To Dream

DISCLAIMER: Nothing belongs to me, at all.

AUTHOR'S NOTE:This story is really more of a...distillation than anything else. You'll probably see bits of Ann Rice, Vampire Knight, Vampire Hunter D, the original Dracula, and even possably the Twilight series, but not much of that one's writing style, (As this particular series causes...enthusiasticresults among some, be they positive or negative, I will say this now to get it out of the way, and never more metion the SMeyers books. My opinion of the Twilight series is this: They aren't as bad as some make them out to be, nor as good as other do. Yes, I read them. Yes the fourth book was an utter travisty. No, the first three weren't that bad. I would in fact say that I enjoyed them, but not in the way one enjoyes great art. Rather, the way one enjoys a Harlequin Romance novel, or a romantic comedy staring Huge Grant and Drew Barrymore that isn't actually very good. It's entertaining, and it's trashy, simple as that. It's only the lesions of scary fangirls that elevate them to cult like status, acting as though Edward is 'OMFG SOOOOOO CUTE!!!111oneone' and I am not one of them. That's that, moving on!)as well as a a few more series, manga, movies and books.

Lot's o' Kuro back-story here. Little different than you probably remember, though it's really just a more detailed version given a bit earlier in the story.


When Kurogane dreamed, and it was not a common thing that he did, it was always of them.

He dreamed of his mother, of long raven hair, fine features, and that implacable scent that reminded him of peppermints. Or his father, strong and brave, and everything he had longed to be as a child, the family's valiant protector from the harshness of the world. He dreamed of them and of his home in his youngest years, now lost. Of warm summer sunshine through the kitchen window. Or the crunch of the Autumn leaves on the porch steps. Or soft winters snowfall, and the taste of warm soup and hot tea. Of love, and safety, tainted now by loss, and grief, and anger. The memory of the day his father, a hunter as he was now, had gone out with his team...and not returned. Things changed then, she changed, in almost unperceivable ways. They had to leave the little house of his earliest childhood, in favor of the communal housing district. It had not been a bad place, even if the roof leaked in the rain, and the building shook in the wind, he still had what was left of his family, his mother. Until the night they came, and the last remaining piece of his childhood world was gone, ripped from him as the father he now so resembled had been years before.

The attack had been one of force, sheer numbers being the only advantage they had possessed. Yet, it had been enough. They had nearly overwhelmed the city's defenses, breaching the wall on the north side, and invading the little slum neighborhood of the communal housing district. He remembered even now the screams of friends and strangers, of men, of women, of children he knew, and played with on the streets. But most of all those of someone who was all too familiar to him. She had forced him to hide in the small closet of their room when they'd heard the first of the screams, hoping to keep him safe form the onslaught. He'd stayed there, as he'd promised he would, through the whole attack.

He hadn't even been there when his mother had died.

The humans won, managing to drive them out beyond the wall, but only just, managing to drive the vampires out of the city and resealing the barrier as well as they could in the cover of daylight. This left Kurogane, hiding in the closet, keeping his word, until a wandering party of hunters came across him in the wreckage. he was questioned, and tested, his aptitude for and knowledge of the fighting arts quickly noted. He asked to be trained as a hunter, begged when a city psychiatrist had said that he was suffering from trauma, and that he should not be allowed. He was relentless, and for beter or worse, at thirteen he was accepted into the Academy. He trained there with a single mindedness that bordered on obsession, always striving to be the strongest, the fastest, the best. Better. Better than his father, who he had once so idolized, yet now thought weak. After all, he hadn't been able to protect himself from the bloodsuckers, never mind his family. Of course, his own mistake was far worse than any of his father's.

And so, his rage festered, and turned to hatred, given an outlet. Killing men without mercy was a sin, but killing them relentlessly, a virtue. So, he became a bringer of this form of justice, the justice of death, the virtue of hate, to those none would condemn him for hating.

