This one shot has been on my mind for quite a long time, and it's just now that's I've finally found the time to write it.

Inspired by the song, I will follow you into the dark by Death Can for Cutie.

I'd like to think that Sync is in character. Anyways, Enjoy!


Irritated, he combed a hand through his hair; a sigh passed through his tired lips. Walking pass each lifeless stone, his mind began to grow uninterested.

There was a sound of a sole pair of footsteps that he heard. It couldn't have been the Fon Master's idiots, so he decided to check it out. But as he noticed no unusual movements, that prior noise may have just been a misunderstanding.

He sighed again, scolding himself for the false alarm.

Then a light chuckle echoed into his ears, causing his body to tense. Wary, he cocked his head around; yet he saw nothing. That consistent giggle filled his ears, getting louder and clearer.

"Show yourself," he demanded, annoyed with the laughter.

"Tsk, tsk. Is that any way to treat a girl?" Her voice spoke.

The corner of his lip twitched in a scowl, biting his tongue to hold back the rough words ready to seethe through.

"No greeting or introduction?" The girl commented, her silhouette looming into view. With a faint strut, she walked over to him, a brash aura emanating from her. Her eyes glanced up, piercing his gaze with a solid glare.

"Why do you wear a mask?" She giggled, reaching her hand up to take it.

Instinctively, he shifted his feet back and grasped her wrist tightly.

"What are you doing here," he interrogated with an aloof tone.

She winced at the abrupt movement.

"I saw you and three others go in here," she replied. "It's not safe down here. The ruins could collapse any moment, and it's even worse with all the monsters running around."

"Did you think we were unaware?"

She glared at his response.

"From what I heard, the god-generals were supposedly nice people. Despite their conceited agendas," the girl retorted with a small pout.

He tightened his grip around her wrist, causing her to wince again.

"That hurt."

"I know."

Pouting, she puffed her cheeks out. A futile glower attempted to intimidate his stoic mindset.

"You shouldn't treat a girl so assertively," she remarked, earning another constricted squeeze on her wrist. His fingertips loosened, flicking her hand down.

"I don't have time for stupid games," he hissed, turning his heel on her.

His ears picked up modest footsteps trailing closely behind him. He stopped walking.

"I don't know how to get out," she stated prosaically. "I'll just follow the nice god-general until I find my way."

His fist clenched at his sides, but he continued to walk.

"My name is Faina," she introduced, lagging behind.

"I could care less," he muttered, never looking back. He heard her sigh.

"Well I know your name. You're Sync the Tempest," she said, pushing aside his animosity. "You were always my favorite of the god-generals. Maybe because your nickname sounds cool."

Sync sighed, exasperated by her unyielding rant. This girl is gonna get herself killed. If not by her being stranded in here, then by him.


"Am I. . .going to die. . .?" Faina nearly whimpered, her skin pale with apprehension.

Her fading locks strayed dully behind her back; those once radiant eyes beginning to lose its brilliance. A thin streak of blood poured out of the corner of her lips, running down her neck and staining onto her clothes.

He could feel her body lighten against his hand. He encircled the girl's body in a weak embrace, one arm around her waist and the other holding her head up to meet his gaze. Grudgingly, he forced his eyes to look at her frail face. Blue orbs admired him with a glossy allure; a slight frown hinted to him of her last desire.

"Yea," he finally choked out, turning his head away.

Her body breathed heavily against his fingertips, her pain growing more and more evident.

"I don't want to," she cried softly.

Tears rolled down the sides of her face, dripping onto the cold ground. Gritting her teeth, she moved closer into his embrace; her tears flowing in resilient cascades.

"It hurts. I want this pain to stop, but. . ." She looked up at him, her eyes pleading for him to help her. "I don't want to die."

"I know."

That was all he could say. Nothing more. Just two, simple, hollow words that may serve as their farewell. What was he supposed to say at a time like that? Would 'you won't die' suffice? Would it be better to fill her with lies rather than be unsure himself?

Dying was a natural fear. It was instinct to be afraid of dying. But having someone he knew die right before his eyes – even worse someone he grew attached to – was all too much for one person to handle.


Long strands of hair swayed lightly against the fragile breeze. Those cerulean eyes stared at him accompanied with a noticeable frown.

She almost looked upset; her atmosphere emitted a disapproving ambience. But he could tell the true emotion she was feeling: hurt.

"Did you mean everything you said?" she asked with a blank expression.

She heard it. She heard what he said.

Unconsciously, his teeth gritted. He cocked his head to the side. But that didn't help at all. She could see his face. Moving his head a little would not change that fact. He wanted his mask back; he would go through hell and back if he got that precious item in his possession again.

"Sync," she called out getting his attention. He glanced at her, her expression impeding.

"Of course I meant it. I wouldn't have said it if it wasn't true," the boy answered.

She seemed shocked by his reply; appalled even. It made him want to laugh. She, herself, made him want to laugh. Her beliefs, her views, were those of an ignorant dreamer. They would never come true.

"Why do you think that way?"

He scowled at the question.

