Disclaimer: I currently don't even own a bed, so rights to a million dollar anime franchise? Yeah not happening.


He probably looked like a mad person.

He sped up, as he ran towards a bend in the pathway. Really, who but a mad person would follow a mugger into the treacherous labyrinth that was East Aston Park from dusk till dawn?

Yes, he definitely looked like a mad person.

He took a long stride and turned the corner, hoping he had gained on the lowlife... and then he rammed straight into a girl eating ice-cream.

As he fell backwards, his eyes instinctively closed, bracing himself for a painful landing. However when the oddly strong smell of chocolate reached him, he forgot about the pain even as he hit the ground. He was much too busy trying to figure out whether or not his shirt felt oddly wet.

It was his favourite shirt.

"Oh god, are you alright?" Van heard her ask from his patch of dry, decidedly scratchy grass.

"Is that creepy wet feeling on my arm the remnants of your ice-cream?" He asked with his eyes still closed.

"Yes I'm afraid so. But don't worry I can get another o-"

"I was worried about my shirt, not your ice cream." He laughed as he opened his eyes, and then instantly sighed. There it was: a large brown blob, still in the process of dripping off his arm. He began to push himself up, wincing only slightly, "I suppose the man I was chasing ran right past you?"

"Mugger wasn't he?" She asked.

"You knew?"

"Ugly cap, shredded hoodie and a Coach? What else could he have been?"

"You didn't try to stop him?" He knew he shouldn't have been, but he felt annoyed.

"I like my guts quite where they are, thank you very much." She retorted flippantly.

When he didn't so much as crack a smile she added, "What if he'd taken my ice-cream?"

He looked up and gave her a small smile. "Well seeing as you owe an old lady a bag and me a new shirt I think you can give me the bit of tissue you're holding."

"Me? I think not." She handed him the tissue, "If anything you owe me some ice-cream. Who takes a corner without offering some sort of warning?" She gave him a mock glare that almost instantly became a thoughtful look. The wind blew past them, stirring the straggler leaves that had yet to rejoin the earth.

'Cycles.' he thought absently as he watched her pull a leaf out of her hair and set it free.

They were both quiet and when he focused on her face he realized that even through the strangely heavy silence, her eyes had never strayed from his face.

"I'm sorry, but have we ever met?"

He gave her a slightly bewildered look and replied, "That's not much to be sorry about and I don't think so. Do you go to school around here?"

"Yes. But have we ever met around the city?" She had this nagging feeling that she'd seen him near her favorite book store? Maybe in that pub across her aunts place?

But he was shaking his head, "Not that I can remember, but I do have a terrible memory." He suddenly noticed she was wearing running shorts. "An ice cream right after you've taken a jog?" he asked with an accusing look.

She looked sheepish, "Well, before, to be honest."

"You run here this late? Isn't it a bit dangerous?"

"Says' the man chasing after dragons." She said lightly. He looked at her sharply not knowing why. When she looked back with a raised eyebrow he relaxed and laughed. "Either that was a terribly used Chinese phrase or you think I'm high."

She grinned, "The first. I don't run here. I'm on my way to school. It's just that Aston Park has the best ice-cream."

"I can't disagree with that." He nodded, "So you're on your school track team then?"

"Yes."

"I suppose it's Azares High, just a block away?" He tried to keep the excitement out of his voice. Oh yes, it was definitely her.

She nodded, looking curious. "Have you figured out where we met?"

"Tell me three years ago at the Junior Athletic Regional finals, during your warm-ups did a strange, but decidedly handsome," He paused to smirk, "boy jump into the middle of your track?"

There they were again, cycles- never ending repetitions that the world ran on- the universe itself maybe.

She stared at him, her jaw was slack. "You?" She asked hoarsely after a minute.

He nodded allowing a small grin.

"Drop that smug look you little shit!"

"Wh-what?" He felt and no doubt looked bewildered.

She said angrily, "When you jumped onto my track for whatever god damned reason, did you realize you looked like you'd been attacked? You were covered in blo- red paint." She hastily corrected. "I freaked. I used to have nightmares about it!"

He stared at her blankly.