But he never dreamed of this. No, when he dreamed, it was only ever of his earliest childhood. Of the mother he'd betrayed, and the father who'd betrayed him.

And on that particular day, he was roused from just such a dream, (He had been small, and his mother was waiting eagerly for the return of his father. Kurogane had brought flowers for her, red flowers that he had found growing from the cracks in the concrete sidewalk. She had smiled when she'd seen them, and he'd puffed up with pride, saying that he knew red was her favorite color. They put them in a little plastic mug full of water on the kitchen table.) by a relentless tapping.

"Yes," He hissed.

"Master," a shaking voice sounded through the door. Kurogane glanced at the clock by his bed: 5:34.

"Its 5:30 in the goddamned morning! This sure as hell better be important! I'm off today!" He snapped, perhaps a bit too harshly. Though, with all he did he felt had earned the right to sleep as long as he liked on his days off. And as this was one such day, he had to wonder why exactly he was being awoken so early, by the trembling voice of his apprentice.

"Master, I'm sorry to wake you..." and the boy really did sound sorry, "But the Lady-Mage Yuko requires you, in person," the voice quivered a little, showing the apprentice was a bit worried about his master's reaction to being woken and informed he was to meet with one of his least favorite people.

"Go tell Yuko to fuck off. I don't answer to her. I'm in Tomoyo's group."

"Yes sir," He faltered, "It's just she said you would say as much. And asked me to remind you that her power supersedes that of Lady Tomoyo. Particularly on the apportionment of assignments, and designation of rest days."

The threat was inherent. The woman, for all he hated her, had more magic, than any of the other sorceresses...combined. Hence why she was their leader, acting as the apex of the vital web of detection magic that kept the city more or less safe from the vampires. And she could use her power as leader to make life very miserable indeed for anyone who annoyed her, and had been known to, in the past. Though, waking him at this hour, to tell him to drive to the central building was a low blow, even for her.

"Yeah, well, go on, tell her I'm coming on the com, then get back to bed, there's still an hour and a half till the breakfast bell." Kurogane gruffly said. Even if he didn't say so, there was a part of him that felt sympathy for Syaoran having been woken at this hour simply to give his master a message. However, that was part of all apprentices' jobs, and Kurogane had done as much for Soma during his apprenticeship.

In the hall, the boy gladly took his leave, yawning, and walking back to his own adjacent, and much smaller, apprentices' quarters.

Kurogane snarled, as he got up, stretching his muscled arms; the previous day had been busy. He and his fighters had discovered a whole pack of leeches, hiding out behind Esren ridge, picking off travelers on the road. It had taken some quick ingenuity by their archer Doumeki to get them out of it. He liked that man- quiet, and knew how to do his job. And now, apparently Kurogane owed him his life.

The question of the morning, however, was why that selfish bitch Yuko had woken him at an ungodly hour on his off day! He did rise though, the threat too much even for him to ignore, and pulled on a rough black tunic, and pants of the same material; then donned a pair of heavy leather boots. He slung his long-sword across his back, and ran a hand through his unruly ebony bangs. This was highly disrespectful, to even think of going to the Lady-Mage dressed so. Of course, that was the idea. He was Kurogane, the greatest hunter in Esren, and there was no way he was going to dress in uniform for anyone but the Lady Tomoyo at 5:30 in the morning.

He twisted his way through the winding corridor of the barracks, toward the door. The halls were largely empty, as any hunters were either out on assignment, or asleep at such an hour. As he should have been! The door slid open for him automatically when he reached it with a light hisss.

Outside the sky was still dark, overcast, the air tinged with the sent of imminent rainfall. Great, he thought, as if today had needed help being fucking terrible. Just then, the clouds suddenly opened, soaking him to the bone with the heavy downpour in an instant. He began to stalk through the parking lot, cursing at the sky, at the climate, at himself for parking so far away, and Yuko.

This was sure to be one long ass day.