Written By: Riaki

Concept Created By: Riaki / Kaisuke

Beta-Reader(s): Kaisuke

Dedication Piece.

Author's Notes: Actually doing a multi-chapter story, though the chapters are relatively short. Yup, it's a romance, and yup, it's a sequel (to "A Love Worth Fearing". Yes, that was a shameless self-plug). Anyway, review it if you get the chance. Thanks for readin', too.

Disclaimer: Ragnarok Online and all references related to it are the property of Gravity. –AA- (Anbu's Analogy) claims no ownership of it. (Applies to all chapters.)

Semi-Copyright: All character personalities (as well as the concept behind this story) have been created by –AA- and can not be directly used without requesting permission from the original author of this story. So, basically… Don't rip my isht, bish.

Fearing Endlessly; Loving Infinitely.

Chapter One.

It was almost a different fear altogether, one could suppose. But then again, it was of the same nature…

But this was a different situation, and a different person. He wasn't afraid of dying if he knew he was to be ready; he wasn't afraid of changes if he thought them to be beneficial at some point, some where, in his life. The only fears he truly held were a sense of incompletion and a sense of insecurity, one of which led primarily to that fear which he believed may one day contaminate his soul and words.

A fear to truly admit to love.

Maybe it was created from his predecessor, though he knew he had succeeded some of his faults. His predecessor had to wait until death to understand that you couldn't go through life fearing everything you hadn't experienced, hadn't done. It was because of this that the one that was virtually created from the pair (somehow, regardless of their death, he was born unto life – I'll leave the mysteries up to you to solve) figured out that he had to learn to love life and its experiences and the things that it threw on you. After all, if you couldn't learn to love change, you could never love the future and only be stuck in the past. Right?

Naturally.

One would think that, because the child had seen how great his parents' love had been, how much sooner it could've been revealed, that he would've been one to expose it readily, leap upon it with open hands to grasp at any possibilities that existed, leave no regrets in the open.

Not every child can repair every piece of its parents' faults.

He had seen life beyond his parents' ending; had seen the deceit and discourage, the falsities and the truth, the heartbreaks and heart-takes and everything and anything when it came down to love and what it could bring to hurt you. Every pain and every second that he spent at the side of his friend's house, talking out a disheartened and depressed knight… Well, he realized, after some repeat procedures of this as well as several other sights within public as well, that love wasn't as happy as it was all cracked up to be.

In fact, it seemed the opposite.

Chances are, it would take him a life-time to realize, just like it took his father. Perhaps he'd meet someone like his mother and never admit his love until it was too late; perhaps she would follow him to the end, a display of loyalty, or perhaps she would turn from him and fling upon him the one thing that the boy truly feared.

Rejection.

And perhaps he would be condemned to live an afterlife complete with sorrows more intact than those of his living days, and perhaps he would forever be sung of within sad, sopping fairy-tales meant to bring tears to the eyes of those that beheld the bard that was strumming the mandolin, each finger plucking at the heart strings.

Perhaps not.

But it was his future to decide and his future to determine, and though he never thought of it, his parents knew it was coming.

Eventually, he'll have to realize…

…That perhaps, taking a chance is worth it.

-----

Katashi frowned momentarily, a gloved hand rising to sweep away dark springing blades of hair from his eyes. He needed to see – hell, didn't everyone? – and he was beginning to think the hair stylist hadn't really helped him when it came down to that factor.

"I'll do something new, something stylish," she had concluded, grinning from ear to ear as she plucked up several objects from a tray beside the pair. "You'll love it; I promise."

Well, it didn't look so bad, but… Jesus, his eyes.

It's a part of my damn job description, he thought darkly, eyes now sweeping rapidly across the area blanketed in shadows before him. I see things when no one thinks there's anything to see, or that no one could see it anyway; I hear things, too, and smell things, touch things… I'm the epitome of the five senses in action, and how am I supposed to hold to that concept if I have to keep stopping to fix my hair?

Disgrace, discontent, and frustration.

After awhile, the assassin managed to adjust the hair so that it remained out of his line of sight for the most part; a few rogue strips just barely cut into it from the sides, though he figured he could tolerate at least that much. Now, with eyes freed from their visual restraints, Katashi slowly ducked forward, slipping soundlessly up against a wall as shadows suddenly decked over his form.

Cloaking; rule number one. Stay to the wall and stay to the shadows, else somethin' gonna get ya, and get ya fast.

Gloved hands etched against the stone wall's surface as the form of Katashi dispersed, his appearance seeming to vanish, though his progress continued. As he crept forward in silence, his blackened eyes once again touched over the areas before him, as well as those to his side; regardless of his cloaked state, he would still love to know if someone was coming close, and who. Otherwise, they could just get in the way later, as they always did.

And, as always…

It wouldn't be revealed until hours later, after he was already in the building. He touched away from the stone wall, almost feeling grateful to leave its cold surface, as he stepped forward, hand pulling upwards to rest at his mask, a habit he had taken to after awhile. The shards of light sparked over his body; it was calling to him, almost. The thing he had been paid for to get was steps away from him just grabbing and going. Really going. And he had to savor the moment.

One second… Two seconds… Four seconds… Eight seconds…

And after half a minute had passed, the time spent staring at the glittering formation before him, he reached forward and almost daintily plucked it from its plain-gray stone pedestal, a satisfied grin on his face (which was still, coincidentally, covered with the purple-black mask).

And it was this taking of this artifact that set a series of events into motion.

He shrugged on his cloak; he left the building. He found the Kafra and he transported elsewhere. He delivered the item (quite sneakily) and returned to Morroc. Then he left the city grounds, found an oasis, and decided to camp in front of it.

And moments later, he had a visitor.