about his utter joy in simply being held that affirmed for her that he had never been evil. He had just turned down that path in a moment of hopeless and never knew how to come back.

She sighed again, unsure of how to settle her mind. She had quickly learned that while being a Crusnik had many good facets to it, such as literal immortality since her nanomachine colony had stabilized and a rapid healing factor, it also forced her metabolism into override; medicine was much less effective and pain killers, when needed, had to be stronger in strength, dose and frequently administered. Things weaker than Demerol, such as alcohol, didn't register at all.

She thought about working out, but that, though it would probably function to fatigue her physically, often only kicked her mental state up another notch. The results being that she was exhausted and completely unable even to sit still. And she hadn't been able to meditate for some time---she could center her mind and body, but it was often the constant thrum (the sound of the nanomachines in her body and even her own natural biological processes) in her ears that distracted her, frustrated her, and eventually forced her to simply give up.

And sometimes those nanomachines outright angered her; something about her sudden, inhuman healing factor disturbed her. Within a month and a half of having the transplant, she had realized the scar from her battle with Sasori was fading. It wasn't even faintly visible anymore, and she felt like she was losing the physical memories of the defining moments of her life. She worried she was losing herself entirely, sometimes.


Caterina watched with mild displeasure at the scene visible from her office window; it was hardly an uncommon one, and normally she was quite pleased to see her operatives working to stay in shape and develop new techniques as well as brush up on old ones. But she had hardly ever seen a scene quite so sloppy from her newest operative.

Abel had been training her fight in her Crusnik mode for a week or two; he wanted to make sure she was acutely aware of her new strength and abilities. An underestimation on her part in battle would spell disaster for a mission, if not the rest of her team, as well. He was also training her to think like one: it was easy to lose yourself to emotion in awakened Crusnik mode; he wanted analytical thinking to be second nature, even though, in dormancy, anyway, it was.

And she had been doing well. She was able to accurately predict the strength, range, and motion of her attacks with very few errors. They could throw literal dozens of variables at her at the same time and she still managed to keep her cool and work effectively with those around her.

But she was clearly not in her usual zone, Caterina realized privately as she lifted a porcelain cup to her ruby-red lips.

Outside of her window in the closed courtyard, Sakura attempted a clumsy landing, only to misjudge the actual slope of the small hill and fall on her back. Abel came down on her from above, and she barely managed to roll to the side and onto her feet before he had knocked her back again with a blow to her stomach from the blunt edge of his scythe.

She used the momentum to her advantage, kicking up into the air and spreading her wings. But he was much faster than she was, and it was all she could do to bring up the arch of her bow with enough leeway to catch his blade. She shoved against his superior weight and force, and for a moment they were locked in equilibrium.

But just as quickly, he had levered the whole of his weapon down, throwing her precarious balance. She jack-knifed at the waist in a desperate and awkward attempt to keep him locked. At that point, it was an easy matter for him to spin, using his wings to generate a blast of air that was more than enough to send her flying back, her weapon dropping to the ground.

Of course, she didn't hit the ground or the high guard wall. By then, he was already behind her, cradling her around the waist and halting her impetus harmlessly.

"Have you fed recently?" He asked as he set her down, landing easily beside her as his hair fell back in a silver curtain around his shoulder. He slid his glasses onto the bridge of his nose as he eyed her with a mixture of a lover's concern and a teacher's admonition.

"The day before yesterday." She replied, finding it harder than usual to return to her dormant state.

"I think you need to start feeding every day." He told her.

"What?!"

"Just for a few weeks, Sakura." He assured her with a kind smile.

She just nodded, sighing to herself. She really wanted to move away from Methuselah blood. It was…it was beyond sheer ecstasy to drink, but she wanted to need it less. He had warned her, of course, that even though her colony had stabilized, she would need to feed more frequently for up to six months to keep it healthy, until the rest of her systems caught up with the nanomachines.

His hand came up under her chin, startling her for a fraction of a second. She flinched, but he didn't turn away or drop his hand.

"Have you been sleeping?" He asked.

She swallowed hard, and in doing so she knew she had already given herself away. Cursing herself for not halting the knee-jerk reaction, she decided lying at that point was useless…and wrong, regardless. She shook her head.

"Nightmares?" He asked.

She nodded.

"Sakura, wake me if you can't sleep. I'm happy to keep you company." He told her, brushing a lock of hair back behind her ear.

She wanted to tell him for the umpteenth time that she felt guilty about waking him. It made her feel weak and stupid. And he would respond that it was no such thing, that it was normal and he loved her and wanted to be there. They had had the conversation a million times. It was a point neither was willing to give ground on. So she didn't say anything in reply.

"Now, go eat." He added, smiling.

She nodded, turning away and reluctantly letting his hand slip from hers.


The kunoichi eyed the chalice, her reflection staring back at her from the still scarlet surface. She resisted the urge to knock it aside. She knew whose blood it was: Astha's. She had been a donor several times for Abel and the pink-haired female. The Viscountess of Odessa consistently wrote it off as something not even worth acknowledging. And if she was confronted in private, she would have a diplomat response that when translated would mean something like, "You're my friends, my partners. Allow me this." And she claimed that as a noble her blood was likely more potent; and it was. Really, aside from Abel's, Astha's was her favorite. It was rich, potent, sweet, fiery…and it deeply disturbed the Crusnik female that she could even begin to think of her lover and best friend as food…

She shook her head; she could stay there all day analyzing the situation and the cup in front of her. But it wouldn't do her any good. So, before she could talk herself out of it, she raised the cup to her lips and drank. She tried to do it quickly, not to allow herself to taste it. But she still did…

She pushed the cup aside, knowing one of the maids would come and take it later, and decided she needed to get up and do something.


Sakura took another shot, growling at herself when it went awry and punctured an arm on the paper dummy fifty meters out in front of her. She hadn't managed a single head or heart shot in the fifteen practice clips she had used. She lowered the gun, eyeing the numerous, and very poorly-placed and scoring, marks on the paper humanoid shape.

"You're getting sloppy."

Sakura's eyes flickered to the left, but she made no attempt to turn and greet the woman.

"Sister Paula." She replied in quiet recognition.

The Inquisitorial female smirked, stepping up beside her in a sinuous shimmy and grasping the slide of the gun and pulling it up, Sakura's hand still on it. She released it, letting Sakura's arm stay there and smiling viciously.

"I see why, now."

Sakura was about to snap at her that she should just come out and say whatever the hell it was she wanted to. But by then, she had already walked out.

The pink-haired female snorted to herself as she turned back to take another shot. And to her horror, she realized her hands were shaking…Her arms dropped as she leaned against the divider frame wall and sighed.


Sakura ducked, leaping away from Tres' punch/kick combo only to run into Vaclav's sweeping crescent. She managed a back flip, kicking off of the ground with less than an inch to spare between her and the Professor's cane.

She wasn't even entirely sure what happened, then, when she jumped up, using a tree branch to swing her legs away from Tres' attempts to secure her. All she knew was that the next second she was on the ground, looking up at the sky, and was very, very confused.

"What…just happened?" She asked, blinking to clear her vision.

"You failed to maintain your grip and as a result are currently horizontal with concussive head trauma." Tres replied.

"Great…" She sighed to herself as she sat up.

"Are you alright, Sister? You haven't been yourself for a few days." The Professor asked, kneeling down beside her.

"Yeah…just…tired." She told him.

TBC