"I couldn't get the image out of my head. You fall to your knees. A bunch of kids come and carry you off the field? Dear god! I remember being so scared for you."

"But you knew it was paint?" He asked hesitantly.

"Not until after the race! When they started the actual race, I just froze up. Started too late and lost my regional place and a chance at nationals." She took a deep breath and looked at him with a dangerous glint in her eyes, "Bring your neck here so I may throttle it purple."

As he listened to her, his expression was one of confusion, "But you made it the next year with a vengeance didn't you? "

"How did y-"

"Well you're Hitomi Kanzakhi aren't you?"

She frowned, "Yes. You have the advantage of-"

He cut across her again and said, now sounding exactly like a manager should, "Van Fanel. Manager of the Track and Field club at Escaflowne High. I've come across your name a few times: mostly while my own runners shake in fear and dread." He paused, "Now, didn't you place second at nationals the next year?"

She nodded.

He grinned and dropped the tone, "Well then I think you owe me a thank you kiss. Failing one year made you perform better the next."

Her eyes narrowed, "Your idiotic team pours red paint all over you, you jump onto my track, scarring me practically for life, I lose that year and I owe you a big fat thank you kiss?"

"You won the next year." He pointed out, then he smirked, "And I didn't specify the big,f at part but if you want...

"Dear lord, enough." She snapped, "I'm late." She stalked past him and he was sure he heard her mutter, "May a dragon eat you."

He laughed as he turned to follow her, "Listen, I'm sorry. Clearly I'm being flippant about something that is very emotionally... well something. I'm sorry."

She kept stalking.

"I'm very, very sorry I ruined your chances at nationals that year." He tried again. She slowed down and he grinned.

"Alright," She bit out, still not turning, "I accept. Good bye."

"I'm walking in the same direction." He suggested in dulcet tones. He grinned even wider when her back tensed. "I'll escort you."

"Why not run after your mugger?"

"He's long gone by now." He caught up with her and on catching her expression, he chuckled, "Did you know I have three runners on my team who try to offer your soul to the devil at least several times a month? They're getting quite innovative too, last week they made a clay doll that captured your glare perfectly."

Her pace didn't slow down, so he went on.

"Yup. They hate any race you're in. In fact I think they're positively praying you make it into the Olympics this year."

She slowed down now and turned to look at him, "Can we not talk?"

"Come on. I thought you accepted my apology. It's a good ten minutes to the gates. We might as well. I imagine we'll be seeing each other a lot this year, what being in the same divisional sectors. Don't we have a meet next month?"

She grimaced, "What is it you do again? Sports wise?"

"I manage the school's athletic teams."

"But you used to play something?"

"A runner like yourself." He caught her look and said quickly, "Before you ask, leg injury. I can't run track anymore."

She was silent and then offered a subdued apology.

He smiled, "That's what I love about other athletes they always show an injured soldier the respect he deserves."

She didn't smile, and muttered, "I feel ridiculously petty now."

"I know. I win even when I lose." He joked.

She bit her lip and looked at him with serious, concerned and slightly pained eyes, but she said nothing. There was nothing more she could say really. Her expression said it all.

He looked back at her for a moment, expression thoughtful, as if he had something to say: maybe to tell her not to worry, he'd gotten over it after all. And while it was touching that she thought his injury terrible enough to warrant such a concerned, gentle look it was unnecessary.

When he spoke, all he said with mighty condescension was, "I hope your little team is ready? Ours' is rather brilliant this year."

Her expression dropped and she replied instantly, "I did hear something about your team getting better at satanic rituals."

"Ahhh. You are an expert in... umm witty retorts."

She made a face, "That's what they gossip about? My bitchy replies?"

"You rate yourself much too high," He said, "you don't have what it takes to be a bitch."

She stopped to pantomime a dagger running through her heart.

He turned and watched with amusement. When a minute later they had resumed walking he asked, "Are you aiming at a place in the Olympics?"

She snorted, "I fear tales of my excellence are just that, tales."

"You did make nationals."

"Two years ago."

"What happened last year?"

"Nothing really. I sat out because of some health issues."

