A/N: My entry for sakuuya's Unseasonal Contest! Even though the deadline's not for a little while, I'm posting this now - but I finished it several days ago, really. I guess I just needed time to check it over, and proof and ask questions. But hey! It's the first time I've ever posted a contest entry a while before the deadline! :D

Important bit: This is set on the alien's planet, Cyniclon, after the series and is Kish-centric. I used the word 'Cyniclonian' from time to time as a variation of the word for the population of the planet and the stuff belonging to them/their planet. Kinda like, for example, the country Britain has it's British government - sorry, random example. But yes, like that. There are minor (what are hopefully minor - I had no intention of them being major OCs at all) OCs in this, and their names need a little explaining. So, the alien's on Cyniclon all seem to have pastry names, right - Kish, Pai, Tart? Well, I decided if those three do, then for the purpose of this, all the Cyniclons do. XD Hence why Sufure = Souffle, Denmakugo = Danish (Danish pastries are my absolute favourite), and Kurowassan = croissant. The term Pátissier is also used for a title of sorts (like king/Queen/President, etc), and I chose to use that because it's French for the Head Pastry Chef.

However, whether this fic is acceptable in terms of minor OCs or not is completely up to the judge, and I respect her decision. So sak, if these are more than the minor OCs I intended them to be and mentioned to you, then you have all rights to disqualify me. ^_^

Oh, also I wanna make it clear here that, no matter what FF says, this is under 4,000 words! By... two words, but still - I even went as far as to keep a pen-and-paper tally when editing. Oh, but the A/N isn't included in that total.

Disclaimer: I own you, the reader, and that is all. TMM belongs to Mia Ikumi and Reiko Yoshida.

~Beneath the Surface~

His breath came out in short, ragged pants; despite the fact it was warm out, white mist claimed the once clear air in front of him, the night-lights tingeing it luminous green as he dashed underneath their hazily glowing beams. They were the only source of light he was able to see by, the city he charged through having been plunged into near-total darkness several hours prior. So he relied on his instincts to guide him through the mass-maze of winding, twisting, mud-baked streets. His foot slid into a dint in the road, and he toppled forward, cursing quietly as he hit the ground face-first. Minor pain rippled through him - he'd suffered worse, even at the hands of his friends, so there was no doubting that he could get up now and carry on. Pulling his hands beneath his torso, he pushed until he had room to drag his knees forward so that he was upright. Then he came to stand - but as soon as he put pressure onto his right leg, a searing pain tore through it. He winced, and bit back another curse. Tactfully, he bent down again and rapidly moved his hands over the injured joint; his ankle was quickly swelling, sore to his brief touch - it was possibly sprained. This time, he was unable to stop the profanity as it slipped past his lips, and scowling, he rose once more. He'd just have to deal with the pain - flying wasn't an option for him right now.

His hyper-sensitive, golden gaze swept along the road, scanning it for anything that could have heard him when he tripped - although if anyone had, he was sure that by now they would have attacked him. Regardless of his often carefree, spontaneous attitude, he wasn't stupid. So it seemed that this time, nothing was... A noise. His head snapped round to face the direction it came from. And then snapped around again to face the opposite direction, where it also came from. His fists clenched and unclenched as the sound became louder and more coherent - a crackling noise that seemed to be everywhere at once, and yet single in sound, as if there were no more than one source that was emitting the sizzle. Choosing one direction, he readied himself into a defensive stance and waited. But what eventually came to him was not what he had anticipated.

"…Kish!..." a voice hissed, breaking through the crackling noise. Said Cyniclon jumped in shock, landing painfully on his ankle and collapsing for a second time to the floor. But it almost seemed as if the smack to the head the second time round brought him the realization he needed.

"So that was what was making the noise…" he murmured, reaching for his ear and adjusting the wireless piece of technology propped inside it. Altering the settings by spinning a tiny, cog-like dial, the buzzing stopped, and the voice came through more coherently.

"Kish! What's going on? You're meant to be there by now - don't tell me you've fallen behind schedule already?"

