HELLO people!! im so sorry this was so late! i hope you're stil with me!! i hope so...hehe...right, so...how you been? this story is losing a little of its traction but it'll be fine!! ( i hope) so...bear with me and visit my fictionpress site! i have written a new story and its three chapters so far...plenty more soon!!...i gtg..i promise more soon...!! for fictionpress...go to , search for blase contradiction! okay?? and my blog!! oooooo!! my blog!! erm... oh yes! www.sweetdamnation. !! link me!!

-Love you Lots,
Blase ;P

You're immortal

Gone, like yesterday is gone,
Like history is gone,
The world keeps spinning on,
Your going, going gone,
Like summer break is gone,
Like Saturday is gone
Just try to prove me wrong
You pretend like you're immortal

Gone by Switchfoot

Chapter 10: Pretend Like You're Immortal

1026, Rome, Italy

Emmanuel looked up at the startling gathering of confused men and women as he was led up the steps of the concrete quadrangle by an iron-clad soldier. The fires lit at every point danced eerily in the background. Each one of them, eight in all, stood at a cardinal point in the silver wrought circle, formed on the ground. A man, garbed in the silver-black robes of a necromancer, walked into the circle, carrying a silver pot of white powder and another pot of black sand.

The man who'd invited him here, Escariot was his apparent name, sat upon one of the flat-topped columns that surrounded the quadrangle. He gestured to the last empty spot, the North point. Each point had an engraved letter; N for North, S for South, E for East, W for West and every other was like NE for North East. Emmanuel gazed at it curiously.

Escariot rose and raised his hands up in mocking welcome. "As Brother Emmanuel, our Northern Guardian has arrived, let us evoke the powers of our powerful and mighty god, Judas!" A murmur of shock ran through the circle, Emmanuel's eyes widening at the name. Judas, the black sheep, was worshipped by a cult as the bringer of peace, the cult called the Apostles of Immortals. They were rumored to be a cult filled with madmen and women, blasphemy being their highest crime.

"What are you talking about, Escariot?" a man standing at the West point shouted. "No one but those heretic Apostles call that godforsaken man a god! Who are you? A blasphemed man, searching for something to do?"

Escariot chuckled low in his throat. "I do believe you've gone over the edge, Waverly." The man waved his hand and Emmanuel found all of them all chained to the ground by shining gold chains. He struggled to get himself released as the others did likewise. "But unfortunately, as we are currently running out of time, I have to hurry this up. You see, there's this thing about the moon. It allows those who wait for its time wonderful powers. I am here…to leave behind my heritage."

"So you sacrifice us?" a woman from the South point shrieked. Her blond hair was messed up badly, a sign that she'd been vigorously struggling to be set free. "Yes," Escariot said. He turned to Emmanuel. "This man, he is your new leader. The last one to stand…the first to rise!" He laughed maniacally and from his hands, eerie shots of green light rose to the sky. "It's time to embrace your destiny! Not as the creator but as my servants! When this is over, you'll thank me! You'll live eternally and bring more into the circle! Continue my legacy!"

The spot where he'd shot the green beams of light bounced back and hit the centre of the circle, the light flowing to the cardinal points like poisonous liquid. As the beams hit each person, they gave out a cry of pain. Four crumpled to the ground and Emmanuel instantly knew they were never going to see tomorrow. Only those at the four main cardinal points were standing. He felt something like his thread of life being stretched away from him, finally gone. But he wasn't dead yet.

The pain abruptly stopped.

Escariot jumped down and met him, pulling him up, opening his eyes to the non-existent bonds that once held him. He gripped Emmanuel's forearm and gave him a homecoming smile that spoke of no warmth. "Welcome, brother, to eternal existence." Emmanuel's world had come spiraling downwards…and to the glorifying reaches of hell.

Alice Academy, present day

The lights burned late into the night as she poured over the documents of information Miura had provided the day Tsukaima received the information about the sword. I had followed her everywhere, becoming her companion with Hotaru who insisted on following also. This was our life since the day she caught my hand and confided in me. The days passed in the telling of tales and the clashing of arms. The noticeable anger in her eyes was a telltale sign of the despair she felt. Hotaru and I stuck by her, though.

She continued to pour over the books the Academy deemed restricted, deep in the bowels of the school no one knew of. They told of legends of immortals and magic we thought was just poppy-cock. To her…it was life itself. Maybe we'd never understand truly the disaster that was her world…but we'd walk with her all the way.