"Because it's true," he repeated, his words like ice. "My life is meaningless. I'm nothing but a piece of garbage to be thrown away. That's why I work for Van."

He turned back to her, his face glaring at her.

Downcast, her head was shaking from side to side, gradually getting more definite.

"No, you're wrong," she digressed, her hands clasped loosely at her chest. She took a step closer to him; then another.

Cautious, his emerald eyes locked onto her petite figure, but he didn't move back. He only watched as she moved in closer to him.

"You've only been looking for a purpose to live, right?" The girl asked with an adamant stare.

The piercing glare he gave her seemed to have no effect on her. On the contrary, he felt paralyzed by her. But she wasn't even doing anything; she was merely looking at him, asking him mindless questions.

Looking at him. Yes, looking. Straight in the eyes. The same pair of eyes he tried to hide from everyone. The pair of eyes that told everyone his identity. It was all revealed. There was no point in hiding it any longer.

"Does it matter?" he retorted, unrefined.

"So you have only been looking."

"Don't jump to conclusions."

"You're right. None the less, it's a conclusion that's true."

"And if it is?"

Sync heard her sigh, obviously getting frustrated by the lack of words he was giving her. Her head tilted up, eyes enticed by the dark sky covering them. That perpetual frown appeared on her lips; those blue hues dilated in the moon's light.

"Life is unfair, isn't it? Some are born with natural talent, and thus born with a purpose. While the rest of us have to work for one. But in the end, our endeavors are in vain and we are left with nothing. Our actions are overshadowed by those superior to us. Our words and beliefs are stolen from us and used to glorify those who are already praised."

Looking back at him, her carefree persona changed into a serious one. Her voice spoke with a clear ambition. Blue hues fixated at his green ones, trying to imprint her words into his mind.

"Just because you're not the best, doesn't mean you are worthless. When you lose the strength to continue on, don't think your life is meaningless. Don't think you're nothing just because you were treated like dirt. If you can't find a purpose, then make one. It's better than being no one at all."

Those words echoed into his ears like a broken music box, repeating over and over again until he was finally able to understand her ideals.

A sadistic smirk crossed his lips. He let out a condescending chuckle.

"My purpose is to be a pawn in Van's plan, nothing more. That's who I am: a sacrificial piece in his game. I don't need anyone forcing their views on me like a newborn child – let alone those of a hopeless dreamer."

He could feel his words pouring out like perilous venom; his sickly chuckle turning into an acrid laughter. Translucent eyes, darkened with shadows, finally pierced through her naïve orbs.

She didn't know what she was talking about. If one is thrown away, that is evidence enough to signify that that person is utterly useless.

Turning around, he stormed away from the girl, leaving her breathless. If there was any wish he could have concerning that girl, he'd wish for her to disappear.

It's unfortunate things don't turn out like that.

Familiar footsteps trailed behind him, quieter than usual. He turned around and saw her tearful eyes gazing up at him like a lost puppy.

"I don't think you're garbage. . ." she said meekly, her voice about to crack.

After being shot down, this girl still had the guts to follow him around. . .

Maybe she wasn't as bad as he thought.


"Faina," he called, louder than intended.

He lifted her body closer to his. Once-closed eyes twitched, slowly opening with heavy eyelids. She raised a hand up, faintly caressing the side of his jaw, her fingertips lingering before falling back to her side. Her breathing was feeble and erratic; her mouth slight agape. She curved her lips in a genuine smile.

"Thank you, Sync."

Idiot. I should be thanking you.

Before she could say anything more, her body curled; her eyelids finally dropping. The irregular breathing giving her so much pain subsided.

Sync rested her body on the ground.

"This is what happens," his green orbs wandered to her lifeless face. "When you try to make your ideals a reality. It's like you said, you end up with nothing. But this time, you have no more chances left."

He shifted his weight, facing the group before him. His blank eyes burned with a fiery resentment able to paralyze anyone who stared at him directly.

"Some of us have to work for a purpose. But sometimes, we are left with nothing."

"I was born with nothing," he spoke, eyeing the red haired replica and his band of followers. His legs, feeling heavy, slightly lightened as he lunged towards them. Scowling, he broke out into a full sprint, charging recklessly at them.

"So that means, I have nothing to lose . . .!"


Something urged him to wake, to open his eyes and move. But the indolence in his body kept him there in a satisfactory slumber. A heavy sigh escaped his lips as the content in his system succumbed to his conscious. His head slumped to the ground in a comfortable position. Ready to finally rest, he let out a loud yawn; more persuasion to just sleep.

Until a warm light flashed into his eyes.

Slightly irritated, he got up and looked in front of him, around him, his surroundings. There was nothing but pitch black darkness, neither light nor distractions to keep him from resting. But there was something urging him to stay awake.

Unintentionally, he glanced at his feet. His eyed widened.

A small flame, barely alive, floated dimly at his feet. He bent down to it, closely analyzing the fire. He squinted at it. It gave him a warm feeling; it was so familiar.