Sighing, he planted his face into the dirt, grumbling into it something about stupid Cyniclon rebel leaders and their inability to not scare the crap out of him constantly.

"…What was that?"

Kish smirked at the aggravated - but clearly curious - tone that fizzled through his earpiece. It was a good thing the male on the other end hadn't heard him, because he would have received a seething lecture for that comment. Turning onto his left side, Kish began to play with the dirt beside him, carving Earth-fruits into the road.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he replied, the feigned innocence made clear in the manner in which he spoke. He heard the voice groan something he couldn't quite make out, and laughed at the fact he'd managed to wind the other up so easily.

"You can stop that attitude right away, else for the next mission you won't be picked to go."

"Threaten me with the prospect of benching all you want, but the fact is, Sufure, you need me. I still have access to all the Cyniclonian High Command stuff that you need, and you know that without my help, you'd get nowhere near what you want." Snide laughter rocked his frame at this; yes, he knew fine well that any threats made towards him from the rebel leader were empty, with a touch of wishful-thinking thrown in there. He knew the male would like no better than to wring his neck for all the insults and terse quips that fell from his tongue, but reluctantly restrained himself from doing so for all the reasons Kish had just stated. Kish was a necessity - one that the other Cyniclons in the alliance resented. His attitude was so flamboyant and flippant that he had been deemed a liability to their cause on his first day. But… the information he had brought with him was the thing they required most. They needed it - and he knew that far too well.

"…When the hell did you become such a smart-ass?" Kish smirked, knowing that he could continue to push it and still not get called off the game tonight. A thought struck him then - did they know that he considered these missions, ones that they valued the success of more than their own lives, a simple game that he classed as mere playtime? He guessed they didn't, given the sound of his commander's tone; perhaps he'd let them know, were he successful tonight.

Pushing that idea to the back of his mind, he concentrated on the conversation, and replied dismissively, "Oh! I learned from this one Earth-guy! Shirogane, his name was. He was funny. Wound Koneko-chan up a lot with his attitude."

The response he got was curt, but it felt wounded. Kish's smirk widened; he loved that he was able to hold that over the head of his 'boss' - that he'd been the one manning the Earth-mission, and Sufure had merely had to sit back in the shadows of a dying world, galaxies away, and wait. That was how Kish had gotten his connections with their Cyniclon High Command in the first place. That, and the fact that the boy was a noble.

"I'm not surprised that this Earthling got wound up…"

"No, neither am I," Kish agreed, as he continued to draw strawberries into the ground beside him. "She was a little hot-headed, after all."

A groan on the other end. "That's not what I meant. Now, Kish, can you tell me your position?"

"…That's a little kinky, Sufure, don't you think?"

"Kish! Not what I meant! I meant- Hey! Hey, you can't u-"

"Would you mind telling us what the fuck you're doing, Mr. High-And-Mighty? Because the location signal from your tracker hasn't moved for a good five or more minutes now!"

"Denmakugo~!" Kish exclaimed, overly-cheerfully. "To what do I owe the honour of the second-in-command checking in on me?" He grinned, knowing that although he couldn't see his face, the second male would surely be seething at the taunting jibe.

"You're not doing your job! Now get your ass of the ground and get to it!"

"…You know I'm lying down?"

"KISH!" The sudden roar of voices in his ear caused the Cyniclon to tear the communicator out and throw it a ways in front of him, into the pitch-blackness of a side-street. His face fell upon realising what he'd done, and a scowl overtook his lips as he adjusted his position, before standing and making his way over to direction that the electronic device had flown in. It took him several moments of hobbling about and feeling the ground with his hands before he found it; but instantly he could tell it had not even been worth his time searching for. Somehow, he must have been too rough on it - he turned it over a few times in his fingers, feeling it, tapping each part to check whether or not it was still intact - because the wires were torn and their edges were frayed, and there were bits of metal that seemed churned up. He blinked, his golden eyes darting upwards from the device in his hands. He crushed what was left of it between his fingers, discarding the rubble like it was no more than pixie dust. And in its place, he drew his swords.