The whole group (Mikan, me, Hotaru, Ruka, Natsume, Raion, Tsukaima, Yuu and Narumi) sat in a circle, a fire burning in the fireplace nearby. She had just told us the tale of a man called Emmanuel. She had memorized the whole thing by heart and I wondered if Janus knew Emmanuel. Mikan had spoken of him dispassionately, the effect clearly showing she didn't care about his fate. Natsume was listening but he sat a little ways off, watching the flames dance elegantly. He hadn't said much in the past three days and the certainly wasn't going to change anytime soon.

"So…Emmanuel lived for roughly seven centuries after that, watching, listening, patiently abiding his time," she continued after a pause. The night outside was calm, the peace the relative feeling after the duel three days ago; the wild rumors on the other hand were…well, getting out of hand. "He walked with humans, learned their sins, and in the end, he thought he was too good to live like this, no way to pass on his legacy. He described Escariot's treachery as a genius's work; magic even. It was common knowledge among the other Immortals, Emmanuel was becoming as demented as Escariot before he was condemned to the hellfire he'd spent practically his whole life avoiding. So…when Emmanuel found out…he sought to destroy them…"

Edinburgh, Scotland, September 11, 1715

James strode into the room where the man in the black cloak stood, gazing into the fire. There were rumors circulating the man the servants whispered about. They said they swore he talked to their Master about the things he saw in a little island called Malawi…in the year 1334. They said he had very nearly seen the dawn of time and everything. James dismissed everything the servants said. Not to be trusted they were. But most of all…they all feared him.

James didn't blame them. He too feared Emmanuel at first. He had frightening powers he couldn't explain and his mindset was demented. Now, he had handed out orders for three specific people to be murdered. He had said their names with an evil, gruesome amusement.

The first was Saiorsei Medina, a young girl who had grown up on the island of Cyprus. He had said her name with a different voice, a sort of infatuated maniacal voice. He described her the way he'd described a china doll or something; dark cascading curls of midnight, rosy lips, the color of summer roses, and porcelain skin of a Meissen ballerina and the clear blue eyes of colored Dresden glass. He was more or less speaking like she was an object, not a human being, immortal or mortal. He wanted her burnt at the stake, convicted as a witch. Then, he named a newly-forged katana that name.

The second, was a man called Waverly O'Ryan. He lived in the outskirts of Ireland, the nearest one to kill. He described Waverly as a man with no ethics, much less intelligence. The shaggy brown hair and infinite black eyes were how he was supposed to identify him. He was to be cut down to pieces with a scythe and then, his pieces burned.

And finally, the third, was a man named Hachen McDean, a quiet man who lived in the West Indies. He was supposedly a quiet man who lived his days with no human interaction whatsoever. Red-haired and green-eyed, he was to be murdered kindly with the gentle graces of deadly nightshade.

The three had one thing in common. A secret method of killing Emmanuel had told him no one but he, his brother and precious other few should know. He told him to take three men, all useless varmints who didn't know a day's work, all who gave their jobs and enticed others to do. They were used this way in the so-called name of justice.

Just a month later, seven people were reported dead. One woman, Saiorsei Medina was found charred and a hole pierced in her gut. A man, Waverly O'Ryan, had been cut up and burnt, but a large piece of skin suggested he was first stabbed. Another, Hachen McDean, was poisoned, his nightshade-induced black blood spilling out of the hole in his heart. Another baffling enigma, James Fadden was found handing by his neck off a cliff, a rope securing him to a branch. The other three, Kierran Langley, Damien Sands and Pierce Everly all died of the same consequence. A knife stab in their bodies.

Nagoya Prefecture, present day

The walls of Shinigami Incorporated was raised high, an oddity for a company who specialized in funeral planning. I thought the world at that point was off its axis. I mean, I get wedding planners but funeral planners? Is this place filled with crackpots? I glanced around and caught sight of Mikan and Koko conversing quietly in a corner. She had this forlorn look on her face since the day she's told us our tale. So, the deaths of seven people in a month was apparently the doing of one man. Sickening.

She disappeared with Koko for a moment as I bent to talk to Tsukaima. He seemed calm, a rare emotion for him these days. "Don't you seem chipper?" I asked him, wryly.

He beamed at me, confirming my suspicion. "Of course! I mean, it's not like we're in any danger here! It's not like Janus is here!"

"What?"

"He's not here."

"What are you talking about, Tsukaima?" I demanded. "Your spies specifically said that his base was here and that he would be here to collect the sword. So, why wouldn't he be here?"

"Oh, didn't we tell you?"

"Tell me what?"