"Better now?"

She turned to look at him and shrugged, "I'm back in training."

"Nationals?"

"Are you gathering information on me?"

He nodded, "A little. I've seen videos of you run. You're quite brilliant."

She smiled, "Thank you. How come you didn't recognize me though? I would have felt much better if you'd gone, 'Oh god, you're Hitomi Kanzakhi!'"

He stared at her, considering her question, "I'm not too sure. I suppose, when we watch other runners we don't pay too much attention to faces. Also... I think you... cut your hair?"

"Yup."

They walked, and the silence was companionable, Van would admit, but he felt that companionable wasn't enough.

"So you dreamt about me?"

It had to be hostile to be interesting.

He had been expecting it, but it didn't make it much less painful when she slapped him across the head, "I had nightmares about you." She corrected furiously, "Of an idiotic boy covered in blood, stumbling onto a track, looking like something had attacked him. Don't make it a tawdry pick up line." She glared at him.

"You're a mind reader." He said admiringly, "I shall avoid tawdry pick up lines then, bu-"

"Any pick up lines." She warned.

"A positive mind reader!" He exclaimed, watching her out of the corner of his eyes, "So yes or no for nationals?"

When he repeated the question that had been plaguing her for the last two months she frowned, "Honestly, I have no idea."

"I thought my question would be redundant." He remarked.

"A year ago it would have been." She found herself confessing, "But being off track for that year, made me think a bit, and you know what thinking does..."

"Makes you so confused you feel like a badger at tea." He finished.

She laughed, "Something like that."

"Running isn't everything for you then?"

She shook her head, "Sadly not anymore. I'll keep doing, it. Probably through Uni too."

He shook his head, "It's a god damned waste you know? To have all that talent, but no passion."

"So I've been told."

"You know you run like you've given genetically altered legs?"

She grinned again, "So I've been told, but more nicely. They were once compared to the legs of a goddess. A winged goddess if I'm not mistaken."

He snorted, "And that turned your head."

She sighed and said with actual regret, "Sadly it did not. My head is very firmly screwed on it seems. And it has a strict policy on turning: 'Not Allowed.'"

"Bad relationship equals a cynic?"

"Bad relationship equals a pragmatist.' She corrected delicately.

"Cynics always say that." He snorted.

She glared at him and changed the subject, "On the matter or nationals, it's all far away. I have time, I'll figure it out. I always do."

He bowed his head as if accepting that not so gentle rebuff, but then stared at her appraisingly, "Yes, I think you will. You seem the type."

"You must be a good manager."

"I'm alright. It helps I used to run. I've a better understanding and all that."

They'd arrived at the gates of the park, and Hitomi laughed, "I think you've redeemed yourself by the way."

"Why do you think I did it? I couldn't have an angry girl on my conscience."

She smirked and looked him up and down, "Yes, I think you couldn't. You seem the type."

"That's not fair! Mine was nice."

She sniggered and began to walk towards the main road, "So was mine." She called back.

"I know your name." He threatened.

She actually whirled around and then smiled quite genuinely. "I hope you know how to use it." She laughed, turned back and began to jog off.

He stood still watching her go with the faintest of smiles, and muttered, "Hitomi Kanzakhi."

Everything runs on cycles and of course there are certain people who were simply meant to meet. Incident causes it, destiny demands it and the soul harkens for it.

The End.


Hello you lot. Here it is- the final encounter. I've been sitting on it for months mostly because I'm still not sure if it's what I want. I just re-updated it because there were some grammar mistakes. Also I thought I'd just tell you that the reason there is always a reference to the places they're going to meet in or have already met in was really actually the central point of the three encounters and how they're linked. Hitomi and Van, even in this AU world would have met. Always. If it wasn't at the pub, then at the book store and if not then, then at the park Like I said certain people were simply meant to meet. Ideally I shouldn't have to explain this, but after reading all three, I think maybe I didn't emphasize on it as much as I should have. Tell me if that authors note was totally unnecessary why don't you? And give me some other feedback too, yes? I'd like to hear suggestions, comments etc.

Reviews will make me dance. I love dancing.

LLL

M.S.