His eyelids lowered, gaze narrowing and focusing on the darkness in front of him. His stance shifted, leveling out so that he was able to disguise his injury. He barred his teeth, one fang jutting out over the rest. And then he was silent. Facing forwards, he waited. Patience and impatience rocketed through his frame at once; he was calm, ready to wait it out until he was attacked first, but at the same time he wanted whoever was there to appear soon so that they could duel to the death. He needed it done quickly - his window of opportunity for carrying out the mission was closing, and were he to turn up empty-handed, there would be severe consequences - even for him. When a minute passed, and nothing came out of the shadows, he growled, trying to provoke whatever was there to attack him.

A stone skit across the ground, coming to a stop as it tapped the back of Kish's boot. His eyes widened, and he froze for a millisecond as the realization dawned upon him. Then, he whipped around - or attempted to. Because before he knew what had hit him, something was atop him, pinning him to the ground. Claws dug into his flesh, puncturing the skin of his shoulder and drawing blood. Kish winced in pain, and lashed out a counterattack. A sharp blow from his elbow into the creature's face was all it took for his attacker to howl and slink off of him - Kish recognized the sound it had made, and smirked sinisterly to himself. This would be an easy win. Defocusing his sense of sight, he heightened his hearing ability; his ears picked up the footfalls of padded paws only metres away. He shifted his footing until he was leaning heavily onto his left - thus easing the pain of the injured right - and cautiously knocked a stone over to the beast. Then he waited, breath escaping him in quick gasps as the adrenaline rushed through his veins and the excitement and anticipation built up within the pit of his stomach. His arm twitched with eagerness. And then it came.

One bound was all it took for the beast to reach him - but Kish had expected this, and leapt to his right, narrowly avoiding the sharp blades that coated it's armor. Although he couldn't see it due to the darkness, Kish could hear it's movements - the shifting of it's metallic plates on it's back, the unsettling of the dirt where it's paws pattered; he felt it's presence, and smelt it's fury - the scent of both blood and blood-lust tickled Kish's nose, causing him to become even more stimulated for the fight. For a moment he forgot about his injury, so as he pranced to the side, the weight and pressure put onto his right ankle caused him to hiss in agony. A severe mistake. In a second the beast was at his throat, snarling, yapping jaws trying to gather up his neck in it's bite. Kish released his own animalistic growl, but it only served to somewhat intimidate it.

However, it was when Kish began to snicker crudely below that real fear gripped the creature. A trickle of blood dropped onto the Cyniclon's chin - he lapped it up menacingly. It's eyes flew wide as it toppled to the side, one of Kish's swords protruding from it's chest. The male simply continued to cackle as more blood began to spurt and splash onto the ground. Carefully - but in no way slowly - Kish stood, dusted himself off, and retrieved his sword. His prize was the stench of fresh blood, and the pride of having killed a chimera. He walked away, licking his blood-soaked fingers and wiping his face free of the sticky blue stuff.

Stepping out into the dimly-lit main street, Kish noticed the black pouring out from the newly-acquired holes in his skin; it had stained his shirt already, and seemed to be spreading. He sighed; the blood of humans was much more interesting that his own - there's was thicker than the water they drank, whereas the Cyniclonian blood was so much thinner than any other substance on their planet. It was like human ink, he mused, reminiscing about the time his Koneko-chan had introduced him briefly to the stuff by splashing it all over him as he'd gone to hug her. For a second back then, he'd thought he had suddenly begun bleeding - that's how much alike his heart-liquid was to the Earthling's… ink stuff. He shook his head, and tore off the bottom of his shirt, rolling it into a ball and dabbing at the wounds on his shoulder. It absorbed into the material quickly and easily, clearing the mess away in mere seconds. He was about to chuck away the cloth, when suddenly he thought better of it, and pocketed it instead.