Tsukaima looked at me as if I had just sprouted two heads. "Mikan and I scoured through the history of Escariot and the Apostles of Immortals that the Academy kept in secret. Believe me, there's barely anything. According to the Lament of Escariot, the legend goes that the deaths of Immortals must be done on 'the ground of beginning', in other words, Castella Valley, Rome, Italy." He grinned at me as my jaw dropped.

"So does that mean…" I stuttered.

"Yup," he said, his grin staying plastered on his face, but this time, amusement played in his eyes. "All our fear was of no use." How could he say something like that and not look…at all frustrated?? Maybe all the stress has gone to his head and he's now seeing rainbows and rabbits…. Then, he turned that grim facial expression I had become so used to seeing. "But, that doesn't change the fact that Janus has sent out troops."

"Hirazuki Idare." We spun and saw Sakura walk out of the shadow of the forest. But we saw someone entirely different. No longer were long curls of auburn and mud framing a face of sweet innocence and harsh ignorance. We were looking at a young woman of sixteen, hair chopped to her shoulders, mimicking the style of one Yuka Azumi, her face no longer the soft, adorable child but now, all angles and sharp facial features. We no longer saw Sakura Mikan. Now, we saw Hemorrhage. "He's here."

Nagoya Prefecture, Japan, January 7, 1988

The bubbling silver liquid, reminiscent of the chemical they called quicksilver, shone eerily in the dark of the metal-paned room. A young man, an ingenious scientist named Faust de Lebaun, named after the madman in Homer's Odyssey, sat at the silver-topped lab table that held the contents of his chemistry set. He grinned as his eyes probed the silver liquid, examining the swirling water. They say that genius is only a fine line away from madness. He was the epitome of this phrase.

Setting the flask on the table in the tripod stand, a place of honor on the table, he recalled the day when a strange man had walked into his humble home in the slums of Tokyo. The man had a sallow face, lines of sadness and grief, happiness and joy, anger and fear etched into his seemingly ageless face. But he was only twenty-nine. But his eyes…oh, his eyes of that fantastic color of violet were full of one emotion that defined his entire being; the essence of what he truly was.

Evil thundered in those fantastic eyes.

Such darkness that threatened to overtake the true being that he was. Faust had found that power terrifying and awesome, a need to be like that overpowering his sense. He wanted life, eternal and forever, to be recognized as an equal of Machiavelli, Botticelli, da Vinci, Fibonacci… The magician, Faust… That's who he wanted to be.

"Give me the power to create a weapon as powerful as gods, and I'll give you to the glory of heroes," this man had said. He called himself Janus, the god of gates…he thought he would start a new era, of power and eternals. Faust thought him a visionary. Mad as they were…they deserved each other. So, he toiled for days and night and after three years of blood, sweat and tears, he created Halogen…the power of the gods.

That night, he'd unveil his discovery. Everything he'd worked for and he'd show his partner in power the means to glory. Then, he heard the silent cry of a child and the gentle crooning of a man's rough voice. Janus strode in, his aura preceding over like a heavy blanket of fear. Behind him, a man with a hard face carried an infant, barely a week old and placed it on the table, a blanket as a makeshift bed. A girl. Large hazel-green eyes probed his face, seemingly looking into his soul as if it were no more than glass. Faust never felt more naked, although he was cloaked in lab coat, sweater, shirt and undershirt due to the weather conditions.

"This is our newest project," Janus announced. "Her name is…Hemorrhage. She's our test subject and our greatest weapon, if your discovery proves right. Now, shall we begin?"

Faust gaped at him. He was all in when it came to his glory. But a child? No more than a week old! This was pure madness. He voiced this out to Janus and the man's face became an emotion, a mix of amusement and fury. "Yes, Faust, this is my plan. If you want a person you can train and discipline easily, the process must be started early. Training the child from birth is the fastest way."

"But-but…"

Janus sighed and drew his short dagger. "If you cannot cooperate, I'm afraid that we must dispose of…useless garbage." Faust felt a sharp pain in his stomach, then as blackness began to envelope him, he saw the man that'd murdered him. "I cannot tolerate the unworthy. You die this day."

As the man fell to the ground, Janus picked up a syringe and filled it with the silvery liquid. "My little changling," he crooned evilly as the baby began to writhe and cry. "It's alright. It'll only hurt for a little while. You'll be the strongest weapon ever created. My little Hemorrhage."

Shinigami Incorporated, Nagoya, present day

The walls of the funeral planners wasn't an easy climb, let me tell you. I struggled with just throwing the hook over the side. Then again, the added strength helped. Now, I was halfway up, the rest of the still a quarter of a way down. Hyuuga was only a meter below me as we continued. The thumping of my heart increased as I thought of the sword; no one had seen it in over a hundred years. I was going to use it to kill the person who brought nothing but misery to my life.