The flame danced around him before finally moving forward, tempting him to follow. With a curious glower, he trailed behind it, an indignant glint in his eyes. For what seemed like hours, he followed the small fire.

Was it real? Or was his mind playing tricks on him?

About to surrender, he ceased his tread. Frustrated, he combed a hand through his green locks.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk. You were always someone who got agitated easily, even if you didn't show it."

A petite hand scooped the flame onto her palm, gently distinguishing it. He looked at her with broadened eyes, of which she returned with a smile.

"Hello again," she greeted.

Sync merely scoffed, shrugging his shoulder, and turned away. Tilting her head, her face fell, a crestfallen mien staring at him.

"Are you mad?" she asked reluctantly, almost like a young child.

Faina moved right in front of him. She placed both hands on his cheeks and turned his face to meet hers; the expectant stare she gave him wanted the boy to answer her question.

"Of course I am," he replied, lightly pushing her hands off.

With a quiet growl, he glared at her, tried to intimidate in any way he can. However, his tactics were to no avail. He sighed, crossing his arms. "Next time you decide to intervene in a fight, I'm not retaliating back you if you die."

"Oh, that's alright," she chirped calmly. Apparently, she didn't think it was a legit reason to be angry. "It's impossible to die more than once. And if that were to happen again, I wouldn't die. . . You would be there to help me. . ."

She looked at him with humble eyes; a faint tint of pink forming across her face. He cocked his head to the side, a small blush of his own beginning appear.

"I wouldn't be able to resist. You make it hard not to," he mumbled under his breath, so low that she couldn't hear.

"What?"

"It was nothing."

"Well. . ." she grabbed his hand and led him forward. "Let's go."

"Where?"

Without a specific answer, she glanced at him, a light giggle escaping her lips. She continued to drag him away from their dark setting. "Back to the others."

"What are you talking about," he scorned with an anxious expression.

She gave him one of those face I'm-not-telling chuckles. He closed his eyes and let the girl drag him away.

It didn't matter what they were doing or how long it took. As long as he had someone with him. He was sick of it; sick of being alone. When he was alive, he had nothing but himself. The other God Generals were just there to him. When she appeared, he just kept pushing her aside until it was too late. But now, they were together. They could spend eternity in the dark, just traipsing around, unable to find anyone. It didn't matter to him. As long as someone was there to share the darkness with him. Someone like her, the girl he had grown so attached to.

"Faina," he called, stopping suddenly. She was pulled back by his abrupt movement. Looking up, she gave him an innocent, slightly irked, look that he returned with a tender stare.

Giving no warning, he pulled her into his chest, wrapping his arms around her body. It was unusual and awkward for him to be in such close contact with someone; it made him feel like he should let go. But that familiar warmth she radiated told him to keep holding her.

The girl's body tensed at the sudden embrace, her breath teasing the top of his collarbone.

"My, my, what a gentleman~" she giggled, letting her body rest against his.

"Don't push it," he muttered, slightly embarrassed by his action.

Good thing there was no one there. But then again, he wouldn't have done that if people were around. He distanced himself, his fingertips flicking her forehead. Though his voice was strict, a hint of mockery flowed through his criticism, "You're helpless by yourself."

"No, I just prefer the assistance of others, is all," she pouted.

Moving forward, she led him deeper into the darkness. "No more distractions. Your friends are waiting, remember? Don't worry, we're almost there."

"Yea, but. . ." he mumbled, an indignant look on his face. "I'd rather be here with you."

Faina smiled, wider than her casual smile. "Thank you."

Seeing her smile again in turn made him want to smile. Though he tried to resist, his lips curved up, hinting a faint, genuine smirk. He immediately turned his head away. If she saw that, she would never let that moment go. Not ever.

A playful giggle filled his ears, and he knew that she had definitely seen his little slip up. Her small hand lightly squeezed his.


"Who cares when we meet up with them again," the God General murmured, earning a prodding look from the girl. "We have as much time as we want."

"Let's stay here a little while longer; I'm tired."

She sat down, pulling Sync down with her. Promptly leaning her back against his, she let out a content sigh. The boy glanced at her, her slouching form endeavoring to stay awake.

"Rest," he said, knowing she would listen. She complied without a complaint.

Dim snores whistled into his ears, tickling his skin. Green orbs narrowed, slumber beginning to take control.

Finally, he didn't have to think about his objective anymore. She made him realize that. It was better to give in to one's own ideals rather than to live the ideals of another, even if it resulted in walking alone. But for once, he wasn't alone; he certainly didn't feel that way. She was with him. When he pushed her away, she still followed him. Even if it did get annoying at times.

"Thanks," he mumbled, drifting off to sleep, his mouth slightly agape.

The girl smiled, eyes still closed.

"I didn't do much. It was all you. You just need some help, that's all.

Sync, never let your ideals go. Never forget them. Don't let others manipulate your thoughts and control you. Your beliefs are what make you special; they separate you from everyone else. So never lose them. They allow you to carry one. And . . .

They make me love you even more."


This took so long to type, but hopefully it was worth it!

Review Please! They make my day. =3