AN: I have a feeling I will be focusing on this story more than others since I have gained the dreaded sickness, writer's block.

Someone please tell me of an idea for a romance pair I can use for FLF because I really STINK at romance. And AWotU is just lacking something, so I may change some of the chapters, but I am not sure. Action is another thing I stink at. Simply wonderful. But never mind that, please read on and enjoy. (And ignore my strange use of words. Middle Earth's English really does things to you)

Disclaimer: I don't own Cardfight! Vanguard.

Burnt Memory

Chapter Two: School...Home?


Isn't the teacher supposed to introduce the new student to the class and show him around? This question never even crossed the boy's mind as he stood in the classroom, staring at everyone blankly. It was not cold or indifferent. It could almost be called the innocent look a child gives you when they believe you are worth staring at. The boy always had one of two expressions. He either would stare innocently, his mouth slightly agape for no reason. Or he would look with half open eyes and blink numerous times, as if he was tired. At the moment he retained the childish look, staring at all the people. His hair had grown long, covering a scar on the right of his forehead he wasn't aware of it.

"Toshiki-kun," his teacher coughed uncomfortably. "Please take a seat."

The boy stayed where he was, not moving his eyes at all. It was when someone stood up and pulled him to a chair did he turn to the person and blinked.

"...Alright. Class, please treat your classmate well. He...may act different," the teacher sighed sadly, staring at his student who took no notice at all.

The brown-haired boy simply stared at the person curiously who had pulled him to a chair, his mouth a little open to show it. Everyone's stares did nothing to move his sight. They all wondered if he was even aware of it.

"Now, let's start the new chapter. First, you will need to know..."

Most students still stared at him, wondering why he continued to stare at the same place for the rest of the class. When the bell rang, everyone quickly got up and almost forgot about the brunet. They saw him staring at that exact person, not even moving from his chair. People began to whisper.

"Isn't that Kai Toshiki?"

"I thought I was dreaming! He's so different!"

"What happened to him while he took off from school? It was almost a month, too!"

"Maybe the rumors are true. That accident-"

Everyone froze as the brunet finally moved and stood up. He stared at them the same way he had stared at that person. It was not meant to intimidate, but it gave that effect. His classmates looked down in shame for having spoken about him like that before quickly heading to the next class, uneasy how the boy never once moved his gaze. Even as they left, he stared at the doorway, being the only person left in the room. Besides the teacher.

"Toshiki-kun?"

Maybe he ignored it, maybe he hadn't heard it. The teacher gently placed a hand on his shoulder. After a minute past, he slowly looked to his teacher, then to where his hand was, and back to the teacher. Again, he meant nothing from it (his face clearly said it), but his teacher was used to his original self, and swiftly removed his hand.

"You...are Toshiki," the teacher stressed, hoping his student understood at least that. The reaction received was an innocent blink, as if not knowing what he was being told. The man sighed. "Toshiki-kun, try to make some friends here. It may help."

Another blink, unsure of what he meant, but the face was still innocent and so strange on his usual stoic face. The now innocent boy let himself get ushered out of the classroom, into the empty hallways.

The bell would ring any minute, and he did not have whatever books he needed for that class, nor did he know where that class was.

It never crossed his mind at all.

He merely let his feet move and walked down the hall, looking straight at the ground for no reason at all. There never was a reason. He never thought. He never hated or loved. Everything was gone. Whatever was supposed to be there. He continued the process of one foot in front of the other until he felt someone grip his arm and stop his movements.

He just stared off, not turning to the person who seemed very angry and who happened to be the teacher of his next class. He finally turned to the man and didn't even notice he was pulled into his next classroom.

"You're late," the man snapped, letting go of his arm. "What's your excuse?"

He just stared, cocking his head a little to the right. It didn't reach his mind that his teacher was furious.

"Detention, Toshiki. Now sit down."

The teacher pushed him roughly towards a desk. The teen blinked at it, much like he always did at anything he deemed worthy of staring. He was unaware of his classmates murmuring worriedly to each other before he sat on the chair, wanting to stare at something else. He didn't hear his teacher muttering and writing a note about him for the principal. He was simply oblivious to everything.


Detention, whatever that was, had started. He sat on a chair, looking for something to stare at. There were others in the room as well, but he did not analyze them. He blinked when someone sat next to him and slowly turned. It was that same person who had made him sit down earlier. How strange he never took the time to remember him.

He had blond hair and...grey eyes? It was just about to reach him that he may know this person when he spoke.

"How's it going?" he grinned cheekily, patting the brunet on the shoulder.

He blinked at the teen's carefree attitude, his eyes traveling from the blond's hand then back to the blond.

"So how do you like the school?" he went on, placing a hand on the table, still grinning cheerfully. When no response came, he laughed, "You don't talk much, do you?"

The boy continued to blink at him innocently. There was something strange about this person. He was so cheery and casual around him as he continued to laugh. But even in his mind void of cares, this person seemed to be...different. He didn't know how to word it, but he knew this person was not happy, despite his laughter.