Droplets of sweat dotted my face as I reached the top. I saw what lay before me was anything but a funeral planning management. A sprawling fifteen hundred acres of grass, sand and rock lay in front of my eyes. "The Shinigami Incorporation's boss, Yoshima Ryozuki is obsessed with the samurai age. He bought this house and created his incorporation. A Japanese-esque house serving as a funeral planning agency? Pssh," Raion explained. I turned and saw him looking at me, a sort of curiosity in his eyes. "You're going to have to accept that we're not going to leave you behind. You know that right?" The others were still below. Raion was the only one with the closest capabilities I have. I smiled a little.

"Yeah," I said quietly. "I thought I wouldn't be able to get rid of you guys anytime soon."

He chuckled. "So, what's the game plan?"

"I'm trying something called divide and conquer." I stopped his protest when I saw the annoyance on his face. "No, no, I'm not going about this alone. You'll take Hyuuga and Tsukaima to the lower grounds and start kicking the butt of every guard you see. Make a commotion so big, that not a single person can ignore it. I'll sneak into the upper rooms where the sword is apparently kept and then I'll get out. No danger…to me at least."

He smiled wryly. "Yeah, it makes me feel so much safer," he said dryly. I smiled and took in the subtle brightening of his face. Did I really smile so rarely nowadays? During the days of the past, I used to find smiling so easy. I made a grinned and put up my fingers in a peace sign before leaping into action.

"That Sakura," I heard him faintly say before I was swallowed into the dark of Shinigami Incorporated. I listened and baited my time. Resting my head against the bark of tree I rolled up the sleeves of my medieval-sleeve sweater. The red veins that looked like the internal image of a human body had spread, crisscrossing over my arm and went on the cover my body. I breathed heavily. I sneaked a potion from Nonoko's stash called 'Numbing'. It was apparently to keep any illness at bay for a time and energy limit.

That was why I was partly so scared. If I overexerted myself tonight, the possibilities of the NightSnake poison activating in my body was pretty high. I was afraid…I wouldn't have the chance to kill the man who made my life a living hell. No. I wouldn't die…not of this petty poison. Be delayed yes…but I would never give up.

"Hello, Sakura."

I looked up into the cold eyes of Hirazuki Idare.

Nagoya, Japan, March 8, 1992

Hemorrhage threw her coach onto the ground for the twenty-sixth consecutive time that day. Frustration had wrung her of all her patience. She was constantly thinking of the man she saw in a cell and had snarled at her. "You are a godforsaken heretic!" he screamed at her. He pointed at her. "What sort of human are you? Why do you kill people so senselessly and not even bat an eyelash? Are you human?!"

She ran away from that man that day. Then, went to see him again the next day. She recalled seeing him so thin, gaunt…like he hadn't had a single piece of sustenance or water in days. She gave him bread. He looked at her warily like he thought the food was poisoned. But the innocence, the fear and the lessons taught from birth was all that was in her eyes. No true intention to kill. Like she killed only because she had been brought up to. In return, he taught her.

He taught her the beauties of life, the right and the wrongs, confusing her with all he said. She knew he spoke the truth. But why? Killing was a sin. She did it nearly always. How could something she knew as a second instinct be so…evil? Did Janus lie to her for all these years?

Three months later, the man, Ulrike, was killed, decapitated. Hage watched from a distance. That day, she made the decision that would change her life and others in turn. She turned to Janus, one last time. "Emmanuel," she said. "What is the difference between good and evil?"

The man, clothed in his usual mask and ebony cloak looked at her curiously. "Well, Hage, if you must know, evil is simply braver and better than good. That's all you need to know."

"But, isn't killing bad? Does that make me brave?"

"Yes."

"Then I don't want to kill." She ran away. And set the first headquarters to fire. She slaughtered several hundred men that night…and disappeared to reappear as Sakura Mikan.

Shinigami Incorporated, Nagoya, present day

"You know, Sakura," Idare purred. "I was once the greatest weapon Janus ever had. When I was sixteen, I was considered Janus's best operative; a genius on stage, an old hand at the sword and a certified genius. Then, a young little wretch from an ordinary, nothing special couple comes along, and, hey, whaddya know, this kid is an Alice! Has two in fact! So, what happens to me? Hmm…oh yeah! I get pushed back to second place!"

"So?" I asked dryly. "He likes me more? Please, I'd rather he hate me to damnation!"