His gaze turned towards the towering silhouettes of the buildings he had to infiltrate. He knew that the task was easier said than done - especially now when he had two injuries and was unable to fly. A flash of brilliance crossed his mind, but as soon as he opened his mouth to exclaim "Eureka!" at the top of his lungs, his memory delivered him a cutting blow. He grumbled something - incoherent even to himself - beneath his breath at the fact that no, he wasn't allowed to teleport either. The stupid, stupid tracker device was still embedded in his shoulder; it had been an issue from the Supreme Order to chip every Cyniclonian citizen that walked the planet, in a means to keep an eye on them, watch when they would fly and where they would teleport. Any unusual activity was reported immediately to the ruler, and a trial would be held to see if the one in question was still fit for living. So it looked like Kish had to finish the mission the Earthling way after all; with a sigh, he took off at a fast-paced run in the direction of the Cyniclon High Command Centre.

The pain in his leg seemed to subside the more he ran on it, though whether that was because he was adjusting to the sensation or the fact he was doing his best to ignore it, he didn't know. Nor did he care, really. He'd make a big deal out of it later, when trusted people could tend to him. The rather pleasant thought of Ichigo tending to him in his state crossed his mind, and Kish couldn't help but beam at the thought. Perhaps, if he was really good, she would give him a kiss to make him feel all better...

His envisaging was cut short, however, when he reached the large, bronze doors that served as the entrance to the building. He smiled with sinister innocence as he looked up at it, and without any regard as to what could be lurking behind the doors, he burst through them, instantly triggering the complex alarm system. But Kish wasn't bothered; they wouldn't find him quick enough to stop him committing the crime, and when they did, they'd never suspect him immediately. He was far too high up in their ranking system to be accused of such a treacherous act. So not even pausing, Kish sped down the near-endless white corridor, not hesitating for even a second to glance at the stream of portals he passed. He knew where he was headed, and it was late; he wanted a rest, and therefore the job over and done with as soon as possible.

But… Surely a peek couldn't hurt.

Slowing to a stop outside the Pâtissier's office, he reached for the handle, curling his fingers around the metal dial. He spun it once, heard it click, and spun it anti-clockwise. His ears pricked. Voices. Footfalls. His golden eyes darted from side to side, scanning the bend of the corridor he was positioned on. Then, a smirk rose to his lips; he pushed the button in the center of the handle, and disappeared into the room.

Sometimes, just the nagging feeling of wanting to check someplace - whether it be for the adrenaline rush or the unsettled curiosity - can lead to far more than anticipated. Kish smiled.

The office was warm with the reds and browns of the Chêne Rouge wood, the levitating seat supposedly appearing comfortable for Kish's aching limbs. It was a slight disappointment to him - he preferred the practicality and snugness of Earth sofas - but all the same, he shrugged his disapproval off and sauntered over to the seat. His eyes flickered over an inanimate object placed on the desk - a simple, spherical orb, glowing a bright blue colour, protected by a small, clear square box - as he began to lower himself down and settle onto the furniture. Once happily seated, he turned his attention to the male stood at the electric screen-window, his back facing Kish. He twisted to glance over his shoulder at his guest.

"So they've sent you to collect it, have they?" His voice was gruff, authoritive - it was obvious he commanded all the power, ran the establishments and affairs that structured Cyniclon. He was the Pâtissier: the boss, the forever-reigning ruler of the planet… and Kish's own, personal mentor. The younger Cyniclon surveyed his tutor dismissively; the male was beginning to become too old, signs shown by the yellowing of his ears and the brown that seemed to overtake his irises. Kish pursed his lips, smacking them once before considering a reply.

"I told you they would be," he spoke after a while, eyebrow raised. "Though you've yet to keep up your end of the bargain and tell me why they needed it anyway, Kurowassan."

"It's the only device left on all of Cyniclon with the directions of how to get back to Earth. Naturally, a lot of people want to get their hands on it - they don't feel as though you and your small crew did a… justified job. But surely you must have known that - surely they told you what it was?" The elder's hands were wrung nervously behind his back, just slightly lower-placed than where his dark hair ended its sweeping curtain.

Kish paused a moment, glancing out of the electric window. Catching sight of something, he smirked, and chose then to answer. "…They did. I just needed your confirmation before I took it."