And the cheerful person blabbered on and on about everything, and the confused boy actually found it nice.

It somehow felt right letting this person give him a headache.


For some odd reason, he actually thought about things when this man was around. For instance, he wondered why the man bothered to come back. Ironically, he never questioned who this man was or why he was living with him. Still, why had the man drove him to the house and shoved him in?

It came as a surprise to the boy who had fallen on weak knees, his body frail from the lack of food he had been skipping. He slowly turned to the man who slammed the door and stalked up to him angrily. The boy felt fear crawl around his stomach, forcing him to crawl back.

The man grabbed him by his hair and forced him to stand.

He felt stinging pain on his scalp, but he did not dwell on it, feeling his heart rate increase. He was pulled down the stairs and thrown on the hard floor which lacked a carpet this time. He heard the man grab something before a loud crack echoed in the dark room.

The only reaction was wide eyes, and the simple jerk of his body at the shocking sensation that flooded through him. He just laid on the ground, too shocked to move.

And it came again. And again. It was strange. A burning feeling that spread through your body, and made your teeth clench, and your heart pound. A raw taste entered his mouth, almost making him grimace. The hitting finally stopped, but his bleeding legs could still feel hot.

There was an irate mutter before the door slammed shut, and he was left alone to his pain. He slowly sat up and blinked when he felt pain coming from somewhere other than his ankles. Maybe it had come from his rib. He was successful in discovering it to be a yes after a small squeeze. He turned to his ankles.

They were littered in mad, red marks, a liquid leaking out. The boy lightly touched the red liquid and brought up an index finger. It tasted like the same thing that had already flooded his mouth.

He pulled up his knees and laid his head down, finding nothing to stare at in the pitch-black room.


It seemed this man liked him better without hair since he always seemed to drag him by it.

He was thrown in the car, his head again gaining the brunt of it. He did not move from the awkward position his body was in. His eyes were half-open, his ankles sore, and his body aching. He had been awoken from his slumber and fell down on each stair as the man had been impatient for him to leave without food or a jacket in this cold, rainy weather. But it did not occur to him to be angry or upset since he did not know he was hungry or cold.

He headed into the school, unaware of the stares and whispers going around as he tumbled down the stairs. He accidentally made it before the bell rang. His natural instincts took over to give his body rest from moving around. He much preferred staring at the chairs rather than sitting in them.

The once melodic sound now hurt his ears and made his head pound. But from looking at his face, the only thing you could read would be that he didn't make it well through the night, and that he had not eaten in days.

His teacher told him to go wash his face but then said to head to the office to call home as the boy kept swaying on the chair. For the first time since he came to this 'new' school, he made a sound.

"Eh?" he blinked with half-open eyes and cocked his head to the right at his teacher, unaware of how deathly silent the room got. Home? What was that?

"...Yes, call home, the place where you came from this morning," the teacher stressed, hoping his student could understand that much. Why was he allowed to go to school if he did not know what was being said?

That immediately struck an emotion on the brunet's blank face, and he jumped from his seat.

The class was startled by his actions and the sudden panic on his face.

The boy had no understanding of why he felt this way, but he most certainly was not going back any sooner than he needed to. A hand on his shoulder made him turn to see that same chatterer from 'detention'.

"I'll take him to the bathroom," he grinned and pulled the boy out of the room without the approval. Once they were down the hall, the blond let go of his arm and lightly placed his hand behind the brunet's back, guiding him towards the restroom.

"Life not so good at home?" he questioned quietly as he opened the door, and the two walked in.

Kai was still grasping this 'home', but he felt the teen had asked the question perfectly, as if he had known exactly. But his thoughts were swept away as he turned his face.

There stood someone with an absolutely pale color and a positively skinny form. His hair was brown and spiked in a strange way that was both messy yet in order for an odd reason unknown to him. Yet the thing that stood out the most was the eyes. A dazed, emerald green that looked too inhuman to belong to anyone. They stared without meaning.

Unconsciously, he reached out to touch, and his fingers met a cold glass. Blinking, he saw the person doing the same thing and staring at him intently.

"That's you," the silent murmur reminded him that he was not alone.

He turned to the blond with a small, ray of confusion littering his usual blank face.

"It's your reflection," he continued gently and came beside the brunet. "See? I'm there, too."

The boy had trouble grasping this 'reflection', but he saw the blond there as well, so maybe that was him. Letting go of it, he turned on the water and brought it up to his face, shaking away his drowsiness.

The blond silently led him back to their class, his face grim. It vaguely occurred to the brown-haired boy that he did not know the person's name. But then he also did not know the man's name. Actually, he did not know his own name...

Was that supposed to matter?


AN: Yes, but sadly, he will not know that for some time. Even though I may change it, here is what may happen next.

Preview Coming Soon:

Chapter Three: Despair Kai's beatings started to increase, and it began to affect him. The more he realizes, the more he suffers. The more the days pass, the more he grows mad.

Review if you want.