"That's not the point," he snarled. "The point is, I don't want some little kid messing up my style. Unlike you, I'd rather not have half the place laughing at my back, calling me a messed up loser. I want you dead now. And I mean NOW!"

"Sure, right," I said. He lunged at me, missing me as I easily sidestepped the attack. A quick karate chop to his back had him collapsing on the ground. He gained his stance again and raced towards me, the skill astounding. But not enough to beat me. "Not enough, Hirazuki," I taunted, roundhouse-kicking him in the face. A series of kicks and punches were traded but it was clear enough I had the upper hand. A trickle of blood sped from his mouth. I slapped him hard enough to send him sprawling. "I don't like doing this to you or anyone else for that matter." He was finally unconscious. "But you leave me no choice. My family over your life. Sorry."

I raced towards the monstrous house when I heard the telltale barking of guard dogs signal the distraction the others had concocted. I saw that they had caused a sort of (snicker) Broadway enactment of the greatest theater performances. Did I fail to mention that Hyuuga made a VERY bad Annie's Oliver Warbucks…not a pretty sight, I assure you… True to its Japanese theme, the walls were concrete and doors paper screens. I burst through four rooms in the main building before I finally found the Slaughter.

Even in the dim moonlight, the metal of the sword shone like silver. I watched with glazed over eyes at the weapon, fascinated with the artistry. Carved moons and stars covered the double-folded metal, magic sewn in, spells of dispersion and destruction. I lifted my hands to it as a deadly foil was laid on my hand. I looked up and saw Hirazuki Idare in front of me, a shiner on his left eye.

"Not another move, Sakura," he snarled. "You've pushed me around too many times for a lifetime." He drew back a little and started in a fencer's pose. "One match, life and death. You lose, I get the sword. I lose, you get away with it and your life."

I sighed heavily. "Your life isn't worth this effort," I said quietly. I grew into Hemorrhage as I drew my own foil. "But if this is what it takes to get you off my back, goodbye, Idare."

We clashed together in a melee of skill and ferocity. "You're letting your anger overpower you, Idare," I mocked, succeeding in making him even madder. He was always weak when it came to his emotions. He'd been abandoned when he was a child, growing up in the slums of Tokyo before Janus had found his potential incredible.

He brought his foil down, whistling but I dodged it. Only speed and fast footwork saved me from his smashes. It was common knowledge that Idare was fierce and fearful enemy when provoked.

I, for one, wanted to push him off the edge.

We fought for what seemed like ages. He had cut me deep in my leg. I had slashed his uniform. He had seared my cheeks. I had made his side bleed. I had had enough. The mercy in me wasn't enough to spare his life like Sakura Mikan would. Hemorrhage had had enough of this weakling. I pulled back and disappeared in a flash of sudden speed. I reappeared behind him as he acted one second too late. My foil, deadly and sharp, pierced through his silver-red clothing. His blood quickly soaked the material as he dropped to the ground. I discarded the weapon that had felled him.

He looked up at me with glazed over eyes. "Rest," I told him, feeling myself return to true nature. "You do not deserve this life of a murderer, Hirazuki Idare, son of Hiromi. Go to peace, sleep and do not return." His eyes didn't close. They were still, frozen with time and peace. I placed my hand over his face and closed them. Scratches and cuts adorned my face and skin as I had to limp due to my wound. It was deep. Even with my power, it would take at least three days to heal.

I touched the hilt of the sword and warmth hummed through me. Feeling sunshine that wasn't there, I lifted it off its stand. Thankfully, Raion and Hyuuga had taken out the owner of Shinigami Inc, Parsh Ingom, out at the very beginning. Not murder, of course. Just the slip of chloroform.

I limped my way to the entrance, hand covering the just-as-deep wound on my right arm. Outside, Raion and Kokoroyomi argued over some nonsensical thing. Natsume was, predictably, watching for my arrival. When they saw me, they rushed over. Tsukaima was yelling over the phone, presumably at Persona when I picked up his screaming of, "You sly worm!"

"Are you okay?" Raion asked.

I wasn't. The world was tipping, spinning. I felt the ice cold grasp of pain snatch my breath away so I couldn't inhale anything. "Won't let go," I manage. My fingers were enclosed around the Slaughter's hilt, refusing to let go. I felt myself swaying to a ballroom beat and soon, my vision was limited to the ground.

I felt the vibrations the shouts they called out but I didn't hear anything but the roar of the vicious oblivion that was rushing to meet me. A black haze I presumed was unconsciousness was coming towards me as I totally lost myself to the abyss of my mind.

AN: was it okay?? promise you won't be a missing face and review or leave me a nice message!!