Flabbergasted, the Pâtissier spun around, opening his mouth to object to Kish's curt statement. But in the time it took for that lone movement, the green-haired boy was across the room, swords at his throat. Winking, he explained, "Yeah, well, I need it, but I'll keep my reasons withheld. You're getting old, old man; I can't believe you're so slow as to not predict this. If I can go against even Deep Blue-sama, I can surely betray you. I think three-hundred years is long enough for you to live-" A flick of the wrist. A fountain of black blood. "-So just die."

The body slumped, before crashing to the floor. Alarms blared throughout the building, notifying everyone that someone inside the building had triggered the tracker. Kish chuckled; even if it were to kill the Pâtissier quickly, he'd still get grilled for the teleport. A thought crossed his mind, and he smirked. That chimera had done him some good - it had opened the hole that would allow Kish to remove his tracker. So he did so, hissing and seething at the searing agony as he plunged two fingers into his punctured shoulder and wiggled them about, searching for the miniscule device. He knew that they would be narrowing in on him, knew that he was minimizing his chances of staying alive with every second he stood in that same spot. But wasn't that half the fun? With a tortured cry, he located the device and ripped it out, flinging it away from him. He didn't watch as it landed on the other side of the room - though he wanted to, just for closure and pride - but instead spun and slashed the square box on the desk. Snatching the orb, and setting off yet another round of alarms on top of the first lot, Kish dove for the window. One blast from his blades was enough to shatter it to pieces, and he flew out into the night, landing seconds later in the doorway of one of the Military spaceships. He glanced back over his shoulder just in time to catch sight of the guards staggering frantically about the office, sickened by the corpse of their boss and trying to get a glimpse of the criminal behind it. So of course, Kish stuck two fingers into his mouth and blew, waving at them as they spotted him making his getaway. He ignored their shouts to "Stop!" and "Come back here!", venturing further into the ship instead.

A smile etched itself onto his lips as the mechanical doors swooshed open, and Kish entered the control room.

"Give."

He paused, smile slowly transforming into a wicked grin, and he threw the blue orb into the air carelessly. Catching it, he answered, "Baw, Pai, can't you even say 'please'? And where's my 'hello'?"

"It's asleep with Tart," his friend commented dryly, moving from where he stood at the front of the deck to Kish's side, shoving out a hand in which for Kish to place the sphere. However, the green-haired Cyniclon took one look at it and blinked.

"But I don't wanna hold your hand."

Pai's lips tightened into a straight line, tersely saying, "I meant the Directional Device, idiot", before snatching it from Kish's grasp and making his way back over to the panel. He placed it in one of the compartments, watching as the star charts and galaxies mapped out in front of him on the screen. Without tearing his eyes away from the data display, he asked, "Do they know, then?"

Kish quirked an eyebrow at the question, leaning back into a horizontal hover and folding his hands behind his head. His eyelids fluttered shut, and he clicked his tongue off the roof of his mouth. "You mean Sufure and Denmakugo? Nah. But I'm sure they'll find out soon enough."

Pai snorted, flicking a few of the switches and spinning a dial. "If you ever come back here, you're worse than dead, Kish. They didn't exactly like you in the first place, but I would imagine using them to double-cross both the Pâtissier and their rebel alliance for your own gain would be the recipe for murder. Though if only for the sake of justifying the reason you decided to bring myself and Tart into this, can you explain to me why you did it?"

"I miss Koneko-chan."

Pai sighed and shook his head, redirecting his full attention to planning out the flight course. If Kish didn't want to tell him the reason - though Pai was sure that his statement was partial to it - then he'd just leave him be for now, and beat it out of him later when his curiosity became too much. His friend was a patriot, and for him to commit such treason… well, there was definitely something going on beneath the surface. Something that Pai couldn't help but go along with.

A/N: I'm thinking of possibly doing a spin-off chapter fic from this, but delving more into before it happens, and then perhaps the consequences. Do you think that's a good idea or not? ^^" Let me know, please! I'll even put a poll on my profile if you're unable to review or PM me with your suggestions!But, on that note, pretty please review!

KO xoxo